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lilrainbowcloud · 3 months

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Pairing: Luke Castellan x Child of Apollo! Reader

Genre: Fluff and angst

Word count: 2.6k || masterlist

Warning: mention of blood

a/n: the pictures used does not potray the reader. the final part, annabeth was never there.

The two times you trusted him, and the one time he betrayed you.

i. Taking his hand to pull you through the protective barrier.

“Wake up, we’re almost there,”

Taking a deep breath as you regained your consciousness from a dreamless sleep, you straighten your back, arms stretching above your head as you readjust your focus to the satyr in front of you.

“What?”

“Camp Half Blood! We’re almost there!” exclaimed your friend, Caelum, excitedly pointing to the window with a wide smile adorning his face. Happy to be able to bring back a demigod safely to camp for a satyr his age. An achievement of his service.

Turning to the window yourself, the view of the forest and blue sky bordered by the sea filled your vision. The more the train moved forward, the longer the scenery in front of you unfold like a painter with a brush painting the environment for you as you go.

A soft gasp escaped your lips.

“How do you know where to go?” curious, you asked your guide as you dodge the protruding branches from scratching your skin, however when you looked in front of you, it was no problem for Caelum to navigate the forest as though he was water flowing through a river. His movement fluid, legs nimble. You watched as his little goat ears twitch as he moved.

“Trust me! I know this forest like the back of my hand!”

Feeling your movement was obstructed on your left foot, gravity pulled you down as you got caught on a root. You yelped as both of your hands braced you from the impact of the fall.

“Cael-“

“Shh!”

“Can you at least he-”

“SHH!”

Confusion and disbelief twisted your face as you looked up at him. How could he told you to shut up when you just fell? And not help you up. Wasn’t he supposed to be your protector? That was what he told you back at your mum’s house when they relayed to you the truth about your life. From wanting closure and understanding of your acentric self, you had accepted the reality of your being wholeheartedly. The least you knew you weren’t the one. It was comforting in a twisted way.

A second of you assessing his demeanor, ears flat on his head, eyes wide searching, you knew better than to make another sound. Instead, slowly you untangle your foot from the root and turned your body to look behind you.

The forest had gone deftly silent. No bird chirping, no leaves rustling. Something was definitely wrong.

A loud flap of wings could be heard, then there was a shadow moved on the ground, passing above you. What animal had that large of a wingspan? Nothing came to your mind but it filled your nerves with icy bites of fear. The hair on the back of your neck stood.

“Y/N, get up right now,” two arms hooking under your armpits, you didn’t hear Caelum ran to you as he hauled you up to your feet. Eyes looking through the trees above you, you nodded hastily and took his hand in yours as he quickly pulled you into a sprint.

“The camp is near! Once we get pass the barrier it can’t get to you!”

Failing to form any words, you only managed to squeeze his hand in confirmation that you understood him. Whatever barrier he meant and whatever was chasing you, you didn’t care. Only your life and safety mattered.

The loud screeching of the fury could be heard to anyone who was near the camp border. That anyone was none other than Luke himself. Momentarily distracted by the form of the winged monster emerging from the forest trees, the wooden sword of his sparring partner hit him on the shoulder causing his opponent to quickly apologize with concern. But it fell on deft ear as Luke held his hand up as an “Its fine” gesture, too focused on the flying monster diving back down into the thick foliage.

Gripping the wooden sword in his hand tighter as tough it was a real sharpened one, he and the other campers nearby halted their activities to stand ready too near the border. Weapons drawn in steady hands, they held their ground for a possible attack of an intruder or welcoming a demigod.

“There!” The sound of a voice shouting could be heard following the rustling of bushes as a satyr and a girl, frightened looking with their hands linked emerged into the few meters of clearing separating the camp and forest.

The winged figure rose again to the sky, Luke noticed its nose about to dive down on them again. Gasps and shouts of horror rose with the crowd.

Instinct took over his body. Turning to his right to a camper from the Apollo cabin, he snatched the bow and arrow off of his hands before running pass the protection of the barrier and into the clearing where he was joined with the pair in the middle.

“Go! Go!” encouraging them to move forward for the last few meters from the border, Luke aimed the bow upwards, landing a clumsy shot with unfocused aim to the fury. Not his best suited weapon but it was enough to direct the fury away from them as the three of them sprinted back to safety.

Sensing the fury closing in on them behind his back by the sound of its screeching loud in his ear, with less than two meters away from the border, Luke pushed his legs to run ahead of them and with a last surge of adrenaline, he pulled the girl’s arm, bodies colliding as he cushioned her fall with his figure.

A loud thud, followed by a screech echoed through the atmosphere. A second later the sound of wing flaps disappearing filled you with a sense of relief as you knew that whatever that creature was chasing you had retreated to the hell hole it came from.

Fear replaced with reality, your flight senses dissipating slowly made you aware of your surrounding again. Made you aware of the hard grip you had on the body of the person who had pulled you through the barrier.

With a jolt of surprise as if you had been shocked by an electric static, you released your grip from him, quickly standing up with an utter of Thank you for saving your life.

Turning back towards the forest, the sight of the monster was no longer there. You were only left with the many pair of eyes looking at you with interest as they welcome a new half-blood into the camp. Another pawn of the gods in their game of life. But you don’t know that yet.

“Welcome to Camp Half Blood.”

Facing the voice of your savior, it was the first time you get to appropriately assess him. His appearance of dark curly hair slightly matted on his forehead, tall stature, and kind smile as he extended his hand to you in greeting. As if what had happened moments ago was that nothing out of the ordinary.

“I’m Luke.”

ii. He taught you to sword fight.

Two summers had passed since your first day arriving at camp.

One bead of the day Apollo claimed you as his daughter a few weeks of your first stay after you had helped saved and healed a child of Demeter from a cut, he received from a river stone during capture the flag. The bright yellow glow of the sun symbol bathed the riverbank of the camp as cheers from your now half siblings roared through the air.

Another bead from your second summer at camp. The summer you had shared your confessions with Luke under the blanket of stars, illuminated by the bonfire as you both sat together with the melodious voice of your half siblings leading the song. It was a shared sentiment with each other as you both vowed to protect and be there by each other’s side through anything. A sanctuary in the form of trust bonding you to him, blinding the absurdity of your fates in the world even only for a while.

“Get up, Y/N,”

Huffing out an annoyed breath, you took his outstretched hand as he pulled you back on your feet. Being the child of Apollo, you had a natural talent with the bow and arrow. The curve of the finger pads, and the slender shape of the arrow knocked on the bow string molded so perfectly into you. It was a natural talent in your blood thanks to your father. But with a sword, it does not resonate with you. Therefore, this was the third summer that Luke, being the best swordsman in the camp offered to teach you.

So, here you are with a wooden sword, surrounded by the dense trees as the audience as the son of Hermes handed your ass to you.

“You know what, I think I’m improving enough for today don’t you think?” truthfully, you were just finding an excuse to stop the training session earlier than usual as you dusted the dead leaves off of your clothes.

“You did improve, and I’m proud of you.” Getting back to his starting stance, he aimed the point of the fake sword at you again, with a playful glint in his eyes.

In a swift movement of a trained warrior, he moved behind you with the tip of the wooden sword softly touching the back of your neck, “What if someone tries to back stab you?”

Even if he’s not in front of you, your mind’s eye can form the face he was making. Proud to have tricked his opponent in a moment of distraction. You slowly turned around, he tipped the sword to your chest.

“If someone stabs you from the back, then they’re a coward.”

Raising your own sword to push his away from your chest, you took a few steps back and continued your battle stance once more.

iii. Defending Percy from Luke.

Colourful sparkles of the fireworks filled the sky. Each boom heard comes with it a bloom of neon flower lighting up the camp’s sky as the camp went into celebration of the return of Percy from his quest. Cheers of the campers made your heart full as you made your way through the woods trying to find Luke to join you near the bonfire for the singalong.

Though the sky was lit, the ground was shrouded by the darkness of the night. The weigh of your quiver on your hip, and the golden bow, a gift from your father on your back gave you comfort as you trudge towards the place where you and Luke meet up for lessons.

After the sun sets, he vanished from your bearings which was odd since he had promised you to help with the preparation of the celebration later in the evening. Knowing him, it was one out of three places he could’ve gone to.

“Luke!” calling out to him, your voice was swallowed by the void, absorbed by nature. You didn’t get any reply back.

Venturing further, his name caught on the tip of your tongue as you heard the metal clash of swords. Stopping in your track for a moment, you heard voices mixing with the clinging.

Luke and Percy.

Worry surged you forward towards the ruckus.

Horror filled your chest as you witness Percy slashing riptide to Luke. A sound of hurt came from Luke meant Percy had hit him.

Anger took over as you danced a move you’ve practiced and even more perfected overtime, your arrow now knocked on the bow, feet sliding at the end of your halt in front of Luke, shielding him from Percy.

“Y/N?” Both of them gasping out of breath from their duel. One in disbelief and the other, confused.

“Percy, what are you doing?”

Never in your lifetime would you had imagined a day you would turn your weapon against someone who you considered as your friend despite the little amount of time you had spent together. But here you are, eyes squinting to see him better in the dark. Fingers ready to release the arrow.

“Are you with him too?” His grip on riptide loosened at his side, looking up at you with a betrayed face.

“What are you talk-”

“Are you working with Kronos too?!” Percy’s accusing tone caught you off guard, causing you to lower your bow. Tilting your head as you let out a confused huh?

“Percy, you’re not making sense here,” Luke’s name died on your lips as you felt the cold tip of backbiter against your exposed neck. Eyes wide, you captured Percy’s eyes with his reflecting the same emotion as you, alarmed.

Déjà vu.

In the same forest, in the same spot, with the same person but with a different weapon.

Coward.

What was he thinking? What was happening first and foremost. Why were they fighting? It did not look like a practice session.

“Luke, tell me what is happening. Right. Now.”

As much as you were frightened, the overwhelming feeling of betrayal weighed heavier.

You were frozen.

“He’s working with Kronos to bring him back. To start a war. He stole Zeus’ master bolt.”

In the last sentence Percy relayed to you, you could feel the shift of the sword. So, it’s true?

Percy would not lie to you. But so would Luke. Right?

“Is that true?” Broken were your voice as you muttered the question to the person you called your lover.

The grip of your bow and the arrow returned. The muscles of your body tensed, ready to resume position.

“Y/N, listen to me, go back-”

The sword tip shifted again.

Taking advantage of this, in one swift movement you positioned yourself in front of Percy, the knocked arrow now pointing towards Luke instead.

What are we now?

The fireworks continued. For the first time tonight, you could see his face, illuminated by the purple and blue hues from the sky.

Hurt was what you saw in his dark eyes. But so was yours.

“You’re trusting him more than me now?” He raised his sword, swinging it to point from you to Percy. Eyes hardened.

“Why would he lie to me?” Why would you lie to me?

A scowl graced his face as you claimed that. The scissors that cut the string from him to you passed through.

Sensing the rising tension, Percy shouted your name as he shoved you to the side.

Luke raised his sword to swing down.

As you hit the ground, your arrow flew from your fingers, grazing Luke’s shoulder.

A hiss of pain and everything paused.

With Percy by your side, you on your back on the ground, supported by your elbows, watched as Luke held his shoulder with force. Red bloomed where your arrow had hurt him, breaking his skin.

You hurt him. But he had hurt you too.

Was this fair?

“I’m sorry,” came out weak to your ear. You didn’t event know if it had reached Luke or not. But he looked at you with much hatred.

Did he betrayed you, or you betrayed him?

“I’m sorry,” lifting yourself up from the ground, “Luke, please,” Percy helped you to stand.

Shaking his head, completely at lost for word, Luke walked back a few steps away from you as though you were the villain.

Of course, you had hurt him after promising to protect each other. But he also raised his weapon at you with the intention to hurt. Or was it to daunt you? To get you to back off?

Without another word to you, Luke turned his back to the both of you and launched himself into the rip of air among the ruined stones.

Your feet didn’t move fast enough. Your instinct wasn’t fast enough to reach him.

He vanished with your voice shouting his name.

Emptiness was what you felt as your knees hit the ground.

Numbness took over when Percy called out your name repeatedly.

Was this really happening?

Will you ever see him again?

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan angst #luke castellan fluff #pjo #pjo tv show

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lovebvni · 3 months

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shifting isn’t a relay race. it’s a fun run

reality shifting is the act of moving your mind (soul, spirit, whatever you call it) into a different realm or plane of existence.

similar — astral projection. but it is astral projection to a different city, state or country. places we have in this world. reality shifting is not just projecting from canada to france. reality shifting can take place during astral projection.

similar — lucid dreaming. being conscious of your dreams when the body is asleep. you are still in your body, but your mind is also awake. you (usually) cannot travel to a new world with new laws and stay there even after your body wakes up. this only takes place during the REM cycle of sleep. reality can take place during lucid dreaming.

and, nowhere in the definition of reality shifting does it say you have to shift before someone else, you have to be at point c before this person gets to point b, etc. it just has to do with you.

shifting isn’t a competition. it’s a fun game that you get to choose. level up on your own time. do your own thing to get to where you want to be.

shifting isn’t a sprint relay that you see in the olympic games. shifting is a fun run. it doesn’t matter what place you’re in, or how much time you take, all that matters is you do it.

nobody is going to be mad at you or make you train harder because some kid in england beat you by .89 seconds.

you get to do this at your own pace on your own time. it’s your fun run. you complete it when you can. you can take years, months, weeks, days or hours. it all depends on your prior knowledge and training.

and if you don’t have that prior knowledge or training, WHO GIVES A FUCK? not everyone starts knowing everything you know. those could be lessons they grew up learning. someone could’ve forced that into their brain from a young age.

and if you’re just learning what witchcraft really is at 49, good for you. you’re still learning and growing. but that doesn’t mean you’re bad for not knowing last year or yesterday.

it doesn’t matter when training starts, or how much prior knowledge one has, it just matters that you’re willing to do it.

i hope this helps someone. i have no idea where this came from lmfao. blessings from me and the universe <3

love, abyss

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beautyarchive · 4 months

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Imani Lansiquot running the second leg in the 4x100m relay at the Tokyo Olympics. The British squad got the bronze.

#imani lansiquot #imani-lara lansiquot #athletics #sport #tokyo olympics #tokyo 2020 #tokyo 2021 #sprint relay #4x100m relay #women's athletics #dina asher-smith #beautyarchive edit

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beatrack92 · 1 month

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Selina von Jackowski 🇨🇭

Taipei 2017 Universiade

#selina von jackowski #team switzerland #female athletes #relays #legs #swiss #sprinting #athletics #track and field

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elenitrack · 6 months

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Shelly-Ann Fraser-Pryce 🇯🇲

🥈 4x100 Metres

2023 World Athletics Championships (Budapest)

#shelly-ann fraser-pryce #team jamaica #black women #blue hair #jamaican #relays #sprinting #female athletes #athletics #track and field #budapest 2023

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ginnsbaker · 1 month

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fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (3/?)

Part summary: Leigh develops an unhealthy habit as she hits closer to rock bottom

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 5.370 | Warnings/Tags: Some hetero stuff | A/N: Things will pick up after this part. I think there's going to be a total of 6 parts, but let me confirm that in the next update :)

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Next

Leigh is ten minutes late.

It makes sense. Her willingness to attend this meeting was surprising, because if you were in her shoes, you doubt you'd have agreed to it. Listening to the entire history of a relationship can be exhausting, and it's hard to imagine what it feels like to hear about one that arguably should never have existed.

But just as you're about to think she's bailed or intentionally left you hanging, you spot her sprinting toward the cafe from across the street. She's a mess—hair soaked and sticking everywhere, face bare, missing its usual touch of makeup. But even like this, Leigh doesn't look much different from her usual self. You can't help feeling a bit envious of that.

She rushes into the cafe, attracting a few curious looks, but she barely registers them, her wide green eyes quickly finding you.

“Sorry I'm late,” she pants, struggling to catch her breath, “I got caught in the rain and then missed my bus.” The lie slips out effortlessly. True, it had rained, but the real reason was far more personal—something you didn't need to know.

You shrug off her apology with a smile, signaling the waiter for a menu for Leigh. “No worries, I'm just glad you made it,” you say.

Leigh gives you a quick once-over, then forces a smile and thanks you. Once her coffee order's in, she gets right down to it. “So, Matt,” she starts, her voice dropping to a whisper, “how did you two meet?”

You lean back, carefully thinking about what to say next. You didn't practice your answers ahead of time because you weren't planning to lie about anything. But you're wary of how you word things, not wanting to upset her. Being caught up with a married man is embarrassing enough as it is, and having to relay the details to his widowed wife only adds to it.

“Actually, our first meeting was totally by chance,” you say, bringing your steaming cup of tea to your lips. “I quite literally bumped into Matt one day. It was so brief, I barely gave it a second thought.”

You take a deep breath before continuing, “Then, about a week later, Matt showed up at my clinic with the same friend from before. It turned out, they were there for his friend's dog, who needed a check-up. Matt was just tagging along, helping out.”

Leigh’s face remains passive, making it hard to read.

“The friend was the one who interacted with me the most that day. He even asked for my number, saying they were grateful for the help with the dog. I assumed he was interested,” you say, the memory coming back to you clearer now as you speak. “But, to my surprise, it was Matt who texted me later, not his friend.”

You barely manage to suppress the slight twitch of your lips, recalling how everything once seemed magical to you. Leigh on the other hand, takes a slow sip of her coffee, buying a moment to process.

“Who was that friend of Matt's? Do you remember his name?” she asks.

You pause, racking your brain for the detail, feeling its importance to Leigh. “Yeah, I think his name was Nick or something,” you say, scratching your head. Whether the name ‘Nick’ rings any bells for her or not, she doesn't let on.

“Strange,” you mumble under your breath, but then shrug it off. “It doesn't really matter, he's not the one I—” You stop yourself just in time, realizing you're about to say something potentially hurtful about a situation that still feels raw, especially to Leigh.

Instead, you quickly pivot. “Anyway, that's how it all started. On the day of the dog’s follow-up, it was just Matt who came by. We struck up a friendship from there, and one thing led to another until he, uhm, asked me out for dinner.”

At this, you notice a subtle change in Leigh's demeanor. Her entire frame becomes more timid, the first real sign of emotion she's shown since this conversation began.

You’re about to go on with your story when Leigh suddenly speaks up.

“So, you just said yes, even though he was your client? Don't veterinarians have professional boundaries?”

Ever since meeting Leigh, you've found it challenging to predict what might trigger her reactions—it's like navigating a minefield. Occasionally, you’d find yourself wondering what it would be like to know her without the complications currently defining your interactions. You think about the roles you both involuntarily play in each other's lives, roles neither of you auditioned for but somehow ended up performing.

You feel a lump form in your throat, and your gaze drops to your lap. “Well, he was persistent,” you say, feeling the need to defend your decision. Nevertheless, it sounds weak to your own ears. “But I made it clear nothing could happen until the dog's treatment was complete. And I insisted he'd have to find a different vet for any future appointments. It was... complicated.”

“I bet,” Leigh scoffs, crossing her arms. After a beat, she asks, almost too casually, “So, how quickly did you two... you know, have your first kiss?”

The question hangs awkwardly between you. You know you can’t answer it in any way you could avoid her judgment, so you just decide to spit it out.

“First date.” Under Leigh’s scrutinizing gaze, it feels like admitting to a minor crime.

Leigh stares at you with unblinking eyes. “And how long after meeting him did this first date happen?”

You draw in a slow breath. “Three weeks,” you mutter. “It was last fall.” You add that bit, proactively laying out the timeline as if it could somehow soften the blow or make the situation less complicated. Leigh, however, looks like you've just knocked the wind out of her. She looks away, her expression shifting into something like shock or deep pain. Alarm bells ring in your head at the picture before you.

“Hey, did I say something wrong?” you say in a rush. “I mean, this whole situation is messed up, but if I—”

Leigh’s eyes are glass as they return to you. When she speaks again, her voice is so soft you almost have to lean in to hear. “Last fall... That's when I told Matt we should start trying for a baby.”

The words drain the color from your face. And suddenly, all the pieces of your story with Matt feels even more tainted.

You're not sure what your face gives away when you hear this news, but Leigh's expression quickly shifts from tearful to furious. “Stop feeling sorry for me,” she hisses. “I don’t need your pity.”

Leigh's tears start to spill over, and it's only 7:30 in the morning. It feels way too early for tears, especially here, in the middle of a coffee shop where the day is just beginning for most. You try to shrink into your seat, wishing you could make both of you invisible as the few other patrons start throwing curious, if not outright concerned, looks your way.

You never realized a simple conversation could cause someone so much pain. You thought providing Leigh with answers would help, but it looks like you're just making things even harder for her. Maybe keeping your distance from her is the kindest thing you can do.

“You know the worst part?” Leigh brushes away the tears that keep streaking down her face.

Clearly, she isn't looking for an answer, so you stay silent.

She makes sure she catches your eye before saying, “He agreed, and we started trying.”

Leigh catches her breath after wrapping up her class at the Beautiful Beast.

She took a day off yesterday, immediately after talking with you, spending the whole day in bed just trying to sort out her thoughts and feelings. Surprisingly, wasting away for a whole day seemed to help, and her concerns gradually drifted back to her fight with Jules. It’s been days, and Leigh feels the urgency of reconciliation pressing on her. By this point, they should be on speaking terms again. By now, Jules should have let go of her anger, right? Leigh knows she can't afford to have her sister hating her. At least not right now. She needs her family, or what’s left of it—on her side.

“Hey, Jules, got a sec? About the schedule…” Leigh tries, hoping work might be a safe enough topic to get her sister to acknowledge her existence once again.

Jules barely glances her way. Her hands keep moving, adjusting a strap here, aligning yoga mats there, as if the very act could shield her from having to engage. “Sorted. Check your email,” she replies, her voice cold and detached.

Leigh nods, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot. “Great, great... um, did you consider adding that beginners' workshop we talked about?”

Jules stops for a beat, and Leigh thinks, maybe she's going to drop it. But no, Jules resumes fussing over items that hardly require any attention. Then, without even looking up, she says, “Yeah, it's on the list. Anything else?”

Leigh tries to keep her cool, wishing Jules would just cut to the chase and tell her what needs to be done for all to be forgiven.

Trying a different tactic, Leigh goes, “Hey, found a Starbucks card in my bag. How 'bout I grab us some coffee? My treat.”

Leigh’s trying. She really is. Why can’t they see that?

Jules just gives her that look, the kind that doesn't need words, and heads back to her desk. And there's Leigh, offer of a beverage truce just floating in the air, going nowhere.

Getting ignored really gets under Leigh's skin. Back in the day, Matt's habit of brushing her off would drive her to the edge. She'd respond with over-the-top demands or twist things around just to make sure he’d always pay attention to her. She didn't start off wanting to be that person, but looking back, she sees the lengths she'd go to just to keep his attention from straying.

Unable to control herself, she heads straight for Jules, grabs her arm despite her trying to wiggle free, and yanks her into the backroom.

“What the hell is your problem?!” Jules explodes, not caring if anyone’s heard her outside.

They're both standing there, kind of shocked by how heated things got so fast. Jules’ shout might've turned a few heads outside, but right now, that's the least of Leigh's worries.

“How many times do I need to apologize, for you to get over this?”

Jules’ eyes are wide in disbelief, her mouth twisting into a sardonic smile, like she can’t believe what she’s hearing.

“You’re so fucking full of yourself, Leigh! This is exactly why I’m not talking to you,” Jules hisses, but keeps her voice down this time.

“What—”

“Do you even know what you’re sorry for?”

Leigh's initial scoff dies in her throat as she watches Jules' expression twist with hurt. “Yeah, okay, I said sorry about the crap I pulled the other day. I know I was out of line, talking about your past like that—”

Jules doesn't let her finish. “You weren't just being ‘out of line’, Leigh. You threw the worst time of my life in my face! Do you have any idea how hurtful that is? Coming from my own sister? From my own family? What, just to win an argument? To cover up for acting like a jerk at the club?”

Leigh goes quiet, but her face hardens, trying not to show how much Jules' words hit her right in the gut. What she said, laid out like that, it sounds…well, unforgivable.

“I'm trying, okay?” Leigh blurts out without thinking.

“Shouldn't be that hard to just be a decent human being, should it?” Jules shoots back, her dismissal sharp as she exits the cramped space, leaving Leigh reeling.

Under her breath, almost like she's talking to the walls, Leigh mumbles, “I'm really sorry…” It's quiet, almost lost in the room, but she means it the most at this very moment, even if no one's around to catch it.

Leigh clocks out from work, her day's fatigue hanging off her shoulders like a weighty cloak. Instead of heading straight home, she veers off her usual path, her feet bringing her to places that made breathing difficult the first few weeks after Matt's death. She's walking the same old route she always did when he was still around, back to when her home address was different and she'd pick up takeout from his favorite places along the way.

There’s the park first, the one where she and Matt spent countless afternoons sprawled on the grass, lying side by side as they watched the sky blush into shades of orange at sunset. She allows herself only a fleeting glance at the familiar paths and the bench they claimed theirs, feeling the same regret, the same hollowness as she remembers the good times they had there.

In the back of her mind, she can't shake off the worry that maybe you've been here too, making your own memories with him. She doesn’t feel the surge of anger at this thought however. Instead, a part of her is almost willing to share these sacred memories if it means holding onto him in any form. She wants to believe that her jealousy has faded into a quieter acceptance that others might also carry pieces of him, pieces she's learning to live with.

Pulling herself away from the park, Leigh's walk inevitably leads her past Matt's favorite Italian restaurant—a quaint, cozy place where they celebrated most of their birthdays and, on occasion, anniversaries, especially when neither felt like cooking (which became an increasingly common choice in the months leading up to his accident).

She remembers how Matt's face would light up at the prospect of their rich, creamy carbonara and the tiramisu he claimed was unrivaled in the city. She recalls the numerous times she attempted to recreate the restaurant's tiramisu at home, aiming to surprise Matt at least once a month. Despite her efforts, if she truly wanted to indulge him, she knew there was no substitute for the real thing. So, on special days, or whenever she felt an extra burst of affection, she'd stop by the restaurant on her way home, picking up takeout.

A waitress from the restaurant notices Leigh's lingering gaze and asks if she'd like a table. With a shy smile, Leigh declines, then pauses before finally deciding to order a tiramisu to go.

When she returns to her mom's house and eats the tiramisu alone, it tastes different.

Leigh can't decide if the difference in the tiramisu's taste is good or bad, but that doesn't stop her. She finishes the entire slice in minutes. But instead of feeling full, it makes her feel emptier. Perhaps, it’s not the flavor that's changed; it's the experience of eating it without Matt's enthusiastic commentary, without him lighting up at the first bite or playfully claiming the last one, despite his generous offer to let her have it.

Suddenly, tears just start pouring out of Leigh as she sits there with an empty plate. She didn't see it coming, no chance to stop it or shove it down. Then, she finds herself laughing—a deep, throaty laugh—because she's grieved for him in countless ways, but this, crying over a dessert, has to be the most absurd. It's exactly the kind of moment they would have laughed at together.

Deciding that that would be her dinner, Leigh cleans up the small mess she's made and considers the evening ahead. But just as she’s about to sink into the couch for a quiet night, her phone buzzes, making her jump.

Seeing your name flash on her screen, she sighs, sensing a familiar bitterness creeping back in, disrupting the soothing moments she had just spent reminiscing about Matt. She lets it ring a few times more before picking up.

“Hi, Y/N,” Leigh says, managing to keep her voice steady over the phone.

“Hey,” you start, unsure how to break the ice after everything. Especially with what you’re about to say next.

“Listen, something happened today at the clinic. Someone came in looking for their lost French Bulldog, and they had a picture,” you pause to breathe. “Leigh, it looks a lot like Visitor.”

On the other end of the line, you can practically hear Leigh's heart skip a beat.

“Hello?” you ask, checking to make sure she's still there after she doesn't respond for several seconds.

“Are you sure?” Leigh’s voice cracks slightly.

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure,” you say softly, feeling a surge of empathy. “I'm sending you the picture now. Check it out and tell me what you think.”

You hit send and then wait for Leigh’s confirmation.

“It's him. It's definitely Visitor,” she says a moment later.

You're relieved but also concerned about what comes next. “So, what are you going to do?”

Leigh hesitates, and when she speaks again, she doesn’t give a direct answer. “Thank you, Y/N,” she says, and you pick up something in her tone. Something somber.

“Everything alright?”

But the line's already dead, leaving you staring at your phone, wondering what she is up to.

Leigh stands outside the community center, her hand lingering on the door longer than usual. It's been weeks since she last came to a session. First, there was the shock of uncovering Matt's darkest secret, and now, there's the issue of the man inside, already looking her way, waiting to see her next move.

Danny appearing at her doorstep earlier in the week caught her completely off guard—and not in a good way. The moment she realized it was him, Leigh didn't hesitate to close the door in his face. After she shut him out, it escalated to the point where she threatened to call the police because he wouldn't stop pounding on the door and shouting for Leigh to let him in, insisting he just wanted to talk. His last attempt to get through to her fell flat when he flooded her inbox with texts and missed calls, pushing Leigh to the point where she blocked his number for good.

Despite the problem of Danny being here tonight, Leigh isn't willing to walk away from this just because of him. She's already given up so much lately, most recently Visitor—or Chico, as she found out his real name was—and his absence carved a fresh ache in her heart that she hadn't seen coming.

So, she takes a deep breath and pushes the door open, ignoring the smirk on Danny’s face as she proceeds to pretend like he doesn’t exist.

Somehow, after the meeting, Leigh ends up saying yes to a quick chat with Danny. He reels her in with the news that he submitted Matt’s remaining works—which he got custody of—to his publisher, and they were keen to publish them posthumously.

Leigh can't help but throw in a bit of shade. “That's nice of you, doing something good for your brother, even if it's a bit late.”

Danny's face drops a little. Her words were sharp enough to hurt him, but he doesn't bite back or get in her face about it, which totally throws Leigh for a loop. After all the time she'd spent ignoring him, she had expected him to be at his worst around her.

And then he surprises her even more when he says, “Let me give you a ride home? It's the least I can do…”

Leigh arches an eyebrow. She didn’t bring the car tonight because Jules had a thing with Tommy, and she didn’t want to give her sister another reason to resent her. A ride from Danny beats the alternatives of walking or shelling out for a pricey cab, especially now that her phone's battery has given out, nixing the option of booking an Uber.

But this is Danny. Matt’s brother, and the guy she hooked up with because she thought she’d get back some semblance of her dead husband. After Jules pointed out how messed up it was that they'd slept together, Leigh's been all over the place. The rules around what they were doing either turned her off or, weirdly enough, made the whole thing more enticing, taboo and all. That's a big part of why she's been steering clear of him. Hanging out with Danny feels like reaching for a cigarette long after she's sworn off smoking.

Even with all that swirling in her head, Leigh ends up saying, “Sure, why not?”

Before she knows it, she's also agreeing to a drink at his place.

The second they step into his apartment, something inside of Leigh snaps. Acting on impulse, she grabs Danny by the collar and kisses him fiercely. She clenches his shirt in her hands, practically tearing it in her grip. Danny's initial surprise melts away in seconds, and then he’s kissing her just as hard, his tongue prying open her lips, taking control of the kiss right away. His hands find her waits, pulling her closer, practically already half-lifting her against the wall.

Leigh, caught up in the moment, begins to move her hips in a rocking motion against him. The action is effective enough to distract him from where he’s kissing every inch of Leigh’s neck, and he retaliates by suddenly pressing her more firmly against the wall, pinning her with his hips, their chests are tightly pressed together.

But as Leigh's fingers begin to fumble with the button of Danny's pants, he catches her hands gently and, panting, says, “Wait, Leigh, hold on for just a sec.”

Leigh’s eyes fly open at his voice, irritation and impatience coloring them. “What?” she gasps out.

He ignores the hard edges of her tone. He wants more—something real—and he's hoping she does too.

“I can’t do this again unless I know it’s going somewhere,” Danny says. He gently lets go of Leigh and takes a step back, trying to collect himself. It's a tough task, though, with Leigh looking the way she does—hair all tousled, lips slightly swollen and marked from when he got a bit carried away, her cheeks tinged with a warm flush. He could’ve made her come in the next two minutes, he’s sure of it.

At Danny's confession, Leigh can't help it; she bursts into laughter. The idea of him catching feelings now, of all times, seems absurd to her. As she laughs, Danny's jaw tightens, but he waits patiently for her to finish.

When Leigh finally notices the seriousness etched across Danny's face, her amusement evaporates almost instantly. The realization that he's not joking strikes her, and it doesn't sit well. Not one bit.

“What, you think because your brother's gone, you get to... what? Step in? Take his place?” she spits out, incredulous. “This is never going to be anything more than a quick fuck, Danny.”

In his desperation, he calls her bluff. “You’re lying.”

Leigh's reaction morphs into a cruel sneer. “If you're going to insist on something more, then we're just wasting our time,” she mutters, turning to leave.

Danny's not ready to let her walk away, not yet. He grabs her arm, and for a second, they're just staring each other down, a silent battle raging between them. Leigh’s resolve is impenetrable.

It’s Danny who cracks first, exhaling a defeated, “Fine.”

But Leigh's not having any half-measures. She whirls around, fire in her eyes. “Nope. Say it properly,” she demands.

With a sigh that feels like he's giving away a part of himself, Danny looks at her, worn and resigned. “This doesn't have to mean anything,” he says even if it’s the last thing he wants.

Leigh locks eyes with him, a storm brewing in her look. Just when Danny thinks it's better to just drop it, she throws him a question out of nowhere.

“Did you know?”

“Know what?” Danny asks, genuinely puzzled.

“About Matt and me... trying for a baby when he... you know.”

“He... he never mentioned anything like that,” he says, feeling the pain she’s radiating. Leigh looks like she’s about to fall apart and all he wants is to be the one to gather her pieces and put them all back together.

No more words follow from Leigh. It's as if the question drained what was left of the conversation. Without warning, she surges forward, her lips meeting Danny’s in a bruising kiss, then she grabs Danny's hands, placing them firmly back on her waist. He gets the message loud and clear, and together they quickly shed their clothes, letting them fall in a heap around their feet. She comes about twelve minutes and thirty seconds later.

It's been eight days—not that you're keeping track or anything. But after giving Leigh the heads-up that someone’s been looking for a dog that looks exactly like Visitor, you were kind of expecting she’d at least update you if it really was him or not.

So, when a client strolls in later with Visitor, who's actually called Chico according to the file your secretary slips you, you're a little disappointed it's not Leigh showing up instead. It must have been incredibly tough for her to return Chico to his real family. She invested her heart, time, and not to mention her wallet, into that dog, caring for him as if he were her own.

Thinking she’d be relieved to know he’s in good hands, you send her a text to update her about Chico's visit to the clinic today. You mention how healthy and content he seems, yet you hazard a guess that he's probably missing Leigh too.

She sees your message right away, and then leaves you on read.

Her thing with Danny turns into a late-night ritual, particularly after Drew fails to respond to her following their conversation, not even offering her a guest column in the weeks that followed their talk. Drew continues to invite her for coffee and dinner dates along with his fiancée, but he avoids the topic about the column, so Leigh stops asking.

The hookups are always a post-midnight impulse. She’d find herself sneaking out of her mother's house to meet him, driven by a mix of need and escape, or occasionally, by insomnia. After their moments together, she never lingers in Danny's bed for too long once she's found her satisfaction, eager to shower away his scent from her skin.

Back at home, she ensures there's no trace of their deed by the time she slips into bed, allowing herself to sleep deep into the middle of the day. This pattern of nocturnal activity and daytime slumber has led her mother to adjust Leigh's responsibilities, moving her to take charge of the afternoon classes instead. This behavior earns her suspicious glances from Jules, but Leigh chooses to ignore them—if Jules isn't interested in reconciling, then she has no right to concern herself with Leigh's personal affairs.

Leigh doesn’t know how she got here, back at the beginning, in an ever messier situation. She can't stop fucking Danny, her emotions for Matt are a rollercoaster—she finds herself forgiving him and cursing him interchangeably a couple of times a day.

She's astounded this is her life now, seemingly unable to talk herself out of decisions that pull her deeper into chaos.

A month later, Leigh becomes a distant memory. Following a series of tumultuous encounters, your life gradually returns to its normal rhythm—quiet, ordinary days filled with clinic work, attending to various cases, meeting new clients, and addressing the myriad issues of small animals. All of these tasks prove easier to deal with than anything involving Leigh Shaw.

The sole noteworthy event in your generally uneventful life lately was your latest visit to a physician for an annual physical exam. The blood tests revealed some numbers outside the normal range, notably elevated cholesterol levels. Consequently, your doctor advised you to integrate exercise into your daily regimen and to reduce your consumption of takeout meals, specifically pizza and Chinese fast food.

It’s a big sacrifice, considering your day usually flies by without much thought for food, except for dinner. It’s the one time in your day you actually look forward to. So, to hold onto that bit of happiness, you've been looking at fitness classes that are actually enjoyable and help burn those extra calories to keep you in shape.

Yoga stands out as the top choice for you, mainly because it all unfolds on a mat. You assume it'll demand the least amount of effort compared to the other options (specifically spinning), which all seem to promise nothing but pain and suffering.

Deciding to give yoga a shot, you choose Beautiful Beast, swayed by its stellar reviews. You secure a slot for a 6pm class, feeling pretty good about this decision.

That is, until Leigh Shaw walks into the said class, clad in a sports bra and tight-fitting leggings that highlight her toned legs. She’s busy on her phone, and without looking up, she walks to the front of the room.

What are the chances you'd both be in the same class at the same fitness studio? The plot thickens when she pockets her phone and turns to face the class, gesturing for everyone to get their mats ready as the session's about to start.

You swallow hard. Leigh isn't here as a joiner—she's running it.

It takes about a quarter of the session for Leigh to notice you’re in her class. It's only while she's making her rounds, observing each student's camel pose, that her gaze finally lands on you. Struggling through your lack of core strength, you can't quite catch her initial reaction, but then she calls out your name. The surprise makes you gasp as she places her hand on the curve of your spine, just above the small of your back, and gently pushes you upward, deepening your arch.

The stretch draws a grimace from you, but then she says, “Good, that's it,” and suddenly, you're determined not to let her down. You focus on the pose, on Leigh's instructions, and on not falling apart under her watchful eye. Leigh keeps everyone in the position a few moments longer than expected before instructing the class to transition into the child's pose for recovery. At her cue, your arms collapse, and you find yourself breathing heavily, grateful for the brief respite.

Something tells you it's not the high cholesterol that's going to be the end of you, but rather this yoga class and Leigh's merciless teaching style.

You're all packed up and ready to leave, still reeling from what could easily be the toughest hour of your life, when someone calls out to you.

“Hey, Y/N.”

It's Leigh. Her tone is softer, more fatigued than you remember. She’s still in her gym clothes, looking like the workout barely touched her except for a few strands of hair sticking to her forehead. And somehow, she smells more like a rose garden than the gym floor.

“I didn’t know you work here—” you blurt out, almost apologizing. But before you can add anything else, Leigh just shakes her head, something like amusement in her smile, stopping you mid-sentence. Her smile, warm and a little teasing, eases some of the tension you didn't realize you were holding.

“Are you a mind reader or something?” she teases. “Cause yeah, I was going to ask if you were following me.”

You’re quick to deny it. “I wasn’t.”

Leigh lets out a chuckle like she's getting a kick out of seeing you on edge. You shuffle your feet, still unsure if she’s trying to scare you off or welcome you to her tutelage.

“Look, if it's weird for you, me being here... I can find another class,” you offer, the words tumbling out before you can think them through.

Her reaction is swift and a bit surprising, “Why would I want that? So you can duck out and be a rubbish yogi elsewhere and ruin my reputation?”

You’re taken aback by her response. Clearly, Leigh's not pushing you away; it's almost as if she's egging you on, daring you to stick it out. And if there's any hope of moving past this... whatever it is, leaving now because it might get awkward doesn't seem like the right move to make a fresh start.

“All right, I'll stay,” you find yourself saying, more to your surprise than hers.

Leigh's got this look of triumph, chin lifted just so, when you agree to stick around. “See you at 5:30. Greenway Park,” she throws out casually.

You're there blinking, trying to piece together what she means. But before you can even get a word out, she's one step ahead.

“We have to work on your endurance,” she clarifies. “Make sure you’re wearing real running shoes. No sneakers.”

#unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw x female reader #leigh shaw #sorry for your loss au #leigh shaw x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #sorry i had to tag wanda x reader for visibility

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scary-lasagna · 4 months

Note

oh oh oh!! Yandere proxies with a darling who, in the escape attempt, damages the proxy marking thing?

If a marking is damaged, it still relays a weak signal. Lesser creatures won't be able to detect it, but higher beings will. But damn, is it painful. It's a direct link to Slender, and then it's severed, it's disobedience. Disobedience is punished.

Masky

It was a knife, the very weapon used against you to subdue your 5th escape attempt.

You were a fighter, and that's why he wanted you.

That's why he adored you.

But damn. You could really pack a smart faced punch when you needed to.

He was on top of you, with the handle of his knife between his teeth, struggling to fist both of your wrists at the same time. And in a quick motion, you snatched the knife, chipping his tooth in the process, and swiped down on the shoulder of his jacket.

He screamed, completely blacking out in pain and clutching his shoulder. You managed to quickly scamper away as Masky starts heaving and collapsing on the ground, spots clouding his vision from the pain alone.

You didn’t waste time pushing yourself off of the bloody grass, and almost slipped as you ran into the brush of the forest.

Time seemed to escape you as you pounded your way through the forest, not caring where you went as long as you were keeping distance from Masky, who was hopefully still writhing in the ground in pain and regret.

But then you came to the conclusion that you were lost. You didn’t know how long you’ve been in the woods, how many times you’ve passed the same tree (or at least you thought it was), and why it seemed like something was following behind you.

It might just be a squirrel, right? But no, foolish [Y/N] this is the Black Forest, there are no harmless squirrels. Any creature in here following a cute little human like you has no good intentions to your health.

You didn't even have time to react to your quick, painless death of a snapping neck.

Hoodie

Hoodie is usually a bit more smarter than this, he knows how to protect his weak spots, unlike Masky who tends to act on reckless anger.

It was only a simple scratch as you flailed under his grip, consistently dragging you by your ankles and eventually the rim of your pants, which you quickly learned was an easy handle that he enjoyed dragging you around with.

A game of cat and mouse can only go on so long before the mouse gets eaten. Freedom was only steps away into that dark forest, you didn't care if you could find your way out, because you'd have a better chance of survival against the elements and beasts rather than with this complete psychopath.

But a measly little scratch, just enough to draw blood was enough to drag him down.

He was more fortunate than the others, getting by with only a scratch that felt like a hot, molten nickel erupting from the wound.

Hoodie's grip released, and you quickly freed yourself, scrambling away while he hunched in pain, screaming through his gritted teeth.

Hoodie's body was entirely tense, focused on the sheer amount of pain wrecking his body in wave after wave.

You almost paused to stare at the sight, not quite sure if it was a trap or not. He tended to trick you with little tests.

But you tested fate that day, and sprinted into the forest, letting him watch helplessly as you faded into the brush.

Toby

tw: seizure

Toby doesn't feel pain, but magic will not let a bad deed go unpunished no matter the circumstance.

In Toby's eyes, you only needed a little coaxing to stay still while he attempted to shackle the handcuffs on your wrists.

He'd given you too much freedom to be comfortable with.

A knife stuck out of Toby's back, although it took a moment for him to realize the marking was split open from the blood running down his back.

He felt no pain, but the hallucinations started soon after.

He kept screaming your name, calling for help, it was too pathetic for you to feel sympathy for, even if you had stayed to help him.

His wretched voice echoed throughout the house as you rushed toward any door, any window you spotted. Your mind rushed faster than you could make sense of it, and even opened a pantry in the rush of adrenaline.

You had to try the back door, which was past Toby's body in the living room.

And it fell unusually quiet.

But upon tiptoeing into the living room, with eyes wide and full of primal panic and focus, you noticed Toby convulsing on the ground.

But you didn't have any sympathy for him, you reminded yourself. Every villain as their golden moments, and in his delusions he loved you. But people don't hurt someone that they love. And they certainly do not threaten to lock them in handcuffs, to shove them into a windowless basement.

Foaming at the mouth, Toby wasn't present anymore, and didn't pose a threat even if the seizure did stop before you left.

You grabbed the keychain from his pocket, and unlocked the multiple locks lining the back door, and you disappeared from his life, hopefully for good this time.

When Toby finally woke up, the back door was open, a stupid racoon was picking through his hair.

#now in theory if the proxies went to slender to get it removed there would be a little bit less pain #not too much less #creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta imagines #creepypasta blog #masky #ticci toby #creepypasta x reader #proxies x reader #ticci toby x reader #seizure #tw seizure

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scremogirl · 6 months

Text

☾✧꥟ 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 ✧✰☀︎︎

𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐀𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝

Yandere! Serial killer x Sadistic Reader (final part)

GN! Reader, Mentions of blood, Mentions of mutilation, Sadistic behavior, Mentions of Stalking. y’all ik I ask you every post but PLEASE read the note at the end! Part 1 is here part 2 is here. Enjoy!

“What…”

You mean to tell me your best friend of ten years has secretly been conspiring with your stalker!? After all you’ve confided in her, all you trusted her with, the secrets you’ve shared, have been relayed to another person in the twisted name of love!?

“He’s- I-…” she sighs, attempting to regain her composure.

“You remember in 4th grade, when I liked that boy? Evan Daniels? I had the hugest crush on him,” she giggles a bit, snotty and nostalgic.

“I was convinced we’d be together forever; get married, have five kids and two dogs. But that all changed when I confessed. He told me… he told me he liked you. My best friend,” you gotta be joking. All of this just about some guy in elementary school that you don’t even remember!?

“It’s not about that!” she explains harshly, her gaze shifting from sympathetic to something much darker.

“When he told you he liked you, you agreed! You knew how much he meant to me. I got over it sure, but the years after that… nothing ever seemed to change. So I became popular but you did too, I started wearing makeup and so did you, I found my passion and you just so happened to like it too. You were always better than me; hated it! You liked all the attention you got, the praise and looks of adoration. So when I found out what Keegan was doing… why would I try to stop it?” she smiles to herself before looking back up at your glossy eyes. The bright lights of police cars spread through the area and loud voices call out for you.

“How long has this been going on?”

“How long have we been friends?” She smiles. That bitch!

“You were my best friend so it wasn’t hard to give him the information he wanted; killing Gill was just a plus,” she walks closer to you, pushing down on the dirt. Keegan tightens his hold on the axe and narrows his eyes but stops when he sees you glance over to him. “All I’ve been doing was working behind the scenes and guess what, it paid off,”

“I’m sorry things had to turn out this way,” she looks at you one more time before heading into the opposite direction as Keegan advances towards you. There's no way you're letting this slide. Your first move is to jump towards her and push her to the ground, hitting her face in as hard and fast as you can. Despite Keegan's attempts to retrain you, you grab a loose clothes pin from your costume and stab the area near his eye. In the midst of his screams, you sprint through the woods more quickly than ever. Yeah, it's dumb, but with Malika blocking the way of the police and a psychopath standing before you, you had no choice.

As you rushed to hide behind a tree, it felt as if you had been running for years. It's better not to look back, not to make a noise, to remain silent and out of sight, you think to yourself. It makes no sense how you've gotten here. I mean, you know how you got here, but you can’t rack your brain. It does explain why she always tried to sway you from going to any authoritative figure. Why she would grin to herself the handful of times you’ve lost competitions, why she all of sudden had a thing for Gill after you mentioned how cute he was. The blood on your hands fills your nose with the scent of metal and plastic. The air in your lungs has long left and your legs ache from how you sprintied every which way. This is all your fault. Just when you think you’ve reached the end, you hear bright lights shine your way and a voice calls out but when you turn your head Keegan stands before you.

“Found you,” a hand grabs at your ankle and you take the last clothes pin you’ve kept clutched at your side and stab it straight through. They howl and pain and you take this opportunity to dash your way into a different hiding spot. He regains his composure and brushes off the wound like it’s nothing. Following you into the dark before screaming out.

“You can’t hide from me forever, darling. I always know where you are,”

………………………………………………………………………………….

You were his muse.

Ever since freshman year he knew you were the one. It was love at first sight really, you’ve just been placed in Hon Visual Arts Program, seated right next to each other. How could someone be this beautiful! He would always be scribbling in his little sketch book pictures of you in all of your glory. He’d always try to talk to you but that witch you call your best friend took up all your time. You’d talk every once in awhile but never noticed who he truly was and nothing could ever satisfy the craving he had for your love. So, he took it upon himself to fill up various different pages of you; from enjoying your time around campus to painting upon paintings lining the walls of his basement in more lewd positions. However, his favorite artistic liberty was creating faces. I know it sounds weird but the way he could replicate one’s features down to a T was incredible! From paper mache masks, to clay, to porcelain dolls and to your horror, skin.

“Hey, (Y/N)! I was wondering if you could help me with a project of mine? You're the greatest fashion designer I know and I can’t think of anyone else to do this for me,” aw how sweet! Of course you’d help him.

You two worked like dogs the next couple of days, working so much in sync, his movements felt like your own. You felt so comfortable around him and became so close throughout your sessions. Eventually, after the project was done he asked you to hang out after school, no work involved. Coincidentally, that’s when the same eerie notes popped back into your life. You were shocked. How could this happen? You thought this was all over with and pushed it into the deepest part of your mind. You became so paranoid and Keegan picked up on it lighting fast, wonder why.

“Sh, it’s okay. Look at me, baby, look at me. Shh it’s okay, I’m here. I’ll protect you,” you ignored the baby part, to wrapped up in your own anxiety to actually be paying attention to anything other than your safety. It's ironic now that you think about it; the person you trusted the most is now the person you’re currently pulling a Usian Bolt on.

Oof!

You’re tackled to the ground and before you could react, your hands are tied behind your back and his axe pins your shirt to the wooden stump behind you. He’s out of breath and panting, hands coming down to rest on your waist. He straddles you and you struggle before he knocks you out cold. He sighs hauling your body over his shoulder and dragging his weapon behind him. His large frame somehow goes undetected through all the chaos he’s created.

“Why are you always running from me, Darling?”

………………………………………………………………………………….

It’s dark and cold and the only thing you can hear is the sound of your own heavy breathing. Fuck! Why is this happening?! What did you ever do that deserves this? The weighted sounds of boots from the floor above grow closer as someone descends down the stairs. Soon, your blindfold is ripped off but the gag in your mouth remains. It’s him. He looks at you sympathetically, like a puppy who knows they’ve done something bad but couldn’t stop itself. Right next to him stands Malika, battered and bruised from your assault. You take in your surroundings, and as she flicks the light on you see it. A shrine filled with you, and I mean that quite literally. From your hair to used panties and explicit photos. Some are from the earliest years of highschool and some are as recent as last week.

However, what really catches your attention is the mural on the old brick wall behind them. A empty mannequin standing front and center waiting to be dressed. There, the faces of all you once knew lie. From Mr. Sicowutz- the teacher that lead you to this death trap- to the freshly scalped features of Gill and his side piece.

“I’ll admit, you really did a number on me. I never would’ve expected that from you,” she says, snapping you out of your thoughts. Stepping closer she winds her hand back and hits you as hard as she can, rendering you even more less concise than you were before. Again, Keegan fits the handle of his weapon at the sight of her touch but does not say anything.

“I loved you, (Y/N). I really did. But after all, you’ve took from me? I could never forgive you. Goodbye,” with that said the axe swings down on her back, slicing straight through the skin and muscles. Oh, you didn’t think this was the end did you? She lays on the ground and does nothing but watch as you're freed from your binds. Keegan rubs the bruise she left on you face and attempts to massage your tender wrists but you brush him off.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. You really had me questioning myself for a second, Malika. I didn’t know if I could go through with this but, we all need a reality check every once in a while,” She stares wide-eyed before croaking out a small “how?”

“Oh c’mon, you really think I didn’t know? Just like you said, I’m better than you; always two steps ahead. I’m not stupid. I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, I really did,” she still looks confused attempting to crawl away but Keegan picks her up and places her on a hook attached to the wall. She looks even more confused so you give her the explanation she rightly deserves.

“It all clicked to me when I realized how much you encouraged me to go to my that last school. How, when I brought up the letters again you acted like you didn’t know what I meant. How you smiled like a Cheshire when Gill rejected me,” Keegan scoffs at the last part but all you do is smile.

“I dug a little deeper and found out the truth. He told me everything. Neither of you are good liars. So like the good puppy he is ,” you say, grabbing his chin bringing him down to rub his head, kissing his cheek lovingly.

“He helped me with a plan. I was the one who dragged you here. Who made you think you had the upper hand, let you carry on with this delusion of yours,” you snatch the axe from his hands before swinging it above your shoulder.

“I loved you, Malika. I really did. But after all, you put me through. I couldn’t ever forgive you. Goodbye,”

………………………………………………………………………………….

“The anniversary of what is now being called the “ Mayham Massacre” at the annual Freak do Shek carnival is this coming Halloween night. (Y/N) (L/)- Victim and former schoolmate of the killer known as “The Mask Maker” speaks about their experience with the crazed lunatic and how they feel with the reopening of the festival. Here’s Jim Saltovy reporting live”

“Thank you Carla’s. So, M(r/rs/s/x) (L/N) how did you know him?”

“Well it all started in highschool when me and my dear friend Malika were transferred to an art class. I-“

This channel is boring. Hm… is there anything else to watch? Oh I know, some good ol cartoons! As he lays his head in your lap snuggling closer, you finish the last details of your mask for this year. Albeit a little slimey, it’s just how you remembered to be. Somehow managing to make it out of his grip, you stumble down into the basement . Placing the mask in the finnish costume, you smile.

“Perfect,” you say shutting off the lights and making your way back up straits where your crazed lover awaits. She may have always hated being I second but this year she’ll definitely be first.

Hey y’all! I wanted to start off by saying I hope you enjoyed my Halloween special! It took a lot outta me. I did become lazy at the end so… yea. I wrote and edited this part all in 1 day 😭. I also recognize that the dynamic between reader and yandere isn’t touched upon as much besides backstory and that’s on purpose. I was experimenting with a third party character that’s not the main or y/n for future story’s. This was based off the movie Hell Fest, so go check it out if you want to; I think it’s on Netflix still idk.

-Love, Sosa ❤️

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #☾✧꥟ 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 ✧✰☀︎︎#yandere! serial killer #✧✩🜚𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐈𝐂 🜸𖤐✰

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teasteeper · 4 months

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street fighter bf!hendery

18+ minors dni, f!reader, nsfw under the cut, kinda mean!hendery, “daddy”, alc + weed

street fighter bf!hendery who never comes home when he says he will..he’s always late, always making you stay up until your eyes burn and you’re biting at your nails from worry. the longer you’re with him the more you understand how unpredictable things can get, but that doesn’t stop you from assuming the worst when the time passes 5am and you still haven’t heard from him. the loud engine of his muscle car has you sprinting to the window, heart beating in your chest and relief washing over you when he gets out of the driver’s seat, limping slightly on his way to your apartment’s front door. you don’t push him to talk as he stands in front of you between your legs as you sit on the bathroom counter, dabbing at the cuts on his face with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball. you know from past experience that he prefers the quiet, doesn’t want to scare you by relaying the sketchy things he’s been through. he’d much rather tune it all out with your soft voice, his grip on your thighs getting less tense the more you ramble about the mundane day you had

street fighter bf!hendery who fucks you dumb after you ask to watch one of his fights. he needs to get it through your dizzy head that it’s too dangerous, that a pretty little thing like you has no place there, surrounded by criminals. “you must be fucking stupid” he spits through gritted teeth, his hard thrusts drilling you into the mattress, bloodied and bandaged fingers squeezing your jaw to angle your tear-streaked face towards him. “if the guys i fight see a pretty dumb little thing like you.. fuck- i can’t even imagine”. he fucks load after load into your sensitive cunt, making both your juices leak out and make a mess all over your thighs and tummy, your cheeks hot from embarrassment and still being squeezed between his fingers. his other hand fingers the cum that drips out back into you, your pussy squelching with how full he’s stuffed you, before shoving his fingers to the back of your throat that’s raw and sore from your moans and sobs. he’s calmer after emptying his balls into you, his gaze hooded and unfocused and he watches your plump lips circle around his fingers, “you’re such a good girl.. my favourite girl- i love you.. can’t let anything happen to you”

street fighter bf!hendery who’s softest when he’s crossed, your mouths so wet and messy as you make out, the sweet smell of alcohol of your breath. he doesn’t hold back, groaning into your mouth as he pulls you to straddle his lap, hands roaming all over your hips and chest. he watches you sink onto his cock his red, hooded eyes, so enamoured with you and the way your cheeks glow with a drunken flush, your lipgloss smeared around your lips that are red and swollen from kissing, “y’so pretty.. my pretty baby”. he reaches for the joint he rolled earlier, taking long tokes as he watches you bounce on his cock, the corners of his lips turning up at your tiny moans. his hands are so pretty, joint dangling from two slender fingers and red cuts and bruises all over his knuckles. “so pretty, daddy..” you reach for his hand, bringing it to your mouth and pressing soft kisses to his scars before circling your lips around his thumb, sucking and moaning softly around the digit. “ah- shit..” he whines out, setting the joint in the ashtray before flipping you onto your back, his neck bending down to leave pretty marks on your neck, trailing his lips down your chest and tummy, holding your squirming hips to the bed. when he’s done marking you up he sinks his cock back into you, fingers tracing over the marks he left, “now you match daddy, baby”

part 2

#౨ৎ street fighter diaries #street fighter bf!hendery #hendery #nct #wayv #hendery smut #hendery x you #hendery x reader #nct smut #wayv smut #nct hard hours #nct hard thoughts #wayv hard hours #wayv hard thoughts #mine

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oopsiedaisiesbaby · 4 months

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This is my contribution to the @harringrove-relay-race ✨

You’re Bleeding But You Want More

Fight during basketball practice to hate sex in the locker room fic

CW: fighting, some homophobic and sexist language, face slapping, degradation, barebacking, spit as lube

Read on AO3

“Plant your feet asshole,” Tommy hissed as he ran past Steve.

Groaning at his still rattling bones, Steve allowed himself a moment to linger on the court floor. He winced as he heard cheering from the other side of the court.

Billy had scored again.

“Harrington, get off your ass,” Coach barked, as everyone started setting up for the next play.

Sighing, Steve gingerly picked himself up off the court floor. He limped over to where he was supposed to be, sucking in a sharp breath at the throbbing pain in his back and elbows.

He tried to ignore Billy’s manic grin, his stupid tongue hanging out of his mouth, the way his sharp eyes followed Steve like a predator.

He was such a dick.

“Awww, poor little Harrington,” Billy drawled, smirking. “Can’t keep a girl or the ball.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve decided to take Nancy and Jonathan’s advice and ignore him. He couldn’t afford to get kicked out of practice again for trading barbs with someone as stupid as Billy Hargrove. They were both dangerously close to losing their starting positions if they kept it up according to Coach.

Steve didn’t need to give his dad another reason to call him a disappointment.

Steve’s team gained possession of the ball from the tip off and he found himself being immediately smothered by a warm weight against his back. Hot panting breath was hitting the back of his neck, making his skin crawl. Pushing back against the weight with his body, Steve knew it was Billy when the solid wall of muscle didn’t budge.

Losing his patience before Billy could even open his mouth, Steve threw back an elbow and delighted in the sharp exhale it earned him. He broke away and sprinted down the court, trying to get open for Tommy to pass him the ball.

Before Steve could call out to Tommy, he felt something solid bump into his shoulder and send him flying to the ground. He barely had time to throw out his hands and catch himself. Without even looking, he knew it was Billy.

Steve reached out a hand and wrapped it around the nearest ankle, tugging hard until he saw Billy crash to the floor next to him.

“You little bitch,” Billy hissed dangerously.

In the blink of an eye, Billy was scrambling on top of him and throwing a wild fist at Steve’s face. Steve’s ears rang as his the fist slammed into his cheek, knocking his head back against the court.

“Fuck you, Hargrove,” Steve spat.

He twisted his torso desperately until he’d rolled them over and was able to land a solid punch to Billy’s jaw. Billy growled up at him as Steve reared back to throw another hit.

“Why are you so fucking obsessed with me?” Steve asked through gritted teeth.

Steve grunted as strong fingers yanked his head away by his hair and he suddenly found himself beneath Billy again.

“You waste too much fucking space,” Billy snapped.

His stomach dropped as Billy cocked his fist back for another punch.

Before Billy could land what would’ve probably been a knockout blow, Steve found himself being pulled away. Feet kicking, he watched as Billy was hauled away in the opposite direction. Both of them were still spitting curses at each other.

“Enough!” Coach barked. “Are you idiots done?”

Steve huffed and shoved the teammates that had been holding him back away, straightening his clothes out. He eyed Billy warily as he did the same.

“Now,” Coach started, glaring at them both, face red. “This is the last time you 2 dumbasses interrupt my practice with your bullshit or I’m benching you for 3 games.”

Steve opened his mouth to protest but stayed silent at his coach’s icy stare.

“Now go clean up in the locker room, I don’t want you assholes back on this court until tomorrow and so help me God, you better leave that shit at the door.”

“Yes, sir,” Billy and Steve mumbled in unison, glaring at each other.

Coach blew his whistle and Steve found himself stomping off towards the locker room, side by side with Billy fucking Hargrove.

He grumbled as he felt Billy bump his shoulder.

“Fuck you, pretty boy,” Billy hissed under his breath.

“This is all your fault, douchebag,” Steve snapped back quietly so that Coach couldn’t hear.

“My fault?” Billy scoffed, elbowing Steve discretely when he dropped his shoulder and subtly rammed into Billy’s arm. “You’re the asshole that can’t play for shit.”

“You only score because you foul constantly,” Steve insisted, through his teeth, elbowing Billy back.

They scrambled as they reached the locker room door to see who could shove their way in first. Billy slapped Steve in the nuts causing him to hunch over and concede the win to Billy.

“I don’t foul, you’re just a little bitch,” Billy smirked triumphantly as he swaggered into the locker room ahead of Steve.

What a piece of shit.

Steve didn’t even think before he was shoving Billy into the lockers from behind. He barely had time to catch his breath before Billy was grabbing him by the shirt and spinning them so that Steve was pinned against the lockers.

Their punches were even wilder than on the court. Knuckles were glancing off of cheeks, but still somehow landing world-stoppingly hard before they were back at it again. Hands scrambled meanly against chests and faces as they tried to push the other away. Steve fought as hard as he could, but he couldn’t get his back off of the locker.

Billy had him completely pinned.

He knew it was over when rather than throw another punch, Billy wrapped his hand around Steve’s throat. Steve gasped for air, nails scratching ineffectively at Billy’s hand. Billy just smirked and leaned his body weight into the hold, their fronts brushing together. Steve couldn’t help the way he went limp and collapsed against Billy as the edges of his vision started to darken.

It was at that moment that Steve realized they were both hard.

He watched Billy’s bright blue eyes widen in shock, his grip around Steve’s throat loosening just enough that Steve could push him away. They stared each other down, only about a foot of space between them, their chests heaving with exertion.

Billy reached a hand out towards Steve and he quickly slapped it away.

What the actual fuck was going on here?

Steve felt like he was losing his mind. He was definitely going to snap and do something stupid if Billy touched him again.

He thought he might lose it if Billy didn’t though.

Billy reached a hand out lightning quick and slapped Steve. His cheek burned as he gasped in shock, eyes round as he stared at Billy in shock and Billy simply stared back at him, mouth open as he took Steve in. His burning blue eyes held a question and while Steve didn’t know what that question was, he found himself nodding.

His body thrummed with static electricity as Billy nodded back.

Steve yanked his shirt over his head, stepping out of his sneakers as he watched Billy yank his own shorts down. The moment Steve’s shorts and briefs hit the floor, he found himself being spun around until his forehead and hands were pressed to the lockers.

He panted open mouthed against the cool metal, groaning as Billy kicked his feet apart. Steve’s socks slid against the concrete floors as he scrambled to comply.

Moaning as sweat salty fingers were shoved into his mouth, Steve sucked on the intruding digits instinctively. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as Billy’s warm breath puffed out hot and wet against the nape of his neck.

“Knew you’d be a whore,” Billy sneered meanly, fingers locking bruisingly tight around Steve’s hip when he bit down on Billy’s fingers. “That’s all you get!”

Steve gasped as the fingers were yanked out of his mouth and he felt them nudging up against his rim. He whimpered, scrabbling against the locker as he tried to get away. Billy held him in place as he sank a finger inside of Steve, hissing at him to stay still.

“Hargrove,” Steve warned, his voice cutting out as a second finger wriggled its way inside of him, curling pleasantly.

Steve had never had anything up his ass in his life because to him, that seemed gay as hell. At that moment, he couldn’t remember why it was a bad thing to seem gay.

There was something about being full of Billy’s thick, callused fingers that felt so unbelievably good. Steve was wholly unprepared for just how good it felt when a third finger was shoved unceremoniously inside of him. He hid his groan in the crook of his arm as Billy curled his fingers inside of him pleasantly.

All too soon, Billy was yanking his fingers out and Steve heard a gross, wet spitting sound behind him. His ears burned as he realized the next wet noise was Billy slicking his dick up with his own spit.

Steve was about to get fucked.

He honestly didn’t feel as ashamed as he figured he should about it.

The loud, high, needy moan Steve let out as Billy started to push inside of him was absolutely obscene. He couldn’t bring himself to care because Billy was groaning into the back of his neck, just as wantonly.

Before Steve got a chance to catch his bearings, Billy was pulling his mouth away from the back of his neck and shoving in just a little further. They both hissed as Billy bottomed out. The brief pause as Billy’s hips connected with his ass had Steve feeling like time was frozen around him.

Suddenly Billy was pulling his hips back and snapping them back in rough and quick. Steve whined, his hands balling into fists as Billy fucked into him relentlessly. The fullness of Billy’s cock inside of him was insane and Steve was losing his mind as Billy thrust into him over and over.

If this was how it felt for girls, Steve didn’t understand why they weren’t all bigger sluts. His dick had never been so hard, he was already dripping precum, and he was practically vibrating out of his skin.

“Harder you pussy,” Steve demanded, nails clawing at the metal of the locker as Billy complied.

“Hard enough for you, slut?” Billy grunted, snapping his hips rough and quick.

Steve banged a fist against the locker as Billy’s maddening thrusts set his blood tingling with arousal. Every thrust was electric but brushed just shy of something. Steve didn’t know what it was but he knew he wanted it.

“Knew you had to be overcompensating for something,” Steve gasped as Billy’s next thrust came dangerously close to that something.

“Sure are mouthy for someone moaning like a lil bitch,” Billy panted, his fingers tightening around Steve’s hips.

“Then give it to me and shut me up,” Steve challenged, his forehead slipping down the locker with sweat, changing the angle of Billy’s thrusts slightly.

He let out an involuntary sob as the head of Billy’s dick suddenly brushed up against something inside of him that made him feel like he was being electrocuted.

“Oh God,” Steve whimpered, pressing his flushed sweaty cheek to the cold locker for relief.

Billy groaned behind him and picked up the pace even more, nailing that spot every few thrusts, but brushing along it with every single snap of his hips. It was like nothing Steve had ever felt before.

He couldn’t take it much longer. His skin felt itchy and tingly. Arousal was crackling loud and staticy in his belly with his rapidly approaching orgasm. Each time Billy sank in and nailed that spot, electricity jolted up his spine and fried his brain.

“Take it, you fucking slut,” Billy growled, his breath hot in Steve’s ear.

Steve threw back an elbow, nailing Billy in the ribs. He heard a grunt behind him before fingers were tangling with his own and shoving his hand against the locker above his head.

Moaning, Steve reached back to bury his hand in Billy’s curls and held his searing, sinful mouth against his neck. Billy groaned and bit into the sensitive skin causing Steve to hiss and screw up tight around him.

Billy let out a strained gasp, his hips stuttering as his fingers tightened around Steve’s hip.

“That all you got?” Steve snarked, rolling his hips back into Billy’s harsh thrusts.

“Shut the fuck up,” Billy grunted, releasing Steve’s hip to land a resounding smack against Steve’s ass.

Steve whimpered as Billy’s thrusts got even rougher. Billy panted into Steve’s neck, smacking Steve’s ass again.

Keening, Steve tried to bury his forehead into the unforgiving metal of the locker and squeezed his fingers around Billy’s. He was leaking all over his abs, probably dripping onto the floor at that point.

Steve didn’t give a fuck.

“No wonder you can’t get a second date,” Steve groaned into the locker, shivering at the static buzzing all over his skin. “Can’t fuck for shit.”

All too quickly, Steve found himself empty and cold as Billy pulled away from him. Whining, Steve reached back trying to find purchase in Billy’s curls again. He found himself suddenly spun around and shoved up against the lockers.

He gasped as Billy grabbed him by the back of the thighs and lifted. Steve scrambled to wrap his arms and legs around Billy to avoid getting dropped. His fear was short lived as Billy fucked back into him and nailed his prostate even harder than before.

Eyes rolling back in his head, Steve slammed his head back against the lockers with a shrill moan.

“This what you wanted, slut?” Billy demanded as he fucked into Steve hard and fast, shoving up against Steve’s prostate relentlessly.

He could practically feel Billy in his throat at this angle with how deep he was.

Steve must’ve been silent for too long because his cheek was suddenly stinging as Billy slapped him roughly.

“Yes,” Steve whined, clenching around Billy reflexively.

“Fuck,” Billy gasped, tightening his grip on Steve’s thigh and fucking into him impossibly harder.

Whimpering as Billy slapped him again, Steve felt his brain going fuzzy from how overwhelmingly good it all felt.

“Harder,” Steve breathed, his nails raking across Billy’s upper back.

Billy whined and smacked Steve’s cheek even harder. He let his fingers linger on Steve’s warm cheek, digging his fingers into the tender skin.

Steve’s throat clicked as he tried to swallow and groan at the same time. He turned his face just enough to suck Billy’s thumb into his mouth, groaning around the salty taste.

He only got a few harsh sucks in before Billy was pulling his jaw down and staring hungrily at Steve’s mouth.

“Stick your tongue out,” Billy ordered breathlessly, the rhythm of his hips never faltering.

Steve bit the tip of Billy’s thumb petulantly, groaning at the slap it earned him. He obediently opened his mouth on his own, letting his tongue fall past his bottom lip.

Lightning bolted violently up Steve’s spine and through his fingertips and toes as Billy spit into his mouth. With a gutteral sob, Steve came all over their stomachs and chests.

His hole fluttered wildly around Billy’s cock as he watched fiery blue eyes widen, locked in on Steve’s mouth as he swallowed Billy’s spit. Eyebrows furrowing and face turning red, Billy let out a concerning choking noise as he shuddered against Steve.

Steve gasped as he felt a peculiar warmth fill him, his body still tingling as he came down from his intense orgasm. Steve shivered as Billy buried his face in Steve’s neck and finally drew in a noisy breath.

It took Steve a moment to realize that the desperate little whines filling the locker room were coming from his own mouth. Punctuating each anguished gasp of air he tried to suck down.

Tightening his legs around Billy’s waist, Steve relaxed his fingers where they were still digging into Billy’s back. With a sigh, Billy pulled back to look at Steve, his eyes and mouth pinched with something that Steve couldn’t name.

Dopey with his very recent mind blowing orgasm, Steve leaned forward to try and kiss away the weird look on Billy’s face. His stomach whooshed unpleasantly as he found himself suddenly falling, his lips grazing Billy’s neck on the way down.

“Queer,” Billy grunted as he pulled away, leaving Steve to stumble as his feet suddenly hit the floor.

Steve burned with humiliation as he collapsed against the lockers. He watched Billy swagger over to the showers, wild scratches littering his upper back.

Fuck him.

Steve stomped over to the showers on weak legs and slapped on the shower head across from Billy. He turned around, putting his back to Billy so that he didn’t have to look at his stupid face.

He didn’t understand what the fuck had just happened. Steve vowed to shower quickly and get the hell out of there as fast as he could.

Maybe he could go home and drink himself into oblivion. Maybe it would help forget that he’d just had the best orgasm of his life with another dude. With another dude slapping him and calling him a slut.

Just as he started to shampoo his hair, he heard a sharp inhale behind him. Steve whipped around to see what had Billy making that noise.

When he turned, he saw Billy’s gaze dropped to his thighs. His thighs that had cum slowly dripping down them, now that he paid attention it.

Billy’s gaze was hot enough to have arousal tingling low in Steve’s belly again. He turned back around to rinse the shampoo out of his hair, trying to ignore the douche bag behind him. His face flushed as he reached behind himself to rinse out the rest of the cum.

Steve gasped as he felt his wrist suddenly locked in a bruising grip. He looked over his shoulder to see Billy looming behind him, fiery blue eyes intent on Steve’s ass.

“Fuck off,” Steve hissed, trying to yank his wrist out of Billy’s tight grasp.

“I’m gonna give you three seconds to get your hands on that wall with your ass out,” Billy informed him, his voice low and dangerous.

Steve stumbled forward as his wrist was released, hands planting against the shower wall. Before he could even think about what was happening, Billy was on his knees behind him, face buried in Steve’s ass.

Groaning, Steve rolled his hips back against Billy’s face as he felt a hot, wet tongue bury itself inside of him. He couldn’t even find it in himself to feel embarrassed when he let out a wanton moan as his next words earned him a harsh smack agaisnt his ass.

“Who’s the queer now?”

Please look forward to the beyond spectacular work from the next contributor, @writer-in-theory.

#harringrove relay race #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove fic #oopsiewrites #steve x billy #harringrovefic #harringrovefanfic #harringrove fanfiction #harringrove fanfic #stranger things

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