#the sid were so right to be suspicious of him from the get go | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

taexual · 9 months

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sleepwalking ● 2 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, suggestive themes, SLOW BURN

words: 6.7k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 2 ► they say i got no purpose, they say i got no cause, but i’m loved by all my people, i’m the leader of the lost

Tipsy Jungkook was usually known for his wit, maybe his charm, but never great ideas. Hence his plan to win the bet early—and he was certain he would win—as he knocked on the door of your hotel room at eleven-thirty that same night.

The long flight was already far behind him, but it wasn’t behind you as you opened the door of your pitch-dark room only several minutes later. He thought he got the wrong room until he saw you, squinting at the violent light coming in from the hall.

“Jungkook?” you mumbled, too disoriented to understand the pointlessness of your own question. His knock had woken you up from what was supposed to be a ten-second rest of your eyes. “I thought we’d agreed on a text.”

“We did,” he said, suddenly very aware of how difficult it was to choose words now that he was actually standing in front of you. “But I figured I’d report to you live. So, that’s why I’m here.”

“Okay,” you said slowly. Your words felt heavy, your mouth too tired to voice them. “Well, uh—thanks. You should—”

You were already in the process of closing the door of your room, but he grabbed it, startling you. His gaze was cast low, however, and he did not notice the widening of your eyes.

“I was thinking—what if you came down for a drink?” his question was quick as he fought a battle against his sober mind that was catching up to him.

Eventually, he looked up at you. Your eyebrows were rising, then fell quickly as you tried to play your surprise off. It was this look on your face that—finally—gave him a pause.

It caught up—the sober part of him—and he blinked, fully grasping what he was doing and regretting it immediately. He hadn’t really thought he’d come up here, ask you out, and you’d jump at the chance. He knew you wouldn’t. But he supposed that, maybe, against nearly all odds of the years between you, he still had a glimmer of hope that you’d agree, after all.

“How much have you had to drink?” you countered—and whatever hope he’d had dimmed completely.

You wouldn’t have said no to a drink under normal circumstances, but these particular ones were hardly normal. Not to mention, they involved Jungkook’s so-called friends, and you’d have sooner shrivelled from thirst than considered drinking with them.

You assumed Jungkook knew that.

“Barely anything,” he told you truthfully enough. There was, of course, the matter of his brain being clouded, but he figured alcohol had little to do with it. Looking at you more closely, he took in your dishevelled hair and droopy eyes and bit his lip before asking, “did I wake you?”

“No,” you lied, but for a good cause—the protection of your dignity. “Are you feeling alright? Your eye is twitching.”

Looking down again and bringing his fingers over his eyes, he groaned under his breath. This was jetlag. It threw him off his game.

Turning his head sideways to hide his flustered face, Jungkook attempted to get himself together in under a second—and failed, of course. If anything, he only became more aware of your suspicious gaze as he rubbed his eyes continuously.

Fucking Sid and Jude. He’d clearly acted too big-headed in front of them, and now he was outside of your room, having whatever the hell this awkward silence was with you, and his fucking eye was twitching.

He loathed this.

“I’m great,” he said without looking up at you. New plan, new plan, new plan. “Going to bed now. Night.”

He turned so abruptly, it took you a moment to realise that he meant he was going to go to bed right this second.

“Do you want water or—?” you called after him, voice faltering as you lost confidence in your phrasing. Water felt a lot like suggesting turning the device off and on again when it began to malfunction.

You watched Jungkook’s back as he hurried down the hall, shaking his head. He threw one hand up – as a gesture of refusal? Gratitude? Goodbye? You weren’t sure – before disappearing inside of his room down the hall, only daring to peek at you over his shoulder before turning away again.

There were several thoughts in his head, all of them far less eloquent than the one before, full of words starting with “F”. He realised that he couldn’t possibly just ask you out. That was outrageous; you’d knock him unconscious and kick him off the band.

Leaning against the door of his hotel room, he decided he’d have to find an excuse. Some sort of an occasion. Something laid-back, yet serious—something he could present as casual to you, but meaningful to his friends.

His eyes lit up at once. He realised he might have something, hidden in the back of his personal email, long forgotten due to the clashing of schedules. But if he made it work…

He’d have to try, he decided. This might be the only way to get you alone.

Back in the hall, you closed your own door, retreating to your room. You chose to blame the nerves on this barely two-minute-long conversation that had to be one of the weirdest ones the two of you have exchanged over the years.

He was anxious about the tour – it made sense.

You decided that, if this persisted, you’d talk to him the next time you saw him—preferably not in the middle of the night in an empty hotel hallway.

The next time you saw Jungkook was at the restaurant downstairs. It was early in the morning and the staff of the hotel was only preparing the buffet. Everywhere you looked, people were either yawning or dozing off in the eating area.

“Morning,” you announced yourself by the buffet table where the crew and the band were choosing what to put on their plates and chatting with the hotel staff in hopes of some warm cinnamon buns. “Did everyone sleep okay?”

“I left my melatonin spray,” Yoongi mumbled, appearing next to you. His eyes were redder than the shirt he was wearing. “So, no.”

Concerned, you pointed your index finger at him. “You’re coming back to the hotel after the rehearsal for a nap.

He nodded. But before you could add anything else, his slightly shapeless form glided away towards orange juice, putting an end to this exchange. He did that sometimes. He didn’t realise that his perception of the flow of conversation—namely, that it ended—could have differed from the other person’s; didn't realise that they might still have something to say.

With Yoongi gone, you looked over at Hoseok and Taehyung. “What about you? Did you get enough sleep?”

“I’m perfect,” Hoseok said. He’d rather sell both of his arms and a leg than ever admit that something was wrong with him, so you looked at him especially long as he spoke, “can’t wait to get this going. First show tonight!”

His excitement seemed genuine, so you met this palm with yours in a high-five and turned to Taehyung. He’d been standing next to you, chewing something, even though his plate was still empty.

“I’m fine, too,” he said, catching your eye. “I did try to order room service at four in the morning, but they weren’t very—well, it’s my bad in any case. I just wanted a sandwich.”

Your face was compassionate as you patted him on the arm. “Wait until we’re on the bus. We’ll all be cooking ramen at midnight.”

He smiled back wryly. “I’m looking forward to it now, but I know it’ll get old very quickly.”

You were about to agree when you felt someone’s hands on your shoulders. Flinching lightly, you turned your head until you caught sight of Jungkook’s profile.

“If anyone’s wondering,” he said, “I slept fine, too.”

“I was getting to you,” you replied, managing to get yourself out of his grip—graciously enough—so you could face him instead. “Your head’s alright?”

“It’s perfect,” he replied, beaming. “Keep telling you I know how to drink.”

You squinted your eyes, but chose not to question the last conversation you’ve had – he seemed normal enough now.

“Okay. Have a good meal, guys,” you redirected your attention back to the rest of the band—and the staff around them. “We’re leaving in forty-five.”

Most of them nodded—some grunted, too, expressing displeasure at the tight schedule—and you were finally able to grab a plate for yourself.

Jungkook, oddly enough, stayed by your side.

“Try these,” he said before you could ask him why he’d lingered. He picked up two strawberries with a fork and dropped them on your plate. “They’re so much sweeter than what we have back home.”

You looked down at the strawberries like he’d plucked them straight from an alternative universe where this gesture—dropping them on your plate for you to try—was normal.

“I don’t really eat fruit for breakfast,” you mumbled under your breath, the words—like this whole situation—inappropriate somehow.

“You should,” he replied. “They’re good for you. And the strawberries go well with a croissant. Chocolate? Your favourite.”

You stood there, barely blinking, as you watched him fetch a chocolate croissant—your favourite—for you.

He smiled proudly as he did this and even seemed surprised when you asked, “did Sid and Jude drug you last night?”

“Why would they?” Jungkook countered, but did not wait for your response as he pulled you away from the buffet table by tugging on your forearm softly. “Let’s get a seat.”

“Okay, hold on,” you took a step backwards, away from his touch. “What is going on? Are you buttering me up, because you’re going to tell me you’re addicted to meth?”

“What?” he stopped, too, looking at you with as much confusion as you were looking at him with. “Of course not.”

“Are you leaving the band?” you guessed next.

“Hell no.”

“Are you—”

“I am literally walking to get us seats at a table, so we can have breakfast,” he said. “Or, actually, trying to do that. Since you’ve stopped and won’t move.”

Still suspicious, you eyed him for half a minute longer, and then forced yourself to keep walking. He nodded, relieved, and followed your step towards the table.

He sat down next to you, which took Namjoon—one of the producers on tour with you—completely off-guard, because he was the one who usually sat with you when Rated Riot were touring. Out of everyone here, Namjoon was one of the few people—the other ones being Yoongi, the de-facto leader of Rated Riot, and Seokjin, the stage manager—that you could count on to keep everyone in check, so the two of you had a lot to talk about over breakfast.

But this morning was already starting off weird.

Hesitating for a second, Namjoon looked around and sat down on Jungkook’s other side, shooting you a confused look over the band member’s shoulder.

Jungkook didn’t notice, momentarily preoccupied by the waffle on his plate. You shrugged briefly in response to Namjoon and ripped off a piece of your croissant, scattering crumbs everywhere on your plate and the table.

You didn’t feel very hungry, to begin with—the anxiety of the band going on their first European Tour was really showing its’ full face today—but Jungkook acting unusual only made you more unsettled.

“Jungkook,” Namjoon spoke up—bless him—as he, like you, avoided actually eating anything that was on his plate, but kept playing with the stems of his strawberries. “Nervous about tonight?”

“Not more than usual,” Jungkook replied, his tone nonchalant even though you could feel the restless bouncing of his leg against yours under the table. “I know we’ve got a great crew here. We’ll be fine. Right?”

He looked at you as he said this last part—an innocent, expectant smile on his face. But there was a conspicuous glint of mischief in his eye. You couldn’t tell if he was up to something, or just nervous.

“Right,” you said, chewing the piece of the croissant you’ve broken off. It didn’t taste like anything.

“First show’s a sold-out, so that’s a good start of the tour,” Namjoon continued. “Can’t wait to see you guys on stage.”

“Can’t wait to be on it,” Jungkook echoed, his voice empty somehow, until he turned to you. “You’ll be at the soundcheck, right?”

He was watching you again—truthfully, he never even looked at Namjoon; when he spoke to him, he looked down at his plate and only peered at the producer through his peripherals—and you shifted in your seat awkwardly.

“Of course,” you said. “It’s my job.”

“Right,” Jungkook said. “Of course.”

You glanced at Namjoon, your eyebrows furrowed slightly. He looked back at you with an almost identical expression.

“Guys,” was the next thing you heard, followed by a very agitated slam of a plate against your table. Alarmed, you looked up to see Seokjin next to you. “The owner of the venue only speaks Czech. I called, but I could not get any information from him whatsoever. I even tried negotiating in German.”

You lifted your eyebrows, but Namjoon beat you to the most important question at hand, “you speak German?”

Seokjin sat down with a defeated sigh. “I don’t. But I’m desperate. I know how to say hello, I thought it’d break the ice.”

Jungkook watched the exchange in silence, curious. He wasn’t usually present at these backstage meetings where you discussed the logistics of the tour; it all distracted him from his plan.

“I’ll try to talk to him,” you said, wiping your hands on your legs to lose the crumbs. “What do you need to know?”

“Well, everything,” Seokjin replied. “I’m going over there right after breakfast to fix the place for the soundcheck while the guys rehearse, and I don’t even know how many loudspeakers the place has.”

You nodded as you got your phone out of your pocket and considered your next course of action. It was a crisis you expected before you came here—language translation had always been a problem in foreign countries, especially in venues that had terrible internet connection—so you checked your schedule and decided on the simplest way to solve this: teamwork.

“Let’s both go over there,” you said. “We’ll figure out a way to communicate face-to-face.”

Seokjin was mid-nod when Jungkook extended a hand, making everyone freeze.

“Hold on,” he spoke in a rush, “I thought you were coming with me.”

There was offence in his words. You felt Seokjin glance at you and did not need to turn your head to know that the look on his face was questioning—did you have plans with Jungkook this morning?

“I’ll be at the soundcheck,” you spoke slowly. “You hardly need me at the rehearsal, too.”

“I—well I do need you, as a matter of fact,” Jungkook said. Then, responding to the surprise of everyone at the table (Seokjin was actually grinning), he added, “at, uh—at the rehearsal, I mean.”

There was a warmth under your skin that felt prickly and uncomfortable.

“You’ll deal,” you said simply enough and took another bite of your croissant—properly this time, because you had to get going soon.

“And what if I forget the lyrics?” he pushed. “Who is going to yell at me if you’re not there?”

“Yoongi,” you replied, your mouth full, “he’ my befft—” you paused to swallow, “my best replacement.”

Jungkook huffed in exaggerated disappointment, but he dropped the topic, allowing you to finish your breakfast in peace. Instead, he handed you a napkin to help with the chocolate on the corners of your lips, all without a comment.

Another minute later, he watched you and Seokjin leave together. And, with you gone, he realised that he did feel nervous.

One part of the reason why he was by your side this morning was because of the bet, that was true. But the bigger part was because of what he’d said to you – he really did want you there at the rehearsal and at the soundcheck.

Tonight was the first show of the band’s European tour. Your presence made the wait for the concert feel less massive and easier to grasp.

The bet had distracted him, too, and it gave him a reason to talk to you. But now that it was him and Namjoon left at the table, he had to find a way to bite, chew, and swallow, despite his stomach turning inside out.

Namjoon was talking about Prague to him, reading about previous bands that performed at Malá Sportovní Hala before moving on to bigger venues the next time they toured Europe—and all of that only made Jungkook bounce his leg harder.

He decided he couldn’t eat anymore as soon as he finished another waffle. With no one else distracting him from the upcoming concert, he needed to do something himself.

“Excuse me,” he said to Namjoon, who looked up in time to see him stand up with his plate and walk away. The producer thought Jungkook had looked pale, and concluded—like you had last night—that the weirdness of this morning was prompted by anxiety.

Jungkook was someone who had a captivating, effortless stage presence. Someone who put on a show until he collapsed, until he had to be dragged backstage because his legs no longer worked. Or until he climbed on the railing of the balcony and the owners of the venue, witnessing this in horror, went to fetch you, pulling on your sleeve and asking you to put a stop to this, threatening legal measures.

Jungkook performed like every night was his last. But there was so much that went into it: rehearsals, soundchecks, warm-ups, herbal throat remedies, and, most of all, anxiety. He was aware of all the what-ifs—what if my voice cracks, what if I forget the lyrics, what if my in-ear monitor lags—and they all weighed on him.

He worried. He said he didn’t, he laughed and jumped around—and all of his energy was mistaken for excitement, not stress. But he jumped because he couldn’t not jump, his whole body was tingling.

Therefore, wanting to do something else—something that would give him a reason to still feel excited even if he messed up the band’s performance tonight—Jungkook sat down on an armchair in the hotel lobby and pulled his phone out.

It was time to carry out the plan he’d come up with last night in order to win the bet; this would give him something else to focus on.

The plan was this: Kihyun, one of Jungkook’s old friends from university—and, coincidentally, the fiancé of your friend from university, Chloé—was getting married in Paris in a few days. Initially, you and Jungkook both said you couldn’t make it to the wedding because the date coincided with Rated Riot’s tour. But now this seemed like the perfect opportunity.

He'd checked his schedule beforehand, so he knew that the band had a day off right on the day of the wedding. He struggled to calculate travel time, but he figured Poland wasn’t that far from France—you could make it there and back in time for Rated Riot’s next show.

However, this was very last-minute—and he had already sent the pair a wedding gift—so he wasn’t very hopeful as he dialled Kihyun’s phone number. That being said, Jungkook knew he could be persuasive—when he wasn’t drunk and you weren’t standing in front of him in the doorway of your hotel room, that is.

But as it turned out, he didn’t even need to use his charms.

As soon as Kihyun picked up the call, he joked, “Jungkook! Change your mind about the wedding?”

And, after Jungkook admitted that he had, in fact, changed his mind, that he was in Europe, and, actually, he was thinking of bringing you as his date—Kihyun was more than happy to extend you both an invite.

Worriedly, Jungkook asked if Chloé wouldn’t mind, but Kihyun assured him—assured him!—that, if anything, Chloé would be excited. She was, apparently, hoping to see you again at her wedding and felt bummed when you said you couldn’t make it.

That was enough for Jungkook, but ever-polite Kihyun continued: the fact that you and Jungkook managed to find time in your busy schedule to see them on their special day—Jungkook cringed here, guilt creeping in—meant a lot to them both.

And so, easily enough, the plan swung into motion. Ending the call, Jungkook exhaled in relief as though he’d already invited you—and you’d said yes.

He did want to see his old friends again. And he did, really, want to take you with him—so perhaps he wouldn’t even go to hell for this. And if he would, then perhaps it’d be worth it.

After all, everything fell into place so effortlessly, it seemed like this was meant to be. And now he could go to the rehearsal, do the soundcheck, perform at the show, meet his fans, and win the bet—in this particular order.

You and Seokjin got everything settled faster than you’d expected—the owner of the venue didn’t speak any languages that the two of you spoke, but he seemed to be fluent in pointing-at-yelling, which, coincidentally, Seokjin also excelled at, so it all worked out. You still had some free time left, so you returned to the hotel before the soundcheck.

But as soon as you entered your hotel room, you felt an unsettling sense of guilt somewhere in the pit of your stomach.

What if Jungkook really needed you at the rehearsal? Not because he, clearly, had some sort of ulterior motives—covering up the fact that Sid and Jude recruited him into a cult?—but because he was genuinely nervous or unsure of himself.

It made sense—all the members of the band could have felt this way; tonight was the first show of the tour, after all. It could be that this was the only way Jungkook knew how to approach you, too prideful to ask for help directly. Perhaps you should have taken him more seriously.

Sighing, you turned around and left your room as soon as you came in.

But your journey back to the venue wasn’t smooth – security had changed shifts and there was an unfortunate mishap: you and Seokjin had gotten your credentials mixed up. Somehow, Seokjin managed to enter with your pass, but you, for some reason, couldn’t enter with his.

Half an hour later, you were finally allowed inside and found the band members about ten minutes before soundcheck was supposed to begin.

They were in the hallway leading to the stage, ready to go out—some of them were doing stretches against the wall, others were browsing on their phones while balancing water bottles on their knees.

“Hey,” you approached them from the empty stage while doing a head count to make sure all four of them were here. “How was the rehearsal?”

“The rehearsal? It was fine,” Taehyung was the one closest to you and he was the one who replied. He appeared a little thrown off by your question. You realised you’d never had to ask before—if something went wrong, they usually told you right away. Otherwise, you assumed everything was okay. “Nothing unusual. Why?”

“No reason, just curious,” you replied, hoping your voice sounded neutral enough. “Looking for reasons to worry, I guess.”

“Ah. Well, here comes the usual reason.”

He nodded his head at something behind you and you turned around to see Jungkook cross the stage towards you, dragging a mic stand after him.

“You’re finally here,” he said, stopping by the exit from the stage. “We missed you at the rehearsal.”

Taehyung was picking his bass up from where he’d rested it against the wall when he stopped, suddenly, and lifted his head. “Uh, did we? No offence.”

The question was for Jungkook—who awarded the older boy with a glare—but the last part was for you.

“None—uh, none taken,” you said, then turned to Jungkook. “I was told the rehearsal was fine.”

“Oh, sure,” he replied, “but you know me. I adapt to hardships very well.”

You looked back at Taehyung. “What hardships?”

“I honestly have no idea,” he said. Your gazes ping-ponged back to Jungkook again, almost accusing.

“I mean the hardship of being by ourselves,” Jungkook said in a frustrated voice. As if this was obvious and he felt stupid having to explain this to you. “Unmanaged.”

You raised your eyebrows. “With all this staff with you, you’re hardly ever unmanaged.”

“Yeah, but you weren’t there.”

“Okay, honestly, did you need me there?” you asked, directing the question at Taehyung, because you were more comfortable with his responses. They were less cryptic.

Feeling a bit like a third-wheel after the back-and-forth between the two of you, Taehyung looked at you, then at Jungkook, then back at you again.

“No,” he said finally. Then, nodding at Jungkook, he added, “I think he’s doing the job of giving you reasons to worry about.”

Jungkook didn’t open his mouth in time to cut in, and you spoke up first.

“He always is,” you said to the older boy. When you looked at Jungkook, he was already watching you with a face so dramatically displeased that it was clearly an act.

So, he seemed to be doing well, then.

“Get back to work,” you said with a gentle smile—Jungkook needed that smile even if he put up a front. “I’ll be with the sound operators if you really need me.”

The soundcheck and the VIP Meet & Greet afterwards, unsurprisingly, went by without either member of the band needing your assistance, so you were able to have a coffee-and-ice-cream break with Jimin, the lead sound technician on tour. It wasn’t really a break, because Jimin had to be present for the soundcheck, but things were going well, so when he mumbled how nice it’d be to have some ice cream right now, you left to get it.

This wasn’t Rated Riot’s first time doing this, of course – and they may have acted like they had fallen off an alien spaceship sometimes, but, at the end of the day, they were professionals.

You were too busy yourself before the show, so you barely got to exchange more than a few words of good luck with the band. But as soon as the opening act – a rookie band with a fitting title of Poison Tongue, considering how much they cursed in their songs – finished their performance and Seokjin’s team prepared the stage for Rated Riot, you made sure to find a spot on the side of the stage.

It took some effort, too – you tried not to block anyone by the barricade, but also not get in the way of photographers, coursing right by the stage. Especially Maggie, another one of your friends on tour, and easily the boldest photographer here—she wasn’t above hanging off the second-floor balcony to get the perfect shot.

But you couldn’t find her now. Fortunately, when you found a spot by the stage, Luna—Taehyung’s girlfriend—joined you there, so, at least, you weren’t by yourself.

For once, the two of you were able to actually enjoy the concert. Normally, you kept interrupting Luna’s videos as you had to scold Jungkook’s friends for chatting up people who came to watch the show. Tonight, thankfully, Sid and Jude weren’t here – they were picking up Minjun, another one of Jungkook’s friends, at the airport. You hoped they’d get lost on their way back, settle down in Prague, and never bother you again. Poor people of Prague, of course, but maybe they’d be the ones who finally taught them a lesson.

You’ve seen Rated Riot perform countless times at this point: at restaurants, company events, nightclubs, and, eventually, concert venues – but there was nothing about their performances that could have ever made you feel bored.

You filmed them on your phone as Hoseok nearly broke the platform on which he played the drums—with wild screaming in the background—as Taehyung fired water guns at the audience—the screams turned thundering—as Yoongi performed his solo guitar part on his knees—the screaming was ear-splitting—as Jungkook returned for the encore shirtless, his tattooed skin glistening with sweat, his voice hoarse, his eyes burning—the screams were deafening.

The audience sang along to every song, there was never a quiet moment in the concert hall. Objectively, you knew that around 3,000 people had come, but the ringing in your ears made the audience feel twice, even three times as big.

The support was overwhelming, and all of it came in response to the unstoppable energy on stage. Two songs in, Jungkook had already climbed and jumped off the largest loudspeaker on stage. By the fifth song, Taehyung stage-dived right during his bass solo.

By the end of the show, the members were drenched in sweat, barely able to breathe as they tossed their guitar picks, the drumsticks, and the towels into the audience, and took their final bows—promising, of course, a quick return, and hoping, silently, that this promise would come true.

This was Night One of Rated Riot’s first European Tour – and you felt giddy as you already waited for the next night.

The band went to change into something more comfortable backstage, and then headed back out to meet some fans who’d lingered behind, buying merchandise and hoping that the members of Rated Riot would come out to meet them—and they did, always.

You worried, a little, about what you’d have to do with the gifts—the plush toys and, most importantly, the letters—that the fans gave them. The thought of throwing them out or, simply, not taking them, had never crossed any of your minds, even though that was what the label suggested.

This was another thing that you had to fight with Jett Records about. You knew that the band actually read the letters, especially when they were tired or lacked inspiration. That’s when the words from their fans became their source of motivation. Their purpose.

They were doing this because they loved it. But when they got tired, they kept doing it for them.

And, because of this, you figured you might end up having to rent out a separate bus for gifts alone, once you’d toured enough countries.

This thought was supported by Rated Riot returning with hands full of mementoes from fans. You took them and, while everyone gathered for traditional shots of gin & tonic backstage, you went outside with some of the crew to load the equipment—and the gifts—into the buses.

You had a six-hour drive from Prague to Krakow ahead of you, but, when you returned to the venue, the whole band was jumping around the room. You knew they wouldn’t sleep one bit tonight.

Hence your lack of surprise when, several hours later, when you were already on the bus, you went to find Jungkook, and he was sitting in his bunk, scrolling on his phone.

You were hoping he’d be awake, so you could speak to him. You couldn’t risk there being something deeper about his weird behaviour earlier today, even if he did give an outstanding performance on stage.

“Hey. You’re up,” you said, pointing out the obvious, because it was a good enough conversation starter.

Jungkook lifted his head.

“Yeah.” He put his phone down and patted the bunk next to him. “You can’t sleep either?”

You nodded, taking the invitation and sitting down next to him. “I have something I want to ask you.”

He was surprised. Really, he should have been the one saying this to you; he hadn’t had a chance to ask you to Kihyun’s wedding yet.

“Go ahead,” he said calmly enough.

“Are you really okay?” you asked, choosing not to beat around the bush, because it was three in the morning—not the time for that. “You’ve been acting weird the whole day.”

He looked away, not having expected this, evidently. “Oh.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” you explained, “but then I couldn’t help myself. It’s my responsibility to know if there’s something wrong with any of you, so I felt like I had to ask.”

Jungkook closed his eyes and leaned backwards until the back of his head touched the wall of the bus. “I’m fine. Just—adjusting, I guess. This is new. Europe.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, bending your knee under yourself as you got more comfortable on his bunk. “It’s new for all of us.”

“Yeah. So, maybe, I guess, I’m worried,” he said clumsily.

Even though this wasn’t why he’d acted weird—and, really, he was appalled that you found his behaviour “weird”; he truly was off his game—it was the truth. He did feel anxious. So much so, that a part of him appreciated Sid—not for suggesting the bet, per se. But for giving him something else to focus his mind on.

“Well, about what?” you asked. “Maybe talking it out would help.”

He looked at you, but then moved his gaze towards the bunk opposite his—empty right now because Hoseok was at the front of the bus, taking pictures through the window and, probably, chatting up the French bus driver.

“About not being good enough,” Jungkook said after a minute, his words coming in the form of a deep sigh. “This is Europe, it’s a different audience for us. I mean—realistically, I know it’s not. If people are buying tickets to our shows, they probably know us. They like our music. But still. Most of them have only ever seen our performances online. Hearing someone sing in a YouTube video is so much different from hearing it live.”

You merely nodded, not wanting to interrupt, because, although he’d paused, it didn’t sound like he’d finished.

“So, now I’m thinking all these things, like…” he continued, “I don’t know. Not living up to their expectations,” you saw him swallow before he kept talking, “what if these people have been listening to Rated Riot since we started? From the very beginning, you know? And now they hear us live, and they think I’m doing a half-assed job. And they’re disappointed—they’ve waited to see us for so long and we didn’t deliver. I didn’t deliver. I don’t want that. I want them to remember this night, not just because we may be their favourite band, but because they’ve truly had a good time. You know?”

He needed reassurance—and asked for it repeatedly—so you nodded again, more eagerly.

To be fair, this wasn’t the first time that the two of you were talking about this. Years before he joined Rated Riot—before you broke up—you’d had multiple conversations about the one genuine fear that Jungkook had: disappointing others.

“But you are showing them a good time,” you said. You scooted backwards and leaned against the sideboard adjacent to him; it seemed like you were going to stay here a while. “I’ve watched you play tonight. You guys were brilliant.”

“Thanks,” he said, sounding noncommittal. “I know the guys are always—they don’t fuck around. They come and they tear that stage up to shreds.”

“So do you,” you reminded him.

He shrugged his shoulders.

“I know this isn’t insecurity speaking,” you said, “because we both know you’re great—”

Snorting, he interjected, “that part’s true.”

“—so, you’re worried you’re not doing enough. Not giving enough,” you concluded. “But do you feel like you’re holding back?”

He considered this for a moment. “No. I feel like I cough up my lungs and my heart, and toss them right into the crowd after the show. I couldn’t get off stage if I didn’t feel that way.”

“And it shows,” you said, softer now, as you watched the spark return to his eyes. Memories of the concert played back in his mind. “Performing is in your blood. It’s always been.”

“Right,” he said. “So, I should have nothing to worry about, then?”

He had a sardonic smile on his face, and he was, essentially, asking you if he should have stopped complaining. This wasn’t at all what you were trying to say.

“No, you have every right to still feel worried,” you said. “What I mean is, don’t forget that you know what you’re doing. You know it well. Fortunately for you, you were born to do this. I know it sounds like a nice thing to say to someone, but you know I wouldn’t be saying this if I didn’t mean it.”

He looked down. “I know.”

Then, hesitating for a moment, he pulled his lower lip in and brought his teeth over his lip ring. He added, “thank you.”

“I’m here to listen if you need me to,” you said. “And to remind you that people see your effort. They appreciate it. You guys are doing well.”

“We’re doing well,” he repeated—and did it while inhaling, like a mantra. Then, exhaling again, he joked awkwardly, “in any case, I can always fake it ‘til I make it, right?”

You shook your head, disagreeing immediately. “You’re the most genuine you’ve ever been when you’re performing. You guys have got nothing to fake.”

Coming from anyone else, he would have called this nonsense—he was a performer, so how would anyone know what was genuine for him? But you would. You were the one person who knew.

Slowly, a small smile crept onto his face as he asked, “yeah?”

“Yeah,” you echoed, feeling your own lips stretch into a smile. You added, “you’re my favourite band.”

He snickered and rolled his eyes. “You’re our manager, you have to say that.”

“Very true,” you did not argue, “but again, I’m saying that because I mean it.”

He gave you a look—not necessarily doubting your words, but having a hard time wrapping his head around your serious tone. He’d always assumed that the only reason why you paid any attention to his band, was because you had no other choice.

“You’d still listen to Rated Riot if you weren’t working with us?” he asked—a question long overdue, but he supposed he’d never really cared that much about this before. All that he cared about was that you were around.

“I’d even come to your shows,” you said.

He laughed, amazed for some reason. This was what you should have said to him from the very beginning; there were no signs of prior anxiety left on his face now.

“Wow. Okay,” he said in uncertain delight—as if he feared he’d misunderstood this and got excited about nothing. “Thank you.”

Calmer now that you’ve made him smile, you reached out to pat his knee amicably. He felt goosebumps on the skin of his arms and crossed them over his chest immediately.

“Don’t forget that, okay?” you said. “Part of the reason why so many people love you—why you have this opportunity to perform in Europe in the first place—is because you give away so much of yourself on stage. And, actually, I don’t think this is something you can control. It comes naturally to you.”

Jungkook watched you as you spoke, an almost forgotten warmth spreading in his chest. It’s been so long—so impossibly long—since he’d felt it. He wasn’t sure if he was even aware how much he’d missed it.

“Thank you,” he said once more—breathless this time. Wistful.

You nodded and asked, “you feeling better?”

“Definitely,” he replied, but it was hard for him to tell if this was true. He felt less anxious, yes. But now he felt confused.

He hadn’t expected this conversation, even though, reasonably, he should have—your work ethic required you to be reliable and trustworthy, to take care of those around you. And that was what you were doing.

But this conversation didn’t feel official. It didn’t feel like you were doing your job. It felt friendly and familiar.

And exciting, his rapid heartbeat whispered.

Yes. It felt exciting, too.

“Good,” you spoke, scooting back towards the edge of his bunk. “Now go to sleep.”

He snorted; your return to the role of his manager did not let him bask in nostalgia much.

“Alright,” he said, crawling to fluff the one remaining pillow in his bunk. “You’re the boss.”

“And stop acting fucking weird!” you added as you stood up. He laughed at the sudden outburst. “Nearly made me call a therapist for you.”

“Why would I need a therapist when I have you?” he teased. The brightness on his face was so honest, so infectious, that you had to look away to hide your own smile.

“Because they do not pay me enough for this,” you retorted.

Clutching his chest in mock-offence, he asked in a sorrowful voice, “am I nothing but a client to you?”

You picked up a pillow that had fallen off his bunk and tossed it at him.

“You’re my favourite clients,” you replied. He caught the pillow before it hit his face and grinned—despite knowing that Rated Riot were your only clients at the time.

“You’re my favourite manager,” he returned. This, finally, got a laugh out of you as you walked back to your own bunk.

Left alone, Jungkook didn’t even realise that this could, technically, count towards winning the bet. He didn't even remember the wedding at first; your questions, your reassuring tone, you had distracted him from bringing it up.

But he felt calm. He knew that he could afford to worry about this later. For now, he was busy replaying your conversation—and the part of it where you laughed—in his head.

chapter title credits: palaye royale, “king of the damned”

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#jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #bts reactions #bts x reader #bts angst #jungkook rockstar au #bts fluff #bts rockstar au #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook fanfic

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cupids-scream-queen · 7 months

Text

A Little Murderess °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･❀*

❀ female!murderer!reader x poly!ghostface ❀

Part 7 // 1.1k words

-> Part 6

Warnings: none!

A/N: sorry for the short chapter, tomorrow's is gonna end up being super long tho so hopefully that makes up for it!

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Summary: You've just moved to a new town after the death of your little brother and stepfather with your mother. You're not ashamed of what you do to cope with the deaths; especially when you make two new friends who you might have more in common with than you thought...

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The next morning was brutal. Your arms were sore from stabbing, your room smelled of blood. The high of killing was crashing down, and you really didn’t want to go to school.

But you had to. You wanted to see the faces of Tatum and Sidney as they worried what happened to Randy. You knew they wouldn’t discover the body in at least two days; Randy’s parents were going to get home Friday. And you wanted to see Stu and Billy. They very nearly spent the night at your place, but they weren’t quite keen on the idea of having to sneak out at five. You had two hours of sleep, and you knew you were going to need one hell of a boost of coffee to make it through the day.

You drove to school, a thermos of hot coffee added to your bookbag. You had nearly no makeup on, and you didn’t really care about who’d see you—your eyes were on two different people, and they were the only two people in which any opinion had an effect on you.

You took your beater to school, tired of fighting through the crowds to get to your normal car. Your beater was more suspicious in your opinion—nobody questioned a cherry red sports car, everyone questioned the polka-dotted paint job of your beater. Which was fine.

You were greeted by Stu, who was jumping up and down excitedly. He was wearing a Hawiian shirt, with a huge grin plastered to his face. Billy soon joined Stu, but he was dressed in a simple white tee-shirt and blue jeans.

“Sid’s out,” He drawled, his eyes glancing at you. “She’s at home, sick. We can still go after Tatum, but it won’t be as fun.”

“Is she home alone?” You asked, and Billy nodded. “Then why don’t we just kill both of them in one night? Alibi that you’re at my house.”

“Whose car would we use?”

“Steal one. Tatum’s ex-boyfriend’s, maybe?”

“What? Like, kill him, use his car?”

“Naw, I was thinkin’ of pulling one of the shit’s we’ve done to Casey and her boyfriend. Keepin’ him as a kind of reward if she answers a question right.”

“If she gets it wrong?”

“Off with his head!” Stu stuck his tongue out, his lips curled into a smile and he cackled, causing you to laugh and Billy to smile slightly.

“You’ve got to answer our trivia questions, it’s like Jeopardy but with actual incentives,” Billy explained, and you nodded, pretending to take notes. Stu ripped the pretend notebook out of your hands, and mimed stomping it on the ground.

“You don’t need to take notes, just do, don’t think,” He told you, and Billy nodded in agreement.

“So let’s see, we’ll kill off Tatum first, then Sid. Alibi is that you both are at my house, and we rented four different movies, just for safety. Who’s going to be the killer, who’s going to be the caller?” You wanted to get the general semblance of a plan formed, even though you were certain Billy already had one. He was more of a silent prepper, making sure that everything could happen just right, allowing Stu to do basically whatever his heart desired in the time Billy allotted for it.

“I was thinking we have you be the caller, and then Stu and I go after the kill. You’re shorter than us, so it’d be odd if the killer was two different heights. We don’t want to make it obvious that there’s three of us,” Billy concluded, and you agreed with him. You were good for kills that weren’t going to require planning, but they were better for the planned-out, multi-faceted kills that made the original kill of Sid’s mom a success, even though they weren’t directly to blame for it—they framed someone else. You weren’t sure if they were going to bother to frame anybody, or just leave it as a cold case.

“Are we blaming anyone for this?” You asked, and Billy and Stu’s eyes went dark with some information that you knew would make your stomach sick.

“That’s the beauty of it. We’ve kidnapped Sid’s father. He’s going to get the blame for all of this,” Billy grinned, his smile practically ear to ear. “He can be blamed for Sid’s death, and Tatum’s ex can be blamed for hers. Such a sad coincidence that they happened on the same night.” Clutching a fake string of pearls, Stu dramatically fell into Billy’s arms. Billy dropped him.

“You’re such a dick, you could’ve pretended to go along,” Stu grumbled, and Billy simply shrugged. You were excited for tonight—Randy’s death was a good introduction to the kill pattern, but tonight was going to be the big game. This was going to be one hell of a night for all of you, and it just depended on not getting caught. Which was easy when the three of you had parents that didn’t exactly care about your whereabouts.

•❃°•°❀°•°❃•

Your night started with getting your gear on, which was pretty simple. You found time to tailor the robes to actually fit you, which was wonderful since Stu and Billy couldn’t find any in your size.

The mask that Billy gave you fitted decently, but you decided to soak it in water and bleach beforehand, just to make sure it wasn’t coated in dried layers of teenage boy sweat. Your knives were in your bag, a familiar weight for you to carry. The finishing piece to the outfit was a bowie knife, one that matched the ones Billy and Stu used for their own killings.

Billy said he’d bring his voice changer, which you found relieving, since you couldn’t find the one that they used. Stu said he’d try to track down one of them, but he couldn’t remember where they got them. Billy just remembered that they weren’t the cheapest things ever. Stu said it was pocket change.

You were called at exactly nine-thirty, where the familiar and eerie tone of the voice changer greeted you, telling you to go outside past the bushes where you caught the two of them stalking you. You were to make sure to wear comfortable shoes. Even though you weren’t going to get out of the car, Billy and Stu wanted to make sure you were prepared. Just in case. Everything could go wrong, and Sid still had to end up dead. That was the singular goal of tonight. And although you didn’t know it, the end of tonight was going to be the most spectacular and unexpected turn of events that you wouldn’t have suspected in the wildest of dreams.

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-> Part 8

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mehbzz · 2 years

Text

7 Minutes in Heaven

7 mins in Heaven with Billy and Stu. It was @polyghostfacehours WIP that inspired me so they get the credit! F!reader x Billy and F!reader x Stu.

A little dubcon, possessive behaviour, a little oral, a very tiny amount of dom reader and sub Stu.

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

“I swear if those two jackasses get each other I’m opening that door early.”

You snort in amusement and Randy glares at you. “I’m telling you-,”

“I know, I know,” You hold your hands up in surrender, watching as Randy tries to open the beer bottle in his hand. “You’ve got a hard on for them fucking each other.”

“What??” Randy looks genuinely distraught at your accusation, finally throwing the bottle cap into the sink with a little more force than necessary. “Absolutely not.”

“You bring it up way too often, you know that right? It’s a little suspicious.” You try to control your grin. Billy and Stu were far too careful for this to be a genuine problem, you knew it was just Randy’s jealousy talking and probably against your better judgement, you did find it funny.

“Fuck you. I just kn-,”

“I know!” You repeat it with a sigh. “I know what you think and you’re the only one that thinks it. You’re delusional. And drunk.”

“I’m the observant one,” He gestures to his chest, beer fizzing up and over his fingers at the movement. “I’m the only observant one around here.”

“I think I would have noticed don’t you?” You snatch the beer bottle out of his hands and take a sip before emptying the rest down the sink.

Randy narrows his eyes as he regards you. “Ok Mr White, yo-,” He trails off at your confused look. “Seriously? Reservoir dogs?” He looks disappointed as you shake your head. “Ok right we’re watching that next time but what I mean is you’re too close to them. You can’t see the signs; you don’t want to see the signs.”

“You’re never getting with Sid you know that right?”

He flinches and you immediately regret your snappy reply. “Sorry.”

He shrugs but gives you a small smile. “I’m optimistic. Billy will fuck it up.”

“Sure he will. It’s sunshine and rainbows for you and Sid in the near future.” You shove the empty bottle back into his hands as you give him a gentle push towards the living room. “They’re waiting on us, we can gossip later.”

You feel a little uncomfortable but try to ignore it as you take a seat on the floor next to Randy. You always feel a little uneasy at these parties, you feel guilty and on edge, like Tatum or Sidney are going to suddenly realise what’s been going on behind their backs just from one glance at your face. They are your friends but it feels a little fake, the amount of secrets and lies you have from them always makes you feel a little distant from them. You glance around the group as Randy lists the rules of the game, there are a few faces you don’t know beyond recognising them from previous parties, a guy in a red sox hat gives you a wink as you make eye contact.

“BunBun!” Stu slightly slurred voice startles you out of your observation and you grimace at the new nickname. “You’re not playing are you? We got enough people already. You’re going to ruin my chances of getting who I want.” He pinches Tatum’s side and she yelps. He’s putting it on, not that you’d be able to tell if you didn’t already know. He was a good actor but Stu rarely if ever got genuinely drunk at these parties.

“More the merrier.” Randy pats your knee; a move Stu’s gaze instantly narrows in on.

“As if you’re getting lucky.”

Randy flips him off as he picks up the bottle. “It’s a game of chance, or even… fate. I have as much chance as you at getting lucky jerkface.”

You laugh, trying to stifle it into a cough when Stu’s gaze flicks to you. Randy leans into your side, nudging you a little harder than you think he meant to. “Want to go first?”

“Not particu-,”

“Great,” Randy presses the bottle into your hand, almost linking your fingers together as he clumsily guides you to rest it on the floor. “Spin it fast, and pray fate is on your side.”

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

BILLY

It lands on Billy, and you see him tense out the corner of your eye but you can’t bring yourself to look at him, your gaze instead going straight to Sid. She gives you a small smile, it’s meant to be reassuring, kind, but it makes you feel a little sick.

“They’re like family,” Red cap mutters and you wince. “Nothing hot coming from them being locked in a bathroom together.”

Stu laughs, the sound turning into an excited cackle as he almost chokes on his beer. “You’ve not been watching the right po-, ow what was that for??” His hand rubs across his ribs where Tatum had unceremoniously elbowed him.

“You’re disgusting.”

“I’m open minded. Non judgemental, love is lov-,”

“Shut up.” She snatches the beer from his hand, taking a swig as she gives you an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

You shake your head in response, it’s not her fault.

“You can spin again if you want.” Randy leans over to whisper and the brush of air over your ear makes you shiver.

“Getting a little cozy there Randall, she didn’t spin you.” Stu mutters as he slides his hand round Tatum’s waist, tugging her a little closer. “Seems you’re fated to be alone.”

Randy ignores him, instead murmurs your name as he waits for you to respond. You stand. You can do this. It’s no big deal; it would draw more attention if you didn’t do it.

Billy stands as well, catching your eye as he tilts his head towards the door. “Let’s get it over with.”

It may be a small bathroom but it’s immaculately decorated. For all the faults Stu states his mom has, she definitely has a good eye for décor.

“The paint job more interesting than me?” Billy’s voice makes you jump slightly, turning back to face him with a sheepish grin.

“Sorry, don’t think I’ve ever been in here… which is kinda weird considering how much time I spend here.” You relax back against the wall, unsure what you’re supposed to do. Billy’s eyes flick to the door and back to you. He looks tense. “We don't have to do anything you know."

“I know.” He reaches out for you, closing the distance as his fingers fluttering over your skin as his palm cups your cheek. “What if I want to?”

You lean into his touch, your eyes closing as you focus on the feeling of his thumb stroking softly over your cheek bone.

“I love you.” It’s whispered quietly as he leans forward to press his forehead against your own.

It’s a shock, hearing him say that. Words he’s said many times before but hearing him say it somewhere which could technically be considered public, with a large group of your friends, including his girlfriend, standing right behind the door feels special. It feels like a big deal, you don’t know what you’ve done to warrant this level of affection, or why he’s even feeling so affectionate and you stay still, not wanting to ruin the moment. The two of you stay like that for a minute, pressed together, until Billy shivers, tilting his head until his mouth gently brushes over yours.

You sigh into his mouth, your lips parting slightly and Billy groans softly in response. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, as he grips your hips, pushing you back until he has you pressed flush against the wall behind you.

His leg slides between your thighs in order to completely close the gap between you, the sensation making your breath hitch, fighting and losing against the urge to rock down against his thigh.

“Easy bunny,” He glances back at the door briefly and then leans close. “We can’t get carried away.” His lips graze against over your jaw before he leans down to nuzzle into your neck.

Despite his reprimand he does nothing to discourage your movements. His hand sliding up over the back of your thigh until he’s palming your ass, squeezing hard enough to make you whimper as he encourages you to rock your hips a little harder against him.

He lets you grind clumsily against his thigh and continues to trail slow, wet kisses down the length of your neck. You’re breathing too hard, moans and whimpers keep slipping out of you, despite your efforts to stay quiet.

Your hips stutter, the teasing pleasure starting to morph into a need to escalate, it’s not enough. You mumble his name, a needy plea and he almost growls in response, a low rumbling groan in his chest as he nips sharply at your shoulder. Your chin tilts up to give him better access, wanting him to mark you despite the voice in the back of your head screaming at you that it’s a very bad idea.

Your grip tightens on him as his hands slide upwards and under your shirt, fluttering over your ribs until his thumbs trace the underside of your breasts. It’s too much, too much teasing and not enough stimulation, a loud desperate sound escaping you, and he stops. Pulling away and letting you go, giving you a peck on your nose followed by a very smug grin. “Stop letting Randy paw at you.”

“What?” You’re dazed, off kilter and extremely turned on. “I don’t-, pawing?”

Billy slumps down on the floor opposite you, wiping his thumb across his bottom lip, and sucking the tip into his mouth. A move that has your breath hitching and your cunt clenching hard around nothing. You shift awkwardly, not so subtly squeezing your thighs together and he smirks at you, mouth opening to say something just as Stu flings the door open. There’s a loud chorus of boos and complaints from behind him as he does so, from the sound of it he's opened the door 2 minutes early, a fact Billy obviously picks up on to as the glare he gives Stu would probably kill a lesser man.

"Aw man," Stu sounds disappointed, theatrically so but you can see the evil little glint in his eye. He was hoping to catch you in the midst of something. “You two are so boring.”

You clear your throat, trying to calm yourself down and avoiding Stu’s knowing grin as you make your way back out to the group.

You drop back down in your spot next to Randy, trying not to stare as Billy sits back down next to Sid. He brushes her hair back over her shoulder as he does, an almost absent minded gesture but she leans into it with a happy smile. Your stomach twisting painfully as he lets her rest her head on his shoulder.

“Nope,” Stu drops onto his knees as he moves into the centre of the circle, reaching out to grab the bottle out of Randy's hand and blocking your line of sight. “I know you're desperate for me Meeks, but Fate is not on your side tonight. Who's next?"

Randy gags, and Stu glances back at him. "Would have thought you'd have that gag reflex under control with all th-,"

"Enough," Tatum reaches around him and takes the bottle from his grasp. "Stop being an ass. It's my turn."

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

STU

Your stomach dropping as the bottle finally stops, pointing towards Stu. You try not to outwardly react despite the sudden rush of nerves. Locked in a small room with Mr 'take things too far' was absolutely not going to end well. Your gaze flicks to Billy automatically but he's watching Stu. He doesn’t look angry or worried, he's wearing that perfectly blank mask of his, the one you've still not learnt how to read and the one that scares you the most. It usually involves his most volatile moods afterwards.

"Oh! Locked in a room with you?" Stu was up and on his feet before the bottle had fully stopped. Grabbing your hands and tugging you up, the eagerness at which he does making you stumble. Randy's hand is warm on your calf as he tries to help you regain your balance, a gesture that has Stu roughly tugging you forward another step. "You and not Tay? The scandal!"

He turns back to Tatum; grasping her face between his hands as he leans down to kiss her. "You're my one true love, but these are the rules. It’s a sacrifice I have to make. Remember me as a hero."

She smacks his hands away with a roll of her eyes and Stu grabs your hand instead, pulling you towards the door but you look back as Tatum calls your name.

"I’m so sorry!" Tatum laughs, she looks a little disappointed but otherwise unbothered and for some reason that makes you feel a little jealous. "Try not to kill him ok?"

The door is only just closed before Stu is twirling around, his fingers slotting into your waistband and pulling you closer with a grin. You let him pull you closer but lean back when he moves into kiss you.

"Seriously?"

"Rules of the game bunbun."

"Don't call me that."

“7 minutes in heaven bunny, and your god is right here.” He puckers his lips but you don’t give into his silent request, instead you press your finger to his lips, pushing his head back slightly.

“You really think you can get me to heaven in 7 minutes?” You scoff, pulling your finger away from his mouth when he tries to nip at it, flicking his forehead instead. “You’re not that good.”

"Hey. I've totally had you screaming in less."

“In annoyance maybe.” You swat half heartedly at the hand that is still hooked into your waist band, he looks happy, genuinely happy and you feel yourself relax into his hold with a sigh. “Fine. One kiss. One, Stu, one.”

He grins, obviously delighted at your submission, pushing himself against you until you have no choice to give in and move back, his weight pressing you back against the sink hard, making you grunt with pain.

"Calm down," you try to wriggle your hand round to rub at the small of your back, but he grabs your wrist like he's worried you’re trying to move away. "I’m staying the night remember?" You say it quietly even though there's no chance of anyone hearing you.

Stu shrugs, eyes focused on your chest as he tries to slip his hands under your skirt. "That’s later, this is now. Tay practically gave me permission, don't spoil my fun."

"Permission?" You can’t tell if he’s joking or if his perception is that worryingly skewed. You're still trying to grab his hands but he’s stronger, one hand slipping between your thighs. "She's probably expecting you to be talking my ear off about whatever movie you're obsessing over this week, not borderline assaulting me. Christ Stu stop."

He does, but he doesn't pull away, letting his hand rest on your inner thigh and you fight the urge to shift your hips down against it. "I don't think this is a good idea."

"I do."

“You’re crazy,” Your grip on his wrist tightens but he still won’t budge. “We are not fucking in the bathroom.”

His eyes narrow, a dark expression you can’t decipher flicking across his face and then he drops his hand. You curse yourself. You’ve offended him. You know he’s sensitive about that word but sometimes it just slips out. It just describes his hyper behaviour too well sometimes.

You pull him into a gentle kiss as an apology. It’s sweet and slow, your tongue only just brushing over his bottom lip. It's chaste, intimate and to your surprise he doesn't try and deepen it, he just moans softly against your mouth as his arms loop around your waist. You nip at his bottom lip as you pull away, making him jolt.

"Feisty," he clicks his tongue, wiping a thumb over his lip as he leans back against the door. "Just wanted a little fun with you that's all. You look cute tonight."

It sounds like a genuine compliment. There's no smirk or raised eyebrow. “I want a little fun with you too bu-,”

“Yeah?” he perks up immediately, not letting you finish your sentence.

“I said one kiss. One kiss was had.”

“What if I want to kiss you somewhere else?” He leans in, his lips brushing your ear. “Let me eat you out?”

You whimper, leaning back against the sink in an effort to put some distant between you, but it doesn’t discourage him. He drops to his knees, his hands sliding up your thighs and under your skirt.

“Stu,” you try to remove his hands but he's stronger, brushing you off with ease. “We do not have time for that.”

“I can totally make you cum in 7 minutes.”

“It’s definitely less than that now and-,” you don’t want him to do this, it feels extremely uncomfortable and you desperately try to think of an excuse to get him off you. “I’m on my period.”

He groans and nuzzles into your crotch through your skirt. “So? I’m not scared of a little blood, bunny.”

You ignore the twinge of interest you feel at that admission, forcing yourself to remember that now was not the time. “Ok well I really need to pee, too much beer you know?”

His grip tightens on your thighs but he doesn’t let go. “If you piss on me I'm absolutely returning the favour.”

Jesus. He’s like a dog with a bone. “Stu, please I-,”

“Just a little taste.” He pushes your skirt up a little higher and before you could try and protest further he pushed your legs apart, lifting one over his shoulder, and buried his head under your skirt, fingers hooking under your panties to push them aside. His tongue found your clit, a hiss escaping you at the sudden almost painful stab of pleasure.

“You gotta be quiet bunny,” Stu mumbles against you. “I’m not stopping if you end up making them open the door early.”

That thought shouldn’t been as hot as it was, Tatum walking in on you with Stu’s head buried between your thighs? He would stop. He didn’t genuinely want to get caught did he? You’re not sure, even as you try to stifle your moan as you threw your head back and squeezed your eyes shut.

“Stu, fuck we can’t-, stop.” He was unfairly good at this. Your knees growing weak at his wet and eager licks against your clit. He grunts as you press your hands into his hair and he readjusts his hold, pushing himself closer, his tongue squirming inside you. A strong flare of annoyance hits you as you realised he could, he could totally make you cum in 7 minutes. Not that you’d ever admit it now. Overwhelmed by the feel of his mouth you yank on his hair, pleading frantically with him to stop.

And he does. He stands with a smug grin, wiping his hand across his mouth and then wiping it on your skirt before he steps away from you.

You stumble as you try to right yourself, pulling your underwear and skirt straight and he chuckles.

“Asshole.”

He shrugs. “Told you, just wanted a taste.”

“You also said you could make me cum in 7 minutes,” You try not to sound as desperate as you feel. So tempted to shove a hand down your panties and finish yourself off. “Maybe you’re not as good as you think you are.”

“Ouch. You get snappy when you’re denied.” He huffs out a long exhale through his nose, amused by your tone. “You’re gonna have to be nicer if you want me to let you finish later.”

“Fuck you,” You mumble. “If I tell Billy you’re being mean I’m sure he’ll help me out.”

“Oh poor baby am I being mean?” He pouts at you and then grins at your glare. “Yeah whatever he probably would, but I could totally make you cum harder. I’m worth waiting for bunny.”

The teasing, the denial, the cockiness, has genuine irritation flickering to life in your chest and although you know it’s a bad idea, that you won’t win in the long run, you want to push back.

“Not what I meant.” You look up at him, trying to ignore the swarm of butterflies in your stomach as you push him backwards. You’re too nervous, too out of your depth and unsure to be as convincingly dominant as you want to be but he surprises you by moving as you want him to. “I meant…” You smile when he grunts as his back hits the wall. “I meant more like maybe he’ll help me with you.”

Stu shivers but says nothing, surprising you even further, his gaze fixated on your mouth as you talk. “Maybe he’ll hold you still for me so I can return the favour with my mouth?” You lean as close as you can, letting your lips brush lightly over his skin as you whisper. “Bring you to the brink over and over again until you’re the one crying and begging for release.”

He glances away for a moment, so many conflicting emotions flashing over his face that for a second you almost laugh, but you stay quiet, watching the way his brain seems to shut down and reboot. He recovers with a crooked grin that sends a rush of nervous anticipation through you.

“Bunny.” His tone is flat, unimpressed, it’s a reprimand of some sort, and your confidence immediately takes a hit even as you realise he didn’t actually say no. “I think y-,”

The door is yanked open abruptly, making your heart leap in your chest.

“Times up.” You take a quick step back but relax when you lock eyes with Billy, until you register his expression. He looks pissed, the muscles in his jaw twitching with how hard he's grinding his teeth.

“Killjoy.” Stu leaves first, bowing to the group as he exits, making his way straight back to Tatum.

Tatum throws her arms round him, but he avoids her kiss, bending to nuzzle into her neck before snatching the beer out of her hand and downing several gulps. He mumbles something into her ear that has her blushing, and you look away as you sit back down next to Randy. Randy looks at you with a hint of concern. “You ok?”

You nod. “Learnt more about Kelly Brock’s body than I’m comfortable with but yeah, m’fine.”

You pick up the bottle, letting it twirl between your fingers as you try to get a hold of your emotions. You’re wet, and turned on and you’re worried about why Billy looked so pissed. It’s mixing uncomfortably with the knot of jealousy in your stomach as you try not to watch Stu drape himself all over Tatum. It feels unfairly pointed. You take a deep breath, counting to 5 before you shove the bottle into Randy's hand. You give him a grin as he reluctantly takes it. “Your turn.”

#billy loomis #scream 1996 #poly!ghostface #stu macher #stu macher x reader #billy loomis x reader #scream

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fairweather-fangs · 1 year

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F was exhausted. He'd been working all day, staff had announced they needed someone to helo the grounds keepers pressure wash the outside of the building and when no one took the job F stepped up to save some miserable soul from being randomly selected. He hated that he was so compassionate, after all had he kept his mouth shut someone else would be stuck with this job and he wouldn't be in this situation but alas, when push came to shove F personally viewed himself as a sort of martyr. He'd take the brunt of the suffering for his fellow students, for no other reason than to promote happiness. It was stupid and thankless but there was one reward: he was trustworthy.

F was the go to great student of Wammys, not a good detective but definitely a great person. At this point he believed he was kept in the L rankings just to keep someone more volatile from going off after they were bumped to last place. The house keepers were happy to have him around, he was kind and very helpful, a very promising young man they said. His teachers spoke highly of him, always one to volunteer in class and while not exceptional like the upper most ranks, he was still dedicated. Yes F was truly a staff favorite in the orphanage.

Which is why after long hours of pressure washing he was summoned to Roger's office for an important mission.

"Ferrum," the old man croaked, "There’s something very important I need to discuss with you."

F sat down in the plush chair situated in front of a luxurious desk and focused at the sound of his ailias. Iron... not a terrible metal, but not exceptional. A great, perfectly ok and reliable element, just like F himself.

"Of course, Roger, what is it?" F asked in his most professional tone.

"There have been.. issues... regarding some illegal substance usage in this establishment. Several students have been lacking in their performance and at least two have been admitted to the hospital due to overdose. I was wondering, since you have such a pension for drug related cases, if you could help find whoever is distributing these substances?"

F nodded along. Hearing the words 'illegal substances' made him almost smile, but he had to maintain his persona.

"I came to you because truthfully... it could be anyone. I thought you might be the least likely to be involved in the trade. Please investigate the other students if you will. If you can bring me the ring leader of the market they'll be a hefty reward for you."

F gave one strong nod, "Of course, Roger. Anything to help rid our wonderful school of such a terrible epidemic."

"Thank you, Ferrum. Take as long as you need, but please help find whoever is distributing these drugs."

F smiled and stood up, "I'll get right to it."

With that he left the room and marched to his dorm with a fire in his eyes. Only after he entered his space and closed the door sid he finally react the way he truly felt.

Laughter.

F broke down cackling, that Roger thought he was the least likely to be involved in the Wammys drug ring. It spoke to how stupid the staff truly were.

F had been in a drug cartel himself before Wammys, his first friends were known drug abusers and he was known to keep a large portion of drug dealers out of prison to use for 'other cases.' Not only that but he was incredibly secretive about his room and pockets, often snuck around to the dark, secluded parts of the property and was fucking high and or/drunk half the time. Anyone with common sense would suspect him, but that went to show how much a little good behavior made the adults who ran the building over look suspicious behavior.

F was a good boy with a troubled past, he had a few bad friends at one point and everyone keeps a few criminals free for later use. F likes his privacy just like any other 17 year old boy, he lokes exploring and sneaking out at night to see the stars not do drug deals obviously, and F's behavior isn't weird, he's always like that. That's what the staff told themselves.

F sat down on his bed. He was lucky the staff trusted him because this was a golden opportunity to pin the drug issues on other kids who tried to compete with him. Of course, there were issues with the plan, so F had to plot.

"Ok," he whispered to himself, "Roger needs me to get this job done. If I do the job I get whatever reward he's offering and I get extra brownie points with the staff, not completing the job will result in likely punishment and a massive decrease in said brownie points and not to mention... added suspicion which may compromise the operation..."

'No... failure is not an option. Not at all...' F thought to himself.

In order to succeed he knew what must be done. He needed to frame another student as the largest drug pusher in the orphanage, collect enough evidence to look convincing and make sure no one interfered or tried to expose him. This plan presented a few major issues.

First off, F was the premier drug lord of Wammys. He estimated he controlled roughly 70% of the drugs trafficked through Wammys in some way or another. It would be very hard to make a convincing drug bust without sabotaging his own business, though he supposed he could lay low for a while after his culprit was detained.

Second of all collecting evidence would be hard. The cameras complicated things, staff would be abke to watch him investigate so he'd need to actually appear to investigate. Obviously a false investigation would raise suspension in the other students, though he supposed that worked in his favor. If thw staff asked why he wasn't investigating, he could always say he had to show no signs he was doing so, lest the other detectives in training notice.

This was the third issue. Interference. Certainly if an upper rank student was involved it would complicate things. F was not stupid, only lazy, but he knew that even if he tried he would not be able to succeed top five. If for whatever reason an upper ranked student decided F needed to go, they'd dispose of him. Getting the culprit to not snitch on F was also an issue. Naturally, exposing F as the real monster was the best defense so he'd need either someone who wouldn't do that or a way to scare someone into not talking. F could think of a few ways to break a man, that or manipulate them. Now that he thought of it... weak links in his chain of command were also effective dummy drug lords, but he was unaware if anyone in the so called Fang Gang would be willing to go down for their boss.

The more he thought about it, the more pressing the issue became. F held his head in his hands and sighed. He supposed that sitting around contemplating hsi predicament would not fix anything and decided he could at least work on his mock investigation. He needed a suspect list after all.

Walking down the halls he wondered who would make for a good scape goat. He had rivals who came to mind, some other students in the program, some regular orphans. He supposed someone with no detective training would be easiest to break, or better yet less likely to be able to retort against him in a coherent way.

Sitting in the library he observed. It was a quiet Saturday afternoon, and there wasn't much for entertainment around Wammys so naturally many came to the library for something to do in their spare time. F eyed the camera in the corner, placed perfectly to overlook a good portion of the shelfless space in the library. He wasn't sure of the specific range of all the cameras in the house but there was no doubt the camera could clearly see what he was doing.

In an attempt to look like he was actually doing something, he took out a notepad and began writing the names of people in the library, noting their behavior while trying to be somewhat discreet about watching them. Though of course, F already had a pension for people watching, so it was only the notetaking his peers would find strange. Regardless, he was in his own world, simply trying to reason which student to pin his blame on.

#death note rp #this is very long tehe #if anyone wants to jump in now is the time #otherwise I'll just reblog and add part 2 later #call it characterization but either way I'm just having fun

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globodamorte · 1 year

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FUCK. HOLD ON.

remember how some people said the Korean name for the webtoon was 'survivorship bias'

(i can't really tell if that was true bc when I put 꼬리잡기 on a translator it said chasing tail so...)

BUT. BUT. BUT. my point is. the whole survivorship bias thing was abt focusing on things that shouldn't be the focus. there's a famous example that illustrates this: imagine sending a bunch of planes to war. some of them come back with gunshot holes on some areas, while others don't come back at all. seeing the damaged areas, they decide to reinforce THOSE. but if you stop and think about it, the OTHER planes who didn't make it back were hit on more fragile places that should be reinforced instead, but they can't see where bc they didn't make it back. so: you should focus on the the ones who didn't make it instead of the ones who did. (look it up it'll make more sense than whatever I say)

now what does that tell us? we should be focusing on Yun, hyesong and junho? maybe even juntaek since he was almost killed as well? or can we stretch and abstract this concept a bit more?

if we do focus on the victims (and almost victim) what do we get? what do they all have in common that have got them killed? so far seem to be the fact that they were all suspicious one way or another of what was going on in there. Yun kept talking about the whispers, hyesong noticed something was wrong with the water order (and realized seongbin was imitating others), junho realized the whole ponnamephrin situation and could tell those deaths were not normal. juntaek was suspicious as well and was trying to find a way for nobody else to get killed.

ok. they all were seemingly killed for noticing something strange going on. this much is a given. but what about the circumstances in which they were killed? what the crime scene says?

the police established a height for the killer, but given all the rubble that could be faked fairly easily, specially since the killer had light at their disposal. they also seemed to be either a leftie or ambidextrous but idk there might be a way around this as well. there are many people out there who genetically, have a dominant hand but were raised to use the other, so in certain situations where one would typically to use the dominant hand, they'd use their 'true' hand.

I feel like this connects to jeongdo's tunnel vision as well, like I'm sorry I'm so bad at putting my thoughts into words, but what I mean is I think this kinda ties with the police pretty much excluding the girls from the suspect list (juntaek also). they're focusing on certain things and choosing to ignore others.

now, if we instead take the 'survivorship bias' concept into a more abstract analysis, we could analyze how among the suspects there are people being excluded from the investigation. regarding the girls, we have yujeong's hallucination right at the start of the story. he sees a long haired figure that threatens him into 'not telling anyone'. the figure's hair is dark but that could be more abstract since they were in the dark so probably the shapes matter more than the color - seeing a long haired shadow person and them being blonde instead of brunette makes more sense than it having a bob cut - I've seen people theorize that maybe that hallucination is of his younger sister but that sounds unlikely... also btw when are we getting more info on that???

now regarding juntaek, a couple chapters ago he says he remembers everything from before he got knocked out. and I found that really interesting because here's the thing: does he? we have this guy's memories be really important now, crucial even, but we also have someone else whose memories are just as valuable: Hanna's. she was awarded for her good memory and I think they definitely need to cross and compare his statements to hers. I don't believe the author would just mention this incredibly valuable information to only use it for those water testimonies. now we have someone who could lie on one side (Hanna), and on the other we have someone who could both lie or be confused bc of brain injury (juntaek) so that'll be interesting to see. why would they lie though? now that is the question lmao

and taeyeon has this thing where she was basically excluded from the suspect list by both the police AND junho. and idk that does sound suspicious to me. she's laying low even though she lied to the police and kept just bringing new evidence and statements whenever she wanted. but instead of keeping an eye on her they simply ignore everything else in favor of what the circumstantial evidence points to: seongbin.

there are many theories to explain seongbin's involvement (or lack thereof), some being him as an unwilling accomplice, threatened by the true killer, others with him being used and manipulated by someone who took advantage of his mental state, others about him being framed, not necessarily participating in the murders (consciously or not)

this latest chapter (62) ends with seongbin asking jeongdo if he's sure it was him. he said "I said, are you sure? because I don't think I would" <- seems like he doesn't remember doing anything. and while yes of course the presence of a mimic during the murders has been confirmed, we can't confirm it was seongbin because we can't confirm he was the only person capable of doing that. they're actors after all. one could denifitely be able to mimic voices without it being caused by a seizure.

how crazy is this, to receive so much information but not have anything to do with it, to not be able to draw any solid conclusion from it, because it's all so circumstantial. there's so much we know, but also so much to be uncovered.

I often don't have a point or conclusion to these posts. most of the time they make no sense, and this one is no different. it's mostly for myself to vent and try to organize my thoughts about what's going on in this story

my brain is juiceless now I've used up all my juice and I don't even know if this made any sense bc I don't have the capacity to go read it again.... oh well

I'll be back next week probably with more nonsense meta that's all folks~!

#im insane im crazy im-#fuuuuuuckkkkk chasing tails makes me so crazyyyyyyy aaaaaaaaaaaaa #chasing tails

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msookyspooky · 2 years

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OKAY HI SO THE NEW CHAPTER—

I AM NOT OKAY !!!

Literally what the hell is gonna happen ???? FUCK IF I KNOW !! WERE IN THE LAST PART OF THE STORY AND I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO CLUE WHO GHOSTFACE(s) IS LIKE ???????

Here’s my play by play detecting - please understand im not very smart - also this one gets super long im so sorry

SO I don’t think Roman has anything to do with it fuck canon cause i mean we talked to him Once and the cast we’ve interacted a lot with has to include the killer right?

Dewey, Gale and honestly Billy are in the clear for me. Dewey is too much of a himbo to pull this off, Gale is too focused on finding B and Stu to - i think - plan this whole thing out and ACTUALLY murder ppl and Billy, honestly he looks the least guilty of the suspects cause he and Stu are in really bad terms abd I doubt he’d risk getting a partner AGAIN after how things went down with S, and i dont think he could pull that off on his own

NOW Angelina, baby, angel, please be part of this !!! She’s so weird and she has connections to Woodsburo - i think ! I also have a terrible memory !! - and I cant begin to express how gutted i was to knoe that the plan for her to be Romans accomplice in the movie was scratched, it would’ve been perfect

So Randy 🥺 Randy please bby, angel, please have NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS !! So yeah im very attached to your Randy and I’d be gutted if he was the killer - it would also be awesome to see a survivor “one of the good guys” go apeshit - BUT Stu’s speech really got to me, not only because yes, it makes sense BUT ALSO we’re like on the final stretch here, is it really time for a red herring? He does look suspicious, Stu has a point there

Speaking of Stu, THAT WHOLE SPEECH DIDNT FOOL ME FOR A SECOND - except for the part that it did - I could NOT get Tim’s monologue from the Curve out of my mind during that scene in the motel cause well yeah Randy could feel that way and want revenge BUT that’s not Stu’s actual point, he’s projecting a VERY REAL emotion he had/has to make Randy look sus, it doesn’t matter if he actually is guilty or not, cause either way Stu wins. If R is guilty BOOM Stu was right the whole time, see he cares, he was looking out for things we didn’t want to see, he’s “good” to us AND if R is NOT guilty he can get us so scared and distrusting of Ray that if something happens to him, Stu made “an honest mistake” to protect us. He gets what he wants, “everybody dies but us” ya know

I genuinely believe or at least hope strongly that theres 2 ghostfaces right, so my biggest sus are Randy and Stu AND I think Angelina could be an accomplice to EITHER of them. I genuinely forget if in your story we know her from Woodsburo or if im getting mixed up with the og script so this may be v off skskskks BUT imagine shes working with Randy cause they remember each other and she’s become a lil obsessed with the survivors (like she was with Syd in the movie) and thinks he should get his revenge OR she was really interested in the killers and when she saw “Dennis” maybe recognized him - i dont think he would’ve remembered her tbh - and offered to help, so from set on Stu was no longer working alone ? (With stu shes def an accomplice but with Ray she gives more mastermind vibes ya know? She “convinces” him thats what he wants and lbh she needs someone strong to do the murders shes v tiny)

Omg fucking Mcdreamy ???? I dont wanna sus him cause Boyfriend again 3 times a charm skskks but he’s way to interested in us, for me to trust them wholeheartedly but i have NO IDEA how he would play into all of this so Im saying red herring

Well to be fair Sid never interacted with Roman in 3. I'm js!

Good point about Angelina, red herring or jealous from HS and obsessed with the Woodsboro Massacre survivors for the fame she fought so hard for?

Good points about Dewey, Gale and Billy!!

Randy and Stu are definitely up there and both would rip us to shreds to know they did it (ESPECIALLY RAY. Ray would be fucking devastating) And both have really valid points that they could use as leverage.

And ngl...Kincaid did have our phone number from Dewey when Ghostface called...Again, IM JS-

#ily sm Star thank you for this I was grinning while reading it bc you went in so much detail with it 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

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kudosmyhero · 2 months

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Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (vol. 1) #14: The Unmentionables

Read Date: June 10, 2023 Cover Date: May 1988 ● Writer: Kevin Eastman ● Pencils: Kevin Eastman ● Inks: Kevin Eastman ◦ Eric Talbot ● Letterer: Steve Lavigne ●

**HERE BE SPOILERS: Skip ahead to the fan art/podcast to avoid spoilers

Reactions As I Read: ● li’l Mirage Studios cameo ● was it only in the cartoon that April was a journalist? she’s a waitress here

● quite a number of spelling errors in this issue ● lotsa spelling errors. not sure if that's on the writer (Eastman) or the letterer (Lavigne) ● 👏👏

Synopsis: Casey Jones is patrolling the sleepy streets of Northampton, Massachusetts looking for some crimes to prevent. Northampton is nothing like New York City, however, so the mighty Casey is occupying his spare time as a vigilante by narrating events as if he were Mike Hammer. Jones is a little homesick for the Big Apple, but he's also reminiscing about the good times he had in this town as a kid with his cousin Sid. As Casey walks familiar ground, he passes by Louie's Variety store and is stunned by what he sees… the brass cow that once served as a rooftop landmark for the business has been stolen! Jones is enraged and gets to work on the case right away.

As Casey interviews Louie for details, a local cop walks in and assures the shopkeeper that the theft was probably just a college prank and that the cow will show up soon. Casey gets angry about the police officer's base attitude, which only angers the cop, who tells Jones to "Butt out—pronto!" Casey storms off, vowing to find the cow.

The following morning, we find April frantically getting ready for work and asking where Casey is. Just then Casey walks through the door, icicles hanging from his hat and chin. Jones moans that he's been out all night looking for "the great cow" and collapses. Fortunately it's nothing serious, and Casey tries to explain about the theft, but April is running late and hurries off to work.

Cut to the Blue Bonnet Diner, where April is waiting tables. As Ms. O'Neil is going through her stubs, she overhears two men plotting something about a cow. One of the men slaps the other and tells him that if he has any info he should leave it at the front desk of Hotel Northampton, room 213. April is suspicious and tries to remember where she heard about a cow earlier in the day when she sees the newspaper headlines—the top story is about the missing cow!

Back at the farm house, Casey is trying to get the disinterested Turtles to help him when April calls. O'Neil tells Jones about the conversation she overheard, but unfortunately the man who slapped his partner overhears April's phone conversation and becomes alarmed. Casey takes down the hotel information and slams the phone down in his excitement over having a lead. April is unhappy because she wanted to go along.

Casey gets to the hotel and tries to get the woman at the front desk to tell him who's in room 213, but all he manages to do is get thrown out of the joint. As Jones sits on the stoop outside wondering what to do next, April arrives. April thinks she can have better luck getting the information, and she goes inside. As Fate would have it, just as O'Neil gets into the lobby, the slapping man (whose name is Howard) walks through with another fellow. April overhears the two making plans. Apparently Howard works for the older Texan man and they are making elaborate plans for a graduation party.

Later that night, April, Casey and the turtles arrive at the parking lot of the Hotel Northampton. Casey has asked the turtles to search room 213, and while the guys aren't happy about doing it, they agree. Jones and O'Neil crash the posh graduation party inside.

The Turtles find a bunch of paperwork and photographs of the Texan, Howard and the Brass Cow—however, they also discover they're in room 215—the wrong place!

As April is prowling the party looking for clues, she's spotted by Howard. O'Neil darts out into the lobby, where she's accosted by three men, Mikal Smengie and his brothers Luka and Luka. Unfortunately April has stumbled into a rendezvous between the Smengie Brothers and the Texan… a ten million dollar meeting that they all want to keep secret. Howard gags April and tells the Brothers to take her with them. Howard also give Mikal a briefcase full of money and an address. The Texan complains about loose ends and Howard says that he'll take care of things.

Back in the hotel room, the turtles decide that this case is too complicated and the police need to be notified. As they head out, they see April being kidnapped. The guys scramble down to the parking lot, but they're too late to stop the van holding their friend from escaping. The Turtles pile into their truck and head off to chase the van.

Casey goes into a rest room inside the hotel to gather his thoughts. He sits on top of a toilet in an empty stall as two guys come in. Jones overhears the two talking about a "prize cow" at Norman Whitty's place on Route 116. After the men leave, Casey dashes out to the parking lot to get his truck so he can investigate… except the truck is gone! Undaunted, Casey hails a cab.

Meanwhile the Turtles have followed the van to an old garage in the woods. Inside are the three brothers carrying weapons, a bound April and a well wrapped cow. As April berates her captors and warns them that she has friends, the Turtles burst in and kick the shell outta the Smengies. Once the Brothers are tied to a post, the Turtles interrogate them. The men talk to one another in Slovakian, which angers Raph and he threatens them. Under duress, Mikal explains that the brass cow was stolen from his family by their other brother Louie before the revolution. They've returned to steal the brass cow back and to sell it to Mr. Cudworth, who collects antique cows. April finds the story dubious, as ten million dollars is involved. Raph gets even angrier and decides to bash the cow to bits. Mikal then panics and exclaims that the cow is solid gold, and that they had stolen it before the revolution so that the new dictator wouldn't be able to use its wealth. They now want to sell it and share the wealth with their people.

Leo is suspicious, but he wants to see how things will play out before calling the police. In particular, Leonardo is interested in the Texan's role in these events. Leo hatches a plan that will allow them to get the real story.

Back at the hotel, the Texan receives a phone call from Leonardo, who tells the rich man that the deal goes down tonight and that they want an additional 5 million dollars. This does not please the Texan but he gathers up his forces and heads out.

Meanwhile, Casey has arrived at Norman's place on Route 116 in the taxi. Casey is jubilant about finding the cow and heads into the barn with glee—only to discover that the cow inside is real! Just then, Norman shows up with a shotgun and yells at Casey to get away from his prize winning heifer. Jones fast talks his way out of things and piles back into the cab, ordering the very unhappy driver to take him back to the hotel.

Back at the Smengie garage, the Turtles are all decked out in trench coats and firearms, awaiting their meeting with the Texan. The men show up and the Turtles demand the money. Howard asks where the Smengie Brothers are and the Texan demands to see the cow. Mike unwraps the cow only to reveal that it's a fake! As tempers flare, the Smengies crash through the garage door in a flatbed truck, with the real "brass" cow chained to the bed. A short fire fight erupts between the Texan's men and the Turtles, but the millionaire and his henchmen take off to chase the Smengies. The turtles pile into their own truck and bolt out in hot pursuit.

As the Smengie's truck barrels down the road, they pass Casey's cab. Jones grabs the wheel of the car and spins it around. The driver is scared to death and Casey screams at him to "follow that cow!" The cab gains on the truck and Casey jumps out onto the hood of the taxi and leaps onto the cow. Jones causes Mikal to crash the vehicle into a ditch and shouts, "You pukes are under arrest!"

Just then the Texan shows up, and Howard yells, "Correction! You're all under arrest!" As the millionaire wonders what's going on, Howard explains that he's an undercover secret service agent. It turns out that the Texan (whose name isn't Cudworth, it's actually Emil Bruzeniak) is in the business of buying and selling stolen national treasures. Howard has been working for Bruzeniak for two years, waiting to build enough evidence to bust him. Howard calls in his backup and two helicopters appear. The turtles and April arrive on the scene. The turtles bail out of the truck as April drives up to see what's going on.

When April arrives, Howard wants to hear why she and Casey are involved in the case. Jones explains everything in long detail and Howard demands to talk to the four men who helped April escape. April tells the secret agent that her allies wish to remain anonymous and pleads that they all be let go, as everything turned out fine. The agent begrudgingly admits that Casey and April helped solve the case and agrees to forget about their friends' involvement, filing it under "unmentionables." Casey and April walk off arm in arm as the criminals are lead off in handcuffs.

The turtles have witnessed everything from the safety of the woods.

"That's us, huh guys," Leo quips, "the Unmentionables."

"Ain't it the truth." adds Mikey.

(https://turtlepedia.fandom.com/wiki/The_Unmentionables)

Fan Art: Early-Morning Food Fight by Fihuli

Accompanying Podcast: ● Shellheads - episode 23

#mirage #mirage comics #my other read #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #comics #comic books #fan art #fanart #shellheads #podcast recommendation

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m00nz-writes · 10 months

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Everybody's a Suspect (It's a Scream, Baby! chap. 4)

Summary: Despite still being suspicious of Stu, Lyss and the boys go to the video store to see Randy

Warnings: Swearing, angst, mediocre writing

Alyssa walked out of the school with Billy as she led him to where her motorcycle was. She still wasn't sure if being nice to him was the right thing to do. He was an asshole, but it was hard to deny that he was extremely charismatic. Lyss screamed as Stu ran over to them and jumped away when the taller teenager laughed at her.

"So what do you say, Lyss? Do you want to come to my party tonight?" he asked as Alyssa scoffed.

"There's a curfew." she said bluntly before Billy shrugged.

"It might be fun." he commented as Alyssa looked at him, then back at Stu.

"Besides, Sid will be there. You can watch her!" he offered, finally getting her to give in and nod slightly.

"Fine. Not like anyone at home will know I'm gone," she admitted as both boys smiled. "Oh, before we head back to my place, I have to stop by the video store. Randy's got a movie for me." she said as Stu looked at Billy in surprise.

"Wait, you two are going back to your place? What's going on?" he teased playfully as Alyssa scoffed.

"Nothing. Billy just wants to make sure I get home safe. His house isn't too far from mine, so whatever." she shrugged as she grabbed the keys and handed them to Billy. "If you so much as scratch my motorcycle, I will kill you." she warned as he smiled at her playfully and took the keys.

"Don't worry. I'll be careful."

•¨•.¸¸☆･ﾟ･☆¸¸.•¨•

Alyssa pushed the door open as she and the boys went inside. Lyss made a beeline for Randy, with Stu close behind. Stu deliberately bumped into Randy, causing him to drop the tapes before Lyss knelt down to pick them up and hand them back.

"Thanks Lyss," he said as she offered a small smile.

"Do you still have my movie on hold?" she asked and he nodded, kneeling down to pick it up for her, handing it to her as Stu leaned over the shelves and looked at the case.

"Army of Darkness, seriously?" he asked as she looked back at him. "That's the worst Evil Dead movie!"

"Yeah, for an idiot who can't love horror-comedy," she scoffed in return. "It's not supposed to be taken seriously. It's a stupid movie for the sake of being stupid."

"Alright." Stu said dramatically before turning his attention to Randy. "You comin' to my fiesta tonight?"

"Yeah, I'm off early... curfew and all." he said as Alyssa smiled a little.

"Hey, what's that werewolf movie with ET's mom in it?" a blonde teenager asked as the trio looked at her.

"The Howling, Horror. Straight ahead." Randy said as she walked away. "Oh, that's in poor taste..." he added as Lyss and Stu looked over to see Billy talking to some girls from their school.

"What?" Stu asked as he and Lyss looked back at Randy.

"If you were the only suspect in a senseless bloodbath, would you be standing in the horror section?"

"It was just a misunderstanding, he didn't do anything." Stu defended as Randy shook his head.

"You're such a little lapdog. He's got killer printed all over his forehead, right?" he said as he looked at Lyss and she shrugged.

"Who knows?" she admitted and he sighed and shook his head.

"Okay! Really?" Stu scoffed as he and Lyss walked down the aisle with Randy. "Then why'd the cops let him go, smart guy?"

"Because they don't watch enough movies." Randy replied. "This is standard horror movie stuff. Prom Night revisited, man!"

"Oh yeah? Why would he want to kill his own girlfriend?" Stu asked while Alyssa looked at some movies on the shelves.

"There's always some bullshit reason to want to kill your own girlfriend. That's the beauty of it; simplicity." Randy explained to them. "Besides, if it gets too complicated, you lose your target audience."

"Well, what's his reason?"

"Maybe Sidney didn't wanna have sex with him." Randy admitted when Lyss looked back at him.

"What? She's saving herself for you?" Stu scoffed and the teen shrugged.

"Maybe... hey, now that Billy tried to maim her, do you think she'd go out with me?" he asked quietly as Alyssa stared at him for a few moments before walking off on her own to where Billy was.

She hated to admit it, but she had feelings for Randy. She knew he had feelings for Sid and not her, so she had decided to push them down and keep them out of the way so she wouldn't get hurt... but it never made it any easier to hear how much he wanted to go out with her. As she approached Billy, he turned to face her and frowned when he saw how down she seemed.

"I'm going home... I already paid for the movie, so..." she said quietly as she started for the door. Billy grabbed her arm as she pushed the door open and pulled her back as she looked up at him.

"Hey, what happened?" he asked as she shrugged.

"Just... Randy being Randy." she said simply as Billy looked over at Randy and Stu just as Randy had his little outburst.

"You go wait outside. We'll be out soon." Billy looked back at her as he patted her arm and she nodded slightly and walked out to her bike as she took a deep breath.

Of course, he wouldn't like her as much as he liked Sidney. But she didn't blame him, Sid was a really nice person and it wasn't hard to adore her. It just hurt because no matter what she did, no matter how much she wanted him to see her as more than just a friend, it wouldn't happen.

#it's a scream baby!#scream x dmc #scream 1996 #devil may cry 5 #devil may cry #devil may cry oc #dmc 5 #dmc #dmc oc #fanfic #fanfiction #writer #fanfiction writer

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truthandlove · 1 year

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Another One Bites The Dust

Annabelle Lee died 10 hours after receiving the MMR, DTaP, varicella and half of a Flu shot. Her mother took her shopping afterwards and said she was grouchy.When they returned home she laid her down to relax for the night and watch cartoons. Her mother’s words... "She was quiet, she was asleep. No sounds except the low sound of the cartoons. No cries, no whines, no groans, no screams, nothing. " Nothing. It was 11 something, I felt in her packnplay at her diaper, it was wet. I picked her up, she was facedown. It all went so wrong so fast. I screamed for her dad. I don’t recall any color even being gone from her face, she didn’t look dead. I called 911, we gave her cpr. We caused vomit to come up, it was all over us. It was all over me, I still taste it. I will never ever get that taste out of my mouth. I ran outside. Her dad kept giving her cpr. I just laid outside in my driveway and screamed. A cop was trying to get me up, I couldn’t move. I saw her rushed from the house into an ambulance. She was missing a sock. I was missing a sock. I refuse to think that was just coincidence. We both lost our socks in the commotion. I remember asking a cop that was at my door while we were waiting on my inlaws to pick us up to go to the hospital if it was bad. If hed ever seen any baby survive. “It’s bad.” Shuffled us into this room at childrens, I just pushed myself up against a dresser. The nurse that came in was pregnant, and I was furious. It took forever. It might have only been 5 mins but it took forever for some doctor to come in. They tried to start her heart a few times, with adrenaline I think. It didn’t work. She was gone. Their was nothing they could do. The first question I asked. Could shots have killed her? She just got http://shots.It’s not even been 10 hours since she got the shots, did the shots kill her? What happened!? That doctor lied to my face. Any doctor knows that vaccines can kill people. She didn’t know what had happened in her body, she just said no. She reassured me it wasn’t the shots. Again and again. To be honest, she made me feel stupid for even questioning the shots. Just like many doctors do. Thats the right thing to do, vaccines. The greater good, nothing bad happens, the risk is minimal. Lies, it’s all just a lie. I didn’t want to see her, I regret it sometimes, but most of the time I know it was right. She was gone, and I didn’t want to remember her like that. I didn’t let anyone else go see her either, I didn’t want ANYONE to see her like that, to have those images. I told my mom she didn’t want to see what I saw. I’ll never really know if my parents went back to see her, I left before they did. The doctor said her fever was 114 degrees. So within 30 mins she went from normal temperature, alive, to dead with a 114 degree temperature. That’s not Sids. SUDC Sudden Unexplained Death in Childhood is what they call it. SIDS for 12mo +. It’s a crapshoot, it’s a catchall. Truthfully, it’s lazy. That is what the coroner told me it was ruled as of that night. So I asked him. Was it the shots? He said, “It’s very suspicious she got shots and died so soon after, but I will not know anything until lab reports and tox screens come back”. He doesn’t recall saying that, but I recall him saying that, perfectly to me. And she was gone.

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sweetsweetstrawbs · 1 year

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The Woodsboro Horror Picture Show, Chapter 7

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

I post all of these on AO3, my @ is buttonsinajar!

A/N: let's all pretend that it hasn't been over a year since I posted a new chapter ;-; on the bright side, i've almost finished my degree!

CW: brief description of anxiety

That day I had the most fun in art than I had for a while. Billy decided to ‘help’ me with my material experimentation, and by that I mean he drew abstract shapes in the empty gaps between my different sketches.

Apparently, that period was to be my only safe haven. By the time the class was over, everyone and their fucking moms had not just heard about what happened last night, but decided to try to talk to me about it. Because why the fuck not.

The hallways were thick with students as my friends tried to convoy me to my next classroom. The overheated bodies of other kids seemed to absorb all of the oxygen around me and forced the air out of my lungs. Every single eye in the corridor was on me as I tried to cut through the viscous mass of teenagers hunting for attention. My head throbbed with the dull noise of questions being thrown full-force at me. Sweaty, pencil-grimed fingers reached out to touch my shoulders, each graze feeling like I was walking through a rosebush. The bell calling for the next class to start rang out in time with my flying heartbeat. As we finally drew near the entrance to the English room, Billy's hands snaked their way from my shoulders to its opposite, hugging me from behind to push through the final clump of students. By the time we got to the door, Tatum and Stu had disappeared into the crowd like debris in fast-moving water.

“I think I’ll be okay for this one. It’d be a little more obvious if you tagged along here.”

"Are you sure?" I felt the air as Billy spoke into my ear go right through me and down my spine. "There's an empty seat right next to Sid.”

“Yeah I’m sure. Thank you though.” His face was so close to mine I could feel the heat of his skin. Or maybe it was my face heating up from his being so so close to me. Doesn’t matter.

“Alright. You can always leave class if it gets to be too much, don’t forget that.” His vice grip on me loosened, but he didn’t move. Praying that Mrs Taylor wasn’t at the front of the classroom, I quickly leant forward and kissed Billy on the cheek. Unless I was totally imagining it, I would swear I saw him flush a little.

“See you soon.”

“Yeah.” He breathed out, stepping back. Sid took my hand and gave it a small squeeze before pulling us both into our classroom.

In this room there are five rows of desks, each row with seven students. There are a few empty desks from Sid and I, and a few stragglers, as well as the one by the window that’s always empty. Besides those, all of the taken seats are accompanied by their own pair of eyes staring directly at me. As I wade through the suffocating space, I catch whispers of my name and words like “attack”, “murder” and “weird new girl”. God I wish I was anywhere else…

A few minutes from the end of class, I found myself in a group activity, buddied up by the teacher with two people I haven’t spoken to before. A girl called Emilia who seemed to be lacking in the literacy skills department and a guy called Rob who was mildly interested in finishing the task. I was just finishing up the peer feedback on Rob’s essay outline when I felt something cold touch my arm.

“So, where did you say you were from again?” Emilia asked, her pen still inches from my arm from where she poked me with it. Her tone is weird; almost questioning yet almost suspicious.

“The east coast.” I reply, keeping my voice calm but short. I seriously don’t want to get into it now.

“Yeah but like, where on the east coast?”

“Y’know. The middle bit.”

“You’re seriously not gonna say?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?” She’s beginning to glare at me now. Rob’s thankfully ignoring us.

“I’m actually on the run. I’m wanted for stealing a shark from the Philadelphia Aquarium.” She rolled her eyes at that, but shifted in her seat as she got ready for a different approach.

“Did you hear what happened to Casey Becker and Steve Orth?”

“Em, knock it off.” Rob grumbled, not looking up from his desk.

“What? She’s totally got a right to know.”

“I- I haven’t even heard those names before.” I cut back in, curiosity getting the better of me.

“Well, they were in our grade. That empty seat over there was actually Casey’s. They’d been going out for months then one day Casey’s parents come home to find them both with their insides on the outside. I bet the same guy that did that to them is the one who tried to get you last night.” “Fucking seriously, Em?” Rob shrank into his cardigan as he spoke. I had no idea what to say. Was it possible? The dipshit might have tried to rack up a few more bodies before mine… No, no, I’m sure if that had happened while I was here I would have heard about it before now. There’s no way he would have gotten to town before I even knew I was coming here. I’m not sure what’s worse though, thinking that I’d never really gotten away or knowing that there was still a murderer in town.

By the time I eventually made it to lunch, I was about ready to start punching people.

“I have not caught a single fucking break today!” I yelled, still a few feet from my friends culminating at the fountain. Tate gave me a sympathetic grimace as I flopped down next to her. My bag fell heavily on the concrete at my feet, apparently to further punctate my entrance. Sid had walked out with me since we both just had AP history, and she flanked my other side (although she sat down with a lot more grace).

“Your streak continues.” Tate muttered, gesturing with her eyes to the bitch reporter from this morning making her way towards us. Not sure what else to do, I let my head sink into my hands as someone’s hand moves to my back.

“Dahlia! Dahlia! Are you ready to give us a few words?” She called as she bustled towards us, cameraman in tow. I snapped my head up, ready to tell her where to put said camera, but Tate had beaten me to it.

“I think I’d like to hear her say she’s not giving a statement.” I make out the reporter saying through the cacophony of insults. Weird, there it is, my last and final straw. I was wondering where I’d left it. I fly up and over to her, pushing past my friend. I can feel that I’m breathing heavily. I hadn’t even planned what I was going to say. I’m brought out of my anger-trace when Gale goes “See, now that wasn’t so hard?”. I grabbed the stupid mic she’s holding out to me and throw it as fast as I can into the fountain.

“Th… That was very expensive!” She gawked at me, clearly at a loss for words. I picked up my bag and started walking away, leaving her gaping at me like a fish.

“Girl you are a serious badass!” Tate admires, catching up to me.

“Yeah, what I’d give to just punch her right in the nose.” Sid mimes a right hook, laughing.

“That did feel pretty good.” I admit, and now I’m laughing.

“I fucking bet!” Tate chuckles.

#billy loomis #scream 1996 #scream movie #horror movies #slasher #slasher fanfic #scream fanfic #billy loomis x oc #billy loomis fanfic #slasher movies

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charlies-storybook · 2 years

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Kiss the Girl

Prompt: Sophia teaching Sidney how to kiss, and Sidney ends up kissing Sophia really quick, nervously asks ‘Like that?’ and leaves Sophia silent and flustered for a moment.

“Hey, Soph.” Sidney bumped into his friend as the castle bell announced the end of DADA class.

“Hm?”

“I, um.” Sidney looked at Sophia, collecting his thoughts. Why is that so hard? His hands started to sweat, so he rubbed them into his trousers. “I need your help with someo-”, he quickly cut himself off to correct himself, “something.”

Sophia measured Sidney from head to toe, rising one eyebrow higher. “O...kay. What is this ‘something’?”

Sidney looked around the DADA classroom which was still unpleasantly full of their classmates and housemates. “Not here!” He hissed and grabbed her by the arm, lifting Sophia from her seat and dragging her away.

“Sid!” Sophia yelped in surprise. “Sidney! Our stuff! We haven’t packed yet!” As she said so, she pulled out her wand from the waistband of her skirt and commanded their things to pack themselves with a spell.

The two of them were silent since leaving DADA class, especially Sidney who was still gripping onto Sophia’s arm. Sophia either didn’t notice, or let Sid do so.

“Sid... Are you... alright?” Sophia was finally the one who broke the uncomfortable silence.

“Yes!” Sidney assured his friend, his voice jumping an octave higher and unintentionally gripping harder onto Sophia’s arm.

“Ow! My arm! Let go!” The ginger squeaked in pain, shaking the boy off of her arm.

“So-Sorry!” The boy apologized as he let go of Sophia’s arm.

“Where are we going anyway? Why are you acting so suspicious, huh?” Sophia showered Sidney with questions and grew more impatient.

“I, uh.” He struggled with words, blushing. “Just go!” The boy wrapped his arm around hers again mindlessly.

Sophia didn’t ask any more questions, just obediently obeying.

After a few tries of Sidney nervously trying to say the current password to the Hufflepuff common room, both of them got into the common room at last.

“WILLYOUTEACHMEHOWTOKISS?” Sidney spewed the question at the now confused Sophia.

“...What?”

“...Wi-Will you teach-teach me how to ki-kiss?” Sidney asked again, now less chaotic.

“What?! Why?! What all of a sudden?!” Sophia yelled, flustered. The poor girl grabbed her pigtails, hiding her burning face behind them.

After Sophia collected her thoughts, leaving Sidney to awkwardly stand in front of her, blushing and staring at his shoes, she muffled the word ‘fine’ into her pigtails and revealed her face again.

“What was that?!” Sidney looked up from his shoes to rove Sophia’s face.

“I... I said ‘fine’.” Now it was Sophia’s turn to stare at her shoes.

“Really?!” Sidney’s face lit up, his voice enthusiastic.

“Yes, Merlin, get this over with!” Sophia said through gritted teeth, blushing. Then she took Sidney’s hands to lead him towards the common room’s armchairs where she sat on one and let Sid sit on the other one before her. Soph let out a long sigh, watching Sidney’s face. A sharp inhale followed right after. Sophia took the pillow that laid beside her on her right and placed it on her lap vertically. “Imagine this pillow is someone you like...” Sophia spoke calmly but her face was frowned.

“I don’t have to.”

“What?!” Sophia tensed.

“What?”

“A-Anyway, imagine this pillow is someone you like...” Sophia turned around the pillow to face her now. ‘Why am I doing this?!!’ Sophia cursed herself under her breathe. She watched the pillow intensely, melting into her own thoughts, imagining someone she likes herself... “Sidney...”

“What?”

The bubble popped. Sophia was attentive again. “Not-Not you!!” Her face grew red. “I-I mean! Yes you, of-of course you! But not like that!” Sophia turned her focus on the pillow again. “Focus!” She growled at Sidney.

Sophia lifted the pillow to her face and turned sideways so Sidney could see what she’s doing. “It’s actually really simple...” Sophia was back to speaking calmly or at least trying to, her face frowning again. “Watch me...” Sophia leaned in and softly placed a kiss on the pillow’s supposed lips, closing her eyes. After a few seconds of tasting plush she pulled away.

Sophia, now facing Sidney and turning the pillow for Sidney to try, spoke: “See, now yo-”

But she was cut off by Sidney leaning in, quickly kissing her instead and pulling away. “Like that?” He was blushing like crazy, looking like a puppy that done something it wasn’t supposed to.

Sophia dropped the pillow, speechlessly watching her friend, her face matching the color of her hair with every passing second.

#my writing #bitchwrite #Word Count: 740 #Sidhia #my oc #Sophia Lucy Watson #not my oc #Sidney Murphy #fluff #slowburn #first kiss #friends to lovers #Betad by @e-lisard!

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blasphemecel · 2 years

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Oblivion — Sid Jenkins

PAIRING: Sid Jenkins/Reader WORD COUNT: 4k WARNING(S): Mentions of drug & alcohol abuse, Reader impliedly has a dysfunctional family, Self-esteem issues TYPE: Humorous, Light Hurt/Comfort NOTES: Target audience for this: me and me only

“You wanted to talk?” Sid says, narrowing his eyes at you like you’re suspicious. He’s awkwardly standing up while you’re sitting in the grass, cigarette hanging from your lips. His gaze lingers a little at the way you’re holding your lighter. On your fingers.

You crane your neck up to look at him, squinting for no real reason since there’s no sunlight out right now, if ever, and rub at your eyebrow. “Oh, yeah,” you reply like it’s an afterthought, your voice muffled. Then you pat the patch of grass next to you. “Come on, sit.”

He observes you for a good second until doing as you suggested, though overtly cautiously. You told him to meet up with you to talk, which implies there’s something you need from him, which can’t be any good. “What do you want?”

“On my way here, right,” you start, although the topic is irrelevant at best. “Some fucker drove by straight in a puddle and sprayed me. Now I smell like shit from the sewer.” What follows your explanation is an arm sway.

“I didn’t notice,” he dismisses. Despite his thorough examination of you, it didn’t occur to him that you seem a little more wet and disgusting than usual.

“Yeah, yeah, figures. I know you don’t shower.”

“It was one time. One time. We were running from Michelle’s mum. She was gonna give us a beating.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Listen. What’s this got to do with you calling me over?”

“Why are you looking at me like I’m doing something wrong?” you coax, though your face turns mischievous. You’re always aware when you’re being annoying, and it makes you even more obnoxious.

Sid is stuck switching between an uncomfortable smile and settling his lips in a thin line — something you’ve noticed him do before whenever he’s unsure about something. “I’m not looking at you in any kind of way, like at all.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. Yeah, really.”

“Why so high-strung today?” you ask, and you're intent on quizzing him and finding out more about his state of mind or whatever for the first time in your life. Which might’ve been lovely, somehow in some iteration of this world far away, but you’re also dodging the subject and it’s ticking him off.

“Because you’re wasting my time.” Sid grimaces in clear cut disapproval.

You smile wide as if his displeasure lights up your world, and your eyes crinkle. He always looks so disgruntled. You can’t help but find it amusing. “Don’t be a wanker. I know you don’t have anything else to do.”

“I’ll have you know, I—”

“Actually, you are a wanker,” you say with a snort, making obscene motions with your hand.

“Stop it.”

You find more entertainment in his bemusement, unsuccessfully attempt to stifle your laughter and offer him a cigarette as a truce of sorts. Despite accepting it, Sid’s motions are jerky when he takes it from you, and you’re not blind to the way he’s glaring while you light it for him.

“Relax,” you say.

Sid calls out your name like it’ll help get you back on track. In a stern voice, almost.

“I ate eggs for breakfast this morning. Hard-boiled. Tasted like fart, straight fart.”

A more insistent repeat of your name escapes him.

You straighten your posture as you’re sitting, holding up a finger with a smile. “I just remembered. Listen man, my mum’s getting married to her boy toy thing and there’s this wedding stuff and I need a plus one. Wanna come?”

You’re grinning way too hard, considering what you just said, and Sid scoffs as an instinctual response to your happiness. “Like anyone wants to go to your crackhead family’s wedding.”

“Why not?” You cock your head to the side. “It’d be funny, I think.”

“Yeah, to you, maybe.”

“Didn’t you get in deep shit for that dope you got off the… the one substitute teacher, Mad Twat?”

Sid says nothing. Just exhales in an over-exaggerated manner and throws his hands up to show you how done he is with this conversation.

“And like,” you continue, after breathing out another drag, “so like, you can be a crackhead, but my uncle from Birmingham can’t?”

“I’m not a crackhead, for fuck’s sake. It was just spliff!”

You roll your eyes, inching your body further away from him, leaning into the grass.

“Can’t you- Can’t you take Tone or something?” he suggests, but not necessarily because he’s eager to throw him your way. No, it’s more that everyone likes Tony, so he’d be a good fit for showing off to your mum, and he’s a bit of a sociopath, which would ensure your fun throughout the reception. He’d agree, of course, as it’d be an easy opportunity to cause chaos at someone else’s expense. That’s what you’re into, right?

You blink at him almost like you’re considering his offer. You’re not much different from everyone else he spends any substantial amount of time around; an insolent, insufferable asshole with neatly packaged emotional damage. And Sid is not good at reading people, never has been. Your request to go with him could signify something, but it also could not. He can never tell where the layers are when it comes to you, or what you’re thinking‌.

What he knows is that, deep down, he wants it to have some hidden meaning, something subliminal you’re trying to convey to him, even though that’s far-fetched. That maybe, just maybe, you do prefer hanging out with him, compared to the others.

The frown on his face runs deeper, scrunching his entire face. Everyone seems eager to play with his emotions nowadays, even if unintentionally.

An aggressive shake of your head brings him out of his mulling. “The guy doesn’t even understand why speeding is illegal. You think I’d wanna invite him to a wedding?”

“Well, yes-” Disregarding the thought process of how you’re exactly the type of person who would encourage some foolishness to happen at such an event, he resorts to grimacing again, and then he shrugs his shoulders a few times. “It’s not exactly that he doesn’t understand why it’s illegal. He just doesn’t care, alright?”

You purse your lips, though not exactly in disapproval. It teeters more on the edge of, ‘Wow, seriously? And that’s the guy you look up to?’

“Or maybe Anwar could go with you. Or Michelle. Michelle’s nice.”

You frown. “Okay, maybe they could go with me, but I’m asking you. So instead of dodging me like a prick, just say no!”

He blinks at you, disregarding your outburst. “Why would you ask me?”

Sid’s seemingly genuine confusion doesn’t move you as much as it annoys you. You make jazz hands at him with an expression of mock insight. “Maybe because I want to go with you…?”

“I don’t see why, but fine,” he concedes, leaning his face into his hand, charily watching you.

“Good Lord, Sid, don’t be such a soggy bastard,” you huff, then stand up and almost trip over. Your wet, disgusting bag is hanging off one of your shoulders, and then you turn more sly and satisfied suddenly, after you stomp on your cigarette. “Cheers though. I’ll call you for details later.”

You make a telephone motion with your fingers, and you’re gone.

With your way out of earshot by now, Sid cringes retroactively, like he just smelled a rotting carcass. Then, with a hint of bewilderment, he mutters, “Soggy?”

____

You don’t call him for details later. It’s a week after when you’re in the middle of a shower and you hear your phone ring. Opening the curtain, you look around and wipe your hands on the nearest cloth, then stretch towards the cabinet and grab the device.

“Hello?” you say in an inquisitive manner, having not looked at the caller ID.

“Hey, what’s that noise?” You recognize the voice. It’s Sid.

“Just in the middle of washing my bum,” you say, holding in a cough. It’s kinda breezy like this. “I know you wouldn’t be familiar, but-”

“Shut up. And aren’t you wasting, like, a shit ton of water right now?”

You snicker. “Too bad for whoever’s taking a shower after me, then.”

“You’re such an ass.”

“And what can this ass do for you?”

“Oh, yeah, uh… you never got back to me about that wedding thing. Is that still happening?”

“Well, yes, I mean. It’s this Sunday, so.”

You can’t see him, but you can tell he’s making one of his funny miserable-looking expressions again, huffing and puffing and kissing his teeth. “That’s in five days! And you didn’t tell me shit.”

“I got caught up in—” your eyes dart around the bathroom and land on the graffiti that says CHRIS MILES PEED HERE with a huge arrow pointing towards the corner, a result of last night’s shenanigans. Should wipe that off when I’m finished here, “—something.”

“Yeah, I forgot, shaking your bottom to Like a G6 all night must be exhausting. My bad.”

“Alright, who up and pissed in your dinner?”

“You! Don’t make big plans and then go ghost for like-”

Before he can continue his charade about timeliness and such, you feel the water turn abruptly way too cold. You yell out a strange, strangled kind of noise, shiver, and turn the faucet off before jumping out of the shower, naked feet padding across the bathroom tiles. So fucking gross.

A beat of silence passes before Sid says, “Everything ok?”

Without thinking too hard, you decide that you won’t tell him the hot water ran out since he’ll get a tickle out of it after quick consideration. No, you know he won’t laugh at you — he never really does that often, and it kind of sucks since you pride yourself on being a bit of a comedian. It’ll be more of an ‘I told you so’ ordeal, and you can’t deal with that brand of obnoxiousness. “Almost slipped.”

You shudder. It’s so cold in this piece of shit with poor insulation.

“Well, anyway,” he says, not very concerned. You think about how you’ll have to rinse yourself off on the sink and pout before closing in on the mirror. Noticing your mom’s lipstick, you feel a tinge of intrigue for no apparent reason. “What do I dress like?”

You shift your phone, supporting it with your shoulder, and untwist the lid off the lipstick, narrowing your eyes at it. “Hmm?”

“I’d probably have to wear a suit. Right?”

“I mean, it is a wedding.” As funny as you think it’d be for him to show up in his usual, ridiculous, skater-ish (despite how you’ve never seen him even touch a board), oversized pants. “I reckon there’ll be a dress code.”

“Uh, and, what about the hat?”

You purse your lips and draw devil horns on your reflection. Such a vibrant shade of red. “I don’t know,” you say. “Maybe. Maybe I’ll tell them you’re with me real cool, and they’ll let you wear your hat.”

“You’re not a mob boss, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Hide that balding hairline and don’t vex me, little boy.”

Sid sighs, and you hear it, and you almost want to laugh because he makes everything so easy, but he doesn’t bother scolding you for your attitude either. There’s no point. “And what about transport?”

“A cab will do. It’s not that far away, really.” You give your reflection a moustache next, and start making different expressions, angling your face.

“Uh, that’s great, I guess. You’re gonna pay for it, right?”

“Don’t worry about it, tightwad.”

“I’m not some kinda scrooge. I just, you know.”

Despite not knowing, you go, “Mmhm.”

Some more silence passes. Figuring you two have nothing else to say or otherwise harp about, you’re about to hang up on him abruptly, but Sid talks again. “[Y/n], don’t tell me you’ve been standing naked in your toilet like a bellend all this time.”

“What gave you that idea?!” you say with fake incredulity, watching yourself smile in the mirror. And the devil horns you drew, and the porn-esque moustache. You come to find you don’t look very villainous.

“There’s this… ominous echo…”

“Oh my. Okay, Criminal Minds. Analysed the background noises and everything.”

“You’re gonna be sick. Get off the phone,” he grumbles.

“Noooo, you first,” you fire back with fake coyness.

He does‌ so without a word. You twist your lips and bring the phone down to stare at it emptily for a second, before discarding it somewhere. Looking at the mirror next, you blink at your doodles. You hope they’ll stick even after you wash away CHRIS MILES PEED HERE.

____

Sid does not dress in a suit, but you don’t blame him since your call was short notice, and he was the one who had to start it. Instead, he settled for some shirt that seems ‌ill-fitting, like he got it years ago, but hasn’t completely outgrown it either. Some boring dress pants and sneakers to follow. And the beanie. The beanie’s always there.

You don’t look much different from usual either, except maybe for the way you have toned down everything a bit, in terms of colours. Polished enough to make you look presentable, but not so much that there’s any radical difference.

“It’s going to be boring, isn’t it?” says Sid dryly, adjusting his hat even though it wasn’t ruffled.

You give him a side glance and then move back and forth from where you’re sitting. “Well, I don’t know. There will be a banquet and performance-enhancement drugs are allowed.”

“[Y/n], don’t talk about that in the car,” he whines, face-palming.

“I don’t think he cares,” you say, curving your mouth, and then turn to look at the taxi driver’s reflection in the tiny mirror. “Do you care?”

“No.”

“See?”

…

“It was such a bother coming,” Sid complains again and you wonder what his problem is at first, until you realise he always has a problem.

“Of course it is. I could send you sightseeing and you’d still find something to be upset about.”

He inches away from you in a petty move, considering how the taxi isn’t exactly spacious. Curls into himself like you’ve offended him. “Well, I mean, yeah. That kinda sounds like you would’ve been trying to get rid of me. And what’s the point of sightseeing alone, anyway? In this hypothetical situation.”

“You were right. I should’ve invited Anwar. At least he’s both cute and funny.” You say it as a joke, but you can tell he’s taking it to heart by the way he scoffs and if his reflected expression is anything to go by. Still, he’s got his back on you now, and you feel like the snowballing of the situation is out of your hands.

“What’s with you both?” the driver asks, mostly annoyed because he has to deal with pointless drama within the comfort of his own vehicle.

And with that, you cease engaging him until you arrive at your destination.

___

There’s a certain stiffness in you when you arrive and make your way inside, flashing your invite and pulling him in. “You know, I don’t really mean half the things I say,” you mutter, though you sound irritated at him misinterpreting your actions with such ease, which ‌makes him feel worse.

“I know.”

“So stop moping around. It’s a wedding and you’re allowed to snort anything you could want in the world.”

“I told you I’m not a crackhead,” he’s yelling and he’s whispering all the same.

“It’s never too late to start.” You wipe your nose and sniff to indicate something, meanwhile Sid pouts and kicks away imaginary dirt.

The first person who approaches you is one of your uncles. Sid sees a little bit of you in him, although a really… aged you, mixed with someone else. He’s already drinking and there’s a glint in his eyes when he says, “Aye, [Y/n], I didn’t know you got a boyfriend.”

“That’s not my boyfriend. Just some homeless guy I picked off the street.”

Sid nudges you in the ribs. Hard.

“Sorry. He’s a little sensitive about it.”

“No worries, man.” Your companion lets go of your hand and wipes both of his on his pants, so at least the claminess hadn’t been a hallucination. You shift a little, and then your uncle takes a loud sip of his drink. He takes this as his cue to leave. “Alright, alright, you little twats have fun.”

Watching after his retreat, Sid frowns. “I don’t think we will. And seriously, a homeless guy you picked off the street? You were just trying to apologise a few seconds ago, mind you.”

Disregarding what he said, you start. “Well, I have a lot of family lore to catch you up on, if you want. Or maybe we could trigger the fire alarm and ruin the ceremony already.”

“Your origin story sounds good. Not really. Well, it sounds better.”

“Let’s find somewhere to sit,” you offer, because the idea of telling him the extensive backstory while standing up is tedious. He plops down somewhere near the back, eventually, on these shitty plastic chairs that definitely don’t fit a wedding. You follow suit, adjusting your seat to be closer to his.

You’re halfway through the anecdote about why your stepdad is also already drunk and dragging his face across the cake — it involves cheating and a lack of a refund — when you notice Sid is spacing out. Smacking his shoulder, you draw out an overdramatic hiss from him. “I’m trying to fill the awkward silence here and you’re not helping.”

“It’s hard to concentrate on all the, um… the going on.” And you talk a lot which is hard for him to keep track of, but he doesn’t tell you that.

You raise your eyebrow, almost willing to pretend he’s making sense. “What’s with all this weird fucking tension? I swear, you’re not this whiny usually.”

Sid shrugs in a faux casual manner before adjusting his position to be more comfortable. Trying to pay attention to him properly this time, you’re watchful of his movements, like he always seems to be wary of yours. Then, with a hint of curiosity, you smirk and try to intertwine your fingers around his. He startles, but doesn’t pull away either.

“Do I make you nervous?” you ask. That’d make sense, at least a little.

“Define nervous.”

“Awkward, irritable, irritating also, hard to be around, alert.”

He allows himself a cheap snort at that. “Then maybe.”

“And why’s that?”

“I think we’ve known each other for far too long to play twenty questions,” he quips. Hopes you won’t notice the way he’s rattled by goosebumps when you draw absentminded patterns on his skin with your finger. You give him high-fives, not caresses.

“You shouldn’t be,” you say. “We’re good friends. Gotta have each other’s backs and shit.” He knows you don’t mean it much. If you do, you don’t act like it.

“That’s a- that’s a problem… to me.”

“I don’t see why it would be.”

“We’re all hanging out almost every day, yeah? It just keeps occurring to me that I'm not a good fit for anyone.” Now’s probably not the time to bring this up, but he’s always been a little selfish like this. That’s one thing you know about him for certain. And if not that, he can be embarrassingly open about what he’s thinking.

“For anyone? I didn’t know you had anything other than naked Michelle’s in that empty head of yours.”

“I don’t- I just- you think it’s stupid, right? The thing with Michelle.”

“Of course I think it’s stupid,” you scowl. “Got you acting like a tool at times, and that’s coming from the second asshole in command. The main asshole’s Tony, though, for sure.”

“Well, I think it’s dumb and pointless, too. I realised that, she realised that. And she used me to prove Tony wrong, and it hurt so fucking bad, but that doesn’t matter,” Sid goes on. “I try thinking of other people and it just feels like I’m not good enough for anyone, you know?”

“No, I don’t know. I’m perfect,” you interrupt with a giggle.

“That’s the thing. What does that make me?”

Your smile falls. Now would’ve been the time for him to oppose you and play those verbal exercises you two always fell into. He doesn’t seem to notice your shock, but shakes off your hold on him and you can see he’s more twitchy than before.

“I think about you, alright? A lot. You invite me to this wedding and I’m thinking about how you can be with someone, I dunno, someone more compatible with you. I want to be like that. Someone fun and playful, like Tone and Anwar and Chris and Maxxie and literally anyone else. It always comes back to this crap. I always act like I’m better and nicer than everyone, but it’s bullshit. It’s all bullshit.”

He doesn’t look like he’s on the brink of crying, but his words are tearful in nature.

“I’m just letting you all drag me around-”

“You talk too much,” you interrupt. You two work in an amusing way; he thought that about you earlier. “And you just care about having your pity party right now and how I won’t be your rebound for Michelle, so I’m not even gonna say anything in the meantime.”

That’s a harsh rejection, rough enough to bring a wince out of him, though it’s not like he’s not used to being seen as ridiculous, and he knew the chances of this going reciprocated were low. He doesn’t want you to think that’s all he’s feeling or thinking about, though. That was never Sid’s intention. “You don’t understand!”

“Make me understand then.”

“With you, I think I just feel a little different. Like with Michelle, I had these… fantasies, I guess, of how things were supposed to go. Kinda like some shitty show on the telly, but in my head instead. Anyway, when I think about you, I don’t want that. I just want you. I imagine us dicking around and such, not fairy tale moments.”

Sid isn’t poetic with his words, but you didn’t expect him to be. There’s no romance in it, but it’s genuine, way too matter-of-fact for comfort. You’re well aware that no one feels sentimental towards you, or takes you seriously at all. So this? This is a lot already.

“Sid, look at me,” you say. He hadn’t done that even once the entire time he was talking, which you’re willing to chalk up to nerves rather than being disingenuous.

“You want eye contact while putting me down for good? Such a you move.”

“Just listen for once,” you say, furrowing your eyebrows in frustration. “I’ve fancied you for years, but you’re always chasing something or someone else around. That doesn’t mean I’m gonna run in your embrace immediately or whatever, but-”

“Wait.” He seems a little dazed, widening his eyes. “You do?”

“-just stop with this self-deprecation bull. It’s sad. Never helped anyone.”

Something goes on in the background. There are noises of shock going around. You forgot people were around, even though everything else was supposed to be a main event. The moment stalls like this, but you don’t want it to end on this note. Incomplete.

“I can change.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “I don’t want you to change. We can just both be better, alright? If we’re gonna be together.”

The yelling in the background gets more intense, but you don’t pay it any mind. Waiting for his answer.

“I think I can work with that, yeah.”

You don’t initiate a kiss with him when he leans in like he wants you to, instead opting to bend further into your chair and smirk at him. Your triumph is short-lived, though, because you tip it back far enough that you fall and hit your head rather hard. All Sid can do is try to help you with almost late franticness while your family ignores your groans of pain.

#skins uk x reader #skins imagines #skins uk imagines #sid jenkins x reader #sid jenkins imagine #one shot

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Text

Two of A Kind

I’ve been focusing on asks a lot lately because of everyone’s awesome ideas, but I saw a Cut video that was similar to this and just couldn’t resist. Hope you enjoy! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for mentions of sex and endless simping!

“Are you ready?” Marlene asks behind the camera. Kasey sits alone on a stool in the middle of the room, drumming his fingers on his knees.

“Yep. What am I doing again?”

The video cuts, revealing the same room, this time with James Potter on the stool. “You’re going to be answering a few questions,” Marlene explains. “And then we’re also going to be interviewing your wife and comparing your answers.”

“Oh, God,” James laughs. “Okay, hit me with your best shot.”

A title card appears on the screen. First Question: What was your first date?

Remus thinks for a moment. “Like, our first official date, or something that was definitely a date but we were both too dumb to notice?”

“Kasey took me to an ice rink,” Natalie says. She is inexplicably sitting on a folding chair rather than the stool. “We spent about three hours there, drinking cocoa and talking. It was a ton of fun!”

“Ice skating.” Kasey grins. “She told me she could skate, but she had never stepped on the ice in her life.”

“It was at Sid’s.” Sirius smiles to himself. “We had been together for about three months at that point.”

“Remus asked us to define ‘first date’,” Marlene says, sounding amused.

“Is there a different definition that I’m not aware of? We hung out at Sid’s a bunch before we actually got together, but those didn’t qualify as dates.” He pauses. “Looking back, they kind of were dates. We just didn’t know it.”

The video transitions to Lily and James, whose interviews are lined up side-by-side. “Lily took me to get ice cream after we went for a walk in the park,” James answers with a bright smile.

Lily laughs. “Our first date was a disaster. It was twenty-five degrees outside and we got ice cream. I think our brain freezes lasted about three straight minutes, but I had a great time.”

Second Question: When and where was your first kiss?

“Our first kiss happened on our first date,” Natalie says. “Kase caught me when I fell over and I just leaned right in.”

Kasey’s dopey smile makes his eyes crinkle. “At the ice rink. It felt like something out of a movie.”

Lily frowns in thought. “Oh, god, maybe our sixth date? He dropped me off at my apartment and kissed me goodnight.”

“I pulled a move straight from a John Hughes movie.” James grins and stretches his arms out. “Walked her to the door and everything. It was perfect.”

“Pascal Dumais’ basement,” Sirius says with a light laugh. “Which is a surprisingly romantic place.”

“It happened right after Sirius’ birthday party, which I was tricked into attending.” Remus gives the camera a mock-serious look. “Always be suspicious of Pascal Dumais. Always.”

Third Question: Who said ‘I love you’ first, and what was your reaction?

Sirius bites his lip. “I said it first, but only by two seconds. It was a long time coming, to be honest.”

“Sirius said it first.” Remus smiles at the memory. “We were both kind of wrecks at the time, but it was…amazing. I think I just cried harder and kissed him.”

Lily rolls her eyes fondly. “James said it first. We were both super drunk and he just blurted it out in the middle of the club.”

“She ran away!” James practically shouts as the video cuts to him. “I told her I loved her, she gave me this shocked look, and then disappeared! I get a text an hour later saying she caught a cab and went home, and she signs it with ‘love, Lily’. What the fuck was I supposed to do with that?”

Natalie coughs slightly. “Um, I don’t remember who said it first.”

Kasey grins at the camera. “Natalie said she didn’t remember,” Marlene calls.

“Oh, she remembers.”

Fourth Question: How’s your sex life? Anything you can do differently?

Sirius, who was taking a sip of water, chokes. “Excuse me?”

Remus is dead silent for a second, blinking at the camera in shock. “It’s, uh, good.”

“If we gave you some alcohol, would your answer change?” Marlene asks.

“Probably. Does anyone else feel like they’re suddenly in danger?”

“What sex life?” James snorts. “We have a baby. There is no time or energy for anything anymore.”

Lily raises an eyebrow. “You think I want him anywhere near me after I just shoved a baby out of my crotch?”

“It’s damn good.” Natalie winks, uncapping her own waterbottle. “Pro tip for anyone looking for a hockey boyfriend: go for the goalies. They’re flexible.”

Kasey is laughing into his hands when his interview appears. “She said that?” he manages. “Oh, Christ.”

Fifth Question: Do you dirty talk?

“Yes.” Kasey and Natalie say at the same time. James winks, and Lily shrugs with a sly smile.

Remus gives the camera crew a disbelieving look. “Are all the questions like this? Were we lulled into a false sense of security?”

“Answer the question, Loops!”

Remus sighs deeply. “On occasion, yes. I’m going to regret saying that.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Sirius says, narrowing his eyes as he sets his water down.

Sixth Question: How well do you sleep?

“Not bad,” Remus says. “Better than I used to, that’s for sure.”

“I don’t sleep,” Lily scoffs. James just looks at the camera and wordlessly gestures to the shadows under his eyes.

“Pretty well,” Natalie muses, slinging one arm around the back of her folding chair.

Sirius nods. “I’d say I sleep well most nights. It’s more comfortable with another person, which was surprising.”

Seventh Question: Why do you feel obligated to share a bed?

“Obligated?” Sirius and Remus say with matching tones of incredulity.

Lily’s smile becomes softer. “I really like sharing a bed. It makes me feel safe.”

“Oh, I love sleeping next to Lily.” James’ gaze turns dreamy. “She smells nice, she’s so warm, and sharing a bed makes childcare much easier when the other person is within reach.”

“You can’t tell her I said this, okay?” Kasey looks around at the camera crew before answering, and his cheeks turn light pink. “Nat’s side of the bed faces east, so if I get up for practice and the sun is rising, she glows a little bit. I dunno, I like it.”

“Kasey is really warm and cuddly.” Natalie says after a moment of thought. “He’s like my own personal heater and I’m never cold if he’s there. Don’t tell him I said that.”

Remus bites his lip before speaking. “I’m not much of a cuddler, but I sleep better next to Sirius than I ever have before. It’s incredible.”

Sirius cocks his head to the side with a smile. “Hmm. Having someone there to hold, especially someone I care about so much, is the best feeling. If I ever wake up in the middle of the night, he’s just…always there.” He half-shrugs. “It’s sappy, but it’s true.”

Eighth Question: Rate your attractiveness on a scale of 1-10

“Eleven,” Lily and Natalie say in unison, as if it’s obvious.

“I’m going with a solid six,” Remus decides after a moment’s deliberation.

“Eight, maybe?” Kasey answers.

Sirius makes a face. “Six? Seven?”

James is mid-laugh when the video cuts to him. “Um, seven. Lily and I have talked about this before and I got in trouble for saying ten, that’s why I’m laughing. Sorry.”

Ninth Question: Rate your partner’s attractiveness on a scale of 1-10

Not a single one hesitates. “Ten.”

“Remus said he was a solid six,” Marlene says as the camera focuses on Sirius.

His eyebrows shoot up. “What? Where is he? Re!”

“What?” a distant voice shouts back.

“You’re a ten!”

“On what scale?”

“Nat said eleven, didn’t she?” Kasey asks with a grin as the clip changes. “I love it when she does that.”

Final Question: What animal is your partner and why? Give three reasons.

Lily gives Marlene a hard look. “Marley, I love you, but what I say right now needs to stay confidential from my husband.”

Sirius laughs quietly. “Oh, he’s going to hate me for this.”

“Lily is a lioness,” James says immediately. “She’s strong, fierce, and unbelievably brave.”

Natalie tilts her head. “Good question. I’m going to go with a bear, since he’s got a big, tough reputation but he’s all soft inside. He’s a pretty solid guy, too, and he likes cold weather.”

“Nat is one of those really colorful birds,” Kasey says. “The ones with big personalities and the pretty feathers.”

“James is a lion.” Lily thinks for a moment longer. “It’s not just that he plays for the Lions, but he really is one of the bravest people I know. He’s protective of his family and cares a lot about keeping everyone together.”

Remus grins at the camera. “Sirius is a dog, and I will happily tell you why. Number one: he loves going for walks. Number two: he is endlessly loyal to the people he cares for. Number three: peanut butter.”

“So, Re is either a cat or a dog, and I really can’t choose.” Sirius’ eyebrows draw together in thought.

“You can choose both if you have reasons,” Marlene calls behind the camera.

“Really? Alright, he’s a dog because he’s friendly, loyal, and brings people trinkets as gifts. Um, I don’t have a legitimate reason for the cat one, but do any of you know that one vine with the cat that’s being dragged around on a leash?”

The camera crew bursts out laughing, and a small picture of the cat appears in the upper left of the screen.

“Anyone who has tried to pick Remus up knows that he looks exactly like that. Goes completely limp, it’s the funniest fucking thing.”

The video cuts to Remus, who raises his eyebrows. “He said what?”

The title card appears and Marlene’s voiceover begins. “Thanks for watching, Lions! Special thanks to Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James and Lily Potter, Natalie Darcy, and Kasey Winter for being with us today. Like and subscribe for more!”

#sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #lily evans #kasey winter #natalie darcy #marlene mckinnon #social media #sweater weather #coops #jily #kat #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic

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mehbzz · 2 years

Text

Fantasy

poly!ghostface x F!reader

Set sometime after this one. credit goes to @polyghostfacehours for being that stranger on the internet who coerces me into writing bad things.

uh, pretty sure there is no plot, but we got arguments and Stu getting pegged.

18+ dubcon, abusive relationships, manipulative/possessive behaviour, misogyny, squirting, cunnilingus, blowjob, pegging

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

“Are you fucking kidding?” Billy’s sudden arrival in his kitchen takes Stu by surprise, and the anger as he practically spits the question at him surprises him even more, eyeing Billy warily as he tries to think about what he could have done.

“What?”

“Tatum.”

“Uh, she's hot?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Billy glares at him, muttering your name between gritted teeth. “Tell me why I’ve just had to spend the past few hours with her crying in my lap? You’re a fucking-, why are you so hell bent on hurting her?”

“I’m-,” Stu looks guilty, cracking his knuckles as he watches Billy pace. “I don't want to hurt her.”

“So making out with Tatum in front of her is going to make her happy? You could have at least told me!” He slams his palm on the counter top as he walks by, aware he’s losing his cool but feeling unable to rein himself in. “You really think after this she'll want to be with you? With us? You told her you love her!” Billy kicks the trashcan hard at Stu’s silence, its contents scattering noisily over the kitchen floor, one hand running messily through his hair.

“I do! I do, just-,” Stu reaches out for him but thinks better of it, lifting his hands in gesture of surrender. “Easy man, ok?”

“What the fuck are you doing with Tatum?”

“I- she came on to me, and you said-,”

“What? What did I say? Because I definitely didn't say jump into bed with Tatum.”

“You know, like keeping our distance from our girl would make her survival less suspicious.”

“4 months. 4 months was all you had to wait you fuckrag.” Billy’s shoulders sag as he slumps back against the refrigerator. “You’re fucking everything up.”

Stu stands still, watching Billy as he slides down to sit on the floor, exhaustion written clear across every part of him as he hides his face in his hands.

“Fuck,” Billy lets his head hit back against the refrigerator door, loud enough for Stu to wince and pushes him into crouching down in front of him. Billy devolving into a self-harming spiral is the last thing he wants. Billy and emotions could be a volatile mix. “Fuck sake Stu.”

He doesn’t move away as Stu hesitantly reaches out for his hand, he doesn’t reciprocate but he doesn’t pull away as Stu intertwines their fingers so he takes that as a win.

“It’ll be ok. Trust me.”

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

He doesn't want to be with you. Why would he? You eye your reflection critically, turning to the side as you run your hands down your stomach. You can't compare to Tatum. She's stunning. And you're… you.

Tears fill your eyes and over flow in hot rush. Stupid. Stupid. You don’t know why you’re so surprised. Billy was a flirt, a prolific one, you often wondered how Sid never noticed his behaviour, but he wasn’t sleeping around on you, you were sure. But Stu? He was the epitome of horny, led by his dick not his brain. You shouldn’t be surprised, you shouldn’t but you are. You thought for one foolish second after he and Casey broke up that he might- the knock on your front door makes you jump and startles you out of your self-loathing.

“Hey.” Stu’s voice is soft, quiet uncharacteristically so and it's that tone that stops you from just slamming the door in his face.

“What do you want?”

“I'm sorry.”

Tears prick your eyes again and you blink furiously in an effort to get them to go away. You will not cry in front of him. “Right,” You feel at a loss for words, and unable to hold his gaze for more than a second, both of you standing there in awkward silence. “Well, thanks for letting me know.”

You go to shut the door but he grabs it before you can.

“Really. I am. Can we talk?”

“Stu-,” Say no, say no and shut the door. You can’t. Instead you let your arm drop and step back from the door, letting him into your hallway.

“I didn't mean-,” you raise your eyebrow and he cuts off. “I made a mistake.”

“It's fine. I get it. I'd probably choose Tatum over me too.” You shrug, giving a small chuckle that threatens to turn into a sob.

“Hey. Hey.” He reaches for you but you step back out of his reach. You still can’t meet his eye but everything about you was screaming hurt, it makes him feel a mix between guilty and turned on.

“Why are you here Stu?”

“To apologize.”

You scoff, arms tightening around your waist. The urge to reach out for him is strong despite your pain. He’s one out of the only two that provide you with comfort and safety when you’re upset and hurt but now he’s a major cause of it your body is a little confused at how to react.

“What do you want me to say?” you snapped, voice rising slightly as you glared at him. “You chose someone else.”

“I didn’t choose someone else, it just… escalated. It felt unfair to Billy. To be able to be with you when he can't? Felt wrong.”

That sounds like bullshit. “I get it. It's fine. I'm last choice.”

“That's not true, bunny.”

“So what? You're stringing Tatum along?”

“What can I do? Sorry for busting your cherry, see ya?” He shrugs. “I was drunk.”

Tatum was a virgin? You feel a little bit of an asshole by how surprised you are by that information, and you’re not sure if you believe him. Stu recognises the surprise on your face and latches on to it immediately. “I know I'm a jerk but I'm not completely heartless. You don’t want me to hurt her do you? Gimme a few months and I'll end it.”

You’re silent. You’re angry at him but there’s a little self loathing in there too and you can feel your resolve slipping. You don’twant him to hurt Tatum, she didn’t deserve that.

“Do you want me to leave? Want to break up with me?”

Your eyes went wide with shock, your mouth agape as you stared at him. The slither of panic at the thought of him leaving shakes you so much you don’t know how to react.

“I am sorry.”

“You’ve said that a lot,” You cross your arms, taking a step back away from him. “I don’t think it’s fixing anything.”

“Come on, don’t push me away,” he begged. “Billy’ll be distraught if we don’t make up.”

“I don’t-,” That added another layer of guilt to your already confused mess of emotions. He was right; Billy was probably very upset right now. Your resolve wavers a little more as you watched Stu’s face, he was frowning, obviously getting a little more frustrated with your continued reluctance to talk to him.

“Do you love me?”

“Of course, I do,” You answered automatically, the question taking you by surprise. You said that too quickly, and he noticeably relaxes at your words.

“I don’t want to lose you,” He almost smiles. “I think I’d die without you, you know? I’m addicted to you. I know you rely on us and I don’t want you to be alone when you’re so upset, especially with your dad away, but I’ll go if that’s what you want.” He tilts his head slightly when you don’t reply. “I should probably go check on Billy anyway.”

The sudden tension in the air was thick as blood rushed to your head and white noise filled your ears. Is that what you want? To break up with him? He wasn’t wrong. You did rely on them. He and Billy were all you had. Your dad was hardly ever at home and you don’t recall the last time you hung out with the others without Billy or Stu present. They were your everything. They knew everything about you, and you them.

“I understand how you feel but how do you think I feel? I hate seeing Billy with Sid too,” He takes a step closer, and when you don’t move away he takes another. “You just deal with it better than I do.”

“No I don’t,” Your heart throbbed, “You-, you’re both dicks. And I’m going to forgive you because I’m an idiot, apparently a glutton for pain.” tears blurred your vision and he tugs you forward into a rough hug.

“Don’t leave,” you hiccuped, your hands clawing at his shirt. “I just I don't understand why I'm not good enough for you.”

“You are,” He pulls back slightly, cupping your face in his hands. “I'm so so sorry.”

“Yeah. But you're not going to break up with her are you?”

“Not yet. Soon. We'll be able to be together.”

“I hate you.”

“Love you too.”

“You’re insufferable. And spoiled. Arrogant. Stubborn. Obnoxious. Selfish.”

“Ouch. Well you're my endgame, my final girl, my happily ever after.”

“Yeah? And it's not just cause Tatum refuses to call you daddy?” It was supposed to be teasing, light-hearted but Stu’s immediate switch into horny mode makes you regret it, one hand reaching down to squeeze your ass hard. You curled your fingers into his shirt, had a momentary thought of fuck it and then kissed him.

He was still for a moment, like you surprised him, then he deepened the kiss, kissed you like he wanted to devour you, body pressing flush against you as he cupped your face in his hands before he broke the kiss with a low moan. The little voice in your head yelling at you that you were an idiot gets quieter and quieter as his teeth scraped gently scrapping over the soft skin of your throat, drawing a high pitched whimper from you before you could stop it. Stu broke the kiss with a grin, his expression as smug as you’d ever seen it.

“Don’t get cocky,” you sighed, embarrassed at how quickly you had caved. “Asshole.”

“I didn’t say anything, bunny.”

You glared at him and he grinned.

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

Billy seems content to let you snuggle into Stu’s side but you still stretch out, letting one leg rest over Billy's lap, your half finished beer hanging loose in your grip. He gives you a small smile as he curls one hand around your calf, his thumb gently stroking over your ankle. Stu had been all over you since you arrived and Billy had been tense, not keeping his distance exactly but he was definitely letting Stu hog your attention.

“Your turn. Sole survivor, who’s it going to be?” It had been almost silent all night as the three of you lounged on the sofa re-watching Halloween; the quiet only broken when the two of them started arguing over how important is was to have a survivor in these movies. Stu passionately insisting that you couldn’t have a sequel without a survivor.

“I’d spare you,” He glances at Stu before looking back at you. “Him, maybe. You get to decide his fate.”

“I’m hurt dude,” Stu nuzzles into your side, his teeth digging into your shoulder in a gentle bite. “I’m too pretty to die.”

“You’d spare me? Over everyone else?”

“Yes.” It’s a short blunt answer, accompanied with his fingers flexing into your ankle, overly serious for the teasing conservation you’d been having.

“Wow, little old me? Over that hot mom at the comic store you’re always staring at?” You’re trying to lighten the mood, surprised at how sullen Billy had gone. “Why am I so special?”

He's silent for long enough that you force your gaze away from the TV to look back at him. He's watching you, his face eerily blank as he examines you.

“I don't know. You just are.”

“Well good to know you won't be killing me when you go all Michael Myers,” You try to laugh but the way he's still staring at you is making you uncomfortable. “Billy?”

“Never. I’ll always pick you. The others are,” he frowns and his look of genuine confusion has you worry he’s taking this just a little too seriously. “They're there. And you're you,” He shrugs. “You're special.”

“I'm special.” Stu seems to have picked up on the odd mood, his attention flicking between you and Billy.

“Yeah buddy you too.” It sounds sarcastic but there's a definite fondness in Billy's eyes.

“Ok, Ok, nepotism aside,” Billy rolls his eyes at your comment and you grin. You want to turn this back around to the light hearted conversation it was. “I’m with Stu, I want a sequel so my sole survivor has to be someone who could come back for revenge right, someone li-,”

“Your sole survivor?” Stu scoffs. “You’re a girl, bunny, too weak. You’re not killing anyone.”

You twist out of Stu’s hold enough so that you can glare at him. “First of all, fuck you. Second, are you seriously saying girls can’t be killers?”

“Name one.”

“Carrie?”

“Traumatised kid with powers, doesn’t count.”

“Annie Wilkes?”

“Hmmmm, high body count but you don’t see any awesome kills so… no.”

You roll your eyes. “That’s a dumb reason but fine. Pamela Voorhees then.”

Stu is silent, fingers tapping along your thigh before he sighs. “Yeah ok, you got me there.”

“Ha. See? I could totally channel my inner Pamela.”

Billy snorts, but tries to smother his smile as you turn to glare at him. You feel oddly offended that they don’t think you could be a movie killer. He’s out of reach for any real retribution so you take it out on Stu, giving him a hard pinch to his thigh that makes him jolt.

“Violent,” he whines, rubbing his leg. “Alright, alright, just so you don’t murder me in my sleep I’ll admit maybe you could. But you want a good gory throat to sternum gutting? Only a man can do that baby.”

“Yeah sure whatever, just go pick another movie dumbass.” You admit defeat reluctantly. You don’t know enough horror movie villains to win this argument, but you will, making a mental note to pick Randy’s brain the next time you see him.

“He’s not choosing,” The suggestion of another movie seems to shake Billy out of his quiet mood, sitting upright and reaching for the VCR remote before Stu can grab it. “We are not watching interview with the vampire again.”

“Aw c’mon, she’s not seen it.”

“No. I'm not sitting through that film again just so you can ogle Brad Pitt.”

“Listen you try watching Brad Pitt in that and not feel just a little conflicted, the man is-,”

“You're crushing on Brad Pitt?” You interrupt him, amusement rising fast as you watch Stu’s cheeks start to heat. “How many times have you watched it?”

“Not important. And he’s a good looking guy ok? He could tota-,”

“Gay.” Billy coughs into the back of his hand and you can’t help but giggle despite Stu’s half hearted glare at you for siding with Billy.

“I’m not gay,” Stu gasps, mock offended. “I’m bisexual,” he digs his fingers into your ribs, his grin widening at your yelp as you try to wriggle away from him. Billy’s grasp around your wrist is the only thing that stops you from flinging your beer all over all three of you.

“Finish your beer.” Billy tilts your bottle up to your mouth and you take one mouthful before grimacing.

“Warm.”

“Yeah? Finish it and I'll get you a fresh one.”

“You don't have to get me drunk to take advantage of me you know.” You wiggle your toes into his thigh and he jumps slightly before giving you a grin. He knows he doesn’t, but he does like it when you’re drunk. You end up so much more willing, a lot easier to persuade into things.

“I’ll get them, you can choose the movie,” Stu slides out from under you, stretching his arms up high above his head as he yawns. “Highly recommend Interview.”

Your laugh drowns out Billy’s torrent of swears, your heart swelling with sudden affection as you watch him half drag half shove Stu out of the room. His wail of protest turning into a muffled moan that makes a small pulse of arousal shiver down your spine.

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

“You thinking about?” Billy is plastered against his back as he tries to take the beers out of the fridge, his hands dipping just under the hem of his jeans. “You thinking about our girl?”

Billy’s nails scratch along his hip bone and he jerks into the touch. “You look so cute cuddling together. I keep thinking about how cute you’d look bent over for her.”

“You still thinking about that?” Stu twists in his grip, leaving the beers and focusing his attention on the way Billy’s hands are slowly stroking down his abdomen. Billy lets him turn but refuses to step back, crowding him backwards against the kitchen counter.

“I want to watch,” He tugs at Stu’s zipper, enjoying the way Stu arches into the touch. “Let her fuck you up for a change. She'd let you do something to her in return. You know how soft she is.”

“Shit Billy, what brought this on?”

“What would you like to do? Knife to her throat? Or down those beautiful tits? She’d probably cry, but she'd like it,” Billy grunts, his hips rocking against Stu’s thigh. “Imagine it, covered in blood, begging for more as you fuck her.”

“Fuck Bill,” Stu’s panting hard, cock straining painfully at the front of his jeans, he feels a little blindsided by Billy’s obvious arousal, the evening had felt pretty tame to him. “What the hell?”

“Let her fuck you. For me.” Billy pulls his fingers up to his mouth, sucking them into his mouth with a wicked grin before he yanks Stu’s zipper down and curls them around his cock.

“Christ F-Fine. For you.”

Billy kneels, savouring the way Stu’s breath hitches. His mouth waters slightly as he pulls Stu’s cock free, he’d never admit it out loud but he definitely has the prettiest cock he’s ever seen. Already hard and leaking, he resists the temptation to tease Stu about how eager he is. The thought of you naked and covered in blood has him just as hard as Stu is.

He leans forward to give the head of Stu’s cock a slow lick; he’s rewarded with a low groan and a sharp tug to his hair. Taking the hint he licks a long, broad stripe from base to tip before he sucks the entire head of Stu’s cock into his mouth, the satisfied grunt from above making his own cock twitch painfully in his jeans. He swirls his tongue a couple of times before pushing down as far as he can. Ignoring the tears that start to prick at his eyes, he sucks Stu carefully down his throat, retreating and going down again, not stopping until his nose is buried in the wiry blonde hairs at the base.

He purposefully chokes, knows how much he likes it and Stu swears. “Gonna cum man, shit,” his voice is strained. “Don’t f-fuck don’t swallow, want you to hold it,” He moans loudly and Billy finally hears you approaching. He’s kind of impressed you stayed back as long as you did. “Want you to kiss her, make her swallow, shit shit-” Stu’s words devolve into a slew of jumbled filth and moans and he takes that as his cue to pull back.

“I’d love to make you cum right now,” He swirls his tongue around Stu’s cock once more, gripping the base of his cock tightly. “But you promised me a show.”

He pulls away completely and stands up, ignoring Stu’s desperate whine and smacking his hands out the way when he tries to finish himself off. Billy looks towards you and you swallow hard, moving closer when he beckons you over. “Got a present for you bunny.”

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

“You look good like this,” Billy muttered. Your eyes flicked up briefly to watch him wander around the kitchen counter until he stood in front of Stu. "Look at him bunny, so eager to get fucked."

Your eyes were quick to dart back down to look at Stu obediently. You were naked apart from your panties, and the strap-on Billy had encouraged you into rested against Stu’s ass, it was pink, garishly so, and you had a sneaking suspicion that was exactly why Billy chose it.

"Can we just move to the part where you fuck me?" Stu grunted, his nails scratching into the counter top as he tries to keep still. “At least let me turn around, let me enjoy the show.”

"No. It’s her fantasy, let her enjoy it the way she imagined it.”

You don’t quite agree with that. You’d mentioned it once, in a frustrated rant about Stu’s behaviour and Billy had latched on to it. From how hard he’d been as he’d helped you into the harness, you think this is more his fantasy at this point.

"Billy, babe, dude, come on," Stu was practically vibrating with his pent up frustration, letting his forehead thunk on to the counter as he tried to relax.

"Good boy," Billy praised condescendingly, petting his hair. "You learn your place quick."

“Fuck you dude. Let’s swap places, see how you like it.”

You know Stu won’t last long; he’d been on the brink of orgasm when you had interrupted them in the kitchen. Stu’s moans and groans far too loud for you not to pretend you couldn’t hear them. You’d been content to watch, Stu was a joy to watch when he got his cock sucked, always devolving into a loud needy mess, but Billy had other ideas once he noticed your presence, and he seemed to want to make Stu work for it now as much as he could.

“Sorry sorry dude come on, please. I need you to fuck me.”

“Of course you do,” Billy lent back against the sink, arms crossed as he watched Stu. “But I’m not fucking you am I? Your girlfriend is.”

Your heart fluttered in a mix of excitement and hurt, the girlfriend feeling very much like the pointed jab Billy seems to be trying to make it. You trailed your hand down Stu’s spine, enjoying his needy moan and the way he jumped a little every time your nails scratched into his skin.

“Shouldn’t I, you know, prep him?” You’re embarrassed, the words falling haltering from your mouth. You feel totally out of your depth.

“That’s what the lube is for. Besides,” Billy moved, disappearing out of your line of sight until you feel his heat along your bare back, his hands on your hips as he pushes you gently forward. “He likes it to hurt a little.”

"Will one of you just fuck me already??"

Billy chuckles low in your ear and his grip tightens on your hips, stopping your movement, letting his hands trail up over your ribs to cup your breasts. “Don't let him rush you bunny, make him beg for it.”

“Dude. Fuck you.”

“You want her to fuck you? A big strong man like you begging to get fucked by his girlfriend?”

Stu’s growl sends shivers down your spine. He's tense, and you can tell he’s on the line between enjoying it and not. “Fuck fuck wait-,”

You hesitate. He wouldn't stop for you, you know that with a hundred percent certainty, you don't think you share the same sadistic streak but Billy decides for you. Pushing your hips forward and Stu moans as he feels the tip of your cock stretch open his asshole, slipping into a whine that makes Billy chuckle.

Despite your awkwardness you know how this works, gripping Stu’s hips you tugged him deeper onto your cock, Billy pushing your own further and further forward until you were flush against Stu’s ass and you felt him shudder in pleasure. You didn’t feel interested in drawing out this teasing any longer, you felt a little guilty, and Billy’s degrading words, even though Stu obviously enjoyed them, made you uncomfortable.

“Now move, slowly.” You let Billy guide your movements, his little whispered good girl making your cunt clench and flutter. “Rock them, like you do when you ride my cock.”

You began to roll your hips at a slow pace, Stu rocking back into you with a jumbled mix of more and harder making Billy laugh.

“Sounding a little pathetic there babe.”

“I know! I don’t care, just don’t stop,” Stu begged, and you obliged, Billy letting you grind your hips a little faster. Stu sounded angry almost under his desperateness and you knew you were going to on the receiving end of some rough love at some point tonight.

Billy was rocking against you, grinding against your ass in time with your thrusts. “Want to fuck you right now bunny, would you let me? Want to fuck that sweet little ass while you ruin his,” He suckles on the side of your neck, teeth nipping hard against your skin. “You look so fucking sexy.”

Stu grunts, one hand leaving the counter to shove between his legs. The hissed whine leaves you in no doubt that he’s stroking himself in time with your thrusts. “Keep going, bunny, m’sclose.”

“Slow down,” Billy’s fingers dig into your hips, forcing you to slow your pace, ignoring Stu’s pleas. This was a punishment, or another one of their games that they didn’t let you in on. Using you as a tool rather than a partner to enact whatever punishment or game this was. Although you couldn’t find it in yourself to be genuinely mad about it. It was hot, the way Stu shivered and moaned beneath you, and you were wet. Soaked even, the slow roll of your hips felt good even if you weren’t receiving any direct stimulation.

“Please, wanna cum, been so good for you,” Stu lamented; the little whimpers between his words letting you know how close he genuinely was. “Billy stop teasing.”

“Not me you gotta beg.” Billy finally lets you go, giving you a kiss to the cheek as stands back to watch. “Do what you want.”

“I'll return the favour bunny, I’ll spoil you,” Stu groans weakly, “ruin you, fuck you so hard.”

“Yeah?” Your cunt flutters hard around nothing, you’re so wet and desperate relieve the ache that you feel on the edge of begging yourself. "How would you do that?"

"You know how I would," he breathes, “I would fuck you, eat you out for days, make you cum however you wanted.”

“How ever I want?” You’re well aware this is the probably the only time he'll let you do this, that the payback for his submission will probably be rough. You’re going to savour it. “Want to know what I want?”

You lean forward over him as far as you can. “I want you to cum for me daddy.”

Billy laughs, and Stu swears loudly, his hips jerking forward into the edge of the counter so hard it must hurt him as you bury your cock as deep inside of him as you can, surprised and incredibly turned on by how hard he seems to cum at that one word.

“Holy shit. Holy shit balls.” He’s shaking, still stroking himself slowly as he tries to come down from his high. His cum is dripping down the side of the counter and pooling on the floor.

Your legs feel shaky and wobbly as you move back from him, enjoying his little hissed intake of breath as you pull the silicone cock out of him slowly.

Billy moves back behind you, pulling you back into him, letting you rest against him as his hands move to squeeze your breasts again and you both watch Stu. He looks completely fucked out as he stands naked in front of you, his face flushed, breathing hard and his cock half hard between his thighs.

“You enjoy that?” You smirk, feeling a little too proud of yourself in that moment to stop yourself from the sarcastic comment. “You beg so prettily.”

Stu glares, something dark flickers across his face and you even feel Billy tense slightly. You've pushed too far.

“Getting sassy huh? Just because I let you fuck me,” He steps into your space, pushing you back against Billy’s chest. “Our girl is getting an ego Billy boy.”

You were right about the retribution, arousal pooling heavy in your gut as he grips your hip with one hand, pulling at the buckles of the harness with the other until he can tug it away from you to let it fall heavily to the floor.

“You… you’re a tease,” Even Billy is silent and still as Stu talks. “Don't know what to do with myself sometimes. Do you know how hard it is to control myself around you?”

“Stu-,” It’s a breathless plea, although you’re not entirely sure what for. His intensity is scaring you but you feel so turned on you can't think straight, his fingers digging into your skin so hard you’re sure you can feel the bruises already forming. “You're hurting me.”

“I'd kill for you princess,” He ignores you, nails scratching at your hip. “Anyone for any reason.”

“Stu.” It’s a warning, for what you’re not sure, Billy’s voice low over your shoulder.

This side of Stu you've not seen for a while, when that hyperactive persona kind of morphs into an almost violent mania. The intense look on his face as he stares at you reminds you of the time his pet guinea pig died. Like he wants to cut you open and examine you from the inside out.

You had nightmares for weeks when you'd found him performing an autopsy on the poor thing. How he'd tried to drag you over to have a look, the absolute excited fascination on his face as he poked at the furry thing. He’d been so mad at you when you had gone crying to his parents, it had taken you over a week’s worth of pocket money and candy to get back into his good graces. He’d never told you what happened to it and he’d never had a pet since.

“Anyone.” He repeats.

You shiver and Billy presses a flurry of kisses over your bare shoulder, although you're not sure if he is worried you're uncomfortable or realises you like it.

“I didn’t want to hurt you like that; Tatum was a mistake, promise. Just want you. Want me to make love to you, bunny? Sweet and slow, make you cum again and again until you can’t think straight?” He kisses you gently, a chaste little peck to your lips that has you straining for more. “I can do that, I can.”

He doesn’t sound convinced. And you don’t want that. At least not right now. You want Stu. You want him to fuck you, to mark you, for him to prove it’s you he wants not Tatum. The sudden desire to have him almost scares you.

“No I-I, I want it- I want you.” That’s not quite what you wanted to say. Doesn’t explain the nuance of what you’re feeling but their reaction is immediate.

It's the tensing of Billy behind you that unnerves you more than Stu's darkening gaze. You're not sure why but you feel like you've bitten off more than you can chew.

You swallow hard and Stu zeroes in on the gesture, sharp eyes narrowing as he watches your throat bob.

“Yeah? You want me to hurt you?”

“Stu.” Billy’s voice is a sharp loud snap this time. He can see the way Stu is only just hanging back from doing or saying something stupid. It's obvious you're not thinking along the same lines as them, that your cute sweet innocent little mind is probably thinking that they're into bondage or some shit, not that he desperately wants to take a knife to your skin or how Stu desperately wants to fuck you next to Casey’s bloody corpse. That when Stu says he wants to hurt you, he means it. He feels just a tinge of genuine worry at the glassy look in Stu’s eyes. The last thing he needs is Stu slipping into some kind of full blown mania here. Keeping control of him could be frustrating sometimes.

“Yeah yeah, I'm good.” Stu barely gives him a glance, to focused on you and the way your breasts move as you pant. “You scared?”

Yes. “No.”

“Liar. But that's OK. I'll make sure you enjoy it.” He would and he could. You knew it. The two of them always managing to talk, push, you into whatever they wanted.

Billy's grip tightens on your wrists as you tense. Like he’s worried you’re going to try and run. You don't want to, not really but the feeling of suddenly being prey is making you nervous, despite the undercurrent of excited arousal.

Stu is spacing out again, hands slipping up your rib cage to cup your breasts. You arch your back into his touch, gasping suddenly when he lowers his head to swirl his tongue over your nipple. Your thighs clench at the sensation, and he nips sharply at you before he pulls away. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you.”

“You have us, always.”

Stu dropped to his knees, pulling your underwear down with him, pushing your legs wide and buried his face between them, dragging his tongue up the line of your cunt. Your hips stuttering against his face as your hands grip into his hair, trying to ground yourself against the sudden rush of pleasure. The thump as you threw your head back against Billy’s shoulder was a distant, drowned out by the loud moans you couldn’t seem to stop making. Stu was unfairly good with that tongue.

“So wet, you enjoy fucking me that much?” Stu groaned, the wet sound of his tongue almost obscene as he lapped at you. He let go of your calf to squeeze his cock, he was achingly hard again already, but he wanted to make you cum before he fucked you, wanted the taste and smell of you so deep into his skin and stomach that you would be a part of him for days.

“So sweet, fuck Billy,” He growled and lapped roughly at your clit, quick, curling drags of his tongue. “Love this fucking pussy.” You tried to roll up against his mouth, the movements of your body uncontrolled and uncoordinated but Billy held you firm, his hands on your hips keeping you frustratingly still.

“Could spend hours eating you out princess, could do this for days, weeks.” Stu dragged the flat of his tongue more slowly along your clit, your back arching away from Billy until he let go of your hips to wrap around your waist, holding you firmly flush against him

Whatever Billy was whispering in your ear was lost to you as Stu stroked his fingers along your folds, holding you open before he drove his tongue up inside your cunt, grunting and moaning he fucked you with his tongue.

“Oh god,” you breathed, your nails scraping across his scalp. “God, Stu, fuck.”

He worked his tongue as deep as he could, and one of your hands left his hair to claw blindly back at Billy’s thigh, you felt completely un-tethered as you bucked against Stu’s face, your moans turning into an almost wail when he curled his tongue, his nose grinding against your clit until your whole body shook.

“Fuck-,” a broken gasp of your name from Billy behind you. He could feel how close you were, the tremble in your limbs as you fought to rock against his hold. You were close, so close and he was flooded with the sadistic desire to deny you.

“Stop.”

Stu obeyed him instantly, pulling away just before you found release, smacking his lips as you jerked, trying to chase his mouth but it was no use, Billy’s arms tight around you stopping you from moving at all. You yanked on his hair, but he didn’t budge. “Stu, please!”

“Billy said stop,” He turned to bite against the skin inside your thigh as you begged. This. He loved this. He could probably cum from this alone, your body aching and needy, dripping and so very desperate for him. “Ask him for it.”

“Billy.” It’s a high pitched whine, a sound you’d be mortified of making if you weren’t so close to tears.

“Shhh,” Billy drew in a shaky breath, sounding just as wrecked as you. “I’ve got you. Tell me you want me baby, tell me and I’ll let you cum.”

“I want you, I want you, please!”

Billy shudders and Stu takes that as he cue to start moving again, sliding his fingers up and down your wet folds, before pressing one single digit inside you slowly.

“Stu,” you moan, and he buries his face into your stomach, tongue dipping into your belly button and you hiss as a second finger slips inside, thrusting and curling against your walls.

Your hands scrabble to grip at his hair again as your hips rock into his hand, desperate to chase the quickly approaching orgasm. He’s being rough, almost too rough, the frantic twist and scissoring of his fingers almost too much, the calloused pad of his thumb rough against your clit as he rubs in small hard little circles. You roll your hips, grinding harder against his palm and moaning loudly at the pleasure he’s forcing you to take.

“You gonna cum for me?” he asks, pulling back to watch your face, a groan escaping him when he feels you begin to flutter around his fingers. “Come on bunny, cum for me.” You whine, but he doesn’t slow down, doesn’t give you any reprieve as he shoves his fingers harder inside your slick cunt, making you sob and forces you up on to your toes in an effort to pull away.

“Too much, too much Stu,”

“Shhh, you’re ok, it’s ok, just take it.” Billy’s gentle kisses over your neck turn into harsh nipping bites as Stu’s fingers thrust and curl harder, hitting a spot inside you that has you seeing stars. The pain in your neck coupled with the frantic thrusting of Stu’s fingers has a new intense warmth growing low in your gut that has warning bells ringing distantly in your head. You scramble desperately at Stu’s hair, trying to push him back or pull him closer you’re not sure as the intense sensation spreads through you, shooting down your spine and making your cunt clench tight around his fingers. It’s too much, you’re half screaming and half choking as your orgasm hits you, the pressure explodes and you’re cumming with a strangled cry, the unexpected sensation of fluids gushing down your inner thighs and hitting your calves making tears of humiliation flood down your cheeks.

“Good girl, good fucking girl.” Billy’s hand curls around your throat, it’s making little tiny stars dance at the edge of your vision and you try to choke out some kind of plea for mercy. The wet sound between your legs is too loud; Stu’s eager moans as he laps and sucks at you fuel your embarrassment. Everything feels raw, over used, over sensitive, you can’t tell if it feels amazing or horrible.

“Please.” It’s a broken hitching sob but it’s not until Billy murmurs a soft stop that makes Stu finally pull back, your legs and thighs trembling violently. If it wasn’t for the two of them holding you up you’d be a collapsed puddle of jello on the floor.

You came down slowly, your body feeling faint and far away. You desperately wanted to sit down.

“Never made a girl squirt before. That was hot as fuck,” Stu said quietly, nuzzling at the mark he'd left on your thigh, seemingly unbothered by the mess he was definitely kneeling in. “You’re perfect, perfect.”

He continued to mumble against your stomach as Billy pulled on your hair, tilting your head back until your neck was fully exposed, making you moan pitifully. You really really wanted to sit down. He shivered at the noise. “You still with me?”

“She’s gone man, fucked out completely,” Stu’s proud, your exhausted state giving him a very much not needed ego boost. Billy groaned, grinding against you, despite how obviously spent you were it was like he couldn’t control himself, like he couldn’t stop himself from trying to fuck you. His arms wrap around your waist and he’s kissing your neck, as He stumbles forward, pushing you until he bends you over the edge of the counter and you can feel him hot and hard against your ass.

“Tired,” You whisper, one sluggish arm reaching back to try and push against his thigh, surprising yourself when tears start to prick at your eyes. “I can’t, need a break Bill.”

“I know, I know,” he whispers in your ear. He curves a hand around your hip to press against your stomach, the other disappearing behind you and you hear the sound of his belt clinking not long after. “But I gotta fill you up, need to,” he breathes. His fingers stroke across your belly, dipping between your thighs and you whimper softly at the touch. “Just once, just once baby, ok?”

You’re not sure what Stu is doing, still on the floor at your feet, you can feel his hands on your calf, soft fluttering touches but you can’t decide if he’s trying to soothe you or is raring up to go again. Billy hunches over you a little more, mouth hot and hungry as he kisses up your spine. You squirm against his hold, it’s too much, too much sensation and you really want to stop. He shushes you softly; the press of his cock against your entrance making you suck in a harsh breath, arching into the contact despite yourself. “Just a little longer bunny. Don’t you want me to feel good too?”

#scream 1996 #poly!ghostface #billy loomis #stu macher

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unwhitewashthebadbatch · 3 years

Text

Disney Email Draft 2

(going under a cut because it's much longer. Here is the Google Doc link for anyone who would like to comment directly)

Reminder that we are encouraging critiques and comments regarding this email!

To Bob Iger, Kathleen Kennedy, Dave Filoni, Jennifer Corbett, and the creative team of Star Wars: The Bad Batch:

We hope this email finds you all well. We are fans of color, disabled fans, neurodivergent fans, and Jewish fans writing out of concern for the portrayal of our communities in the Disney+ series Star Wars: The Bad Batch. For several months now, we have been campaigning on social media to spread awareness about these concerns through #UnwhitewashTBB, a movement we began to raise awareness about the ways in which the series has poorly represented several minoritized groups of people.

Just like the creators of Star Wars: The Bad Batch, all of the creators of #UnwhitewashTBB grew up with Star Wars as the backbones of their childhoods, and for many of us, Star Wars: The Clone Wars was crucial to our development as artists, writers, creators, and lifelong Star Wars fans. We are all firm believers in the phrase “Star Wars is for everyone”, and we would like to see Disney support that message by hearing our plea.

As fans of color, as disabled fans, as neurodivergent fans, and as Jewish fans, we’ve seen ourselves on screen in both good and bad ways, but recently it has been more the latter than the former. One such reason is Star Wars: The Bad Batch, a show whose premise piqued many fans’ interest, but whose main cast has left an increasingly sour taste in the mouths of those who watched.

The series follows an elite squad of clone troopers who have named themselves The Bad Batch, due in part to their series of mutations that gives them an edge over regular clones on the battlefield. These mutations drastically altered the appearance of each of the members to a generally lighter, more Caucasian appearance--one that is inconsistent with how the original Jango Fett actor Temuera Morisson looks. Fans take issue with the implications in the writing and design of The Bad Batch: that in order to be elite, special, and better than one’s contemporaries--in order to have a story worth telling--one must also be white or as close as possible.

Merriam-Webster defines whitewashing as “to alter (something) in a way that favors, features, or caters to white people: such as to alter (an original story) by casting a white performer in a role based on a nonwhite person or fictional character” The #UnwhitewashTBB movement comes with two carrds explaining the grievances of the fans. A summary for each character is given below:

Sergeant Hunter, the leader, closely resembles Sylvester Stallone’s Rambo character, despite being a clone of a man of color. The importance of his character, the fatherliness he has with Omega, and his centrality to both their Season 7 appearance in The Clone Wars and the series itself sends the message that important people look

Wrecker is the demolitions expert, and he’s the only member of The Bad Batch with features similar to that of a Maori man’s, like Temuera Morrison/Jango Fett. He’s large with broad features, brown skin, and is a stereotype of men of color. His personality as first introduced to the audience was that of a loud, aggressive, impatient, slow man who called frequently for violence/destruction. He falls into the “Loveable Brute” trope, an observation that is supported by statements from supervising director Brad Rau and voice actor Dee Bradely Baker that Wrecker is like a little boy and has a heart of gold.

Crosshair is the sniper on the team, and he’s the most derisive of the “regs”--the regular clone troopers. Taken in conjunction with his appearance (inspired by Clint Eastwood), the various messages being sent by the writing and appearance of the other team members, and his comment about the regular troopers--the he and the Batch are superior and thus should join the Empire--his character pushes forth a message that there is superiority inherent in whitened or fully white features.

Tech, the technology specialist, has incredibly light skin and hair compared to the regular clones. His mutation made him a genius, with an IQ that outpaces that of any other clone in the Republic. Fans of color are upset that Tech’s genius mutation apparently also affected his skin color, as now this creates a direct link between intelligence and appearance/race. Contrast Tech with Wrecker, who is the exact opposite in every way, and this harm becomes only more apparent. In addition to this, many Autistic fans of The Bad Batch have noted that Tech, being “on the spectrum” (according to Dee Bradley Baker) is a popular stereotype of Autistic people: a nerdy-looking white man with a formal way of speaking who’s a genius but dismissive of others’ feelings. Baker also plays Tech with a British accent, further cementing the harmful message that intelligence is in some way connected to ethnicity.

Omega is the newest member of The Bad Batch. Despite being a pure Jango clone, she’s come out looking nothing like Boba Fett--she has lighter skin than he does, as well as blonde hair. Fans are concerned about the connection between genetic purity and light skin/blonde hair, as this is directly harmful to the people of color who don’t sport those features.

Echo is the ARC Trooper of the team, but many fans--disabled fans especially--fear that his series of disabilities have reduced him to the “droid sidekick”. Echo does not have a prosthetic, instead sporting a scomp-arm attachment that allows him to plug into computers but would otherwise hinder him greatly in daily tasks. He rarely is the focus of an episode, and the series has not given him as much attention as it has given characters like Hunter and Omega. Disabled fans worry about the lack of attention given to his medical trauma, and fans of color note that his skin color goes beyond what a brown man who’s been without sunlight for a few months would look like.

The issues do not stop here. Asian fans noticed and were harmed by a Tiananmen Square parallel in 1x10, “Common Ground”--a recreation that was led by an Eastern Asian-coded woman. Jewish fans are hurt by the antisemitic stereotype in Cid the broker, a greedy lizard woman who speaks with an accent commonly associated with New York Jews--and who is played by Jewish actress Rhea Perlman. Black fans were harmed by the whitewashing in Saw Gererra and the one other Black character in The Bad Batch being a Black woman who works for the Empire and burns civilians alive.

The full analyses can be found in the official #UnwhitewashTBB carrd: unwhitewashthebadbatch.carrd.co. We respectfully ask that you read this carrd and give a public statement in response to these criticisms.

Our movement has only gained traction since its inception on March 30th, 2021. A few months later, we wrote and released an open letter on Change.org to be signed by supporters of #UnwhitewashTBB, and every day it gains new signatures and draws nearer to the next milestone. A survey we released over a month ago has received over 1,100 responses and also continues to climb. The latter displays a range of opinions regarding The Bad Batch, but one sentiment stands out: Hunter, Crosshair, Tech, Wrecker, Omega, and Echo are written in stereotypical and actively harmful ways. Respondents were shocked at outdated portrayals of Autism, sickened by antisemitic stereotypes, and confused at how, in this current social and political climate, a family-friendly corporation like Disney could greenlight a series that sends a message that is the complete opposite of “Star Wars is for Everyone”. Some sample responses are below:

“I would just like to elaborate on the ableism aspect. As a amputee myself, I don’t like how Echo’s trauma has been ignored. The whole reason he is with the BB is because of what he went through. Losing one limb, never mind multiple, it’s extremely difficult. They made it seem like just because his prosthetic can be of use on missions, that means he isn’t grieving the loss of his actual hand. There is no healing or evolution. It also feels wrong to only address the fact that echo uses prosthetics for the sake of hacking into machinery. Prosthetics are so personal and become a real part of who you are as a person.” - Respondent 130

“...I can't believe Star Wars is still doing this, and that an entire team of animators with a huge budget can't get skin tone right. I didn't even know the clones were supposed to have a NZ Māori accent until a friend told me. That's a big deal, since I live in NZ and hear it every day…” - Respondent 209

“As someone who is neurodivergent myself, Tech and Wrecker just. sting, you know? in a “is that really what you think of us” kind of way. I grew up in an environment where intersectional equality was heavily discussed, and I can still miss things. Having Jewish friends does not mean that Cid’s antisemitic implications can’t go right over my head until someone points them out (thank you).” - Respondent 87

“As a fan of color, its irritating and painful to watch and be brushed off as "lighting issues" and see justifications made by white fans and producers...It also feels very bad to me that TCW spent 7 seasons with several arcs emphasizing that the clones were all as individual as a 'normal' person, but then undo all that with TBB, which centers a group of "special" clones (who are suspiciously white) and have them treat the "regs" as a homogeneous group who are lesser than them, and then expect us to find it within ourselves to put that aside to enjoy the MCs. The way the treat "regs" is very offputting and it made me dislike them since their introduction...Star Wars is no stranger to racist and antisemitic media, but I must say, the blantancy of Sid, a greedy lizard who essentially financially enslaves the protaganists, being Jewish-coded and being protrayed by a Jewish voice actress is really next-level even for Star Wars. As a Jewish fan, it really grates on me.” - Respondent 40

“I’m disabled and autistic, and the ableism is appalling to watch. Watching Echo be treated as subhuman for needing machinery to survive makes me feel like having implants to keep my spine from breaking itself would have me be the pitied member of any group. I am disgusted by the blatant antisemitism, as a fair number of my friends are Jewish and it hurts me to think that people can so easily hate others based on internalized stereotypes. Me and my friends have also critically analyzed the fact that, despite being clones of a character portrayed by Temuera Morrison, for some reason the bad batch look nothing like him in any way. No resemblance in any way: just a bunch of someone’s badly worked characters fraught with disgusting writing decisions and design choices that make no sense. It makes me angry to think that the writers for this show, and to an extent any modern writer, would believe that using harmful tropes to make a story is acceptable and someone brings in profit. I tried to watch it out of fact that my family likes Star Wars and we all grew up watching it, but all of these unhealthy assumptions and terrible choices in terms of writing and design leave a bitter and nauseating feeling.” - Respondent 605

In the survey, various questions were asked about fans’ feelings about The Bad Batch. Before reading the carrd, 34.7% of fans answered that writing was their least favorite aspect of the series, with the next being the main characters. Elaborations in the following free write made clear that the whitewashing and stereotypical writing were huge factors of these opinions. One a 1 to 5 satisfaction scale, 68.1% of respondents rated their satisfaction at a 3 or lower--again, due to the whitewashing and other issues respondents perceived in The Bad Batch. When asked to analyze pre-post carrd-reading feelings regarding the above issues, every category saw a marked increase in awareness of the issue at hand. The perceived prominence of the whitewashing went from 81.3% to 91.4% in respondents. The awareness of ableism jumped almost 30%, from 52.6% to 84.4%. The majority of respondents (59%) were not aware of the antisemitism in the series, but after reading the carrd, that statistic flipped to 80.5%, a near 60% increase from the original 26.7%. Regarding the other racist issues, the respondents went from 63.1% to 83.7%.

Fans of color, neurodivergent fans, disabled fans, and Jewish fans have been waiting for the day where we can see ourselves on screen a level of attention and care that makes us feel even more at home in the Star Wars community . If Disney’s message is truly family-friendly, if Star Wars is for everyone, then Disney needs to support these views with not just words, but with actions. Resolve the racism in Star Wars: The Bad Batch, take out the antisemitism, and treat your nonwhite, disabled, and neurodivergent characters--and fans--with the respect and dignity they deserve.

This will not be a benefit solely to the fans who are asking to be represented properly. In today’s time, popular media is facing a reckoning; media that is inclusive of and respectful towards minoritized groups ends up with leagues more popularity, high ratings, and good reviews than those that don’t. A recent and prominent example is Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings, a movie for which the inclusion of Asian-Americans at nearly all levels of production boosted its image and aided in its successful box office release. Black Panther is another prominent example--a movie spearheaded by Black people that completed its box office run at more than five times its initial budget in total revenue. The proper representation of people of color is a two-fold benefit.

Star Wars: The Bad Batch already has beautiful animation that reminds many longtime Star Wars: The Clone Wars fans of their childhood.

It is our hope that you will take our concerns as well as the concerns of others into account, and address the issues that we have outlined in order to better reflect the Walt Disney Company’s commitment to inclusive, diverse entertainment for audiences of all ages. Thank you for your attention to this issue.

Respectfully,

Fans of The Bad Batch

#mod CH #email #disney #star wars #the clone wars #the bad batch #unwhitewashtbb #swtbb #racism #antisemitism

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