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imyourbratzdoll · 1 year

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𝑰 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒃𝒚𝒆

part 1 of 💔broken family💔

summary - you had woken from a nightmare, one that was reality, only to live through more hell as your son slowly stops loving you.

warning - angst, swearing, cheating assumptions, divorce, self-doubt, breakdowns, misery.

the gif I use isn't mine, headers by me.

part 2

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

“Wait… Wait.” You hurriedly get out, struggling to understand the words that just left your husband’s mouth. Trying to process what was happening, you thought everything was good, you thought everything was okay. But apparently, on Ari’s side, nothing was okay. “What do you mean you want a divorce? What about Jason?” You blink, stunned, as you stare at the man you were desperately in love with. “Ari, answer me!” You beg and plead, needing to know why he suddenly woke up and wanted to leave.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Y/n. Just sign the fucking divorce papers. I don’t love you anymore. Don’t you get that? And you’ll drop Jason off at my new place.” He growls, chucking the papers and a pen at you and standing over you with his arms crossed over his chest. “Hurry up! I have to go to work, and I don’t want to deal with this when I get home.” You nod slowly, feeling your heart crack and shatter as you sign your name on the paper. You hold back the tears that threaten to fall, not wanting to anger him any more.

You wake with a choked sob and gasp. You looked around and were hit with the hard truth that the nightmare wasn’t just a nightmare. It was your reality. You sit against the headboard, pressing your hand into your mouth as sobs fall from your lips, the tears flow, and you can’t stop them. You must stay quiet so you don’t wake your son, which becomes more challenging as the memories keep flowing, and your heart shatters. You don’t know where it all went wrong. You thought everything between the two of you was going well. Why didn’t you see the signs? Had Ari always disliked you? Did he not love you to begin with? How could you not see it? You were so sure it was the perfect fairytale you had wished for. As the tears dried, you slowly laid back down and drifted back to sleep, and the nightmare kept repeating the whole night.

You had woken just as the sun had started rising, groggily heading to the bathroom and freshening up before heading to your closet and changing into a pair of jeans and a plain shirt. What was the point of looking good anymore? It’s not like anyone loved you. You head down to the kitchen, preparing breakfast for your son. You poured some coffee into a mug that Jason made for you with Ari, causing tears to brim as more memories flash before your eyes. You accidentally slam the cup down onto the kitchen counter, causing some of the liquid inside to splash out, and you stumble into the table, taking a few deep breaths as you desperately try to hold your sobs back. It had been months now since Ari left you out of the blue, and you still hadn’t gotten over it, not being able to move on, not being able to get a peaceful rest, and every time you had dropped your son off to his place, he had glared at you and spoke hurtful words.

You clear your throat, quickly heading up to Jason’s room and gently waking him. “Hey, baby. Breakfast is ready.” And just like his father, he ignores you. How could a four-year-old even ignore you like a grown man could? And why did it hurt a lot more? But you can’t show him that it hurts. You just help him up, changing him before helping him down to the kitchen, ignoring how he’d slightly push your hands away, babbling about how he’s a big boy and could do it himself.

“Mumma, when I see daddy again?” You stare at him as you begin to feed him. You won’t say Ari was a horrible father because he was probably the best father out there. But what did he have that you didn’t? Your son had only returned home a day ago, and Jason already wanted to go back. He didn’t seem to care to spend time with you… It was different when you and Ari were still married. Your son had been a mumma’s boy, he had clung to you, wanting to spend time with you, admired you, and now it’s as though you were a nuisance, someone blocking him from his father. “Mumma?” He huffs, pouting at you, as you blink at him.

“Uh, soon, baby. On the weekend.” You try and smile, clearing your throat before placing the spoon in front of his mouth and letting him eat the food off of it. You can see him become upset by your words, not liking the answer you gave him. “Don’t worry, baby. You’ll see him again. It’s not that long.” You try to reassure him, stroking his hair back, but feel your heart clench as he shifts away from you. You hide your hurt, blinking back the tears. “C’mon, eat up. You have kindy today.” As he finishes his breakfast, you ensure he’s brushed his teeth and grabbed his bag and shoes. You drive him to kindy, dropping him off, feeling a lump in your throat as he runs out of the car before you can even walk with him. You knew it was you because you had heard that your son wanted his father to walk him up but couldn’t because you were no longer together. Of course, he couldn’t say all that, but you got the gist. You drove to work, not caring that you didn’t look as presentable as you used to be when you were married, but you felt drained. You didn’t care how you looked anymore. If Ari stopped loving you when you looked your best, then why should you continue? It wasn’t like he’ll suddenly wake up and regret leaving you.

Your day consisted of pitiful looks, rumours, and people coming up to you asking if you were okay. Of course, you weren’t okay. You don’t think you’ll ever be okay. You had lost the love of your life and didn’t even know why. Did he find someone else? Was it someone younger, prettier? Was that why you guys stopped being intimate for so long? Should you have seen the signs long before the divorce? You blanked out during work, thinking it over, wondering if you ever smelt a perfume that wasn’t yours or if Ari had come home late, he had any lipstick on his collar. But you couldn’t remember. You had been brought out of your daze when your boss came over and tapped you on the shoulder, smiling at you softly as she whispered for you to go home and get some rest.

You had driven home, sighing as you parked your car, and entered your home, dropping down onto the couch as you felt the house's silence, no longer filled with laughter, happiness, or love. No wonder your son didn’t want to stay here anymore. Your husband had succeeded. Whatever sick game he was playing, he had won. He had managed to take every bit of happiness from your life. You had your son physically but not mentally or emotionally.

You hoped it would all get better…

At least you still had your hope… Right?

You thought you at least deserved a better goodbye.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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thasorns-moved · 3 months

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tag game ✨

I got tagged a long time ago by a mutual who went private... it's friday night and look at that I HAVE some time to do it :)

1. why did you choose your url?

just look at Emi and then we can talk again. Have you seen her? <3

2. any sideblogs? if you have them name them and why you have them.

juhotonin - is a kpop blog (even though I neglected it a bit)

alexreggies - yes, sometimes I reblog different things on this (thasorns) blog but this one is specifically for western things

kaiosmichiru - anime

I have another one where I only post gifs but never told anyone about it

3. how long have you been on tumblr?

probably since 2009. I used to have another blog but moved to my current one in 2012

4. do you have a queue tag?

used to have # queue to my life, # queueing things bc its quarantine things but now I'm just using q. bc I’ve become lazy

5. why did you start your blog in the first place?

before this blog I was a dedicated fanblog about marko marin and sideblog was very multifandom and then I moved and stayed multifandom

6. why did you choose your icon/pfp?

buttercup is THE mvp

7. why did you choose your header?

a tale of thousand stars do I need to say more (if you didn't watched it, THEN WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH YOUR LIFE)

8. what’s your post with the most notes?

this, mind that I was a beginner in gif making and you can see that in this

9. how many mutuals do you have?

maybe I forgot one or two but the last count was 79 love you all 💕

10. how many followers do you have?

more than i would expect and deserve but I appreciate every each one of you 🥰

11. how many people do you follow?

I'm surprised that after 12 years I don't follow more but I also go on a unfollow spree sometime anyway it's 372 people

12. have you ever made a shitpost?

no. don't think so. I used to say a lot about shows I watch. does this count as a shitpost? Idk

13. how often do you use tumblr each day?

is that really a question? like? every day

14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog once?

no i'm staying in my bubble and be happy

15. how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts

i dont do it to be oppositional

16. do you like tag games?

even though I try to participate as much as I can and not forgot about it I'll do it because they're fun and it's nice to see other perspectives or opinions on things

17. do you like ask games?

I rarely do it because I think no one would send me asks

18. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

the first which comes to mind is sabrina @moonkhao

19. do you have a crush on a mutual?

what does crush even mean?

claire @clairedaring @poomphuripan is such a cutie. The way she does so much for the msi community but at the same time highlights other lakorns and find the strength and time to gif it, so other ppl on here could watch it. always so nice and patient ❤️

an honorable mention: cata @kittychicha because I would've never thought that we would become friends and talk on a regular basis about everything and it is fun and lovely to talk with you and get to know you 🧡

Another honorable mention would be vish @morkofday because have you met her? Her mind is already enough. The way she thinks and sees things in perspectives - a reason to fall in love. Not even joking. Our dead friend forever days were precious for me 💕

20. tags?

@morkofday @itsallaboutbl @clairedaring @pondsphuwin @patchanons @milkpansa @kittychicha @jimmysea @loveisactivated

#tag game #I’m even surprised that I could find the time to do it #I had the need to add vish to the crush mutual because it made me think back to our dff days #mind you it says in the last one mutual and not mutuals yet here I am

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theoutsanityshoppe · 4 months

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Hello! I have a fun story about how I found your blog! I have this OC that I really really love a lot, so I got myself a custom crochet doll of him off of etsy with some christmas money. And while i was searching for which artist to go with, i came across one who was using your little fire-headed detective guy as an example and i thought it was a really cute little design! i can't remember if i did end up going with that artist or a different one but his design really stuck out in my mind because i thought it was so neat. flash forward a bit and i see a commission advertising post from cubesona, who was using that same character as an example and i'm like "oh shit it's this guy again!". and because it was tax return season i got myself that cubesona commission of the same OC i'd gotten the doll of as a little treat for myself. and then we come to recently when i saw cubesona posting the drawing of my boy on his tumblr, and of course i went looking through the tags to see what people were saying about him. and i saw you had called him pretty and it made me really happy! so i go check the post and lo and behold i see the same little firey guy in your header! and i'm like "oh shit! it's all come full circle!!" so uh yeah neither of us knew it but i've kinda been following you for a little bit it seems alsdkjf

This is the single greatest story I could have heard this morning I FREAKING LOVE THIS.

I am suuuuuuuuuuper curious now if you went with the same etsy artist cuz I LOVE her stuff - I actually have two OC's by her and I plan on getting more later! That one, the crochet of Flint, was also the first doll I ever got of him! [I have four now hahahah I keep doing the same as you and every time I have a little extra saved money left over from things I use it to treat my self with more things of my boy] Otherwise that is just CRAZY that it went full circle like that!! I'm glad I have him in my header too since I post all my art to a secondary art blog ahhaha and yes!! your OC IS pretty!!! I loved his design and I absolutely want to know more about him! The one thing I wish cubesona did differently was put actual links/tags to us instead of just typing out our usernames cuz idk if that means the person is on tumblr, on twitter, on some other site... and I don't wanna search haha XD And also!! Thank you for the compliments on Flint~!!! It makes me very happy to hear he pops out to people when they see him adkfgjag I'm extremely proud of his design. ;v; I would be lying too if I said I wasn't saving screencaps of artist who use their art of my boy in their commission examples because it makes me INSANELY proud as an artist ksfdjgakjdfg

@kingkaibosh

#this is too crazy i love it so much #what a fantastic way to start my week #especially since i called in sick today cuz my damn diabetus is acting up #kingkaibosh #i mean. obviously this means we need to swap character lore now. its law

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consul-valerius · 1 year

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Submission Looks Beautiful on You

In a sudden spark of devotion, Lucio finally deals Sam a pleasant surprise that triggers long-gone memories. What other way can he repay the count than showing him a good time in return?

Rating: 18+ 🍋 Minors DNI

Word Count: 2328 (be proud of me that it’s under 5k u_u)

Content includes: canon complicit violence; established dom/sub dynamics; ownership kink/possessive language; daddy dom elements; light exhibitionism/public setting; knife play; general rough play/choking; vaginal fingering; oral play; Sam and Lucio being Sam and Lucio (aka bastard men with little to no morals lmao); T4T (some gendered language used [i.e. cunt, dick, etc.])

A/N: I got high and finally finished this LMAO was thinking a lot about Lucio’s possessiveness and devotion that he shows in his reverse ending and how it is pretty similar to how Sam felt towards Mara—and thus we got character developing finger fucking LMAO header is from the game and obviously edited (by moi✨)

Preview undercut because Tumblr formatting was hell for this one LOL😤💕 Full linked in the title on AO3 !

It wasn’t abnormal for Sam to receive some inane, snide comment from a nameless nobleman. When he was a bit younger, he relished their discomfort with his mere existence. A nobody suddenly appeared in their most esteemed circles seemingly out of thin air. They all had spent years kissing someone else’s ass, playing a game with no rules, only for Sam to sit amongst them with not so much a care in the world. It was as if this came naturally to him—and they knew it did not.

It was that alienation, that seemingly obvious marker on his forehead—that was always present to others but never himself—that wore on his nerves. His initial glee had long subsided. He couldn’t deny the queasy mortification about being made to face his upbringing (as distant as that may be) and, without it needing to be spoken out loud, understand that he was worthless in the eyes of this crowd. Decades now had passed, and yet the same prolonged stares followed him, the tittering of gossip loud enough to be heard like a gnat in one’s ear—there, but impossible to trace.

Still, Sam had learned that he could not fight every dimwitted fool that turned their nose up to him. He had exhausted himself silly trying to do it before. No, he had to be mindful of when he could have his “moments.” For instance, he could not afford to get into a scuffle at a gala Nadia was hosting. His life was easiest when she was content with him—he knew she would never break her silence to tattle to her mother, but she was crafty enough to find other ways to make his day hellish without her help. Like mother like daughter—all royals were the same: annoying .

However, what Nadia could not control was Lucio. Try as she might, she simply could not wrangle him. Of course, in the bedroom, he worshipped her like a goddess. That went without saying. But in the light of day? Lucio was an unruly pup, and Nadia was ready to toss him out. It was cute in its own right, and it made Sam’s ability to tame the Count all the more satisfying.

Lucio was his.

The thought never occurred to him until Lucio was snarling in the face of some diplomat, a blade pressing into the squirming, squealing man’s throat, his gauntlets pinning him to the wall. Despite his scathing words, tinged with such sharp teeth, Lucio was smiling , glowing almost. He had reacted before Sam could even pretend to laugh, before he could even fantasize about doing the very same thing himself. But Lucio had known, and more importantly, cared about nothing but realizing that fantasy for him.

The scene was oddly nostalgic, and Sam could only stare and blink, his lips twitching into a smile as he watched those alarming blue eyes sparkle with frenzied glee.

#the arcana #the arcana lemon #count lucio #lucio morgasson #the duke #sam x lucio #bottom writes #lemon #lucio will risk it all for that dick #and sam will give it to him LOLOL

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iamprchung · 6 months

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The Spider and the FBI: Part 6 "More Skinner than Skinner"

Still being tailed by a mob hitman, Scully, Skinner, and their prisoner finally reach a small Wyoming town that’s preparing for a huge 4th of July celebration. But an unexpected encounter throws Scully into a web of intrigue, raising questions about Skinner's past and the truth he may be hiding. This encounter casts a shadow over everything Scully thought she knew about her superior.

Preface/Notes:

The town of Elmo, Wyoming I did take some liberties with here, giving it more elements of another town further north, named Sheridan, which is in the area of the Battle of Little Big Horn. Anyway, I liked the name Elmo better, and the isolated area was just right, plus, at the time this was written, my cat was named Elmo.

Now, something vaguely important; if you haven’t read ‘Conversation Mints,’ go back and do that. There’s a reference from that story that plays out here. A trope? Did I employ a trope? Of course, and what fun and quirky awesomeness it’s turned out to be. Ah, and there’s definitely a clue in this story’s header graphic (on Tumblr and my blog). And yes, I really wanted to do individual graphics for each part, but dang, I would have never gotten this posted if I had.

At the time this was written, a millennia ago in the 20th century, 1999 to be exact, the closet FBI field office to Wyoming was Denver.

"More Skinner than Skinner"

Part VI of "The Spider and the FBI"

by PR Chung

The rumble of a vehicle engine approaching woke Scully from a restless sleep. Alerted by the sound, still far off, she sat up in the dark, immediately regretting the move. Half a whimper escaped her before she bit her lip when she hit her head on something above her.

"Careful," Skinner’s voice, a mere murmur from the dark, startled her further.

"What time is it?" She wondered, as things were slowly coming back to her while she blindly felt around herself, finding the edges of the cramped bunk.

The night-glow feature of his watch cast an eerie indigo light below her, helping her find the edge of the upper bunk.

"Almost six," Skinner answered before releasing the button on his watch, leaving them in the dark again. “Need some help?” He asked hearing her shift around in the bunk to get out.

“Uh,” she hesitated, one leg over the side, and feeling for something to place her foot. This was proving annoying and embarrassing. “I need that light again, I can’t see…”

“Here, hold on,” he said without delay, and she felt him seize her around the waist, hauling her effortlessly down from the bunk.

In an instant she was firmly on the floor, his unexpected rescue leaving her very close to him, and reminding her they were both in dire need of a shower.

“Thanks,” she quietly said, taking a self-conscious step back.

They stood silently, listening to the sound of the vehicle that was closer now.

"What is it?" Bernstein muttered groggily from the front of the trailer where he had slept on the bench seat, cuffed to table leg. "Is that a car?"

"Sounds like a truck," Scully observed as she went to the window to look out.

The likelihood of soon having a meal, getting cleaned up and the joy of brushing her teeth all occurred to her at once when the headlights flashed across the trailer window, illuminating the inside. "It is a truck."

“Who is it?” The nervous sound of Bernstein’s voice mirrored Scully’s unease. An apprehension, Skinner acknowledged, “probably someone working this property, but we can’t count on that right now.”

“Who else could find us out here?” Bernstein whispered, sounding confused, and concerned.

Bernstein had just made the statement before they heard the truck doors open and shut, then voices, and from the sound of things it seemed apparent that whoever had just arrived had noticed the condition of the door in the glare of their headlights.

"What the hell?"

"Jesus..."

"Who the hell would do something like this...?"

Skinner unsnapped the strap on his gun holster, as the voices became progressively louder and agitated. He wasn't surprised, his single shot had left a noticeable hole where the door handle used to be.

"Shit, shut up." Someone outside called.

Everything went still.

"I don't think they're very happy..." Bernstein whispered and the door flew open. Blinding light spilled into the trailer from the headlights of the truck, and the distinctive sound of a pump action shotgun being primed sounded.

Skinner and Scully fell back a step from the doorway in anticipation of gunshots. Nothing happened and there was no one visible through the door.

"If you're still in there," a man shouted from outside, out of sight, "you better get your asses out here now."

"Federal agents," Skinner and Scully shouted.

There was a long beat, then, "I don't care who you are," the man called back.

"We're coming out with our identification," Skinner announced loud and clear, his voice booming through the narrow trailer.

"I lost my case," Scully told him in a hushed voice.

"I've got mine," he assured her and pulled the badge cast from his back pocket.

"Get out of here! Now!"

"We're coming out." Skinner called, starting for the open door, his ID case open and held out before him like a shield.

"What about me?" Bernstein demanded, yanking his cuffed wrist against the restraint of the table leg.

"We have a prisoner with us," Scully announced over Skinner's shoulder.

"Jezzus," the man outside declared and snatched Skinner's badge case as he started out. "What the hell is going on here?"

A sturdy built man with face withered by a life of outdoors labor was standing to the left of the trailer door, his companion, considerably younger man with wide open clean features stood to the right holding the shotgun they had heard primed. Two more men stood ready near the truck, silhouetted by headlights head lights.

The older man leaned against the trailer as he studied the identification and badge, looking back up as Skinner stepped down from the trailer. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again when he saw Scully emerge from the trailer, eyes turning round for a quick instant.

The man pried his eyes off Scully and looked at the badge and ID again. "Special Agent Walter S. Skinner..." the man read.

"We ran off the road yesterday," Skinner took the opportunity to try to explain their situation. "And were on foot, we needed a place to stay for the night when we came across the trailer."

"What road' you get off of?" The younger man with the shotgun questioned, sounding dubious.

"Route 34, near Chugwater."

"Chugwater! How the hell long you been walking?" The older man blurted frowning at the two of them. "Chugwater's over fifty miles from here."

"We..." Scully paused to let the embarrassment pass for what she was about to disclose. She knew they had traveled a good time and distance but had no idea it had been that far. "We were forced to pursue our prisoner... in the river. It must have carried us pretty far."

"I'd say. Shit," the man laughed, handing Skinner his badge case, and motioning for the younger man to lower the shotgun.

The man seemed to smile in spite of himself. "All right, now, tell me who’s paying for this damage? I think my boss will be holding me responsible for some answers when he finds out 'bout all this."

"You’ll be compensated," Skinner assured him all the while thinking how their efforts to clean the inside seemed more than enough payment for the lock and handle. "We need to get to a phone. Will you take us to one?"

"Well, hell, yeah," he said agreeably, "I'll take you into Elmo, plenty of phones there."

"I'll get Bernstein," Scully told Skinner turning back to climb the steps into the trailer again.

"Did you say Elmo?" Skinner questioned, glaring at the man as he looked Scully up and down before she disappeared back into the trailer.

"Uh, yeah, sure did," he turned back to face Skinner, "I guess I should introduce myself. I'm Donnie Combs, that's Robby Bowman, and that's Doug and Danny Purdy." He gestured toward the two men standing in front of the truck.

Skinner nodded briefly to all; his attention divided. "Isn't there a place closer, other than Elmo, we can use a phone at?" he asked, sounding impatient.

"Well, no, not really, to be honest."

"What about this land, the house the people who own it live in, isn't it any closer?"

"No." Donnie let out a weak laugh, looking at him curiously. "Elmo's the closet, and it's probably forty-five minutes or more from here. The King's house, that's who owns this property, well their house isn't even on this land. They live in Washakie."

Skinner bucked his head. "Fine. No, problem."

Great, he left unsaid.

**********************************

Elmo, Wyoming

July 4th

Like something staged for a Roger and Hammerstein musical the town of Elmo, Wyoming was profusely adorned in red, white, and blue banners and streamers. Old Glory flapped in the breeze and there was laughter in the air while it seemed that every man, woman, and child hustled through the streets in preparation for what was undoubtedly going to be one doozy of a Fourth of July celebration.

Well, I'll be a cockeyed optimist Scully thought as she peered out the truck windows at the bustle of activity.

"It's gonna be one hell of a party tonight," Donnie remarked cheerfully from behind the wheel.

"How quaint." Bernstein sneered as he looked around.

Scully gave him a sour glance.

"What's the population here?" Scully wondered.

"Five or six hundred, maybe." He leaned a bit forward to look around Bernstein at her. "But lots of folks have come in from all around for the fireworks tonight. Rumor is they'll be the best for a thousand miles."

Scully found that hard to believe considering Laramie was so close. But for those people, or folks if one chose to use the local vernacular, who didn't venture much further than their own town or the next, this small town's show could very well seem like the greatest thing close enough to home.

Scully leaned forward to get a better look at the town square. It was a large park with huge trees and lush green grass. Four whitewashed gazebos sat in each corner of the park, framing a small open bandstand at the center, and all were steeped in patriotic color.

“End of the line," Donnie announced slowing his truck in front of the sheriff's station, "The Sheriff should be able to help you folks out from—" Before he could finish Skinner rapped his knuckles on the back window from where he'd been riding in the bed of the truck.

Donnie and Scully glanced back seeing him motion toward the restaurant up a head where a pay phone stood in front.

"He wants to go over there?" Donnie questioned, clearly puzzled. "Not here?"

Scully frowned seeing her superior vehemently pointing toward the restaurant.

"Uh, yeah. Not here." She told Donnie, suspicion seeping into her thoughts.

He just hadn't seemed like himself since before they started into town. She had begun to suspect something was wrong; his mannerisms were tight, ridged more Skinner than Skinner. From inside the trailer she had heard him questioning Donnie, an urgent apprehension underscoring his tone and even then she had known something wasn't sitting right with him and whatever it was involved this town...

She gave the Sheriff's station a thoughtful glance as Donnie pulled the truck back away from the curb and steered it toward the restaurant. Again, the truck came to a gradual halt; the struts squeaking as it rolled up to the curb.

Scully was hardly out of the truck before she noticed the increasingly curious glances. She knew she looked like she had been dragged through a hole backward, she didn't think she looked bad enough to catch this much attention.

Skinner came out of the truck bed with a single swift move that planted him firmly beside her as she got Bernstein out of the truck cab and thanked Donnie for the ride. Scully found herself and Bernstein standing alone no sooner than the truck had pulled away from the curb; without a word Skinner had gone to the pay phone and all but buried his face inside the enclosure as he dialed.

"Oh, now, this is just so..." Bernstein said, giving the immediate area a sweeping glance. "Mayberry. I..." he widened his eyes mocking surprise, "I think I can hear whistling. Do you hear it?"

"I think that's the wind blowing between your ears." Scully muttered as she guided him toward the pay phone.

From what she could hear from his end of the conversation, Skinner was on the phone to the Denver field office. "Well, when can we expect them to be here?"

That didn’t sound too promising, she thought and caught sight of yet more curious glances. Only now these inquisitive stares were accompanied by whispers, as well as a few double takes, and much to her surprise, Scully realized the attention wasn't on her, nor was it on Bernstein, or even the three of them as an out of place group of strangers in a small town.

Attention seemed to be directed solely on a man who just happened to be making a passionate effort to hide his face inside a phone booth.

"What's he doing…"

"I don't think that's him..."

"But-"

"Shhh."

Scully turned quickly in the direction she'd heard this disjointed conversation only to see two women turn hurriedly away down the sidewalk.

"You would think we had antlers," Bernstein commented.

"Yeah, at least one of us..." Scully said, her voice drifting with distraction as she noticed a Sheriff's department vehicle coming down the main street, and according to the writing on the white and tan two tone Cherokee's door it was the Sheriff.

She strained to see the driver but couldn't make anything out past the tint and mid-morning sun glaring off the windshield.

"We needed backup two days ago," Scully heard Skinner growling into the phone behind her as she watched the Cherokee slowing on the far side of the street, almost as though the driver wasn't quite sure if they wanted to stop or not. "Who is the special agent in charge?" Skinner continued to question the person on the other end of the line.

"Hello," Bernstein said and gave a curious local a brittle smile, raising his hands up to wriggle his fingers in a wave, deliberately showing off his handcuffs.

The woman's jaw dropped shortly before she began shuffling away, looking back as she went.

"Bernstein, please." Scully jerked his hands down, a move that drew more attention.

The Sheriff's jeep stopped abruptly, the driver's side door swinging open, and a khaki leg dropped out. Hmm, the thought unconsciously struck Scully at the sight of the rather large leg attached to a generously sized hiking boot.

"Oh great, this should be fun, I'm sure." Bernstein sarcastically said.

"You just never know..." Scully murmured, preoccupied.

"Tomorrow?" Skinner barked into the phone and Scully was vaguely aware of his tone dipping yet another notch.

Scully’s mouth slowly went slack as she watched the man whose leg she had been admiring emerge from the Cherokee. From out of the cab, he straightened to what she gauged at six two, adjusted his ball cap that was casting a short shadow over a pug nose and solid jaw, his eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses, his mouth a grim slash with the slightest hint of an affable curl in the corners.

"Is it just me," Bernstein quietly said to Scully, "or does he remind you of someone?"

"Uh," she faltered, reaching for Skinner without looking back, without taking her eyes off the barrel-chested doppelganger walking their way. "Uh, sir... Sir…"

"I need support in no less than six hours..." Skinner was demanding of the poor soul on the other end of his phone conversation.

"Sir," Scully continued, contacting his arm. Not quite sure she believed what she was seeing she tugged twice never looking, even when he jerked his arm from her grasp and continued to bark orders into the phone.

The Sheriff stepped up onto the curb and into the shade of the restaurant awning. He was only a foot or two from them, standing quite solidly in place, his expression a mask of sober caution and curiosity.

"Hello," Bernstein said in the same false tone that he'd used to greet the passerby.

The Sheriff nodded and gave a long sweeping scan of first Bernstein, then Scully and finally Skinner, whose back was turned to him. His attention lingered on the Assistant Director a moment before he turned to Scully.

"Morning," he said finally and smiled broadly as he took the sunglasses off.

Brown eyes. It was the only thought that occurred to Scully for a long moment before she realized she was staring with her mouth agape. "Uh,” she started lamely.

Bernstein glanced at her, puzzled, and then smirked. “Your words, use them,” he whispered.

“Good morning," she finally spat out, realizing she was ogling a uniform shirt perfectly filled by great shoulders and tapered torso— "Uh, Sheriff..?"

"Durokoff," he introduced himself with a nod, his eyes drifting toward Skinner again. "Larry Durokoff."

Scully hesitated, the name rolling around her mind. Genetically engineered alien clone? Well, Mulder would have been proud that she even marginally considered it, but she didn't believe that was the case here either. They definitely looked alike, with the same eyes and chiseled features, the same build, built like... well, built like- Holy shit. It didn't matter, they looked alike, but they weren't exactly twins.

"Special Agent Dana Scully." She finally introduced herself.

"FBI?"

"Yes."

"I'm a prisoner," Bernstein mocked pride in the fact.

"I can see that," Durokoff said, and pulled a pair of cuffs off the back of his belt. "You don't mind do you?" he asked Scully as he moved to replace the cuffs Bernstein was wearing with his own.

"I'm sure Federal handcuffs are just as strong as yours."

Scully almost jumped at the sound of Skinner's voice. She hadn't even noticed him end his call let alone seen him step up beside her.

Durokoff looked up, his eyes dancing with something close to what Scully wanted to call mischief. He snapped his cuffs closed on Bernstein and straightened, grinning at Skinner.

"I can only assume this isn't a personal visit, Walter." He said handing Skinner the cuffs he'd just removed from Bernstein.

"No, it's not."

Scully watched in awe as the man nodded and perfectly executed an atypical thoughtful Skinner as he glanced around the immediate area. "What's it been, ten, fifteen...?"

"Eighteen." Skinner answered.

Durokoff laughed. "Not long enough, huh?" he said and repositioned his cap, lifting it just enough to expose a hint of scalp as bare as Skinners.

"Uh," Scully started, then stopped and had to start over, looking between the two of them and feeling as though she was in the middle of an uncomfortable reunion. " I can't help but..."

"Agent Scully," Skinner interrupted her, motioning toward Durokoff, "my cousin, Sheriff Lawrence Durokoff." Somehow, Skinner managed to make eye contact with no one as he made introductions.

An excruciatingly long beat followed the introductions. People passed and people stared, and the four of them shifted their weight from foot to foot and looked around at one another until Bernstein began to whistle the Andy Griffith show theme.

Scully captured his arm tightly, pinching his skin through his shirt. Like someone flipped a switch the whistling stopped and was replaced by a small whimpering noise.

So, this is why he didn't want to go to the Sheriff's station, or even this town. Scully mused taking a stealthy glance at first Skinner then his cousin.

"It doesn't look like you're operating on full resources here," Durokoff’s tone purposely professional. "There was word that federal agents were missing in the area, but I never thought you would be involved. I had heard from Aunt Anne you had ended up on the eraser end of a desk a few years ago, Walter."

Skinner gnashed his teeth, giving Scully a quick nervous glance before he addressed his cousin. "I made assistant director eight years ago."

Durokoff arched his brows and smiled. "Well, congratulations."

Skinner nodded. "This really isn't the time for playing catch up," he changed the subject and took control of Bernstein from Scully. "This man needs to be out of sight and under what protection you can provide until a team of agents arrive here."

"When will they be here?" Scully wondered.

Skinner ground his teeth, looking decidedly irritated. "Possibly tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Resources were already spread thin between the holiday and the activities in Casper, then Mulder got involved in the search for us, demanding agents to assist in the search. The Denver office is trying to contact them right now and re-direct them here."

"Mulder?"

"Mulder?" Durokoff's curiosity seemed piqued by the shear agitation produced in his cousin's voice when he mentioned this name.

"FBI Poster boy." Bernstein helpfully informed the Sheriff.

Durokoff gave him a glare of singular intent. "No one was talking to you."

The power of his voice startled Scully. He could also sound just like Skinner.

Durokoff reached out and took Bernstein by the other arm, hauling him out of Skinner's grasp. Skinner resisted, pulling Bernstein back, “We’re in charge of this prisoner.”

“My town, my rules,” Durokoff insisted, pulling on Bernstein.

"All right, already..." Bernstein protested yet another rough changing of the guards. “Make up your minds, I’m not a chew toy.”

"Come on, smart guy," Durokoff said, and started for the jeep with Bernstein in tow. "I've got a real nice little room waiting for you right down the street."

Bernstein looked back at Scully, quickly telling her, “Take notes, you’re next in this tug of war—"

Durokoff gave Bernstein a brisk tug nearly causing the man to stumble as he led him toward the SUV. Scully was transfixed for a time, watching the man walk away, his narrow hips giving the slightest sway with his powerful stride, shoulders bristling and separating the yoke pleats of his shirt, his arms flexing and tensing with every swing.

Scully realized she was chewing on her lip about the same moment she noticed Skinner's eyes boring into her. She looked at him fully, her mouth fully open to speak but nothing came out.

"You coming?" Durokoff called to them over the top of the four-wheeler.

"He's the Arthur Murray cousin?" Scully finally succeeded in asking Skinner, throwing him off guard enough to forget her unabashed ogling of his cousin.

She had remembered, finally, the small anecdote from his childhood that he had shared with her months ago. "...my cousin and I were enrolled at Arthur Murray, tuition paid, and the day before our first lesson... The day before our first lesson my cousin, Lawrence, fell out of a tree and broke both his legs."

"Yeah... that’s the one," Skinner replied with a decidedly defeated tone.

***********************************

Kim Cook checked her watch again, blowing her breath out. She yanked the curtains back and glared at the bare street in front of her condo. "What's happened?" She asked herself. There couldn't have been a mistake, could there?

She knew she'd sounded awful last night when he'd called her at the office. Six-thirty and she was still there, struggling to juggle calls between the Director and Attorney General, then there were the non-stop calls from Agent Mulder. What was it with that guy? She couldn't believe sometimes that he hadn't been tossed out of the bureau on his ear for some of the crap she'd seen him do. What did he have over Skinner? He had to have something on him, although she couldn't imagine what. AD Skinner was one of most professional and scrupulous men she had ever worked for.

She shook her head. It didn't matter, she thought and checked her watch again, then the street- still no sign of Jess. What was it with the men in her life disappearing? First her boss and now Jess.

He was supposed to have been there over a half hour ago. He'd never been this late without calling. He would have surely called today if he were going to be late, all the careful planning for the most perfect day together. It would be their first real holiday to share together. The first holiday together with someone was just... just so fantastic and exciting. All those new things created out of the old and ordinary...

She had waited long enough, she believed and turned to the phone.

"The number you have dialed is not in service or has been disconnected," Kim frowned when the message began to play. "Please check your number and-"

She dialed Jess' number again, carefully pressing each number.

"The number you have dialed is not in service..."

She dialed again, deliberately, and precisely pressing the buttons on the keypad. Again, the message burned over the line. One more time, she thought, her hand beginning to tremble a little as she started to dial his number again.

"The number you have..."

Kim lowered the phone from her ear, her chin trembling.

*************************************

Yellow.

It was yellow and streaking past his nose and out of his sight into frantic oblivion. Too close, his mind screamed at him to pull back before his skin was thrashed and ripped away. Surrounded by black, the yellow rectangle zipped past his eyes. The wind was in his eyes, his hair, whipping at the lapels of his studded white jacket and matching bell-bottoms. He could not pull back, his head was already pressed against the metal, the skeleton of the monster machine his arms and legs were lashed to.

The engine roared, gears chewing each other up with manic delight above his head.

There was music and singing in the monster engine roar, pistons and rods harmoniously chanting his name over and over again...

"Agent Mulder?"

The voice seemed far away, separate from the deep shadows and harsh light and noise that filled his dreams. Knowledge of his whereabouts came to him slowly as Mulder opened his eyes that were still heavy with sleep. It was daylight, he slowly noted as he straightened in the passenger seat of the cruiser and looked around. He was drenched in sweat and not surprised, the temperature inside the car had to be over ninety degrees despite the open windows.

"Agent Mulder?"

Mulder blinked hard, turning in the direction of the voice. "Any news?" He asked Sheriff Boyd who was leaning in the open driver's side window.

"I just got word from your FBI office in Denver that Assistant Director Skinner checked in a bit ago."

Mulder straightened in the seat. "What about Scully- my partner? Are they all right?"

"They're in a little place called Elmo and I suppose they're just fine; I didn't hear no different."

"Elmo? How far from here is..."

"It's a ways east of here," he said handing his cell phone through the window to Mulder. "You should be able to reach your partner at the Sheriff's department there. Got the number programmed in for you."

"How long a drive is it?" Mulder questioned as he took the phone, blinking against the effects of the dream still lingering around the edges of his mind.

"Don't worry 'bout driving, Agent Mulder," the Sheriff smiled. "I've arranged an all-expenses paid ride with Albany County airlines."

"Huh?" Mulder didn't catch on at first, but when he did his heart seized up with genuine fear. "You mean ride in that helicopter again?"

*************************************

"Damn, that's good." Lawrence Martin Gryzwac declared and tilted his head back to wipe a buttermilk mustache from his lip with the back of his hand.

There was nothing like cold buttermilk on a hot day, he thought feeling undeniably content despite the lack of news. His head hurt a little from listening to the hayseeds prattling over the scanner for the last twenty-four hours, but there was nothing much that could be done about that.

He found some shade, parked the caddy and was enjoying a most refreshing beverage. He wasn't going worry just cause he didn't know where these feds had taken the Spider... Hell, nobody knew where the hell they were from the sound of it.

All damn night the local yokels were chattering back and forth, all excited when they found the car. Then they yakked some more when they thought they'd found him.

Gryzwac laughed out loud.

"That was good." He said to himself, pleased with the delight of knowing some poor, dumb bastard halfway across the state had been mistaken for him and hassled most of the night. Shit, that gave him time to get some rest.

He stretched his legs out along the length of the caddy front seat and took another long draw on the carton of buttermilk.

"Stewart, are you there?" A voice burst over the scanner.

"Ouu, Sheryl, baby, talk to me," Gryzwac sighed hearing the Albany County dispatcher's voice. He'd become familiar with the dispatcher’s voices, even knew some by name after the last couple of days. This one, Sheryl, had become a personal favorite. A little breathy, not shrill like most of the other. No, not at all. She had the soap opera voice... That "H" sound coming across the speaker sent shivers down his spine and had started giving him a world-class hard-on.

"Damn it, Stewart, turn down the music..."

"I'm here," the hayseed pilot returned. "You just don't sound real happy, Sheryl, honey."

"Why should I be, working on the Fourth 'cause of all this crap?"

"I'm working, too."

"That's a good thing cause Sheriff Boyd needs you to fly that fed over to Elmo. Where are you anyway?"

Gryzwac swept his legs off the seat, sitting up to take careful note of the relay of information as he grabbed a tattered map from the dashboard.

"Alger," the pilot replied. "I've been waiting on a fuel hose. Had a little leak."

"How long you think you're gonna be?" the dispatcher questioned as Gryzwac ran his thick index finger across the map, silently searching.

"I can't say. I was lucky I got someone to agree to bring me one."

"Aren't you supposed to keep spare hoses around, Stewart?"

Gryzwac poked the map hard, the tip of his finger smacking a tiny dot called Elmo. "Got’cha."

*************************

Continue in part 7

#walter skinner #skinner #scully #skinner scully fanfic #xfiles fanfic #the x-files #mulder #the spider and the fbi

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duckwithablog · 11 months

Note

The lurker anon reappears! Thank you for answering my questions, and I’d love to hear the backstory of your macaque theme!

Also, I forgot to label myself. Silly me. Mmm 🤔… perhaps peach🍑 anon if it’s free? Because- unrelated to the cute and cheeky monkey man- I really, really love peaches!

YOO hello again!! And yeah, 🍑 anon is free!! I haven't tried eating peaches but they look so aesthetic,, the only peach flavored thing i tried was a peach drink and i ordered it PURELY bcs of LMK HHAHSHSAH

time for some blog lore..... THIS IS GONNA BE KINDA LONG AND RAMBLY SO BE WARNED-

Before this account was made, I actually had a different tumblr account for personal use (I never log into it anymore though lol) instead of writing. I was in the LMK fandom at the time, so I was reading x reader fics EVERYWHERE I could, from wattpad to tumblr to ao3.

And wouldn't you know it, when I was scrolling through the tags on tumblr I saw someone promoting their newly written fic they made on ao3!! I read it, loved the premise, and left a kudos and a comment (I think I left a comment? I'm not sure, I was a lurker as well when it came to reading HSDHSD).

Not too long after, I was scrolling through their blog and saw a post of them asking for any possible writing friends to interact. I thought 'hey!! i can write!!' and promptly sent them a dm. We chatted over our brainrot of the stinky monkeys and we grew to be pretty close writing buddies!! I even got to come up with a ship name for a pairing in the fic (the pairing was Macaque and Y/n, and Y/n in the fic was a baker, so I proposed the ship name 'Mooncake'. Still super proud of that ngl!! I'm pretty sure I made one for Wukong and Y/n too, but I forgot what it was </33 Mooncake was just so iconic to me).

We bounced off ideas from each other, and I sent them posts about Wukong (they were a Wukong Apologist and honestly, slay), and one of them actually managed to influence their characterization for him in a later chapter!! I was even writing my own LMK x reader fic at the time, and while I gave up on it after a while, they were the first person to ever read the first few paragraphs and gave me their thoughts.

Eventually, I had an urge to make a whole blog dedicated to x reader writings because I was inspired by them to make one, and when I told them they told me to go for it!!

Here's where the important bit comes in: This person's blog was themed around Sun Wukong. They're a Monkey King lover, they fucking love that stupid smelly monkey man!! So I told them "hey wouldnt it be funny if my blog was Macaque themed so we could match?" and they went "DUDE"

And boom!! That's the reason why my blog is Macaque themed!! I went through a LOT of custom tumblr themes (you know where you open someones blog and instead of being the regular tumblr blog layout its a totally new one that they customized themselves? Yeah that was me), meanwhile my friend just stuck to a simple 'Wukong pfp + header and orange background'. I think that matched our character themes really well HAHSAHSAH

Unfortunately, I'm sure that my friend is not working/active anymore. Their last post on tumblr was them apologizing for the lack of updates because of art school, and that was it. I don't know how long it's been since I checked up on the fic, but when I did, I found that their ao3 account was orphaned. So it's probably safe to assume that theyre not coming back to their tumblr acc either.

But still... I kept my Macaque theme. Even when my LMK interest started to fade and other media took over my brain, I refused to change it. Idk why, sentimentality I guess? It just felt wrong.

I have no idea where they are now, honestly. I just hope theyre doing okay. They were a super cool person, and I loved their fic and I loved talking to them and I loved being their friend!! Even if they probably wont see this post, I just want them to know how much of an impact they had on me. It was because of them I made this account, and got into writing requests and fics. And even if that didn't work out, they got me back to writing in general! They were an awesome person and they deserve everything good in life!!

Augugh this got sentimental... My bad!! Ngl, I've been secretly waiting for someone to ask me why my blog was Macaque themed, but the chance of that happening was really slim so I held the Blog Lore™ in. BUT NOW I CAN FINALLY SAY WHAT IVE BEEN HOLDING IN FOR YEARS RAHHH

Thanks for asking this, btw 🍑 anon!! Sorry if this was so rambly and long, my mind do be like that (incomprehensible to decipher sometimes). I'd love to see you pop in some more, if youd like!!

Oh!! And since ur a Wukong lover as well, you should read their fic!! It's unfinished, but I think you should give it a shot. The chapters are long, the writing style and interactions between characters are great, and the development and pining is well done!!

I realize that this sounds biased, but ermm..... IDC GO READ THEIR FIC!!! (/nf) Kudos and comment bcs they deserve it!! Even if they dont get to see it, I'd like to at least cheer them up on the off chance that they do.

Here's the fic!! And their tumblr acc too, because they make some pretty banging drawings for their writing!!

@butternut-zippersqaush

#🍑 anon #blog lore #yeah thats a tag now lmao #hope i explained this well bcs itd be mad awkward if i didnt #IK ITS LONG BUT BEAR WITH ME IVE BEEN WAITING TO TELL SOMEONE THIS FOR YEARS!!!!

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zalrb · 2 years

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Do you have a personal favorite “toxic” couple or pairing? I hate using that word because it’s so over used lol but I don’t know how else to phrase it. Just like two people who obviously aren’t the healthiest together but they can’t stop themselves and you can’t stop yourself from enjoying their dynamic/scenes together ?

It's only overused because people refer to relationships they don't like as toxic and then try to defend themselves by being like, they had a fight one time so they're obviously toxic and it does my head in to the point that my header on tumblr before this one was this

because i was fucking SICK of anons telling me ships were toxic because there were low points in the relationship.

Toxic relationships when done correctly can be extremely entertaining and fun and compelling, I love watching fictional toxic relationships when the writing is honest, which is why I've always maintained that if Delena was crafted properly I would've at least been entertained by them but they weren't. So, for me, it could go from:

Kelly and Ryan from The Office, which is a thoroughly dysfunctional relationship where they're both terrible people together but also portrayed in a very comedic and lighthearted way

or it can be Cesare and Lucrezia where the very fact that romantic feelings exist at all is in it of itself toxic and it's tearing them both apart but it only gets worse and better at the same time and it's just a constant struggle for them

I end up arguing against Spuffy a lot because Spuffy shippers come into my inbox and start shitting on Bangel and Angel and calling that relationship toxic and I don't ship them as a lasting couple but particularly season 6, as a sort of symptom and embodiment of Buffy's dark psychology at the time, it's a good example of a compelling toxic relationship

I was asked a few years ago about relationships that transition from toxic to healthy and I always went to Gallavich so Gallavich doesn't end up being a toxic relationship but they were when they first started and it's complicated because the toxicity is wrapped up in so many different things

but there was a certain angst that came with it that, like, ruined my life and I was absolutely here for it

Cookie and Lucious was another ship and I remember having to breakdown to an anon why Damon and Elena weren't in the same league as Cookie and Lucious and if any canon ship on the show would be remotely close, it would be Klaroline

From other posts of mine:

The World of the Married is some toxic, awful, terrible, entertaining shit where it’s a husband and wife, the husband carries on an affair while all of their mutual friends know and like have dinners and vacation with him and his mistress she finds out,

they get a divorce and he marries his mistress except that he’s obsessed with his ex wife

and even dresses his new wife just like his ex wife and his ex has sex with his best friend to get back at him

and then they have hate sex,

it’s this whole thing and it’s based I think pretty much shot for shot on a British show and it was just so fun to watch.

Tony and Carmela are not an OTP of mine but I’m a big fan of the writing for that marriage and of how Edie and James portrayed that marriage and it is a possessive relationship but an entirely hypocritical one, Tony cheats on Carmela frequently and Carmela is expected to deal with it because that’s the deal she made, she gets to live a luxurious lifestyle and Tony gets to fuck around but that’s not working out

but when Carmela just flirts with the idea of another man, Tony loses his shit.

First, it was this eroticism with her priest and he slept over one night and Tony was bothered by it

then it was Furio and Furio flees to Italy because he’s in love with Carmela and thought about killing Tony even though the two of them didn’t really do much or spend much time together

and I remember when David Chase said he would’ve changed this line

to infuriate Tony even more to this:

“I remember being on the stage at, like, 2:30 in the morning when [Gandolfini and Falco] did that,” he said. “It was just unbelievable.” But that got him thinking about a way he could have done it differently.

“What she should have said — instead of ‘I have been dreaming and wishing and … about Furio’ — she should have said, to get [Tony], ‘I have been dreaming and masturbating and blah blah blah,” Chase said. “But it’s too late.”

There are some ships that are portrayed as cute and romantic but are actually really toxic that I do enjoy like Joe and Kathleen from You've Got Mail because the concept of that entire movie is psychotic. Joe is a sociopath.

Like, ma'am, he ran you out of business, continued your online relationship while he knew you were the one he was talking to while you didn't know he was who you were talking to, and then he befriended you irl and tried to get you to hate his online persona so you could like him for him, like WHAT?

I want to like Loustat more than I actually do because, like, there are some great things that happen? Like Lestat sending Louis a record with his lover singing on it as an apology that then riles Louis up so much that he swims across the river, kicks down Antoinette's door, demands she get out of her own apartment so he can have hate sex with Lestat while she listens on the balcony crying? I was like THIS is the type of shit I want from IWTV but it still all somehow very perfunctory like a lot of the show because the emphasis is on the voiceover and dialogue so there are aspects of Loustat where I'm like I want to live in this moment, I don't want to hear about it, I want to see it, which is also why I make vids of them because it's basically taking those moments out and emphasizing them more.

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tombstuck-writes · 3 months

Text

Knucklehead: Part 1, Chapter 2

Genre: Midwest Contemporary Young Adult Romance.

Word count: 27,615. Chapter 2/27.

Summary: “There was only one queer kid in town. That’s what he thought anyway, because it was him. If only his online almost-boyfriend lived nearby, things might be a little more tolerable.”

Content warnings: Graphic child abuse (it's not until part 2, and part 1 can be read stand-alone.)

Author's note:

Again, a big thank you to anyone who reads this story. I'll be posting one chapter every Saturday until it's done. Chapters will be under the #tombstuck-knucklehead tag, and I will also link them on the "Read Knucklehead" page on the header of my tumblr site.

You can read chapter 1 here.

Brandon sat at a small table in the dingy break room at work. He was eating an Italian style pinwheel wrap, and thinking about his therapy session the day before.

His mom had been concerned about him since he had graduated– even before then, if he was honest– and set him up an appointment with a therapist. Brandon had never seen a therapist before, and he was nervous. The first appointment was boring. He just had to tell the therapist his history and some detail about the issues he was having. The therapist noted it all down.

The day before had been his second appointment with the therapist.

He walked into the office. It was sparsely decorated, with a nameplate on the desk, and a single painting on the wall, of a tree. The walls were painted beige. He sat down on the small couch across from the lady’s desk, and the leather of the couch creaked underneath him.

“So,” the therapist– Sarah, according to her nameplate. Brandon would have to remember that– began with a click of her pen. “Last time we spoke about your history, and made a goal for your treatment. How have things been going for you since we spoke last week?”

“The same,” Brandon said, bringing his hand up to his mouth to bite his nails.

“Mm, okay. Is there anything you’d like to talk about today, or would you like me to lead the session?” she asked.

“You can lead, I guess.” Brandon had no idea how to handle the awkwardness in the room.

“How often do you spend time with friends?” she asked.

This gave him pause. “Used to be every day. Now… I don’t even have friends.”

“What happened to those relationships?” Sarah asked.

“I ruined them by disappearing.”

“Do you think your, former, friends would react well to being asked to hang out right now?”

“Probably not. I haven’t spoken to them in weeks. Except– well.” Brandon paused again. Did he want to keep this new bond with Norm to himself?

“Except…?” Sarah waited.

“I actually hung out with someone yesterday. It was… fine, I guess.”

“That’s a great start, Brandon. Who was it you hung out with?”

“... My girlfriend, Natalie,” Brandon lied. It was out of his mouth before he could think better of it.

“Oh, my. I didn’t know you had a girlfriend. How long have you been together?”

“Um, a year and a half, about. We met in school.”

“And what did you do together yesterday?” Sarah asked.

“We went on a picnic date at the park. Ate sandwiches together and did some cloudgazing.”

“That sounds lovely. Did she have a good time?”

“I hope so,” Brandon said. This was insane, lying to the therapist. He needed to get a grip.

She ended the session a while later by giving Brandon some homework. He was supposed to spend time with either a friend, or his girlfriend this week. Something to get him out of the house and around other people that’s not work.

Speaking of work, his break was almost over. He got a text all of a sudden.

It was from Norm. Hey Bran. When’s your next day off?

Brandon was surprised. It seemed like Norm wanted to hang out pretty regularly now. Tomorrow, he simply answered.

Wanna go to the old mining museum with me? Norm texted back a moment later. Brandon chuckled lightly and took another bite of his lunch before answering.

Your hangout ideas are unconventional, he answered.

Does that mean no? :(

Brandon sighed. He had been to the mining museum in middle school, and it had felt cramped and dark even then. He supposed it made sense, they were trying to make it feel like a mine shaft, but still. Shoved into a dark cramped space, probably just him and Norm? The mining museum wasn’t exactly a bouncing hangout for the kids these days, so it would be just the two of them. Alone. Touching.

Of course I’ll go. I meant it as a compliment, Brandon answered begrudgingly. He was in way over his head with this whole Norm thing.

The next day, the two of them were stood outside the old mining museum at ten o’clock in the morning. Brandon had been able to smell the alcohol on Norm in the car. He hoped Norm didn’t do anything dumb and get them kicked out. They walked in and a very old man in a cap that said “VETERAN” in all caps was sitting behind a desk.

“Welcome to the Cohocton Mining Museum.” The old man said.

“Thank you,” Brandon said, getting out his wallet. “Uh, what does it cost to go in?”

“Free to walk through, but we appreciate donations.” The old man said. “And we got souvenirs for sale if you’re interested.”

“Okay,” Brandon already had his wallet out so he pulled out a few ones to drop in the donation box, because he felt it would be rude not to.

“I thank you kindly,” the old man said. Brandon nodded at him in reply.

They went into the museum, and just as Brandon remembered, it was a bit cramped. Maybe not quite as bad as he had imagined when he was a kid— even though he’s bigger now— but still close quarters.

Norm had smelled like alcohol before, but he didn’t seem to be blackout drunk, just tipsy. He was a giggly drunk, and had Brandon laughing by reenacting fictional mining scenarios. He was also flitting from display to display, pulling Brandon along by the hand.

He led Brandon to a display of phosphorescent minerals. “Bran, look!” He said, but he didn’t let go of Brandon’s hand after dragging him over there. Brandon technically saw the brightly glowing minerals, and they were cool, but every ounce of Brandon’s attention was drawn to Norm holding Brandon’s hand. He blushed and hoped Norm couldn’t see it.

“They’re,” Brandon began, trying to pull himself back into the conversation about the minerals. He looked over at Norm the same time Norm looked at him. “Beautiful,” he whispered.

Norm’s eyes got a bit wider as he stared at Brandon.

“The minerals, I mean!” Brandon said, panicking. Norm let go of his hand and rubbed the back of his own neck.

“Yeah, they totally are,” Norm said. He gulped. Brandon could see red creeping up Norm’s neck in the dim light. He was blushing too.

After they got through the museum, they were on the drive back to Norm’s house. Trees whipped by the car in a blur.

“So, that was cool,” Norm said, looking over at Brandon. Brandon nodded. After a moment of silence, he asked, “You liked it?” His question seemed to have a deeper meaning.

“Yeah, I did,” Brandon said, answering the implied question and the literal one. “The glow in the dark minerals were especially neat.” What am I doing?, he thought.

Norm bit his lip and looked out the side window, and Brandon wondered if he had gone too far, been too forward. He had a girlfriend, for Christ sakes. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Nah, man. You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I had fun,” Norm said, smiling lightly over at Brandon.

What does that mean? Does that mean he felt whatever was between us in the museum? I mean, how could he not, Brandon’s thoughts rambled on as he drove.

When they got back to Norm’s house, he asked, “Do you wanna come in and see my room?”

Brandon wondered if this was a dangerous thing to do. “Sure, yeah,” he said anyway.

As they walked through the living room, Norm’s mom and some other guy were sitting on the couch smoking pot. The guy nodded at Brandon and he nodded back, following Norm back to his room.

He distinctly thought he heard, “The fag’s brought his boyfriend over,” and then the two of them snickered. But maybe he misheard.

Norm’s room was plain and nearly unfurnished. He had a twin sized mattress on the floor, a plastic dresser, and a beat up TV with a Nintendo 64 plugged into it. There was also a closet, but Brandon couldn’t see what was in there. The only things on the wall were some black and white photocopied pictures from game guide magazines.

“Cozy,” Brandon said, and Norm snorted.

“Yeah that’s one word for it,” Norm said. “Hey! Wanna play Mortal Kombat with me?”

“Oh, sure,” Brandon answered. He wasn’t sure where to sit.

Norm sat down on one end of the bed, and pulled the system closer so the controllers would reach the bed. Brandon sat next to him.

They played videogames together much longer than Brandon had originally intended to stay, and it was the most fun Brandon had had in a long time, even though he wasn’t the best at it.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Next chapter will come out Saturday 7/13/24.

#tombstuck-knucklehead #writeblr #writeblr community #creative writing #writers on tumblr #queer writer #disabled writer

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imyourbratzdoll · 11 months

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𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒔

hello, I hope you are all doing well and apologise for the lack of updating. I recently entered a writing competition in september and just got back today that I sadly didn't win or even make a place in it, so I thought I'd share with you all what I wrote.

summary - amber truman is a hard-working woman, having overworked herself she finally gets a break only for the apocalypse to begin on her day off, thankfully her neighbour frank jones is with her, together they survive but will they always?

warnings - death, angst, zombies.

the headers I use aren’t mine.

No one had expected this, there had been news circulating around that the world would end, but as the years went by and the world continued. Everyone moved on, they lived and grew, but there was a darkness lurking around the corner. A darkness that could potentially destroy lives, and cause people to unlock the survival part of them.

Amber Truman had been having a rough week, she had finally gotten time off from work. She entered her apartment, drained and groggy as she hangs her coat and places her keys into the dish next to the door. Amber made her way through her home, heading into the kitchen and grabbing herself a glass to fill with water. She could feel the pounding in her head as she watched the water flow through the tap and into the glass. For a split second, she pauses, zoning out, not noticing the water overflowing, wetting her fingers.

She blinks, shaking her head slightly as she notices and quickly turns the tap off. Amber reaches over and grabs a paper towel, wiping her hand and the glass before she brings it to her lips, and takes a sip. The feeling of the water gliding down her throat and replenishing her thirst is refreshing, a flash of lightning catches Amber’s attention, her brows furrow because there wasn’t a weather report for a storm. The night was supposed to be a clear one, there was not meant to be a single drop of rain. Yet, Amber watches as the night sky brightens with lightning, the sound of thunder rumbles through her small apartment, followed by harsh drops of rain hitting against the window.

Amber places the glass onto the counter and makes her way over to the window, confusion takes over her features as she watches the storm roll in. She could practically feel the weirdness radiating from it, the lightning looked to be a weird green, causing Amber to rub her eyes, feeling as though she’s seeing things. Maybe work had been too much for her, she was extremely tired and that would explain her seeing things. With a shake of her head, she moves away from the window and heads down the hall to her bathroom, stripping from her clothes and turning the shower on. Amber hopes that this could help relax her tense muscles, and as she steps underneath the boiling hot water, she sighs, letting it wash away all her worries and troubles.

An hour later, Amber finally gets out of the shower, her muscles feeling relaxed and like jelly. She wraps the soft fluffy towel around herself and exits the bathroom. She groggily heads into her bedroom, still sore and tired. She was ready to plant her face down into her pillow and drift off into a peaceful sleep, one that she hadn’t had in a while. As she entered her room, it felt as though her bed was calling to her, she could feel the ache of her body relaxing into the mattress. Slowly slipping into her pyjamas, Amber flops onto her bed, exhaustion taking over causing her to slip into a deep slumber. She would not be prepared for what was to come in the morning.

During the night as the storm continued, thousands upon millions of people had changed, died. It had become a disaster, a tragedy. In the morning would be the beginning of the apocalypse, a zombie one to be precise. No one had expected the world to end like this, everyone thought a giant meteor would hit and destroy Earth as it once did. Those that wandered the streets at night had come across a shock, they turned before they could even open their mouths to let out a scream. But when morning would come, it would be as though those screams were music.

As the sun rose and Amber’s eyes fluttered open, she sat, arms stretching above her head before they fell, and her hands rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She looks around the room, squinting as the light shining through the window blinds her. Amber wondered if today would be any different, her boss had told her to take as much time off as needed, but she felt useless staying at home, doing nothing. Amber stands from her bed, letting the sheets slide from her body gracefully. Her head moves to the side as she hears something faint, with slow movements Amber makes her way over to the window.

With curious movements, she opens it, causing the faint noise to become clearer. Down below, Amber watches as people scream and run, wondering why some were attacking others. She swiftly moves to her phone, dialling the police but she is met with a message.

“We are sorry for the inconvenience all emergency services are unavailable right now. We advise that you stay indoors. We repeat, please, stay indoors.”

Confused, Amber stumbles out of her bedroom and towards the loungeroom. Her hands fumble for the remote control and once she finds it, she switches on the television. The same thing is repeated, news reports are showing people being attacked, torn apart. A gasp escapes her as she watches one reporter get attacked, blood splattering across the camera before it shuts off. The screams echo and the scene plays out inside her head.

A scream can be heard from the hallway, Amber’s head snaps to the side and she cautiously rushes over to her door, pressing her ear against it. She could hear someone struggling on the other side, and she was stuck between helping them or saving herself. A muffled voice interrupts whatever is happening on the other side, one that Amber can slightly make out that sounds like her neighbour Frank. He lets out a shout and without a second thought, she swings her door open only to stop short with wide eyes and a sharp breath.

The monster has Frank Jones pinned, another one of her neighbours lies on the floor with their hand to their neck, their life slipping from their eyes rapidly. Amber stumbles, her eyes moving between Frank and the thing, not knowing what to do, she feels stuck.

“A-Amber, get something to hit them with! Hurry!” Frank shouts, trying to fight this thing off. She quickly backs into her apartment, looking around to find something to hit it with. The thing her eyes land on is a trophy she won in high school; she remembers the day well. Her family stood proudly in the crowd, applauding her as she won first place in a school tournament. With quick movement Amber grabs hold of the heavy item and launches forward, swiftly swinging and hitting the back of the person’s head. The body falls, dropping limply and Frank breathes. “Thank you, I-” His eyes widen, and he moves her behind him, grabbing the trophy from her grasp and swinging at the newly changed person.

Amber’s eyes are wide as she watches yet another one of her neighbours fall to the ground, feeling guilty for causing them harm. Neither of them had seen something so horrifying in their lives, the skin had already begun decaying, eyes white and lifeless. “What are they?” She wonders aloud, staring at them frightened. A gasp escapes her as Frank quickly pulls her back into her apartment, slamming the door shut and locking it. “What are you doing?! You can’t just come into my apartment!” Amber glares, crossing her arms over her chest and at once looks down, realising that she is still in her pyjamas.

Frank huffs, putting his finger against his lips. “Shh, there is more. I didn’t have enough time to unlock my door. We need to figure out a plan, something to protect ourselves with, possibly a way out to get out!”

Amber looks at him bewildered, “What? What do you mean get out of here? Why would you want to leave a safe place? Have you never watched a horror movie?!” Her arms wave around as she talks. “Did you not see what happened? It is completely insane out there and you want to leave?”

Frank shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose, “By the looks of things, we may only be able to survive for a short while. We will run out of food and water; we also need to look for help.” He walks around, ensuring that everything is safe and locked, while also searching for anything to use in a fight. “If we distract those things long enough, I may be able to slip through and get into my apartment. I can grab a few things that could help.”

Amber stares at her neighbour, wondering why he would want to risk his life so easily for a small chance of finding help. With slow movements, she moves over to the window and peers down, a shocked gasp slips past her lips. “Oh my god... Uh, Frank, I don’t think we will have any luck on finding help.” She stares down at the crashed vehicles, some into poles and buildings, others into other vehicles. Flames burst from them as slow-moving zombies walk around, snacking on the dead bodies. Flashing lights from both police cars and ambulances reflect on the nearest glass surface, there sirens echoing through the dead streets.

Frank moves across the apartment, standing next to you as he looks out. “Oh, but... There must be someone out there that can help us, this can’t be it! We can’t just give up so easily!” He seemed so sure, and she had never seen something like this before. How can one man still have so much hope even when the world has ended?

A week had passed since the beginning of the apocalypse. Amber and Frank had been through hell in those short seven days, being trapped indoors with no escape was a nightmare. Those days felt long and tiring, Amber barely got sleep because with every thud her body would jolt and flinch, nightmares replaced dreams. Their food source was close to becoming non-existent. Frank had begun to be persistent on getting to his apartment, and then venturing out to find help. Amber had lost hope, figuring that it has been a week, yet no one had entered their building.

Frank pressed his ear against the door, seeing if he could hear anything. When it came back quiet for the first time in a while, he turned and looked at Amber. “Alright, the coast is clear. I will go out and quickly enter my apartment to grab as much food and water as I can. You will make sure the coast is clear while I am doing that, right?” He seemed nervous but covered it with a brave expression.

She nods, rocking back and forth on the heels of her feet. “Yeah, yes. I will keep watch and make sure nothing happens.” Amber watches as Frank grabs one of her largest kitchen knives and looks over it, ensuring it will protect him if needed. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Frank huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “No, but if I don’t then we will run out of the food we have and starve.” He looks at her and feels his heart squeeze. He had always liked his neighbour a small bit, but having spent an entire week with her, trapped. It had made his feelings a lot worse. Frank knew he probably wouldn’t make it out alive in this world, but he could not gather up the courage to kiss the girl standing in front of him. He clears his throat and turns toward the door. “Alright, are you ready?”

Amber nods, quickly moving behind him but not before grabbing a knife of her own. She holds her breath as he opens it, his head moves side to side, checking to make sure the coast was clear before he moves out and towards the door of his apartment. Amber stands guard at her own door, feeling her breathing pick up and her heart squeeze, anxiety filling her being. “Frank! Hurry up!” She whisper-shouts, not wanting to be too loud but also wanting him to hurry because she could feel chills of fear exploding throughout her body.

Frank ran around his apartment, gathering the essentials, Amber’s voice had carried causing his movements to pick up. Once he had everything, Frank exited his apartment and when his eyes met hers, they lit up, a smile appearing on his face before it is replaced by a frown as the sound of groans fill the air. Ambers and Franks heads turn, and their eyes widen when they see a group of zombies making their way towards them.

It had all happened so fast, Frank had made his way over, but they kept multiplying, coming from both directions. Some seemed faster than others, catching up quickly before Amber could close the door. They snarled and pushed, all their body weight piling onto the door, causing Amber to stumble backwards, her mouth falling open into a silent scream. Frank spun, the items he grabbed falling from his grasp and crashing onto the floor.

“We can fight them!” Frank stumbled, the knife nearly slipping from his grip.

“No! There’s too many! We need to move!” Amber states, shaking her head as she watches them fill her home.

Frank nods, seeing the fear in her eyes and he knows that they need a plan. He knows deep down that one of them won’t make it out alive, and he will do everything in his power to ensure that she’s safe. “Okay, move to your bedroom, quickly!” He ushers her, hand on her lower back as he pushes her deeper into the apartment. He kicks the food further ahead of them, knowing they’ll need it if they will be stuck in a room for a while.

“Ahh!” Frank shouts, feeling something grab the back of his shirt, holding him back from moving forward with her. Amber spins, her eyes widen when she notices how close the monsters have gotten to them both. Frank was terrified and with a burst of courage and fear, he pushes forward, his lips touching hers tenderly, giving her their first and last kiss. Tears fell from their eyes, splashing onto each other’s cheeks. As Frank pulls back, he gives a sad smile and turns with a shout, swinging and stabbing. The zombies pull Frank down, ripping and tearing him apart in front of Amber’s poor eyes, her vision is blurred as she stumbles.

“N-no...” She’s in disbelief, not understanding how things could turn bad so fast. Her breathe hitches in her throat as their attention turns to her and they slowly begin to stand, a scream escapes her when a figure she knows so well stands with them. His eyes white instead of the gorgeous blue they were before, skin decayed and torn into shreds. “Frank...” She knew this was the end, but this wouldn’t be the end for her. Amber was going to fight; she had realised this was not how she was going to go out. Her eyes connected to his dead ones and a whisper slipped past her lips. “I’m so sorry.”

With a shout, Amber fought, never once giving up no matter how tired she had grown or how saddened she was. This was not her ending.

To Be Continued...

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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blennie · 2 years

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i wanted them as a transparent so i went ahead and made it 👍

#gintama #yorozuya #transparents #i thought i could use it as a header but tumblr went and made it blurry as hell so i didn’t feel like resizing it better #oh well~ if anybody else wants to do though that go ahead

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skittlesfics · 2 years

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name: fever burnin' faster

pairing: Eddie Munson x Best Friend! Reader

word count: 5006

summary: You were content just being best friends with Eddie until you almost lost him

content/warnings: smut, fem reader, penetrative sex, oral sex f receiving, a bit of crying but not really dacryphilia, sex with feelings, marijuana and alcohol use

author’s note: I wanted to try a header like all the tumblr girlies so I edited a pretty basic canva template. Anyway I wrote this fic based entirely on the header, I had 0 idea what I was going to write going in and here we are 5k words later. Title is from an AC/DC song.

The beer was too cold in your hand when you picked it up, but you snatched Eddie’s lighter from its spot beside the ashtray and used it to pop the lid open anyway, just like he taught you. Your eyes flickered instinctively to his, looking for his approval, and you got it in the form of a goofy, proud grin. He’d spent a whole night teaching you that trick, back when it was just the two of you. Back before the whole world seemed to go to shit and the two of you went from being the only real adults in your friend group to two of five.

You returned his smile and took a swig of the beer. It wasn’t the same cheap shit that Eddie used to score from Wayne, no Steve had seen to the end of that pretty quickly when he saw what it was the two of you were drinking. You appreciated the sentiment, but part of you was nostalgic for the taste of cheap and easy.

You chased a droplet of condensation down the length of your bottle with the tip of your finger, thinking about how long it had been since any hangout was just you and Eddie. That used to be easy, too. Not this choking, overwhelming mess of emotions left unsaid, longing gazes over an ashtray, not this painful squeeze in your chest when Eddie did anything normal.

Maybe you had always loved Eddie and just failed to notice. Or maybe it just didn’t matter because Eddie was just always going to be there and surely the two of you would get to that later. Until he almost wasn’t. Until you almost didn’t. And you didn’t have to face it anyway when Steve always seemed to be there as a buffer, or Robin was visiting because she needed advice right now or Nancy was stopping by just to check on you two, or the kids wanted an impromptu D&D session because it wasn’t like anyone had anything better to do.

This was the first time in what was feeling like an impossible span of time that you and Eddie were… alone. And you had forgotten how to do this. How to be easy and carefree. How to just let the banter happen. How to be close without it feeling too close.

“Penny for your thoughts, princess?” Eddie asked, walking around the folding table to bump his hip up against yours. Too close like that. You took a sip of your beer to stall, smiling around the bitter taste.

“That’s all I’m worth to you, Munson?” You teased. It was the right answer, because he threw his head back and laughed like you said something much funnier than you had, throwing his free arm around you like it belonged there. You pretended like his touch didn’t burn. Like every point of contact wasn’t burning you alive with something you weren’t ready to put words to.

“That’s all I can afford. You think I’m made of money?” When you laughed that time it felt a little easier, a little lighter, a little more natural. You answered his first question instead of his second.

“I was just thinking it’s been a while since it’s been just the two of us down here.” You admitted. Your mouth was suddenly dry, but you hesitated as you lifted your beer to your mouth. This was the second one, you didn’t want to get completely trashed, especially not when Eddie had rolled up a joint special, just for the two of you to share.

As if he could read your mind, Eddie put down his beer and reached for the joint. You offered him his lighter but he just held the joint between his lips and leaned towards your hand. You took the hint, twisting the lighter in your hand so that you could get at the flint wheel. Your hand shook a bit and it took you two tries to light the damn thing, but you got the job done.

“You really shouldn’t trust me with open flame around that pretty hair of yours, Munson.”

Eddie didn’t laugh because he was sucking air through the joint, trying to get a steady cherry lit so that it wouldn’t go out or canoe the second he handed it to you, but you caught the crinkle around his eye, the slight curl at the corner of his mouth. When he was satisfied with the light, he took a real pull and handed it to you, fingers brushing yours as you made the exchange. Heat again, warmth spreading from the point of contact until you were sure that you would make the joint burn out faster from the fire in your veins alone.

“Oh please,” He quipped as you put your lips to the joint, “You’re more protective of it than I am.”

You tried not to think about the fact that you were putting your lips where his had been only moments before. The inherent intimacy in sharing a joint, in pulling something that he rolled for you into your lungs, in tasting him on the filter. This was not the first time you had shared a joint with Eddie, not even the first time you had shared a joint alone with Eddie, and yet you could feel a faint warmth rising to your cheeks at the thought of his mouth.

“Can we sit?” You asked, pulling the joint from between your lips and exhaling the smoke ungracefully into the basement air. You didn’t wait for an answer, placing your beer on the banged-up coffee table as Eddie grabbed the ashtray to move it closer. It was your basement, anyway. You carefully propped the joint on the edge of the ashtray and flopped down onto the couch, your body sinking in and then sinking in as the first hints of a high creeped in. Eddie followed shortly, arm landing casually across the back of the couch above your head, where it always did.

Only it didn’t feel casual. Not when your heart was wanting to beat out of your chest at his mere proximity. Not when his jean clad thigh was brushing casually against your mostly bare shorts clad thigh. Not when his fingers unconsciously started playing with your hair like he had done this a million times because he had and you were the one that couldn’t be normal about being alone with your best friend.

Eddie leaned forward to exchange his beer for the joint, twisting his body so that he didn’t drag you forward with him. You were grateful for the cassette player in the background playing Eddie’s most recent mix tape he’d made for you. It filled the silence where you couldn’t, even though Eddie had started it with Bat Out of Hell by Meat Loaf just to fuck with you.

You dropped your head back against the couch, your head bumping against Eddie’s arm as you closed your eyes and took a slow, careful breath. It was too much. This was too much. So much had changed, you just wanted an easy night with your best friend. Not this weird tension that coiled in your chest and made your heart beat too hard against your chest.

“Forget how quiet it can be down here without all the damn kids running around.” Eddie remarked thoughtfully. His voice was closer than you expected, and when you opened your eyes, he was leaning towards you, holding the joint up in front of your lips. You raised your eyebrows, but leaned in anyway, wrapping your lips carefully around the filter, trying and failing not to brush the calloused skin of his fingers as you inhale slowly. Trying and failing not to think of those fingers in your mouth. You imagined the smoke rolling into your mouth, coiling in your chest to soothe the ache of whatever this was.

When Eddie pulled the joint away, he was still looking at your lips, those big brown eyes dark with something unfamiliar. Or perhaps overly familiar, but not on him. You didn’t question it yet, leaning your head back to blow a column of smoke into the air before the tickle in your throat could become a real cough.

“The kids?” You said when you were done, leaning forward to grab your beer, “What about Steve and Robin? Way they bicker, you’d think I’m running a divorce court down here.”

That made Eddie laugh, a surprised cough shaking his shoulders as you caught him mid-inhale. You couldn’t help but to laugh with him, some of the weight on your chest easing off because that felt normal.

“Jesus Christ, you’re trying to kill me.” Eddie pounded his chest to get the smoke out, still laughing, still coughing. When he settled down, you were leaning a little closer, smiling a little easier. His arm slid down from the back of the couch to around your waist and he pulled you in close so that your head fell against his shoulder.

“Missed this.” He admitted, always so open, so earnest with you that it made you want to cry right then and there. “The roadies are fun, but I like to have the real talent all to myself.”

“You’re such a loser, Munson.” You shoved his chest with one hand, but you didn’t shove yourself away. You stayed right there, smiling a private little smile to yourself because you liked having him all to yourself, too.

“What’s that smile, Princess?” Eddie teased, tilting his head to get a better look at your face. And fuck you’ve always loved the way he sounded when he called you princess but when he was that close and his arm was wrapped around you like you were his, you couldn’t help but bite your lip, closing your eyes to stave off the shiver his words brought.

“Missed this too.” You admit, not quite making eye contact, knowing that your reaction hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Eddie wasn’t having that. His hand, now free of the joint, came up to tilt your chin up carefully, thumb pressing into the soft skin under your bottom lip.

You met his eyes reluctantly, not knowing how much was on your face, but knowing exactly how much was in your heart. The weed was making you hazy, soft, but Eddie was sharp and in focus despite it all, his touch a point of brightness in the otherwise dim room.

You willed yourself to say anything, to make a joke, to diffuse the tension, but when you opened your mouth you could only wet your lips with your tongue. Eddie’s eyes flicked from your eyes to your mouth and then back, his jaw clenching so slightly you would have missed it if you were doing anything but studying his expression.

It was Eddie who ultimately broke the silence, swallowing thickly before parting his lips.

“If you don’t let me kiss you, I think I might cry.” He said it like a joke, but you could feel the weight, the effort in his words. You could feel the warmth of his gaze, the burn of his thumb trying so hard not to slide up and part your lips. When you spoke, your voice was raspy.

“If you don’t kiss me, I think I might cry.”

It’s all he needed. He surgds forward, hand guiding you to him as his lips crashed against yours. There was no grace in his motions, the raw need guiding the press of his lips against yours, the press of his fingers into your hip, the thumb pulling down your bottom lip to grant him access to your mouth.

His tongue tasted like weed and beer and the red hots he had been eating earlier, but the fact that it was him made the combination intoxicating. You moaned into his mouth, reaching up to grab the bottom of his shirt for something to anchor you to reality. Fireworks exploded in your brain as you struggled to convince yourself that this was real. That Eddie was real and here and that he wanted this, right now, with you.

He pulled away to study your face for only a moment and then he was kissing you again, lips molding against yours like he couldn’t bear for them to be apart. His kiss was desperate, hungry, seeking, and when you opened your mouth against his he moaned like he was losing himself in you. You took gratification from the desperation in his tone, knowing that it wasn’t just you that was desperate and wanting for your best friend, that this might not be so one sided after all.

You pressed one hand against his chest, pushing him back, and he gave you a wounded look until you were clambering into his lap, throwing one leg to the other side of him so that you could rest comfortably on top of him.

“Wanted to kiss you for so long.” You admitted, leaning in to taste his lips before trailing a line of sweet kisses from his lips to his jaw. He shivered under your touch, tilting his head to give you access to the pale skin of his neck. There were scars there that had yet to fully heal and you took extra time to kiss them, as if your lips alone could solve the hurt he’d been through.

“Should’ve said something.” Eddie’s voice was wrecked, all low and gravelly with desire, “been trying to get you to kiss me for years.”

There was no joke in his voice that time, and when you leaned in to kiss him again, his hands found your waist, fingers sliding just under the faded Metallica t-shirt that you had most definitely stolen from him to press into your soft skin.

It took so little for him to make you desperate, the warmth of his fingers, the shift of him under you, the way he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth.

“Just kiss?” It was bold. It was reckless, but a few weeks ago you almost lost him. You almost lost him and dammit if you were going to hold back from what you want with him ever again. Eddie groaned underneath you, his grip on you tightening like he thought you might change your mind and run away, like he needed to anchor himself to prove that you were real.

“Don’t tease me, princess, I can’t take it.”

This time he felt when your thighs clench as he says the pet name, eyes closing, bottom lip pulling between your teeth and he groaned, dropping his forehead against your shoulder.

“Not teasing, Eddie. I want you. I want this.” You grabbed his hands and slid them further up your shirt, stopping at your rib cage just under the swell of your breasts. Eddie hesitated only long enough to make eye contact with you and then he was moving, cupping and squeezing your breasts with hands that were so warm you felt feverish. Your skin was sensitive to the touch, and you gasped as his rough callouses slid over your delicate skin.

Touching wasn’t enough. Eddie withdrew his hands, impatiently shoving your shirt up and out of the way until you just grabbed the hem and pulled it over your head, tossing it somewhere in the basement. Knowing you weren’t wearing a bra and seeing that you weren’t wearing a bra were totally different things, and the sight of your bare chests, nipples pebbling in the cool air, drew a desperate whine from Eddie.

“Fuck, look at you.” He rasped, leaning forward to taste your skin, running his tongue from the bottom for your breast to your nipple, sucking gently when you arched your back into him. It was all you could do to grip his shoulders, your hips grinding against his involuntarily as he explored your breasts with hands and lips and teeth and tongue.

“Spent so long trying to pretend not to notice these.” He confessed between kisses, his left hand toying with your nipple as he kissed his way across your chest. You wanted to laugh, to tell him that he was shit at pretending, that you had always notice when his eyes would drop mid-conversation and how you had cut that one shirt you stole from him into a tank top for this exact reason.

You couldn't, though. Not when his touch felt so goddamn good. Not when he had you melting into a puddle in his lap. Emboldened either by the weed, the beer, or the surge of raw affection you felt for the man beneath you, you pulled away from him and pulled him into another kiss, this time grinding your hips into his intentionally in the hopes that he would get the hint.

He groaned, hands coming up to cup your face, kissing you like he was trying to take you apart. You could get lost in his mouth forever, if he'd let you, the lingering spicy-sweet of cinnamon leaving you hungry for more. Eddie had other ideas, though. Years he'd said. Wanting. Waiting. Dreaming. No, he had plans for you, more kissing could come later.

He tapped your thigh, prompting you to slide off his lap and you did, dropping back into your spot next to him. He pushed you back into the couch and slid to the floor next to you, pushing your legs open.

"Tell me what you want, princess." He prompted, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee. There was something so intimate about the action that you could feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, chest swelling with affection for the man in front of you.

"I want you to touch me." It came out as a whisper, but Eddie heard you loud and clear. He tugged at the waistband of your shorts until you lifted your hips to help them pull them off, discarding them by the coffee table.

His gaze softened as he caught sight of your lacy panties, a small bow adorning the front.

"Well isn't this just the cutest." He teased, leaning to press a kiss just above your pantyline. Your face flushed and you looked away, wrinkling your nose in annoyance.

"It's not like I was planning this. Not just breaking out the lingerie for a night in the basement." You grumbled.

"No?" Eddie pressed a kiss right on top of the bow, frustratingly close to where you really wanted him, "You're just this fucking cute on accident?" He moved lower, mouth hovering just above the damp fabric at the apex of your thighs. You tried to think of a rebuttal, something to get him back, but his breath fanning out over your panties was making it hard to think.

He kissed you through the fabric, lips pressing down right above your clit and you whined, hips lifting off the couch desperate for more.

"Who's the tease now?" Your voice sounded whinier than you wanted, but how could it not when he was toying with you, fingers tracing the waistband of your panties. Eddie laughed, but gave in. How could he not when you were looking up at him with those pleading eyes, practically pouting as he took his time with you. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, yanking them down to your knees with little finesse. You didn't mind, kicking them off the rest of the way with equal haste.

Eddie moved in between your legs, spreading them further apart to accommodate his presence. He groaned when he looked at you, spread out all desperate and wet for him, face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and desire, chest heaving. His dreams could never measure up to this.

"You're so fucking pretty, baby, you know that?" He asked, leaning to press a kiss against your inner thigh. You didn't get a chance to respond, two of his fingers already gliding through your slick folds to test how wet you are for him. The sound you made was sinful, and when you managed to open your eyes again, Eddie was smiling at you like someone gave him a present.

"Eddie." His name fell from your lips as a complaint, a plea, a reassurance. It didn't matter. It was everything. He wanted to take his time, to touch you, to explore, to tease, but how could he deny you what you wanted when you said his name like that, your voice sending electricity directly to his cock.

He shifted lower on his knees, hooking one arm under your thigh to pull you close, and you had to look away as he licked a hot stripe across your pussy that had you keening. Your fingers drifted down, tangling in his hair as he fucked you on his tongue. His eyes were closed, fingers sinking into the flesh of your thigh as if he could somehow pull you closer, taste you more.

"Oh, Eddie, Fuck." His lips found your swollen clit and he sucked slowly, tortuously, relentlessly. He was devouring you with his mouth and you didn't even mind that you were losing everything to him. You were already his, always had been, why not this way, too?

His two fingers were back, sliding carefully to gather your slick again before pressing into your interest. You clenched around him instinctively as his tongue flicked your clit and another groan fell from his mouth. You lost track of what he was doing, the sensation of his tongue and fingers combined leaving your head in a fog of overwhelming pleasure.

"Gonna cum for me, pretty?" You didn't know that you were until he pulled away to ask and then suddenly you were gasping, clenching around his fingers as he lapped at your clit. You moaned something that sounded a lot like his name, your fingers gripping his dark curls tighter than you probably should as he pulled moans and gasps from your lips, curling his fingers inside you in a way that had you bucking your hips up against his face. You didn't get a chance to answer.

You were so, so close, mind full of static as you gave yourself over to the sensation of Eddie pulling you to the edge. You could feel yourself drawing closer, closer still, and then he sucked at your clit again, humming in a way that made your entire world vibrate and then you were falling apart. You folded over, curling around Eddie as your body trembled, his fingers still working you slowly, scissoring at your entrance to get you ready for him.

You unfolded from around him as you came down, laughing brokenly as he pressed a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh. Then he was pushing himself up, pressing sloppy kisses that tasted like you against your mouth, your cheek, your neck, anywhere he could reach. He fumbled with his belt, shoving his jeans down with an urgency only matched by the way you tugged at his boxers, pulling away from his kiss to admire him as he helped you yank them down.

Your teeth found your bottom lip again as his cock was freed from its plaid confines. It was thick and curved wickedly up to his belly, dark against his pale skin. The curls you had often admired in short flashes under his shirt grew thick and shiny at the base. You reached for him and he swatted your hand away, kissing away the pout that followed.

"You're going to ruin me if you touch me right now, baby. I'm not going to last." He stepped out of his jeans, grabbing them to fish his wallet out of his back pocket, where he dug a small gold tinted foil pouch from a forgotten pocket. You watched with rapt attention as he ripped it open with his teeth, spitting it off to the side after pulling the condom from it. He rolled the condom over his cock carefully, his eyes scanning your body shamelessly as he pumped his cock once, twice, and then he was pushing you lengthwise onto the couch again, pushing one leg up around his waist to make space for himself on the cushion.

"Ruin you, hmm?" You teased now that he was over you, reaching down to slide his cock through your folds, pumping it slowly to spread your slick across the condom. He cursed, squeezing his eyes shut as he took a steadying breath.

"You're going to be the death of me, princess. This is supposed to be the part where I ask if you're sure you want this." He protests, though his eyes told you that he already knew exactly what you wanted.

"I think we're past the formalities, Munson. Just fuck me." You tilted your hips to help him line himself up and he swallowed a sarcastic quip as you pushed yourself up so that the head of his cock just started to press into you. It was clear from there that he was a goner.

He moved slowly, pressing into you inch by inch, trying not to whimper as you stretched around him. You were heaven. You were everything. He couldn't think of anything but the press of your soft thighs against his waist, the soft moans falling from your lips with each motion, the heave of your breasts as you gasped for air, and fuck... all of that just for him.

Your teasing mood had long passed by the time he started to thrust into you properly, your legs wrapping behind him for leverage as he set a steady pace. Even with his preparation, his cock still stretched you deliciously, your body struggling to acclimate each time he pulled back out.

"Shit, you're too fucking hot and tight." Eddie hissed between gritted teeth, his hips faltering slightly as he sheathed himself in you and you squeezed on the way out. You pushed yourself up on your elbows, mouthing wet kisses against his chest, desperate to touch, to taste, to feel. You wrapped your arms around his torso and pulled him flat on top of you and he laughed, pressing a messy kiss to your forehead as he readjusted to fuck you from this position.

It was more intimate that way, with his chest pressed against yours, those brown eyes so close to your face and so full of emotion that you might have cried. Each movement of his hips was paired with a small sound from his lips, just for you, and you swallowed each of them with an open-mouthed kiss that left Eddie's head spending.

You had spent most of the night with your body feeling too hot and this, you realized, was what burning really felt like: Eddie's pace falling apart as he fucked into you desperately, broken moans spilling from his lips, his fingers digging into your skin hard enough to bruise as he fought to keep himself from toppling over the edge. Your body was still sensitive from your orgasm, and each slap of his balls against your clit had your head spinning. The mixtape was drowned out by the sound of skin against skin, by Eddie's cries of your name, by the heady moans you couldn't swallow down when Eddie's hand found its way between the two of you, fingers working your abused clit to bring you to a second orgasm. It was the sweetest music you'd ever heard.

"Eddie, please." You didn't mean to whine, to sob, but it came out anyway, "please, please, please." You weren't sure exactly what you were asking for. Please cum for me, or please make me cum, or please cum with me, or just please, but you kept asking anyway in case he figured it out for you. It was enough, his body so tightly wound that it was all he could do to hold on long enough to bring you to the edge with him.

"I know, baby, I know. Let go." And that was all it took. Eddie groaned your name loudly enough that you were sure the neighbors heard it as you fell apart on his cock, your body convulsing around him, milking his orgasm from him even as he sobbed your name into your ear.

You two stayed there for a moment, panting, processing, and then Eddie was carefully lifting himself from your chest, the sweat making your skin stick together for a moment. He pulled the condom off carefully, tying a knot, and then disappeared into the basement bathroom.

When he returned, he had a warm washcloth and a gentle smile on his face that made you feel warm in an entirely different way. You let him fuss over you, carefully wiping down your thighs, cleaning the mess from your lips, and then pressing kisses up your body as he made sure each part of you was okay.

He dropped down into the corner of the couch and you crawled over to him, dropping your head on his nude thigh. His hand dropped to your head, rubbing your scalp soothingly as you closed your eyes.

"You better kiss me when you're sober, Munson." You murmured sleepily against his leg, all the fight that might have made the demand convincing gone from the words.

"And why's that?" Eddie asked, still gently massaging your scalp. You couldn't see his face, but you could picture his contented smile all the same.

"'Cause I loved you for too long to stop now." You were too tired to turn and see the impact your words had on Eddie, but you felt him freeze up, felt the fingers stop moving in your scalp, and you weren't sure if the single hard pound of a heartbeat was yours or his.

"Loved you longer, princess. Go to sleep." And his voice was wet and sticky sweet, but you were too tired to wonder about his tone. You just enjoyed his hands slowly soothing away the fever that had been burning away at you for far too long.

#Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson Smut #Eddie Munson Reader Insert #Stranger Things Smut #Stranger Things Imagine #Stranger Things Reader Insert #Smut #Oneshot #5000 - 5500 #okay so maybe this got away from me a little bit

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ynscrazylife · 3 years

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Can I please please request one where Natasha and Yelena have another younger sister (Y/N) and she gets badly injured and her older sisters are hysterical since they’re afraid to lose one they love the most

A Race Against Time | romanoff fam fic

Summary: Natasha and Yelena do their best to help their hurt younger sister.

Authors Note: Thanks for requesting!

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2 | Main Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @/twitalents

“Everybody alright?” Natasha asked as Alexei and Melina approached her and Yelena. The redhead herself definitely hadn’t gotten out of the whole ordeal without injuries. In fact, from Dreykov punching her to the fight against the Widows, and the fight against Antonia (not to mention the injuries from the past few days that she hadn’t taken care of), she was in some pain. However she didn’t worry about herself, she knew she’d be fine. She always was.

Natasha glanced over and spotted Y/N making her way over to them, too. From the distance, Natasha couldn’t tell that she was limping and was very hurt.

“I am clearly injured,” Melina deadpanned, causing Natasha to look back over and send her adoptive mother a smile as an apology. With a quick glance, Natasha could tell that she’d be okay, she’d just need a cast on that ankle and-

Thump.

The sound, accompanied by Yelena’s loud gasp and yelp, broke through Natasha’s thoughts and caused her to whip around suddenly. The sight her eyes landed on instantly sent what felt like an ice shard plunging into her chest. No. No.

By the time she snapped out of it, Yelena was already by Y/N’s unconscious figure, which the thump must have been - her plummeting to the ground - and Alexei was helping Melina over as fast as he could. Natasha sped past them and dropped to her knees, her brain wired to already be processing the situation and formulating a plan, while she lightly stopped Yelena’s wrist to prevent her from going to shake Y/N.

“You don’t move someone who is unconscious unless necessary - it could injure them,” she breathed out. Yelena, who could see that her older sister was in autopilot mode, sat back and let her do her thing, opting to look up at her parents, instead.

Both their eyes were glued to Y/N. Alexei’s eyebrows crinkled and, after taking a big breath, muttered (just loud enough for them to hear), “There’s blood on you.”

Natasha’s eyes snapped down and sure enough, her knees were bloodied. She quickly looked up only to see blood beginning to come from Y/N’s stomach where she had fallen on her side. Closing her eyes for a moment to allow herself to think, Natasha carefully and gently pulled up Y/N’s shirt, only to see an open gash in the shape of the Widow hourglass.

“Wha-?” She said, barely forming a word, and Yelena leaned over to see.

She immediately began shaking her head and pushed Y/N onto her back. “I-I know what this is, I think. I remember hearing about a weapon that’d leave that mark,” she rambled out.

Melina peered over Natasha’s shoulder and when she saw it, her face went pale. “That-that weapon, it ejects a blast that makes that mark when it meets the skin. It was made as a precaution in case any of the Widows went rogue - it was made years ago. But only a few were made because they were so confident in themselves. It-it goes along with a process they constructed to re-brainwash the Widows. The blast gets under her skin, in her body, with a chemical that’s in it, and that chemical starts the brainwashing process,” she explained.

A park of hope entered Yelena’s eyes. “So she won’t be fully brainwashed?” She asked.

“Not without the rest of the procedure,” Melina began, but then her eyes widened when she remembered something and horror quickly flashed across her face. “But if the process isn’t completed within a certain time period, the chemical will wear off its brainwashing effects and instead will start hurting her . . . A lot . . . But I have an antidote-” her tone sped up now, “-It’s back at the house. We need to get her there.”

Natasha and Yelena nodded, both having gone through a great wave of emotions throughout Melina’s words. Yelena, while racked with worry, still remained hopeful, and Natasha did her best to be, too, but her tears were drying and she was sniffling.

“The jet is-” Alexei began to say, when the sound of the engines of cars rapidly approaching cut him off.

Natasha looked over. “Shit, Ross,” she said, regretting even tipping him off to their location in the first place.

Melina bit her lip. “You girls go. Take Y/N home. The antidote is labelled ‘Ant-Widow,’,” she told them firmly.

Yelena’s lips parted to protest, not wanting to split up, but catching Natasha picking up Y/N out of the corner of her eye stopped her. She nodded, rising to her feet.

“We’ll distract them. They won’t want anything to do with us when they realize you’re not here,” Melina insisted.

Natasha sent her a look that she could only hope was conveying everything she wanted it to. A million thoughts whizzed about in her mind, none making room for each other. She wondered, would they leave them alone? Or would they be taken into questioning? Shouldn’t she be the one facing Ross - since she called him there? Is Y/N going to be okay? Will they get there in time?

By the way Melina looked back at her, Natasha thought that her message had been received. There was no time to go over the plan any longer, if they stayed even a couple more seconds they’d get caught by Ross, whose army of cars headed to a halt.

Natasha bolted off in the jet’s direction, Yelena quick on her heels. They rushed inside and Natasha took her time to gently put Y/N down before going to the pilot seat. Yelena sat down in the back, wanting to watch over their little sister.

Neither of them said anything until Natasha had gotten them off the ground and away from the field. Yelena could hear the engine whirring and she knew that Natasha was going as fast as this aircraft could probably go.

“Natasha,” she said, her voice small and hesitant, reminding Natasha of her own self when she was younger. The redhead braced herself for her sister’s words. “Do you think we’ll get there in time?”

Natasha let out a slow yet steady breath, fighting back the urge to tell her not to say that. She wondered the same thing, and she hated it. She didn’t answer, though, because she didn’t want to lie. She didn’t know herself, and she also hated that.

Yelena looked down in defeat when she didn’t get an answer and continued watching Y/N. She couldn’t stop herself from worrying and when she spotted the other injuries — bruises, cuts, scrapes — littering her body, she got up and went to the back.

The blonde grabbed the med kit they had stored and went back, quickly opening it up and getting everything she needed. First, bandages. Yelena put pressure on the wound even though she knew it wouldn’t bleed out, and a twinge of guilt hit her when Y/N moved and groaned unconsciously.

She then wrapped up Y/N’s stomach and tended to her other injures, every so often glancing at Natasha, who she could see by the way she was sitting up straight that she was tense. Upset. Worried. Yelena had to admit she was feeling those same things but busied herself by taking care of Y/N.

This carried on and they were about ¾ there when everything shifted. Y/N, who had been mostly quiet throughout the journey, suddenly rolled onto her side, eyes opening with a startled gasp.

Natasha frantically looked up at Yelena and the latter jumped to resolve the situation. Gently, she put her hands on her younger sister’s shoulders and tried to turn her onto her back, but Y/N fought her off and scurried back, against the wall.

“Y/N,” Yelena said, slowly putting her hands up in a “surrender” gesture.

The younger one shook her head as tears began to flow down her cheeks. “It-it hurts,” she got out, wrapping her arms around herself.

Yelena sent Natasha a frightened, desperate look and the glint in Natasha’s eyes held tears in them. “I can’t go any faster!” She cried out in frustration, her anger at her helplessness beginning to grow.

Yelena turned back to Y/N. “Take deep breaths with me, okay?” She said, and took a couple deep breaths to show her. It took Y/N a second, but she followed along. However, the pain didn’t take a break for long, and quickly came crashing back to her, like a magnet.

She let out another cry, but this one filled with that much more anguish, desperation, a pure rage from wanting it to be over, a rage that nearly caused her to vomit. Y/N leaned forward, hoping that there was something - anything - that could relieve this pain for even just a second. The warmth she was soon filled with from her older sister’s arms wrapping around her and pulling her close did nothing to soothe pain, but she found someone to have a steady grip on, someone to hold.

This continued on. In every cry let out, Yelena could’ve sworn each one was louder than the last. She didn’t know what to do so she did the only thing she could and stayed there. After a particularly loud cry from Y/N, Yelena couldn’t stop a “Natasha!” from escaping.

“I’m trying!” She shouted over the engine and over Y/N, doing her best to blink away the tears and focus, but everytime she was on the brink of it, something tore her away.

After what felt like what could only be described as eons, Natasha managed to touch down in the same spot she had just a day ago. The moment they made contact, she leapt out of her seat, nearly tumbling to the floor, and practically fell against the door.

“Stay with her,” was all she said to Yelena before pushing all her weight against the door and breaking off into a run towards the house.

Natasha had run fast before. To escape Antonia, on countless SHIELD missions, and even to beat Sam in a race, but none amounted to this. The mountains and trees whipped by so fast that she felt like she was in a race car and it made her head spin. Nonetheless (and she thanked her extensive training for that), Natasha’s stamina held out and she ran through the house, tripping over things and knocking others over, until she reached Melina’s office.

At first, everything looked like a normal office space for a normal business woman, but the underlying science and spy secrecy that she knew had to be inside was revealed. Cabinets upon cabinets filled with vials upon vilas and files upon files. She scoured the entire room and nearly dropped the green-filled file when she saw its label. This was it.

A moment of victory passed until Natasha remembered the weight of the situation and she got back on her feet, running like the wind, and leaving behind the office looking like some raccoons had gotten inside.

By the time she reached the top of the hill, Natasha could make out the outline of Yelena carrying Y/N (who was draped over her like a curtain, by the way) toward her.

They met in the middle and Yelena put Y/N down, the older sisters kneeling beside her. Y/N was half-conscious at this point and Natasha moved at the speed of light to get the vial lid off. “She was getting worse, I couldn’t wait!” Yelena yelled.

When she got it open, Natasha pushed it towards Y/N’s lips. “Y/N, honey, c’mon, you gotta drink,” she encouraged, hand trembling as Y/N attempted to fight her off. It was only Yelena running her hands through her hair that calmed her down, and she took a small sip of the vial’s contents at first before gulping it down.

When she stopped squirming and seemed to no longer be in pain, instead falling into a peaceful sleep, that’s when both Natasha and Yelena had calmed down. It had been a rollercoaster, but they did it, and she was okay. The two held each other, relieved.

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jimines · 3 years

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Whats actually happened between you and taemaknae? I read about it on the tea blog and still confused

This is an insanely long story so I'm going to put it below the cut so for anyone interested in this absolute shit show, continue on.

Essentially, I posted these headers about a month ago:

It was a set of like 8 colours and it was the first time I had ever posted any headers or anything. The issue nic had with these, was the ripped paper bottom. Because apparently you can trademark that. I had asked a (now ex) “friend” of mine if she knew where I could find the ripped paper effect because I had seen the effect on the header of her network blog and I had been trying to find a similar thing for months and google images never gave me anything good. She ended up referring me to google images anyways and after like an hour of dedicated searching, I found this ripped paper effect and used it. This ex “friend” went on to tell another friend of mine that I had "asked where nicole gets her resources for her headers" and then screenshotted my dm as "proof", which still confuses me because I never mentioned nicole there lmao. I've seen the screenshot.

Tell me where I said nicole. It was literally just a question born from seeing the header they had on their network lmao. I feel it’s important to mention I didn’t know this person ran said network at that time, which is why i said “these people”.

This other friend then came to me and just said my headers "may be seen as similar to nic's” and said she noticed it on her own and never mentioned my other “friend” approaching her. I was confused because other than that ripped paper effect that I know many people on tumblr use, I saw no similarities. Nic's headers are usually more complex and more than just a coloured background with a little effect in it. I just wanted to make some simple headers for fun because I was bored. But, regardless, I messaged nic about it to make sure she didn't feel the same way. I told her a friend of mine was worried nic might think my headers are similar to her's and I assured her that if she found them similar I would take them down, no questions asked. Nic told me she was surprised this friend brought it up and told me that it was entirely up to me if I found the headers similar. She never once told me she felt they were the same, never mentioned anything about them, she insisted it was up to me to do as I pleased. So, since I genuinely found no similarities, I left them up.

About a week went by and things between nic and I were fine, or so I thought, based off the fact that she was interacting with my posts, sending me cute asks and replying to a lot of my comments and stuff being kind and whatnot. Then, I decided to post a small list of my creations and the series I had running at the time.

After that, all of a sudden I got an influx of rude hate anons:

To anyone I mentioned the anons to, they agreed with me, you cannot trademark circular icons. This anon also accused me saying “just the fact that you had an anxiety attack about it proves you copied them” Like no sweetie, it’s called three strangers walked into my house and I got anxious.

Despite me not seeing the issue, I messaged nic, assuming she wouldn't care about the icons (it wasn't like I was taking her exact work and copying and pasting them as my own) and that made her very upset. When she responded to me, she was incredibly heated and gave off the vibe she was waiting for me to message her about it.

She said things like "this has actually been bothering me for a while", "i expected you to be able to read between the lines and delete the headers", "i don't know who that anon was but clearly they recognize my style". For starters, she never told me that she was annoyed with me, she was being very kind to me publicly. And I have no idea how I was meant to “read between the lines” of what she said especially considering how kind she was to me the following days. I also never accused her of knowing this anon, she just insisted it wasn't her and she didn't know them right off the bat. She also insinuated that I copied my gifs from others as well, which ticked me off because I made my 100+ layer psd myself thank you very much. But I kept my cool, and I told her I had no idea she felt the way she did, and I told her I would delete the headers (which i did as the conversation was going on), and that I would stop posting my icons and bringing attention to them because no one ever paid it any mind before that point. And I asked her “please tell me straight up the next time you have an issue with me because I am generally pretty dumb with social cues”, I have my adhd to thank for that. And instead of replying, she just blocked me. And conveniently, the hate anons stopped dead right after we blocked each other and I haven't received any since.

Also, these are the kinds of icons I posted:

Looks pretty generic and idk, universal, right?

Then, as I've recently found out today, she was in an "anti-loverjimin" groupchat with at least 2 other bloggers.

Which explains why this all went and fell into place. I know who the two other bloggers are because of what happened two days later but I won't name them just yet, but these two people had been "friends" with me for several months. So, a day or two after nic blocked me, all of a sudden some good friends of mine were blocking me and not talking to me when I asked what was going on. I found out soon after it was because nicole and those two now ex “friends” of mine had taken old dms I sent them and were showing them to people. And I will go into detail about them but I won't name the people they are about for privacy reasons.

Before I move on, to clarify some lies nic has been spreading about me, I never once shit talked nicole to my friends. One of these ex friends also said I was trying to get people on my side. I would have reacted to this all very very differently if that were the case. I would be dragging everyone through the fucking dirt but I don't get off on drama or micromanaging what my mutuals do. My issues are with these people, if you're still friends with them that's your decision i could not care less. So, back to it, the only thing I said about nic was that she and I had a stupid small fight over icons and that she was spreading lies about me, based off of what nic said to jordan.

That exact message, or slight variations of it, was sent to anyone I interacted with because I didn't know if nic was going to stop at jordan or try and get to everyone I fucking knew lmao. Some of the people I messaged this to told ME nic had done this kind of thing before, that she has sent hate anons, launched hate campaigns, cancelled people, etc. Over stupid shit like icons lmao.

Here are some responses I received after I mentioned nicole:

And nic or one of her friends also took it upon themselves to send anons to that tea blog to blow shit up and named everyone and made it an even bigger mess when they saw no one was actively trying to fight me after the dms got out.

I also love that in this following ask, they named my two “friends” that were behind the whole dm drama and backstabbed me, as well as two other people I never badmouthed, that story was twisted. But we’ll get into those details shortly.

And she also told people I clout chased big blogs and only cared about notes. At one point, yes, I did care a lot about my statistics. However, never once did I think clout chasing was worth my fucking time or energy, Nic is the biggest clout chaser on this damn site and there are receipts of that, ask jordan lmao. And I couldn’t give two shits about my statistics anymore lmao, much less anxiety that way. Do I still crave validation sometimes? Sure. But it's not a driving force of my tumblr experience like it used to be.

But, moving on to the dms, the first one was sent when I first came back to tumblr full-time and didn't understand why people self reblogged things, I found the pretence of self reblogging annoying and greedy and I complained about it and it was a comment fuelled by two bloggers that i would see sr a lot on my dash. But I never thought THEY were annoying, as these people are saying I did, it was self reblogging I found annoying and as you can see I have come to understand why people sr and I do it myself too. I didn't even know these two bloggers at this time either. That dm was cropped to hide the fact that this "friend" agreed with me and hid the date as well so it seemed recent, and was sent to one of the bloggers I mentioned as an example, someone I had since become good friends with.

I didn’t befriend one of the people I mentioned there until mid to late June. That friendship is now over thanks to this drama and all the lies. The second friend of mine they went after was never spoken about in dms, they went and turned her against me through lies and manipulation so that friendship has ended too. And while those two were doing that, nic went off to try and turn jordan against me.

There was a particular user on here that I did say some nasty things about but we weren't friends, as many people have been made to believe. I was particularly mad at this person in those dms and was hurtful, I admit, and I have since apologized and owned up to all of it to these people. I did call them fake and/or two-faced.

And what in the gassing me up bullshit was their response though lmao. I also sent this following dm before I even talked about the issue with this person. They urged me to continue and to name drop the person, and I stupidly thought they were trustworthy.

My reasoning for what I said wasn't unwarranted though, I don't make a habit of going around shit-talking people, unless they do something to me first. I vent when I am upset and this person had sent me a passive aggressive ask and then denied sending it when I asked and I thought that was just very fake, especially since she was so kind to me in dms before the ask came in. But all of these dms were cropped too to hide timestamps and responses, and in most cases, like those screenshots prove, these "friends" either gassed me up or egged me on to continue ranting or to name the people i was mad at and they had agreed with me on several, several occasions. Turns out they were trying to get dirt on me to use in their cancel campaign. But the point is, nic has made me out to be this horrible person that befriends "big blogs" (an overrated statement) and then shit talks them behind their back without remorse. Yet it was one person I said rude things about and I, again, owned up to it all and apologized to them the first day. I would've done it sooner had I a) remembered feeling the way I did all those months ago or remembered the dms themselves or b) felt that way still after meeting them. But neither is the case.

I find it really amusing though that these people wanted things to be kept quiet and didn’t want anyone they spoke to to talk to me about it because I was going to “out them on my blog” and “make a big scene”, then they three went and made it a big fucking scene and ruined my friendships. I’m familiar with this pattern of manipulation as it has happened to me in real life before and it’s the most childish bullshit to witness.

Before this callout day for nic, I had never once been directly rude to or about her, same goes for those ex “friends” that betrayed my trust and friendship. The fact that they plotted against me in a group chat while still actively talking to me and being all buddy buddy is just disgusting. Both of them were talking to me that day at the same time they were sharing the dms and shit-talking me to my friends. But yeah, that's my side, the untwisted side, of the whole story. I tried to be mature and talk to nic and when I didn't do what she wanted me to do, she blocked me and launched the hate campaign with dms and the power of photoshop. I’ve been hesitant to make any of this public because it was meant to be a silent ordeal but I’ve grown tired of her constantly publicizing everything without consequence while I remain silent like I promised.

#anon #replied💌#tw:negativity #drama #long post #read at your own risk aha #its a shit show #idc if you rb it #pinning temporarily for the next day(sih)#ish*#edited with screenshots and whatnot that i forgot i had on my phone lmao

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