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thewertsearch · 2 months

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Second part of the giga-ask compilation!

@publicuniversalworstie asked: Why assume the Horrorterrors would know that changing events would create a doomed timeline? That assumes both A) that the horrorterrors know the future and B) that they don't think it can really be changed. Maybe they genuinely thought they could change things, such as by perhaps fulfilling all the requisite loops a different way? Imagine a scenario where a time traveler learns of their death, therefore being destined to die, and instead fake their death to create the conditions under which they learned of the death originally.

It's possible. But if the Horrorterrors do have a way to trick the Alpha Timeline like that, then they've really been holding out on us by not mentioning it to the Players. Such a revelation would completely change the game - we might even be able to fake the Earth's death.

Anonymous asked: i want to learn more about coding to analyze homestuck better - do you have a place i could start? resources? idk love the liveblog hope you're doin well :]

Absolutely! I've got two separate answers for you, depending on what your goal is here.

If your main goal is just to analyse Homestuck, then you’re probably best off picking a language whose syntax is easy to understand, such as Python. You'll pick up on the basic logic pretty quickly, and the ~ATH snippets will start to make a lot more sense.

If you’re actually interested in programming for its own sake, then I recommend you start with my own first language, C. It’s a lot harder for a newbie to get to grips with, but doing so will give you a much more solid theoretical foundation then ostensibly ‘easier’ languages.

W3schools is a decent starting resource for both languages - but if you need more specific guidance, let me know, and I'd be happy to help!

@skelekingfeddy asked: actually grubmom having the same color wires as in that pic of sahlee wasnt intentional! i based it on how sollux’s game grubs have red and blue wires attached to them

Serendipity!

Anonymous asked: Did you run any mysterious ~ath programs on that computer of yours?

Honestly, running ATH on that thing would probably have improved it.

Anonymous asked: One voice headcanon I have for Terezi is the English dub of Power from Chainsaw man

Honestly, she sounds pretty much exactly how I imagine Terezi does. She even has the horns!

@martinkhall asked: I'm surprised none of the suggested instruments for a time player were an ocarina.

Some fruit is just too low-hanging.

@delicate-ruins asked: what's an animal you like that you think doesn't show up very much in media, be it fiction or news or just generally? example: i like secretary birds. but except for videos about them, i have never heard them references.

They're not obscure, per se, but there will never be enough sloths in media. The only fictional sloth of note is Sid from Ice Age – and he does not do them justice.

Capybaras are also underrated as hell – so much so that LibreOffice, which I'm using to edit this compilation, doesn’t even recognize the word as real!

Anonymous asked: “I’m trying to figure out if it’s fully a Breath outfit, or if there’s some Heir stuff too.” the general rule for god tier outfits is that the colors and symbol represent the aspect, the clothes represent the class. so, for example, if two princes of different aspects ascended, their clothing style would be the same but they would a have different color scheme. @skaiandestiny asked: If you haven't already figured it out, class informs the godtier outfit and aspect informs the colors and icon!

In that case, there is something about John’s outfit that says ‘heir’ – but nothing really stands out to me.

@driventopoison asked: Hey, I don't know if it's just me but it seems like you've skipped ahead. I have been following your liveblog daily, but I haven't seen you come across the windy thing yet. Is this because you were using the app or something? Also just want to let you know that I love your liveblog. Keep up the good work!

Thank you! Anyway, John’s Windy Thing is indeed documented on the liveblog, and it’s visible to me. I was using the app for some of that segment, though – are app-made posts particularly buggy?

@classpecting-guide-official asked: story about a modded game of sburb where the characters notice that something isn't right and slowly realize that their world is a lie

Back in Act 1, this is pretty much what I thought was happening. It was a simpler time.

@ignis-cain asked: Note the colors the capslock flashes for WV.

When WV locks his capsule, the button’s light flashes red and green – but I’m not sure what the significance of these colors is, in this situation.

Anonymous asked: i know i'm SUPER late to answer this, but i think the instantiation thing is the same as any video game, newly made with a prebaked history. when you name your character, that has been their name for their whole life, even though you thought it up a few seconds ago. when you enter the medium, the planet has a history and the denizens have memories, even though they just showed up when you entered.

Yeah, I’m pretty sure this is indeed what’s going on. The implications are just a lot more wild when the game is physically real, rather than virtual!

@kintatsu asked: So, I know I'm a little late to the party, but I have to point out: Alternian sunlight doesn't need to be THAT much stronger than Earth's to blind Terezi as quickly as it did. Trolls are nocturnal, which means they almost definitely have a tapetum lucidum (eyeshine membrane), which means that however much light entered Terezi's eyeballs? Her retinas were blasted by every photon twice.

Damn, Vriska. For a second, I thought this ask was explaining why Terezi wasn't in as much pain as I'd thought - but this alternate explanation might actually be worse than what I was picturing!

@delicate-ruins asked: It's delightful to see somebody read Homestuck and be as charmed by it as I and a lot of my friends were way back when we first read it, and the calm, digesting pace at which you're enjoying it is honestly so nice. I rushed way too much to catch up since my friends recommended it in about 2016, which means I went from knowing nothing about the comic to being caught up on it in like a week. I never sat down with the ideas and thought "hey, does this mean XYZ?" because quite often I got the answer five seconds later as I rushed to catch up. But seeing you asking those questions is so so fun. Yeah, DOES it mean that?? Guess we'll find out! In the meantime, we get to guess, which means we basically get to have fun twice. It's reigniting my enjoyment of homestuck quite significantly, I think!

Thank you! It’s really nice to be able to engage in a dialogue about the comic through these asks, which is something that wouldn't be possible if I was speeding through it. As I always say, I'm here for a good time and a long time.

@manorinthewoods asked: Alright, here's another transtimeline fun fact. Each of the kids was supposed to have a Quest related to their associated material - John had a land covered in oil, Rose's ocean was polluted with chalk, the gears of LOHAC were gummed by amber, and LOFAF was in a nuclear winter. Ultimately, while the ocean of LOLAR is still chalky, nothing but John's oil made the cut. ~LOSS (16/5/23)

I think it was a good change, then. Not everything has to be a pattern, and Dave's two weird maybe-quests are a lot more unique and interesting than a generic 'materials quest'.

@captorations asked: oh hey, this walkaround! so funny story, i used to run a blog where i posted one of terezi’s canon appearances each day, in order. yes, i completed my task, and more besides. however! when i was wandering through this as terezi, a glitch rendered me trapped. i decided that this counted as a noteworthy appearance, and took a screenshot. then, by sheer coincidence, it ended up being posted on… halloween. it was pretty great (also don’t forget to check out ctrl + t)

You accessed the double-secret version of Past Karkat: Wake Up, which plays the Earthbound Halloween Hack version of Megalovania rather than the Homestuck one.

Anonymous asked: Personally, I think John gaining so many levels so quickly is tied to his role as the heir - he gains so many levels without really trying, not because he's better than the trolls or his friends, but because he just kind of falls into it. The game rewards him for taking the path of least resistance.

That certainly makes sense if we just look at John - but I have trouble reconciling this interpretation with our other Heir. Equius certainly has some advantages, but they aren't exactly unique to him, as you'd expect them to be if his Heir class was responsible for them.

Yes, he's a highblood, but he's outranked by three non-Heirs - and his strength doesn't seem to be unique either, as Feferi seems capable of similar feats. Perhaps Equius will trip and fall into more unique privilege, but it hasn't happened yet.

Anonymous asked: my personal headcanons for midnight crew claspects: Slick - Prince of Blood, Droog - Mage of Space, Boxcars - Knight of Heart, Deuce - Bard of Doom. knowing you youre probably gonna attempt to analyse these LOL

Slick has had ties to Blood since he first met Karkat, so that tracks - and Boxcars is a shipper, so Nepeta's aspect is probably the best fit for now. I'm not sure about the other two, but I'll revisit them later!

#asks #full liveblog #act 5.2

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rosiehrs · 1 year

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↳ ❝ FANWARS | 47. uh oh (written)

word count ; 1.4k [not proofread]

you sat on your front porch, patiently waiting for yunjin to arrive. you knew the girl was still learning how to drive and you’ve heard stories from eunchae about ‘near-death experiences’ they’ve had from her driving. you were quite confident that you’d be a better driver, even without having a single driving lesson. 15 minutes had passed and you were still waiting for the american girl to show up, you felt your heart start to hurt from the lack of money you’d end up with after this outing - coming to terms with the fact that you’d probably have to buy everyone lunch. just as you were about to head back inside, a car pulled up in front of your house.

“get in!” yunjin greeted as she rolled her window down. she looked uneasy like she had just survived death. (which she did)

looking down to hide the grin on your face, you got into the passenger’s seat wordlessly. she turned her head to look at you and felt herself calm down, with that - she turned her head back to the road and started driving.

the ride was awkward and silent, neither of you knowing how to break the ice. yunjin felt disappointed with herself, why couldn’t she say anything to you? where did her confidence and charm go? on the other hand, you were enjoying how tense she was, you noticed the way her knuckles turned white as she gripped the steering wheel and how she gulped every time she stole a glance at you from the rearview mirror. you laughed softly as she cursed at the driver in front of her.

“you look good.” she finally spoke breathily, letting go of the breath she had been holding. looking out the window to hide the smile on your face, you replied, “thanks..” awkwardness took over the air and you decided you should probably help ease your driver. “you look good, too, asshat.”

blood rushed to her face as she heard your words, clearing her throat she muttered a quiet thanks.

“you know you never got back to me about that one night.” you started nonchalantly.

“what night?”

“the night you asked me if i liked yuna.”

yunjin’s ears perked up at the mention of your conversation. “i’m, uh- it was nothing.” you scoffed at the american, flicking her thigh. “you’re a shitty liar, i asked you what you meant and you just ignored me.”

“i don’t wanna talk about it.” yunjin hissed, stepping on the gas. “yeah, you never want to talk about anything.”

her eyebrows furrowed at your response, “what’s that supposed to mean?” she replied, sounding offended.

“it means you’re the reason our relationship hasn’t gone anywhere.”

with that, jennifer lost concentration on the road and lost grip of the steering wheel, “our what?!”

quickly, you placed your hands over hers, urging her to keep her hands on the wheel. “yunjin! eyes, hands and mind on the road, you fucking idiot!”

“well you can’t just spring that out on me and expect me not to react!”

“i didn’t mean that kind of relationship, you twat! i meant like a friendship!”

the shock you were both feeling had distracted you from the fact that your hands were still over hers. yunjin felt her face heat up as she briefly looked down at the wheel. “then be clear about it, you asshole.”

“my god, you’re insufferable.” you huffed, letting go of her hands and crossing your arms in your seat. “you know, you’re so lucky you’re attractive. i would’ve absolutely murdered you, but unfortunately i like looking at your face.”

jennifer choked on air hearing your words, “i- bro shut the fuck up. you’re not the one who’s supposed to be having rizz here. pretend i’m the one who said that.”

“you’re stupid.”

“and you’re weird.”

“no, you know what’s weird? driving with no music, who are you? even my grandpa listens to music while driving.”

“can you shut the fuck up? it’s so i don’t get distracted and die!”

“oh right, cause you don’t have a license. how could i ever forget? nice to meet you, by the way, rachel.”

“hey, at least i’m learning! i’m not the passenger princess here.”

the awkwardness was easily left behind as the both of you spent the whole ride arguing, neither of you forgetting to drop flirtatious comments every now and then.

you walked to the restaurant you all agreed to eat at (eunchae’s choice), giggling to yourselves after a silly comment yunjin made. as you walked in, eunchae’s ears perked up at the sound of your laughs.

“unnis, unnis, unnis!!! someone record this now! me! i’ll do it!” she excitedly spoke, taking her phone out and pressing record immediately. the rest of the group turned to eunchae’s point of view, understanding why the youngest was so happy.

“holy shit, me too - i need this.” yujin said before taking her phone out.

“oh em gee, they’re so cute!!” hanni happily commented, clapping her hands at the pair.

the two of you were still lost in your conversation and hadn’t see your friends’ table. “over here, lovebirds!” chaewon called out, catching your attention. you felt your face warm up and yunjin’s face evidently reddened. you made your way to them and sat down opposite each other without commenting on what she had just called you.

“unnis! you came together? how? when? why? what happened?” eunchae immediately interrogated, causing you to laugh. “ah, yunjin picked me up.”

“she drove here?!”

“she picked you up?!

“y/n, are you okay?! did you guys get here safely?! why didn’t you just call us?! i would’ve picked you guys up!” sakura worriedly went on, checking if you were injured and then scolding yunjin afterwards. “jennifer, you don’t have a license! you nearly crashed the last time you drove!”

“unni, i know. don’t worry! we’re fine and we’re here! see, i’m not so bad.”

“yeah, other than the time you nearly swerved into another lane and got us killed on the way here.”

“WHAT?!”

everyone watched happily as the two of you interacted well. eunchae couldn’t wipe the huge and adorable smile off her face as she watched the both of you talk and laugh. she never thought seeing the both of you would bring her so much joy, but at that point - she just wished you got married right then and there.

as you talked about something funny that happened with yujin and zuha - yunjin kept her eyes on you and found herself listening intently. her smile widened as you laughed at the memory of yujin making a fool of herself and yujin trying to defend herself saying it wasn’t as bad as you were making it seem.

she didn’t realise how much she loved seeing your smile or hearing your laugh - but now that she knew, it’s all she wanted to hear and see. she felt nothing but warmth in your presence and it gave her more of a reason to be around you.

after eating lunch, the group collectively decided to split up as everyone wanted different things for dessert. “y/n/n, what do you want?” zuha asked.

y/n was looking down at her phone, typing away. “huh? oh, i might go get cream puffs from that one place downstairs.”

“i want donuts, all my donuts girls rise!” eunchae said, bringing her fist up. the group laughed at manchae’s tactics and decided on the groups they’d go in.

“ah, i’m gonna make a quick stop before i get dessert. i’ll catch up with you guys though yeah?”

“sure, y/n. just update us, okay?” you smiled and nodded at sakura before walking off, head still looking down at your phone.

yunjin stared at you with curiosity, but thought not to question it.

yunjin and chaewon went down to get ice cream and the rest split off to get donuts.

chaewon and yunjin were bickering about something until they stopped by a clothing shop they were immediately intrigued by. yunjin was busy looking in the shop as chaewon stood outside. she looked out and saw you in the distance. “oh, there she is. what is she-”

her voice got caught in her throat as she saw another figure with you.

“is that-” then the next second, the person placed their hands on your cheek and connected your lips into a kiss.

“oh my god,” she turned around with the intention of dragging yunjin away before she could see, but she bumped into the girl standing behind her.

“yunjin,” she started apologetically. the said girl stood there, watching you with blank eyes. she blinked a few times before looking down at chaewon.

the warmth she said she felt around you had slowly begun to disperse, instead it was replaced with something colder, something grey.

“did, uh, should we go get that ice cream?”

previous | masterlist | next

SUMMARY - yunjin (an army) and y/n (a blink) have fallen into the stereotype of not being able to get along, continuously starting fanwars- but only with each other..?

a/n - THE END WAS SO DRAMATIC FOR NO REASON, IM THROWING UP

+ taglist !! (send an ask to be added) @invusblog @yumtooki @babycubchae @fav9yu @en-chantedtomeetyou @kittyeij @captivq @elyds @skisk1 @sserafimez @silantryoo @baerinaa @lizseos @ahnneyong @diestheticu @falling-intoo-deep @misumiausworld @luvkait @lcv3lies @wonyoungsvirus @lost-leopard-beanie @doitab @dexthzone @https-f4iryjin @juhyunsthirdwife @luvvbugs @huhjxn @soobstvrs @lil-tigers-world @myothegreat @pretty-pretty-ela @xuimhao @nshimura @kikelikesmc @cwpiqwon @j-wyoung

#huh yunjin x reader #yunjin x reader #le sserafim x reader #kpop x reader #fanwars smau

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skipper1331 · 10 months

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World Cup Loss // Mary Fowler

a/n: based off this request.

"Baby, look what your mom just sent me!" you shouted as you made your way over to Mary who was sitting on the couch with her laptop on her lap. "Show me" your body flopped next to her as she closed her laptop.

It was a picure of the two of you after a u20s game. Mary had her arm around your torso while you talked to her dad. Your faces were still a little sweaty, a result from playing 90 minutes but nonetheless you looked beautiful. Mary had the biggest heart eyes as she looked at you, smiling widely.

Everyone around could see that Mary was so in love with you.

"Why didn‘t she sent me that picture?" the striker pouted.

"She loves me moreeee" you replied, cheeky. "She does" Mary agreed as she pulled your legs over her lap, her eyes like on the picture: heart eyes.

"Because you‘re one of a kind-"

Your bubble was broken when your phone rang, both of you looking at it. "Coach. What shall I do? Oh god. Mary, what shall I do?" You shoved your phone right in front of her face, waving nervously with it.

"Take it, love" her voice was calm - the complete opposite of you, you were panicking.

You accepted the call while you stood up, "Hello," internally hitting yourself at the weird greeting with your quevering voice.

The world stopped.

Your face went pale whilst you could just listen to Tony Gustavsson.

"Thank you… yes… have nice day!" were your last and only words before you hung up, your phone slipping out of your hand.

"My love? Are you alright? What happened?"

Mary turned you around so she could look at you - herself standing. "I did it," you whispered in disbelief, "I really did it. I‘m in the squad."

"Baby! That‘s amazing! I‘m so proud of you" she hugged you in a death grip, spinning you around. Utterly in shock, you couldn‘t even hug her back.

Not even two seconds later after she‘d put you down her phone started ringing.

'Tony Gustavsson'

"My phone! Argh! What shall I say?" Now, she was the one panicking - you calm. "Take it" you repeated her words, your hand finding hers.

Mary was shaking slightly yet smiling, nodding along. "Thank you! Bye!"

"We‘re going to the World Cup, baby!" squealing, she picked you, your legs wrapping around her waist as you held her face. "I‘m so so proud of you," each word said between kisses.

"We‘ve been dreaming about this since we‘re little. Baby, we‘re going to a World Cup!"

Her lips found yours, kissing them passionately. All you could think about was Mary, the way her lips felt on your own. The slow movements of her tongue made you go crazy, desiring more. Pulling away, your lover attached her lips to your neck, sucking on a certain spot where she knew it made you weak. "Mary" you whimpered, breathlessly, your hips grinding against her while her hands rested on your bum.

"I love you, i love you so much"

Australia vs Ireland

Starting XI, Mary and you made it. You were in the lineup. Nervous wouldn‘t even describe what you felt when you entered the changing room. You were jittery and excited, you couldn't sit still for a minute, not even when Mary braided your hair like she always did.

The feeling to walk on the pitch, a complete nation behind you who supported you was absolutely amazing. It was just wow.

When Steph slotted that penalty, the whole stadium went crazy as well you did. You jumped screaming on your teammates, overcome with joy.

The first goal of many, hopefully.

The next game was against Nigeria, Mary was on the bench while you were in the starting lineup. It was a rough game, you couldn’t do more than assist Emily to make it 1-0 yet shortly after, the draw was made.

It was 1-1 at half time - nobody was happy. At the 60th minute, you got subbed off, not happy with your performance. You took a seat next to Mary who was watching you closely. She wanted to tell you that she was proud of you but she didn‘t, she remained silent. She knew the signs. She knew when the right moment was to say something to you or when it was better to be quiet. In that moment, it was better to be quiet, to just be there.

5 minutes after your substitution, Nigeria went in the lead with 2-1. To be honest, you didn‘t know how to feel. This was the group stage everything was possible. And it was dangerous. You hoped that your team would make it 2-2 but then Oshoala made it 3 to 1. Your teammates looked exhausted but still determined. They had hope - you had hope.

In the 90+10th minute Alanna made the score line 3-2 but it wasn‘t enough. Australia had lost by one goal.

You laid in Marys arms, searching for comfort. Why didn't you play better? "I can hear your thoughts," the striker whispered, your legs tangled together as she played with your hair, "You need to believe, my love. I‘ll promise you we‘ll make it past the group stage"

And you did.

Canada vs Australia, you had to win. Everyone was confident. Australia could do it. The fighting spirit of each individual player was there, the communication and tactics worked and the 1-0 came by. Hayley Raso scoring a banger. The stands erupted in cheers and 20 minutes later, the one and only Hayley Raso scored again.

2-0

If you thought the stadium was loud before, hell no, now, every fan was screaming at the top of their lungs.

Despite the fact that the score was 2-0 at half-time, Canada shouldn't be underestimated. Canada had world class players like Sinclair, Fleming, Leon and many more. The whole squad was full of top players. But Australia played at its best. As the 58th minute came, it was the time to shine for your girlfriend, this time for real. Her goal counted. You were the first to jump on her as your teammates followed. "THAT‘S MY GIRL!" you yelled, not only you and your teammates but the whole nation was proud. You wanted to kiss her - you didn‘t. This was a world cup match, not a place to kiss. Yet she would receive that well deserved kiss later.

Last but not least Steph made the score 4-0. You kind of felt sorry for Canada but this was a World Cup.

After the game you talked to some canadian players and comforted them. Yes, you were happy you won but seeing the others cry hurt a bit, you knew a lot of them.

At the end you swapped your shirt with Jessie Fleming as a reminder. You didn't mean to be mean in any way, it was common to swap shirts and the Canadian jerseys looked really nice, to be honest.

Behind closed doors you kissed Mary, you kissed her like the proud girlfriend you were. You kissed her the way she deserved to be kissed.

And she kissed you like you were the only one, she kissed you like she would lose you. You laid in bed, kissing and holding each other. You made it past the group stage. "You were right," you mumbled in her neck, half asleep, "We made it"

"I promised you, my girl. You know I never break my promises." She pressed a gentle kiss to your head before she fell in to a slumber, exhausted from the day.

Round of 16.

Some people thought that wasn‘t much but this wasn't true at all. It was already the first knock-out game in a world championship where nobody went down without a fight. Everyone tried to do their best as a team and individual. And for Australia's luck (and talent) it went 1-0, Caitlin Foord scoring and Hayley Raso making it 2-0. The team was overcome with joy. They survived their first Knock-out match and were about to play in a quarterfinal - against France. Tough call. France was a top team.

The game started with you on the bench and Mary in the starting XI, she looked so good.

The perfect chance came in the 40th minute for Australia. The french goalkeeper besides the goal, Mary shooting. Out of nowhere came de Almeida who managed to prevent the goal. Your heart stood still for a moment as well of your teammates on the bench, basically everyones heart stopped beating for a moment in the stadium. Everyone thought the ball was going in for sure but it didn‘t. Mary was angry and disappointed yet it wasn't a reason to give up, you had to admit de Almeida did a really great job defending the goal.

0-0 at half time.

0-0 at the 90th minute.

Extra time.

You were subbed on but couldn't help to make the lead. It was going in to penalties. Australia was nervous but determined.

France started but missed.

Foord 1-0

Diani 1-1

Catley 1-1

Renard 1-2

Kerr 2-2

Le Sommer 2-3

Fowler 3-3

At this point you were a nervous wreck, holding on to your teammates, praying that you would win.

Périsset 3-3

Macca on fire!

Arnold 3-3

Geyoro 3-4

Gorry 4-4

Karchaoui 4-5

Yallop 5-5

Lakrar 5-6

Carpenter 6-6

Dali 6-6

Macca saving not once but twice.

Hunt 6-6

Gosh, your heart couldn‘t take it anymore.

Bècho 6-6

Steph and Sam both looked at you. You had to take that penalty. You've never been a fan of penalties, you've either shot over the goal or hit the post and now you should take the winning penalty. They were crazy. Your face should have told them that you didn't want to, that you couldn't but you had no other choice. You had to do it. Slowly, you walked to the penalty area, many cameras were pointed at you, the whole world could see how nervous you were. However, once you had put the ball on the spot, your whole face changed. Your face was stone cold, no sign of nervousness.

Mary was sweating, hoping, wishing. You had to do this. For your own sake and Australias.

You took three steps back, one to the side.

The world stopped, Durand dived right and your shot went left. You scored!

Y/L/N 7-6

Australia made it. They‘re in the semi-final. Your whole team jumped on you, shouted roars of passion, feeling energetic.

In the locker room, Macca and you in the middle of the circle as everyone sang and danced around you. They celebrated you. Mary watched you closely, she felt so much joy - seeing you, winning, about to play in a semi-final. As you stretched out your hand for Mary to join you she instead pulled you close, kissing you in the middle of the changing room. Your friends wolf-whistled while your cheeks turned red.

"I love you"

You had lost against England.

Toone scored first, wasn‘t great but Australia still had a chance then in the 63rd minute Sam equalized.

71st minute, Hemp 1-2

86th minute, Russo 1-3

It hurt, tears streamed down your face as you pulled your shirt over your head, sitting defeated on the grass. You wanted to hide from the world, you gave everything and it wasn't enough. You didn‘t know what to do. You wanted to be at Marys side but couldn‘t move. "I‘m sorry," Alex Greenwood whispered as she had her hand on you neck, squatted down. She was like a mentor to you, a big sister, one of the first people who made Machester feel like home, "I‘m proud of you" she gave your forehead a kiss before she left you alone. Esme, Chloe and Lauren giving you a hug which you appreciated. You left as soon as you could, you didn‘t listened what Gustavsson said, you couldn‘t. It fell to death ears. You wanted to go home.

Mary felt devastated, heart broken.

That night, you laid in each others arms, holding on to one another as if the other would disappear. There was so much to say but neither of you could. Silent tears were rolling down your faces, fingertips wiping them away, softly.

For hours you laid in silence, seeking comfort in the touch of your lover. "I don‘t know what to say," Mary whispered, her hands holding your waist in manner of comfort, "i have so much to say but i don‘t have the words…"

"I know.."

"It- it just hurts, so much. I couldn’t do anything to help the team. And- and looking at you hurts because you- you look so sad while you probably feel the same. I don‘t know."

Your thumb caressed her cheek as a single tear rolled out of her eye. "I‘m so proud of you, Mary. It's not optimal how it went, for sure but other nations didn't even make it that far. At the end of the day, we can be proud of ourselves even if it hurts," you whispered, "We can win 3rd place"

You didn‘t. Australia had lost 2-0 against Sweden. It stung.

This time, Mary was by your side. She didn‘t want to be anywhere else. She hugged you as if her life depened on it, crying in your neck. You wanted to whisper sweet nothings in her ear like you always did when she cried but you couldn‘t. You grieved as well. Seeing Sweden get their medals hurt, seeing all those happy faces while you felt pain yet Sweden deserved it, they played fantastic, no matter if some fouls happened. As you watched their ceremony the complete Australia team sat on the ground, looking exhausted and broken. Mary had her arm around you, needing to feel your touch to somehow ease her pain, as your head rested on her shoulder. Comforting one another.

"love?" you asked. She squeezed your hip to let you know she was listening. "Do I think I can ask Rolfö for her shirt?"

Fridolina Rolfö was one of your favorite players, she was just wow, you liked the way she played and her unique talent. Though you didn‘t know If it was the right time to ask her yet you didn‘t know when or If you would ever play against her again.

Chuckling at your admiration torwards the blonde, your lover pulled you close, "Go for it, baby." You looked at her, a smile covering your face.

"Do you think she‘ll give it to me?"

"You have to find out"

Your teammates swarmed out to talk to a few of the swedish players (Steph talked to Stina, Sam with Magda,…).

Yes, you lost an important game but that didn't mean you don't show respect or sportsmanship to your friends.

Nervously, you made your way to Rolfö, "Hi?" your voice was shaking. "Hey!" the tall blonde greeted you, smiling fondly at you, "Umm do- do you wanna swap shirts? With me?" Awkward! Mary watched you, laughing to herself at your nervous state. She could imagine what you just said. "Sure! I‘d love to" Rolfö replied, already taking off her shirt. You turned around, respecting her privacy - there was none in the stadium but still, you respected her and Mary. You took off your jersey as well, handing it to her as you swapped. "Th-thank you" gosh, you were an awkward mess. To be fair, who wouldn‘t?? She pulled you in a hug, thanking you for your shirt and the game before you walked to your girlfriend who grinned. "Fridolina Rolfö just hugged me" you said, not believing what happened.

Back at the hotel, the team ate together before everyone went to their rooms. Your pain wasn‘t away and maybe it would never go away but you would come back stronger, the whole team would.

You were already laying in bed as Mary joined you, her head rested on your chest as her hand laid on your stomach, tracing patterns. "I love you" she whispered, feeling the urge to tell you. Her mind was back at the match, what she could‘ve done better. "Look at me" her eyes found yours, they looked so sad "I‘m disappointed, too. We wanted more and we could‘nt achieve it. It‘ll hurt for a while but we changed this sport forever. Look at us, look at Australia, look at all the little girls, we can be proud"

"When did you become so wise?"

"it’s always been in my nature" giggling, she started tickling you. Hovering above you, she stared at you with so much love, the same way as on the picture her mom sent you which was also her wallpaper, by the way, the same way like all those years ago: with heart eyes.

The out-come of the World Cup wasn‘t the result you wanted but at the end of the day you could be proud of yourselves.

The Matildas would come back stronger.

—————————

#mary fowler #mary fowler x reader #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #matildas #wwc23 #australia women #man city women #auswnt #auswnt x reader

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gingerjunhan · 8 months

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boyfriend headcannons - goo gunil

☆彡 I felt burnt out after working on an essay all day, so what did I do? Went to my dorm and wrote some more! I’ve seen other blogs do little series like this with groups, so I wanted to give it a try! I hope you all enjoy!

word count: 777 | pronouns used: they/them | genre: fluff, established relationship | cws: reader is called “beautiful,” cringe moments /pos, swearing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of death (in a joking way), my delulu thoughts, all caps, lmk if I missed anything else!

next member →

Gunil strikes me as they type of boyfriend that would try to make your life feel like a rom-com

he definitely strikes me as one of the more romantic ones in the group, but probably in a more goofy way than Jungsu or Seungmin would be (but more on that later)

yes he’s buying you flowers every time he passes a flower stand

yes he leaves those cheesy little notes about how beautiful and perfect you are in your lunch that you take to school or work

yes he reminds you every day that you’re quite literally the light of his life and he wouldn’t be the same person without you

but I truly believe this man can get weird

like, very very strange

in the most endearing way… he’s cringe

let’s unpack that

starting off strong:

“Good morning sunshine!”

some find that cringe, but I’m kicking my feet so 🧍🏻‍♀️

the pet names… oh god the pet names

I know I have a whole fic on this topic already but I feel the need to say more for Gunil

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, “sweetums”

“precious”

I’m sorry but he gives me “bubs”/“bubby” vibes

listen I don’t hate that one as much as other people okay hear me out

“angel” probably happens on rare occasions

I could go on

he may be cringe but he is free!

but it’s okay because you totally call him silly names back

you love him no matter what

you know who else loves him?

your parents

he’s shaking hands and being overly friendly, and your parents are eating it up!!!!

let's say you bring him over for dinner:

“You have such a lovely home!”

“Do you need help with anything? I can set the table!”

“The meal was amazing. (Y/N) clearly didn’t get their cooking skills from you!”

“Gunil what the hell-“

the next time your parents invite him over he definitely shows up with dessert, wine, a side dish, something

he 100% gets the parental stamp of approval 👍🏻

okay I’m sorry but we need to talk about Gunil and intimacy keeping it G y’all c’mon now

he :(( is the sweetest :(((( ever :(

he knows he’s strong so he tries to be so gentle with you

if you want him to hold you tight he absolutely will

but Gunil strikes me as a soft intimacy type of guy!!

soft, calming, long hugs

sweet compliments whispered between you during a cuddle secession

cuddle secessions :(

if he doesn’t cuddle with you before bed he literally acts like he’s on the brink of death

gently holding your hand at almost all times

like I’ve said, I think Gunil likes PDA

so he’s got a grip on your hand at all times in public

I also think that Gunil would be the type to wash your hair for you

I’m melting right now

imagine it like,,,, oh my god

Gunil knows you’ve been stressed and he can see how hard you’re working and how much the stress is affecting you so he offers to help you relax

he runs a nice bath for you

lights a few candles

and then if you’re comfortable with it he’s right by your side, absolutely pampering you and washing your hair :(

can we tell that he’s been bias wrecking me really really hard lately? yes? okay

but these gentle moments don’t last forever

he’s you’re hype man all the time every day

“You look so good baby! I love your outfit today! C’mon, give me a spin- OH MY GOSH youlooksogood!”

gives you those hugs where he gets really excited and picks you up and spins you in circles

Gunil definitely gives me the vibe that he would totally put his full body weight on you if you wanted him to

just *plop*

okay okay so we all know how Gunil is the only member of xh who can drive yes?

do you think he like,, does the thing? 🤭 when he puts the car in reverse? 🤭 because guys I think he does 🤭

I’m a firm believer in the fact that Gunil would quite literally be the most perfect man on the face of the earth (totally unbiased opinion!)

he always encourages you to try new things- even if they scare you- and always reach for your goals!!

he’s so supportive and full of love for you and he’s gonna be by your side every step of the way and MAN I JUST LOVE HIM SO MUCH—

final closing thought but imagine sitting on his lap while he teaches you how to play drums EEE okay I need to stop

#xdinary heroes x reader #xdinary heroes imagine #xdh x reader #xdh imagines #xdh fluff #xdh scenarios #gunil x reader

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sweetwriter · 5 months

Text

Second Chance: Chapter 1

Single dad! Bakugou x Black! Reader

Chapter 1

“So yer the beautiful teacher Kasumi always rambles on about” Is what Bakugou wanted to say, instead he looks at her hand. YN is a little confused by his standoffish behavior compared to his daughters extroverted personality.

“Well, it was a pleasure to meet you,” YN smiles generously and then looks down to the child who has a death grip on her leg, “Kasumi make sure to say your goodbyes and have everything, wouldn’t want you to hurry and leave without your high fives and hugs from your papa right?”

“RIGHT” She said a little loud- she has a little trouble with speaking really loud, I need to work on that, thought Katsuki.

“Alright papa, high five and hugs before Ms. YN starts.”

Kasumi loves Ms. YN with as much love a four year old can have for someone. Something just clicked in her mind, that Ms. YN is someone that she loved more than anything besides her papa, of course.

As he heads out he hears someone call his name, “Mr. Bakugou, I completely forgot, just in case you are not her pick up-“

“Who said I wasn’t?” He snapped. His eyes widening and he clears his throat, “I uh, I am picking Kasumi up today” God he felt stupid, felt like he was back in highschool, defensive when he was nervous. She made him so nervous, he wanted to impress her. The glorious and fantastic Ms. YN, the woman his little Kasumi loved. Four year olds love super hero’s and cartoon animals, not Kasumi. Bakugou felt like their first impression was going like shit, and he wasn’t wrong.

YN felt like Bakugou rubbed her the wrong way- stand offish and now rude. This isn’t going as planned. He was the “fantastic” father of Kasumi. The greatest person to ever live, in her eyes. She wanted to show him that she was a capable teacher that loved his daughter, but apparently she is showing herself to be incapable.

Clearly, they're both very incorrect

“Ok, the preschool is having a garden party, all the kids, are so excited about showing their families all that they’ve been growing, its next weekend.” YN gives Bakugou the flier. A group picture in front of the barrels holding the ready-to-be-harvested vegetables.

“I’ll um try to make it-“ he affirms, “Anything I need to bring?”

“Nope. Just bring you, and Kasumi of course.” She sends a smile and turn into the class. He can hear her starting the class as the door closes.

Bakugou must think he looks dumb standing in front of the door with his mouth agape but he can’t seem to care, all he can think is “wow.”

He looks down to check the flier and smiles to himself.

It’s 30 minutes before the garden party and Bakugou feel ridiculous. He hasn’t shaved his “beard’ new growth in about 3 weeks and here he is- shaving it and making sure his hair looks absolutely perfect.

Why you might ask? Well, ask Bakugou he would say “I needed to freshen up, the fuck is wrong with that?”

But he knew he couldn’t completely lie to himself, he feels he made a shit impression on Kasumi’s pretty teacher.

“Kasumi- do you need papa’s help?” Bakugou shouts from the bathroom. He knows she’s four and she wants to be a big girl.

“No, I’m a big girl.” She waddles in.

“Yes, yes you are a big girl. Your papa’s big girl- just because you’re a big girl- doesn’t mean you can’t ask for help. “ She pauses and looks at him for a second and then she eventually smiles and nods, “ok papa.”

Now it’s Bakugous turn to pause waiting for her to say something.

“Is that what you wanted to wear to the garden party?” Looking down at her outfit: yellow shirt, purple leggings, and a green skirt.

“Mhm, Ms. YN said to wear all your favorite things.” Bakugou nodded, “I mean- alright then. Let me do your hair munchkin.”

They both finished getting ready and as Bakugou was strapping Kasumi into her booster, Kasumi bent down to sniff her papa’s hair, “Your hair smells like my hair.”

Bakugou used Kasumi’s hair gel.

A/N: hey y’all- took me a minute to get this out. I was planning on making it longer- but I like having little snippet chapters.

I love this story so far. I have a bunch of fun little plans for the characters. Also I love Kasumi-

Alright I’ll talk to you later with much love,

Sweetwriter

#imagine #fanfiction #mha #my writing #black reader #bakugou x black reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugou

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justjesse116 · 20 days

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I've been seeing a lot of "If Dabi dies it'll be a mercy" lately, and I have some Feelings™.

For the record, my blog is essentially Daddy Issues Central, so I feel like I'm uniquely qualified to weigh in on this situation.

But that's neither here or there, so;

On the one hand, I'm sure Dabi DOES in fact want to live, but wants and needs are different, yes? Would death really be a mercy? That depends. He needs help, REAL help. And that road is a long and winding thing. But I believe in my innermost heart that he'd have the support he needs. If I ever thought my sibling was dead, but then they popped up a decade later, even if they had committed horrible crimes I legitimately believe that I'd give them another chance. And the same with my mother. For all the crime shows she watches, she always says that she'd turn me in, but I honestly doubt she would, and even if she did I think she'd stand by me. There's something about being the first child, your mothers 'first baby'. There has only been a couple times my mother has called me her first baby, but it is never a pretty thing. It's heart wrenching, every time she's called me that it's been voice cracking, heart breaking situations. And every time I look at Dabi, I can almost hear Rei's voice, cracking, "my first baby." I refuse to believe his mother and siblings would abandon him, I reject that possibility absolutely.

And that's not even taking The League into account, because whether you like it or not, Dabi cares about all of them in some way. My whole point being; Dabi has a lot more people who care about him than he thinks, which seems to be a common theme with people who have a low self-worth.

So there's that, now on to the less pleasant side of things. So; would death REALLY be a mercy? And that's the million dollar question, isn't it? Unfortunately, I believe without a shadow of a doubt that Dabi couldn't possibly be happier than if he burned himself alive, taking everyone he wanted with him. I think he truly believes death is the only option, because he's been so miserable, so hurt for a full fucking decade at this point, he just wants it to end. When you've been so thoroughly rejected and neglected by someone who is literally 50% of your life, that hurt never goes away. Then factor in that someone believes their entire family is the same, you've got a recipe for disaster. And whether or not that's the 'good' or 'right' decision, it doesn't change the fact that it's a very human response to perceived rejection. Just because it isn't 'actually' real doesn't mean it doesn't feel VERY real to whoever it is happening to.

So I guess at the end of all this, I say what Dabi really wants is a 50 / 50 shot. Unsatisfying, I'm sure. But I really do think he feels both ways.

But I do need to add in that I NEED this God damn singed fucker to live, because if he dies not only is it going to be thematically awful for him and Shouto, but I personally will never recover.

As sad as it is, this ridiculous fictional character was the only thing that made me realize that I was fixating on my own sperm donor (who I haven't spoken to in over a decade) and that I need to GET A GRIP and fucking move on.

That's the main reason I need Todoroki Touya to live, because I'm selfish and sad and I need to see that he can live through this hell. Because if he can do it maybe I can do it too.

#I have too many feelings #dabi #todoroki touya #touya todoroki #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #DIC sponsored post

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alwaysmicado · 2 days

Note

hear me out.... nathan sexy times roleplaying as a priest...... (can you tell i just finished fleabag)

Two words: fuck yeah.

for I have sinned

6k | 18+ MDNI | Nathan Bateman x f!reader

Summary: Nathan helps you find painful absolution. Warnings: BDSM, anal object insertion, corporal punishment, degradation, dacryphilia, spitting, cum eating A/N: This may just be my most favorite smutty fic I’ve ever written....Please believe me when I tell you that it is filthy, but if you’ve read my other Nathan fics, you already know what you’re getting yourself into. Enjoy the depravity! 🤍

Nathan has a god complex and loves to punish you. You have a Nathan addiction and love to be punished. A match made in heaven.

He’s spent the past couple of days in his lab, day and night, working on his newest android’s brain. You've barely seen him, only catching glimpses of him when he’s working out, or when he’s passed out on the couch at night, too drunk to make it to his bed.

You make sure to feel his pulse and turn him on his side, so he at least won’t choke to death, and then go to bed frustrated. The bruises on your ass and tits are almost completely gone by now, and that’s just messed up.

It’s time to get what you want from him. And after spending your lonely nights watching a very stimulating show on Netflix, you have the perfect idea how.

You order a simple but effective priest outfit online: black dress shirt and pants, black leather belt and shoes, and a white collar. Perfect.

Yes, you have to order your billionaire boss / play partner / guy you’re kind of in love with tolerating a pair of normal fucking clothes because he never wears anything but shorts, sweatpants, and the occasional t-shirt or tank top if he feels like it.

Not that you’re complaining...he’s sexy as hell just existing, but the thought of him dressing up for you makes you unreasonably happy. And horny.

The next morning, you jump up when you receive the notification that your package has arrived, and go to collect it outside. It’s all there. You’re already imagining all the depraved things you want him to do to you wearing his new outfit, and you’re especially excited for what he’ll do with the belt. Tie you up? Choke you? Whip you? All of it?

Yes, please.

You’re so giddy and turned on that you can’t wait any longer to show Nathan what you have bought. You’d never tell him, but you actually miss spending time with him.

How embarrassing.

Surprising him with your roleplay idea will surely bring him back to reality. Where you’re a living, breathing human with emotional and physical needs. Where you have fun together. Where he cooks dinner for you. Where you fall asleep together. Where he leaves you a dripping, drooling mess with a blank mind.

Where you’re happy.

Finally stepping into the lab, the automatic door hasn’t even fully closed behind you before Nathan’s mumbling into his beard about how he doesn’t have time for whatever it is you want from him. He doesn’t look up from his task.

You open your mouth to say something smart, like you usually would, but instead, you turn on your heel and head straight to your room.

Two can play this game.

Nathan looks up over the rim of his glasses when he hears the sound of the door closing, surprised to see you’ve left without a word of protest.

How strange. You never miss an opportunity to talk back.

He lasts all of two minutes before sighing and heading to his office. The live cameras will show him what you’re up to—oh, but what’s this? A package with clothes, shoes, a belt, and…huh.

Nathan smirks and tells himself he has to stop underestimating you.

You’re in your bed, body stripped bare and stretched out.

You’re thinking of the last time Nathan fucked you on his desk, sobbing and shaking, remembering how he pushed your head down, the bruising grip on your neck and thigh, how tight your hands were bound behind your back, the filthy things he groaned into your ear while abusing your holes, how he made you gush around his cock twice before flipping you over and shooting his load all over your belly and tits…

You know he can see you now. You can feel his hungry eyes on you as you writhe and pose for him, giving him what he wants to see. He told you he uninstalled the camera in your room months ago, but you know he didn’t.

It’s a game you like to play.

You love the attention, the rawness of it. The intensity of being his plaything, adrenaline coursing through your body as you pinch, grope, and finger yourself for him.

It feels so right to give him what he wants. To be his whore. To be his depraved little fucktoy spreading herself for the camera, desperately rubbing her swollen cunt.

And the best thing? You know he’ll be so fucking rough with you when he gets his hands on you again.

Eyes coming back into focus, slowly coming down from your high, you see the mess you’ve made. Smiling, you decide to leave the puddle in the middle of the bed for him to see, put on a pair of comfy clothes, and spend the rest of the day working on your project.

You eat dinner alone, like the past few nights. You watch Netflix to keep you company and drink the wine Nathan had imported for you.

It’s a beautiful night and the sky full of stars reminds you of your adventures in the woods.

When he’s finally done with this difficult and time-consuming part of the development process, Nathan will have to tie you to a tree again. Or chase you through the woods. Or fuck you on a glacier. Or just fuck you, period.

At this point, you’d even appreciate listening to a drunken rant about how humanity is doomed and everything we do—except for Nathan, of course—is insignificant and futile. You miss scratching his scalp and stroking his beard as he’s snoring next to you.

Right as you’re starting to get a little worried that your plan didn’t work, you hear the distinctly graceful sound of Kyoko’s high heels.

Ugh. You’re not in the mood.

You’re pretty sure he’s been fucking her after his workouts the last few days. “Pure stress relief, baby,” you can hear his smug voice in your head. You believe that he actually sees it that way.

He’s such an egocentric ass.

You keep sipping your wine and only look up from your laptop screen when the mute android puts a yellow post-it note in front of you. Annoyed, you set down your glass and wait for her to leave before you read it.

You roll your eyes, but can’t hold back the smile spreading across your face as you read what Nathan’s written on it.

time to repent of your sins

Fuck. You can feel yourself getting wet already and waste no time cleaning up and changing into a short satin nightdress. The innocent white color could certainly fool someone who doesn’t know you…but the fire you see burning in your eyes as you study your reflection in the mirror doesn’t lie.

You’re a filthy sinner.

And you’re about to find out what it means to be punished for it.

“And so you find yourself back here, in need of confession. What do you have to say for yourself, girl?”

His dark eyes pierce yours from where he’s sitting in a leather chair. Fuck, he looks good in this outfit. The way his fitted clothes accentuate his broad shoulders and chest, paired with the rare sight of him wearing shoes, is stirring something inside you. Your heart is racing.

“Well? I don’t have all night, girl.”

“I’m sorry, Father. I’m a little distracted…”

“I can see that. But there’s no more delaying what needs to be done. Strip and come here.”

You obey his command, pull your nightdress over your head, and cross the room. Now that you’re coming closer, you can see Nathan’s prepared a few items for you on the wooden table next to him. You can’t make sense of them yet, but you know that whatever your genius Dom has in store for you will leave a lasting impression.

Dropping to your knees at his feet, you bow your head. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

You resist the urge to rub your face against his bulge like a needy kitten, or to rub your pussy on his leather shoe, and sit back on your heels instead.

You’re such a good girl. A filthy, lust-driven girl undoubtedly, but one with a deep-rooted need to please. You just need a firm hand to guide you. Luckily for you, Nathan has such a hand.

He looks over you with an appraising eye. He studies your face, your hard nipples, your posture, the way your fingers are digging into the soft flesh of your thighs…

“Look at me.”

Lifting your eyes to his, you see your own depravity reflected in them. You shiver in anticipation. Nathan loves hurting you as much as you love to be hurt by him, and you can’t wait to receive your surely painful punishment for your sinful behavior.

“What am I to do with you, hm? Dumb little girl.”

He caresses your cheek with the back of his hand, and a jolt of electricity courses through your body, igniting every nerve. The sensation is so powerful it takes your breath away, leaving you trembling and craving more.

“Please punish me so that I may be forgiven,” you whisper, your pupils dilated as you search Nathan’s eyes for approval.

His cock twitches in his pants at your submission.

“I thought you’d learned your lesson last time. You swore you’d be a good girl, a pure girl, leaving behind your carnal desires.” He tilts his head, raising an eyebrow with a mix of curiosity and mock disappointment. “So, what happened?”

“I really tried to be a good girl, I did…”

He roughly grabs your chin, his fingers digging into your cheeks. “Lying is a sin, darling.”

His face is close to yours now, his intense eyes, his condescending smirk, his soft lips. You’re so painfully aroused you could probably come from rutting against his leg for a few seconds.

If he let you.

Which he won’t.

Smiling to himself about how desperate you look, he softens the grip on your jaw and traces your lips with his thumb. Again, you resist the urge to open your mouth and suck on it, and your reward for your good behavior comes in the form of Nathan pulling open your mouth with his thumb and spitting on your tongue.

A shiver runs down your spine as you swallow his offering, eager to taste more of him. You look at him with wide eyes and he taps your cheek approvingly before sitting back in his chair. If you thought his bulge was prominent before, it’s downright massive now.

“Now, girl, you must confess fully, withholding nothing so you can obtain your appropriate punishment.”

The dangerous look on his face has you pressing your thighs together before taking a deep breath and starting to confess your most recent sins.

Holding eye contact, you detail how you’ve pleasured yourself to impure thoughts, night after night, sometimes with your hands, sometimes with the aid of some elaborate toys to appease the insatiable hunger of your sinful holes.

You recount how you fingered your dripping wet cunt to the thought of a godless brute ravaging your throat, ramming his fat cock in and out over and over with no care for your well-being. He’d shoot his thick cum down your throat, holding your head steady until he was done.

You go on to describe how you took your time stretching your asshole with successively bigger plugs until you were ready to take a fat dildo. You then pleasured yourself with the big silicone toy to the thought of the same evil man fucking your forbidden hole until you were crying for mercy. You’d rub your clit while he was violating you, his hand wrapped around your neck, and you’d come so hard you’d pass out while he took his time finishing deep inside you.

Nathan’s lips open slightly and his painfully hard cock leaks precum as you’re recounting some of the filthy things you two have previously enjoyed together. He’s this close to just grabbing you and fucking you right now, right on the floor.

But no.

No, that won’t do this time. That’s not what you need.

“I don’t understand how someone can have such devious, sinful thoughts and act like a vile, disgusting whore without bursting into flames on the spot,” he says as his hands dig into the plush armrests of his chair. If you didn’t know how much he loves it, you’d think he was angry.

“It brings me no joy to whip you back into shape, but I will do so without hesitation, knowing that it’s what your sinful soul so desperately needs. Is that not so, girl?”

“I understand, Father,” you whisper, spreading your legs. “You know best.”

Nathan’s eyes dart to your wet folds and upper thighs, his breath catching in his throat as he follows the string of your wetness connecting with the floor. God, you’re perfect.

“The devil finds work for idle hands, so I’ll have to make sure they’re put to good use instead. Go on, unbuckle my pants and hand me my belt.”

You do as you’re told and obediently hold the leather belt out for his approval. He takes it from you, folds it deliberately, and slaps it against his palm with a resounding thwack. You wince at the sharp sound, your clit twitching in excitement.

You’re so bad at hiding how much the prospect of a belt whipping is turning you on.

“Over my knee.”

“But Father, I–”

“Shut your mouth. Silly girl, trying to dissuade me from doing what must be done with your doe eyes and pouty lips. Over my knee. Now.”

You nod and drape yourself over Nathan’s spread legs, your bare ass exposed to him. You love the submissive feeling you get from being naked while he’s fully clothed. It makes you feel small, vulnerable, helpless, excited…and a little scared.

This is your happy place.

“That’s it. Good girl.”

Nathan’s hands glide up and down your body, tracing your spine from the nape of your neck all the way down to your butt crack, leaving a tingling sensation behind.

His touch grows progressively rougher as he gropes every inch of you, exploring the flesh he’s about to dominate with an intensity that makes your skin burn with want.

You can feel how hard Nathan is, can feel how his erection is straining against the zipper of his pants. He shifts a bit and thinks to himself how stupid people are for wearing restrictive clothing every day. He wouldn’t even wear a suit for prospective investors…so yeah.

He hopes you realize how special you are to him much he doesn’t want to go through the hassle of looking for a replacement for you.

“I will be very rough with you,” he whispers in your ear, stroking the back of your head with one hand and your lower back with the other. “I will hurt you, girl. Badly. And I won’t stop until I feel like you’ve learned your lesson. Understood?”

“Yes, Father.” You look up at him with wide, desperate eyes. “I need you to punish me for being so bad. Please, Father, please I need you to make it all right again. Please punish me for my misdeeds. For letting such a violent man do these unspeakably sinful things to my body and for deriving such pleasure from it. Please don’t spare my flesh.”

The sound of the first stroke with Nathan’s belt echoes loudly in the mostly empty room, but your quiet gasp is the only thing he hears. Your pained noises are music to his ears. The muscles in your ass and thighs tense involuntarily, so the second stroke is even more painful. Your thighs tremble, but you keep your position and so Nathan continues your punishment.

By the tenth stroke, your ass is on fire, your tender flesh stinging from the impact. The increasing burn is causing tears to well up in your eyes, but not only that. The pain and humiliation you’re feeling makes your swollen clit twitch and throb in answer to every stroke. Wanting more, you spread your legs, moaning without inhibition when one of his strokes brushes against your sensitive lips.

Nathan abruptly stops his assault on your ass, and you whine at the sudden loss, wriggling on top of his lap. You turn your head to look at him, and the hunger in his eyes fills you with a mix of trepidation and excitement. He gazes at you like a predator eyeing its prey, as if he’s about to devour you whole.

But only after toying with you for a little while longer.

“You’re not supposed to enjoy your punishment, girl,” he growls, and before you know what’s happening, he’s picked you up and thrown you onto the chair. Falling onto the welts on your ass hurts you severely, and you can’t hold back the silent tears running down your cheeks.

“I wasn’t–”

“Shut your whore mouth and spread your legs.”

You stare at him for a few seconds, his imposing form, his hand gripping the belt, his stern face. You feel lightheaded at the thought of the belt lashing your cunt. Swallowing heavily, heart racing in your chest, you finally grab your legs with your hands and pull them against your chest. Spread open, your puffy wet folds are exposed for his viewing pleasure. Good.

“Ten strokes to the core of all your sins.” He lightly taps your mound with the belt, making you wince. Nathan is not impressed. “I will count them out for you this time, but I do expect you to keep yourself well spread for your lashes. If you let go or close your legs, I will start adding extra strokes. Do you understand?”

He leans over you and tilts your chin up. Locking eyes with you, he waits for your answer.

“Yes, Father, I understand,” you whisper.

“Very well. I shall begin now.”

Thwack!

“One.”

The suddenness and searing pain of the strike is so shocking that all you can manage is a strangled groan as you dig your fingernails into your legs. But before you can catch your breath, Nathan’s already raising his hand for the next blow.

Thwack!

“Two.”

You cry out in surprise and pain as the belt hits your core again. Your skin burns, and a rush of adrenaline courses through you, heightening every sensation.

Nathan’s eyes are locked onto yours, a dark intensity blazing within them. He pauses just long enough for you to feel the anticipation build to a fever pitch before coming down on you with three consecutive blows.

Thwack, thwack, thwack!

“Three, four, five.”

Each strike sends shockwaves through your body, the pain mingling with the strange, exhilarating pleasure. Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you struggle to process the overwhelming mix of sensations. Nathan’s grip tightens on the belt, his eyes never leaving yours, filled with a predatory hunger that both terrifies and excites you.

Thwack!

“Six.”

Despite the volume and pitch of your cries, and the flood of tears running down your hot cheeks, you don’t close your legs. Set on enduring the tortuous treatment Nathan has decided for you, you spread them even further apart, spreading the outer lips much wider and opening your dripping cunt up to receive its well deserved punishment.

Nathan leans in, his voice a low, commanding growl. “This is what you need, isn’t it?"

Before you can respond, the belt comes down again with relentless force.

Thwack, thwack!

“Seven, eight.”

Your body trembles under the assault, each blow pushing you further into a haze of pain and pleasure. You bite your lip until it bleeds, trying to stifle a cry, but when the pain of your whipping overtakes the excitement it was inducing, your quiet tears turn into genuine sobs.

Nathan stops for a moment, displeased to see that you’ve closed your legs. Hugging your punished flesh, you’re rocking gently as though to self-soothe while whining, broken sounds escape your lips.

“Poor little thing,” Nathan coos with mock sympathy for your suffering, his voice dripping with condescension. “You can’t take it anymore? Hm?”

He leans in close, his breath hot against your ear. “That’s too bad, you little whore,” he whispers, caressing your wet cheek. “You’re gonna take everything I give you. And you’re going to thank me for doing this to you after the last lash, you hear me?”

“Y-yes, Father.”

You lock eyes with him, your vision blurred by tears, and nod weakly. Nathan’s devious smile deepens, and he leans in to press a lingering kiss to your forehead, a stark contrast to the brutality of his previous actions.

“Good girl,” he murmurs against your skin. “Now, spread and remember that this is for your own good.”

You obey with a shaky breath, quickly parting your legs as instructed, offering yourself up for further punishment.

Mesmerized by the view of your whipped cunt, Nathan runs his fingers through your slick folds, smirking when you hiss at the feeling. He gathers your wetness, gives your poor clit a few tender rubs, then shoves his fingers in your throat for you to clean.

You suck your own juices off his fingers eagerly, moaning and licking around them until he’s satisfied.

Thwack!

“Nine.”

The belt lands with brutal precision, and your body jerks in response. Tears blur your vision, but you force yourself to stay still, to take everything he’s giving you.

Thwack!

“Ten.”

The final blow echoes through the room, your flesh burning with a mixture of pain and an intense, twisted pleasure. You’re left sobbing, your body trembling with the aftermath of his punishment.

Nathan’s fingers gently trace the fresh welts on your skin, his touch surprisingly soothing. He tilts your chin up, forcing you to look into his eyes.

“Now,” he says softly, his voice a dangerous purr. “Thank me.”

You swallow hard, your voice shaky. “Thank you, Father.”

Nathan smiles, satisfied. He lays his slick-covered belt down and puts both his hands on your punished inner thighs, groping, pinching, admiring the welts his cruel strokes have left on your soft skin.

You endure the pain, watching his every move, reveling in the feeling of his touch and the wild look in his eyes.

“That’s it,” Nathan murmurs as he firmly grasps your outer lips and pulls them apart as far as they’ll go, opening up your slick folds. After a moment of appreciation and hearing your needy moans, he pinches your inner lips and opens you up even further, watching in awe how the hardened bud of your clit throbs and your walls clench around nothing.

Several times, the slickness of your pained arousal makes Nathan lose his grip on your tender flesh. He shakes his head in disapproval, pulls back the hood of your clit, and flicks your poor bundle of nerves.

You cry out, and Nathan sighs, letting go of your abused flesh. He looks into your eyes for a moment, searching them thoroughly. When he’s satisfied with what he’s found, he nods and redirects his attention to the items on the table next to you.

You’ve completely forgotten about them.

And, at this point, you’re not sure you can take whatever they are intended for.

“How disappointing,” Nathan muses. “I feel like you still haven’t fully atoned for your heinous sins. Judging by the wetness of your filthy nether parts, the harsh whipping has failed in providing adequate punishment. But don’t you worry your pretty little head. I would never abandon my duty to cleanse you of your sinful nature.”

He opens the jar and scoops out a small amount of the salve, his eyes never leaving yours. The room is thick with tension as he rubs the salve between his fingers, a predatory smile playing on his lips as you gaze up at him with eyes full of admiration and need.

“This salve should do the trick,” he murmurs before splaying out your inner lips with one hand, and then, with his other hand, lavishly adorning your swollen clit with the warm ointment.

“Thank you, Fath–”

The smell of chillies registers in your nose just before the excruciating burning begins. A wave of intense, searing pain floods your senses, eliciting a scream from deep within you. Your body jerks involuntarily, but Nathan’s firm grip keeps you in place.

As he lovingly strokes your cheek and kisses your sweaty forehead, your anguished cries almost drown out his whispers in your ear.

“Don’t worry, my little whore. I promise I’ll never let my affection for you stop me from giving you what you need.”

The pain so intense it blots out everything else. Nathan’s touch, though gentle, feels like a brand against your skin. He holds you steady, his eyes locked onto yours with a fierce determination.

“You need to understand,” he continues, his voice a soft yet unyielding murmur. “This is for your own good. Every moment of agony is a step closer to your redemption.”

He works the salve in further, softly rubbing your clit, sliding his fingers between your inner and outer lips, plunging them inside your oozing cunt. Your body writhes, but there’s no escape from the relentless heat. Nathan’s presence is overwhelming, his dominance absolute.

“Shh,” he soothes, his lips brushing against your ear. “Embrace the pain, let it cleanse you. Only through suffering can you find true purity.”

The words pierce through the haze of torment, grounding you in the reality of your situation. You try to take deep breaths between sobs, but it’s difficult. You feel like your entire body is on fire.

“I see the salve is starting to work,” Nathan purrs, the self-satisfied smirk on his face making you want to scratch his eyes out. “But since you also seem to be plagued by impure thoughts about your forbidden hole, I feel like you need a lasting reminder of your place and my authority.”

He pauses, letting his words sink in, watching your fearful reaction with a keen, predatory gaze. His hand trails down your body, fingers grazing over your sensitive nipples, your belly, your mound, all the way down to your asshole.

You whine at his touch, a mixture of dread and anticipation coursing through you.

“Quit your whining, whore,” he warns, his voice a low, menacing growl. “This hole right here belongs to me. Every part of you belongs to me. And I intend to remind you of that in a way you’ll never forget.”

Nathan’s grip tightens slightly, his thumb pressing against your most vulnerable spot. The intensity of his gaze is almost overwhelming, a dark promise of what’s to come. He reaches over to the table, picking up a thick candle and a sharp knife. The polished metal glints in the light, cold and unyielding.

Your chest heaves as a new set of tears makes its way down your cheeks, your neck, all the way down to your tits. Nathan licks his lips at the sight, his cock throbbing at your tearful sobs and pained expression.

He sits down in the chair opposite you, and leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he shows the candle and knife to you.

“I will prepare this candle now, so it may be used to cleanse your punishment hole. While I do so, you will apply more of the healing salve on your naughty little nub and deep into the core of your sinfulness. I will tell you when to stop.”

A silent gasp escapes your lips, and you can’t help the instinctive clench of your asshole in anticipation of its impending penetration.

Your hands tremble as you reach for the salve. As Nathan carefully cuts the candle into shape, you can feel his eyes on you, a silent pressure that pushes you to obey.

With hesitant fingers, you dip into the jar of salve, the cool ointment a stark contrast to the heat in your body threatening to consume you. You start by applying it to your clit, the sensation electrifying. Your breath hitches as you massage it into your skin, your body responding to the duality of pleasure and pain that Nathan has instilled in you.

“Deeper,” Nathan instructs, his voice a calm, unwavering presence that leaves no room for hesitation.

You swallow hard, your fingers moving lower, spreading the salve over your entrance and pushing gently inside. The coolness of the ointment contrasts sharply with the raw sensitivity of your flesh, making you gasp. The room feels suffocating, the sound of the sharp knife shaving away the wax amplified by the tension that thrums between you.

Nathan watches intently, his preparations meticulous as he continues to ready the candle.

“Keep going,” he murmurs, his voice soft but commanding. “Don’t stop until I tell you.”

Your fingers move with increasing urgency, the cruel salve coating every inch of your sensitive flesh. Finally, Nathan sets the candle aside, perfectly prepared for its intended use. He approaches you, his gaze dark and filled with a fierce possessiveness.

“Enough,” he says quietly, his hand gently but firmly pulling yours away. He kneels before you, his eyes never leaving yours as he takes the candle in hand. Dipping his fingers into the salve, he applies a generous amount all over the candle, firmly holding onto its flared base.

“Now, you will feel the true depth of your atonement,” he whispers, the tip of the candle pressing against your tight entrance. “This will cleanse you, purify you, and remind you of your place.”

You nod and take a deep breath.

With a slow, deliberate push, the candle begins to enter you, the pressure intense and unrelenting. You whimper, your body instinctively clenching around the foreign object, but Nathan’s steady hand keeps you in place.

“Relax,” he commands softly, his voice a soothing balm to your fraught nerves. “This is part of your penance. Embrace it.”

The candle slides deeper, filling you completely, the sensation both painful and strangely fulfilling. Nathan’s other hand caresses your thigh, his touch a grounding force amidst the overwhelming intensity.

“Good girl,” he praises, his voice low and approving. “You’re taking it well.”

He moves the candle with a slow, deliberate rhythm, each motion sending waves of conflicting sensations through your body. The pain is sharp and all-consuming, but beneath it lies a dark gratification in your submission to his will.

As he moves the candle in and out of your burning hole, Nathan’s eyes bore into yours, his gaze filled with a dark, consuming desire. “Remember this feeling. This is your punishment, your purification.”

Your breath comes in ragged gasps as he starts to draw slow circles on your abused clit, the intensity of the moment almost too much to bear. But through it all, one truth remains clear: you are his, completely and irrevocably.

As his fingers continue their torturous dance, the overwhelming pressure building within you finally snaps. Your body arches, a cry of mixed agony and ecstasy tearing from your throat as you find your unexpected release. The orgasm crashes over you, wave after wave of intense sensation radiating from your core, shaking you to your very soul.

Nathan’s gaze never wavers, his eyes locked onto yours, drinking in every moment of your surrender. His fingers continue their relentless motion, drawing out your climax until you’re left breathless and spent, your body trembling in the aftermath.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You see? This is what true submission feels like. Pure, unadulterated surrender.”

He withdraws the candle slowly, each movement sending aftershocks through your overstimulated body. The absence of its presence leaves you feeling strangely empty.

Nathan sets the candle aside, his hands returning to caress your body and wiping away the salve with a damp washcloth.

“You’ve done well, girl. You’ve proven your willingness to submit, to embrace the path I’ve laid out for you.”

He stands and looks into your tearful eyes. “Do you believe that you’ve sufficiently atoned for your sins, or do you require further punishment?”

You slowly close your legs and scoot up in your seat, trying to find a position that alleviates some of the pain you’re experiencing.

“I do,” you whisper, forcing a smile. “Thank you, Father.”

“Good.” He smiles back at you. “Stay here for a moment, I’ll be back in a sec to patch you up.”

As he’s about to exit the room, you call after him.

“Nath–Father?”

He turns around, surprised that you’re still wanting to continue the scene. “Yes, girl?”

“I, um, I haven’t, you know, received absolution yet,” you murmur as your gaze drops from his eyes down to his bulge.

A lightbulb flickers on above his head. “I see. You wish to receive absolution from me to feel truly absolved of your sins?”

“Yes, Father,” you nod. Seeing his approval, you get up from your seat, hissing as the movement agitates the welts, then kneel down before him.

“Go on, then,” he encourages you.

Looking up at him, you lick your lips, then open his pants to free his aching cock. Every time you see it, you’re overwhelmed not only by how fat it is, but also how…pretty?

It tastes salty as you run your tongue around the tip, eagerly licking up all of the precum. Offering your soft, wet mouth to his cock, you feel like you’re floating, like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

You run your tongue along the veined underside, savoring every groan of pleasure that escapes Nathan’s lips. Murmuring little praises, he lets you control your movements for a minute or two before grabbing the back of your head and shoving his cock all the way down your throat.

The burn in your throat matches the burn on your ass and pussy, but you relish it, letting him use you however he wants, finding peace in pleasing him.

His final groan of ecstasy is long and drawn out as he holds tightly onto the back of your head, and lets his cock fill your throat with his warm cum. You swallow some of his offering when he finally lets go of you, but spill some as you’re gasping for breath.

As drool, cum, and tears stain your face and upper body, your eyes meet his. The look of satisfaction and adoration in his gaze is all the validation you need in this world.

Nathan helps you to your feet, cups your cheeks, and captures your lips in a tender kiss as your mind and body are overwhelmed by everything that just happened. He pulls back to look into your eyes and wipes away your tears.

“Your sins are forgiven.”

His hands slide down your body, and the gentleness in his touch now feels like a reward after the intensity of his discipline. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, and for a moment, you bask in the warmth of his embrace, the pain blending into euphoria.

“Remember this,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. “You belong to me, and I’ll always know exactly what you need.”

You wake up in Nathan’s bed, sore and alone.

After taking about five minutes and every curse word you know to get from lying down to a sitting position, you reach for the water bottle and pain meds Nathan has left for you on his nightstand. Before you can take the bottle, though, a black velvet box catches your eye.

Intrigued, you open it.

Well. You don’t know what you expected, but it wasn’t…this.

It’s a beautiful black leather collar with an oval steel tag attached in the front. It looks delicate and expensive.

With careful movements, you take it out and read what’s engraved on the tag. You scoff and shake your head, but can’t hold back the genuine smile spreading across your face as you hold the collar in your hands.

my little sinner

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xenon-demon · 11 months

Text

I... have no idea what this is. No that's a lie I know exactly what this is, it's 2.6k of a Frozen AU with Steve as Elsa and Robin as Anna that I wrote in a fugue state after seeing a friend's production of Frozen: The Musical tonight. I have several WIPs I'm supposed to be working on and this is exactly none of them. Bone apple teeth. (Also I'm genuinely unsure if my usual crew of beloved enablers would even WANT to be tagged in this so... for now I'm not doing a taglist, and if I write any more of this AU I'll do one next time 😂)

“Steve!”

At the sound of his name, the Prince — now King, and boy is Robin going to take a while to get used to that — turns his head towards her. Seeing it's Robin, Steve gives his apologies to whatever noble he was talking to and steps away from their conversation. He makes his way over to Robin in just a few short strides, but his eyes flick back and forth between Robin and her new... well. She doesn't really want to think about what Eddie now is to her. In any case, she can already see a questioning frown start to brew on Steve's face, meaning this will be a much harder sell than she expected.

“Robin!” Steve exclaims, his gaze almost immediately sliding over to Eddie and giving him a once-over. He sounds markedly more subdued when he continues, “I see you've... made a friend.”

“Well, I wouldn't say a friend exactly!” Robin laughs, shrill and stilted, and gives Eddie's arm a pointed squeeze when he doesn't immediately join in. Getting the hint, Eddie finally starts laughing along. Hopefully Steve didn't notice her hinting, since she's had her arm wrapped around Eddie's since before she even called him over.

Steve raises an eyebrow at her, and shit does she need to keep this moving.

“This,” Robin announces, using the hand that's not around Eddie's arm to do a quick flourish in the direction of his face, “is Prince Edward of the Kingdom of Forest-Upon-Hills. We met at the ball tonight.”

“It's an absolute pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty,” says Eddie, trying his best to show the proper respect and bow as he does so. Robin's death grip on his arm prevents him from getting very far.

“Likewise,” Steve replies, sounding incredibly skeptical of this whole conversation. He then shoots Robin a look, which, rude, but also entirely warranted given what she's about to ask him.

Steeling herself, Robin begins to say, “Prince Edward and I-”

“Just Eddie is fine,” Eddie interrupts her, leaning in a little bit closer to her as he whispers. He's got terrible volume control, however, so she wouldn't know it was meant to be a whisper if she hadn't spent the past two hours talking to him.

“Not one for formalities, Prince Eddie?” Steve asks, the weight of his gaze finally leaving Robin's shoulders for a moment. God, she often wishes her brother was easier to read, but never as strongly as she does right now.

Eddie, meanwhile, straightens up so quickly it's like he's been electrocuted.

“Uh, not particularly, no. They grate on me,” Eddie says. He pauses for a moment, and Robin can see the deliberation on his face before he adds, “Your Majesty.”

“I'm not one for formalities either, Prince Eddie,” Steve says. His mouth twitches into a very small smile. “I prefer Steve.”

There's a pause, then, where Steve and Eddie are locked into some strange stare-down, while Robin looks on in vague exasperation. She's pretty sure she could strip naked and swing from the chandelier in the center of the ballroom and neither of them would take any notice of her. She's about to intervene, actually, because they really do not have time for whatever this is, when Eddie miraculously breaks the spell himself. He blinks a bit, looking away from Steve and back to Robin, face significantly more flushed than it was a minute ago.

“I believe you were saying something to K- to Steve, Princess?” Eddie asks, just about tripping over Steve's new title on instinct before catching himself.

Robin just barely restrains herself from rolling her eyes. She really is the bravest, most long-suffering warrior in all of Hawkins.

Putting her brave face back on, Robin turns to her brother and says, “Yes I was, thank you Eddie, I was saying that Prince Eddie and I-” and here she falters, because Steve looks back at her and meets her gaze. She swallows, trying to be subtle, and looks very pointedly at Steve's forehead instead of his eyes. She can't do this if she's looking him in the eye.

She takes another half second to compose herself, then rips the band-aid off.

“Prince Eddie and I seek your blessing for our marriage.”

“Excuse me?” Steve says, more like demands, almost choking on nothing. Robin's never seen her brother this off-kilter in her life. He doesn't even try to compose himself at all before he says, “Robin, can I speak to you for a moment? Alone?”

Robin swallows guiltily, knowing he'll see straight through her if she agrees.

“No. Anything you want to say to me, you can say to both of us,” Robin says, and how her voice stays steady, she doesn't even know. It probably helps that she's still not looking Steve in the eye.

“Robin- I don't-” Steve interrupts himself to run his gloved hands down his face. He pauses for a moment, face completely covered by his hands, and takes a deep sigh. When he removes his hands and starts speaking again, his voice is measured. Calm. Deadly.

“Rob, you can't marry a man you just met,” Steve states. The word man falls heavy off his tongue, and Robin knew she would regret coming out as a lesbian, she just didn't think it would be like this. Squaring herself up for the best performance of her life, Robin begins her improvised speech full of bullshit to convince her brother to let her do this.

Before she can, however, Eddie chimes in with, "You can if it's true love." Steve doesn't even spare Eddie a glance, but his frown does deepen significantly. Shit.

“Steve,” Robin begins, trying very hard to stay calm, “Eddie and I have a connection unlike any I've ever felt before. I lo-love him”—shit, she could feel the bile rising in the back of her throat saying that, and judging by the almost-imperceptible twitch in Steve's eye, he knows too—“and I think it's time I start giving back to the Kingdom of Hawkins.”

“Giving back?” Steve asks, and fuck he's folding his arms across his chest now. “How exactly is this giving back to the kingdom? What you're doing is running headfirst into the first bad decision you can find.”

”I'm a bad decision?” Eddie asks. Both Robin and Steve ignore him.

“No, Steve, I'm giving back by giving the kingdom a new celebration to look forward to after your coronation,” Robin hisses. “A royal wedding is another opportunity to open the castle gates and bring the kingdom together-”

“Absolutely not,” Steve snaps, interrupting her. “We are not opening up the castle gates again for a long time.”

“Why not, Steve?” Robin snaps back. “Tonight's been great for the kingdom's morale, it's been great for you to see people and actually socialize-”

“You have no idea what's good for me, Robin,” Steve says, making her stop dead. It hurts, hearing Steve say that like it's obvious and she's stupid for not knowing it already. What hurts more is that it’s true.

Once it's clear Robin won't keep talking, Steve continues, “You asked for my blessing, and I do not give it. I don't approve of this, and if you're doing this in some misguided attempt to make me happy- quite frankly you've gone insane if you think this would make me happy.”

With that, he turns to walk away.

Okay, sure, she has no idea what Steve's whole deal is or why he's always shutting her out, but Robin is sure she knows what will help.

Sure, part of this crazy scheme is the vague idea that if Robin has a picture-perfect capable-of-bearing-children partnership, then Steve will be under less pressure himself to marry someone who can produce an heir. Maybe, with less scrutiny on his personal choices, he'll learn to relax and open up more over time. That idea falls apart pretty quickly, however, as the thought of producing an heir with a man - even one as fun to talk to as Eddie - makes her want to gouge her own eyes out. No, the real reasoning behind Robin's (admittedly insane) plan to marry someone she met two hours ago at her brother's coronation is so she has an ironclad reason for Steve to open the gates again. Sure, ideally it would've been a woman who caught her eye tonight, but she can't be picky. Robin doesn't meet anyone, especially with the castle locked up like it always is, and she has yet to think of something other than a wedding that would convince Steve to open the gates. Then Eddie came along, laughing and flirting (she thinks, at least; Robin's tried to black that part out) and professing his undying true love to her, and this was the best opportunity she was ever going to get.

And she has to convince her brother to open the gates again. Steve's been thriving tonight. He clearly loves the thrum of people, all of them dancing and laughing and enjoying themselves, and he's slowly coming out of his shell with every conversation he has with their subjects. Robin's spent more time talking to her brother tonight than she has in a long, long time. Too long for her to try to quantify it without crying.

Watching her brother turn away from her, the promise of a relationship with him going forward about to slip through her fingers, she knows she has to do something.

“Steve, wait-” Robin says, reaching out for Steve. She grabs him by the hand, feeling the soft cotton of the white gloves he always, always wears.

“Enough, Robin,” Steve says, not even looking back as he yanks his hand out of her grip. She's trying to hold on, though, so she's left holding his glove as Steve pulls his now-bare hand away from her. God, how upsetting is it that it's been years since she saw the back of her own brother's hands?

Steve swears, then, under his breath. Robin almost doesn't hear it; almost.

“Robin, give me my glove.” Steve's not asking; he's demanding. Robin can work with this.

“Not unless you talk to me about why you won't open the gates. Look at how tonight went, it's been so good for you-”

“This isn't up for debate, Robin, give me my glove,” and Steve reaches for it then, but Robin quickly holds the glove up high above her head before he can grab it.

“Why isn't it up for debate? Why do you isolate yourself all the time?” Robin's almost dancing now, twisting and turning as she tries to keep the glove away from Steve's grabbing hands. It doesn't help that he's taller than her, but she's more agile than people think, especially since Steve's in full coronation regalia right now. The material's stiff as a board at the best of times.

“You wouldn't understand, just give me the- ugh!” Steve's stopped trying to grab the glove, instead trying to restrain her and make it easier to grab.

“Maybe I would understand if you'd talk to me instead of shutting me out all the time-” Steve's almost got her in a headlock, but Robin ducks out from underneath it and quickly steps away and out of Steve's reach.

“Robin, that's enough!” Steve shouts, and then several things happen consecutively.

Steve reaches out towards Robin with his right hand, the one missing the glove.

Robin thinks she's going crazy, but- what look like snowflakes shoot out from Steve's hand where he's reached for her.

The crowd, most of whom had turned to look at Steve's shout, gasp, almost in unison.

“I- Steve-” Robin says, not quite sure where to start with the -- actually quite sizable -- pile of snow now on the ballroom floor.

“No,” Steve gasps, and Robin's never heard her brother so distraught. It makes something keen inside her, the sheer anguish in his voice. “No, no no no, this can't be happening, this can't-” Steve reaches up to pull at this hair, but more snow and ice shoots out from his hand as soon as it's pointing towards the ceiling. He flinches away from his own hand, sheer terror on his face, but with every movement Steve makes more and more snow and ice surrounds him. Within a few seconds, there's a wind picking up as well, and it's like a snowstorm is starting to form right there in the castle dining room.

The crowd, originally shocked into silence, starts to move again. Robin hears screaming, people running, shouting from the guards about an evacuation plan, but it's all faint and distorted like she's underwater. All she can focus on right now is Steve, the way his terror is only worsening by the moment.

“Steve, let me help you,” Robin calls over the roar of the crowd and the storm, taking a few steps towards him. She needs to get his attention before getting closer, the last thing she wants to do right now is startle him.

“Stay away from me!” Steve yells, holding up his hands in an instinctive 'stay back' gesture. Yet more ice shoots out towards Robin as he does so. “I’m not safe!”

“I don't care! You're my brother!” Robin shouts back, but Steve doesn't seem to hear her. He's looking down at his hands in horror, then at the waist-high line of ice between the two of them.

Robin somehow knows what he's going to do the moment before he does it.

“Steve!” Robin screams, breaking into a run. Steve's faster than her, always has been, so he makes it to the doors of the ballroom well before she can catch him. It also helps that people, even the guards posted at the doors, part to make room for him whenever he draws near. Seeing Steve push open the ballroom doors just enough to slip through them, Robin yells again, “Steve! Stop!”

“Princess Robin!” Someone crashes into Robin then, nearly sending the two of them flying. (Robin mentally thanks whatever God there may be that she wore pants and not a dress.) After regaining her footing, Robin looks at her assailant to find- oh, it's that guy. The Duke of one of their main trading partners, Tommy something. Haggard? Halfwit? Yeah, something like that.

“Princess Robin,” Tommy Hapless says, bending over with one hand on his knees and the other holding Robin's elbow as he catches his breath. God, Robin does not have time for this. “Princess, you can't- we need guidance. We need someone to... to lead us while the King is... indisposed.”

“I really don't have time for this,” Robin snaps, brushing his hand off her elbow. “Steve's my brother, I have to find him before he gets hurt!”

“I don't think... he's the one who'll be getting hurt,” Tommy Hanger-On says between gasps, quietly, but not so quiet Robin doesn't hear. She makes a point to stomp on his toes as she stalks off towards Eddie, who is doing his best to help people follow the evacuation advice. He looks faintly queasy, and very much like he would rather be literally anywhere else, but he's actually doing a pretty good job of guiding people where the guards want them.

Eddie doesn't notice her coming, so he jumps when Robin grabs him by the shoulder. She turns him around to face her, then grabs him by the other shoulder as well so she's looking him right in the eyes.

“I need to find Steve,” Robin says, not waiting for Eddie to finish whatever question he's opened his mouth to ask before continuing, “Can you take care of the kingdom until we get back?”

Eddie goes pale instantly. “What? I can't-”

“You're a prince, right? I know Forest-Upon-Hills is a pretty small kingdom, but how different can Hawkins really be?” Eddie doesn't look reassured, but Robin cares very little about that right now. She claps him on both shoulders in what she hopes is an encouraging gesture.

She grabs Eddie's hand and thrusts it up into the air, shouting, “Prince Eddie is in charge until I return!”

She then drops his hand before turning and running out into the night, ignoring the chaos behind her and the faint sounds of Eddie's confused protests.

Nothing matters to her now except for finding Steve.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #platonic stobin #stranger things fic #charlie writes things #stranger things frozen au #rockie #<- vickie is not in this snippet but she's kristoff in this AU so. endgame rockie. target audience #steddie #<- yes eddie is prince hans in this. yes he ends up with steve at the end. he's not evil like hans is don't worry about it.#i have a lot more thoughts about this AU because i'm mentally ill please feel free to ask me questions #e.g. i'm thinking dustin is olaf and max is sven purely because I Think It Would Be Funny. + max deserves to be a bitchy reindeer #also olaf!dustin very much has dustin's personality and snark he is nothing like olaf. the only similarity is he is a snow golem steve made #also it should be clear enough in this but considering it's 2am and it's not proofread: robin is Mega Gay in this and ends up w/ vickie #she just needs an excuse for steve to open the gates up again so she can convince him to do it more often after the wedding goes Perfectly™#her plan was to get the marriage annulled afterwards somehow (she has not thought this through At All god bless <3)#robin's like 'steve's in trouble emotionally oh god i have to run into traffic'

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blasphemousgoggles · 10 months

Text

Miasma

Written for a friend, I suck at this game.

Warning: Gore, Threats of Violence (Nothing too bad though)

“Is something wrong?” One of the others asked. You and the remainder of people look over to Enki. He seems lost in thought, staring deeply into the Miasma sword.

“I haven’t witnessed anything like this before…” You begin to feel a growing sense of dread. Going through this hellish dungeon has caused your nerves to be shot, every sound and step you take sends tremors through your whole body. Most things in this decrepit dungeons have tried to kill you, everything in this place was beyond anything you believed was possible. Stopping now could be the death of you.

“Blood? …blood…blood. Yes.” Enki murmurs to himself.

“We need to keep up the pace.” You don’t want to stall any further. All you want is to get out of this place as soon as possible.

“No… There are more urgent matters…” He doesn’t even look over at you.

“What are you saying…?” He talks slowly. Exasperated, someone asks “What are you talking about?” It seems like the others are getting more paranoid. Finally, he looks over at you and the others.

“The blade…It wants sacrifices… Right now.” The hairs on your neck stand.

“Guys, maybe we should go.” If the man has gone insane you are not waiting around to find out. While you would feel bad leaving him, it seems that he doesn’t care for what any of you have to say now.

“Oh do not worry. I have no emotions toward most of my companions. They can be your cattle. Sacrificial lambs.” It's too late to leave now, he begins to swing.

Now most of your companions lay dead, deep gashes are carved into their bodies, blood still gushing from their wounds. At least one person managed to run away, however sadly for you the dark priest gaunt form looms over you. is gripping your arm tightly. Despite him being weak he managed to overpower the others and you due to you all being malnourished and already injured from the previous fight with the Crow. It's truly a bit embarrassing that someone with such brittle bones was able to quickly massacre the lot of you.

He stands still clasping at your arm still, while coated in blood he continues to stare dully at you.

You glare at Enki, if you were going to die by his hands you refuse to show any fear towards him. Now you wait for the finishing blow.

“Let's go already.” He states blandly. You falter. That was not expected After a moment of staring at eachother your glare melts into confusion and suspicion.

“Excuse me?” The priest has the absolute gall to roll his eyes at you like he didn’t just butcher both of you companions. “We should keep moving. We have been in here long enough.”

What is he saying? Seriously, who in their right mind would leave with this scum. Either way, why aren't you dead yet?. While you were still baffled, rage grew into you like a tumor. And you couldn’t help but state the obvious “You killed the others! Why the fuck would I want to leave with you!” You attempt to shake off his hand but he grips tighter. With how hard he's gripping you, you're pretty sure if he holds any harder his nails would enter your skin.

Enki looks unamused. “The sword demanded blood so I gave it some. The others were never going to make it out of here anyway.”

“What do you know! You don’t have the right to play god and decide who lives and dies.” You break, you had grown attached to some of the others. You felt secure with the others, it felt safe with them. This dungeon has no mercy to outsiders, death was everywhere but with your companions all of you had lived longer than expected when you all walked in here. You were beginning to get borderline hysterical. “ Do you even feel bad for what you’ve done? If you so easily slaughtered the others, what's stopping you from doing the same to me?”

His nails were now lodged into your arm the priest looks annoyed now. He grits his teeth. “I do not feel bad. I held no emotion toward them.” His eyes bore into yours. “While you are weak from your injuries, if they were healed you would be more physically adept than I am.” He states plainly. “It would be easier to travel together than alone.”

You scoffed “I do not care if it's ‘easier’ I have no reason to go with-” his other hand that still held the blade moved over to your face.

“If you insist on talking back to me I will cut your damn tongue off.”

He pressed the sword's point to your mouth, the fresh blood of the others dribbled slowly onto your face and rolled down to your chin, the smell of metal stung your nostrils. You clamp your mouth shut lest you get the abhorrent liquid in there.

“You may be more physically capable but with how dim witted you are, you would have no hope of leaving this place. You would die here.” Weirdly he smiles. “While it would be easier, if you are unwilling I would gladly cut off your limbs and drag you with me.” You pale. As much as you hated to admit it, you couldn’t leave. This hellish place is just too easy to get lost in. You had to stick with him unless you found another poor soul down here. While the person who ran away could be an option, there is little to no chance of finding them. Even in your dread you wonder, why is he so insistent on forcing you to follow him? And why did he have to threaten you twice.

“I simply want you with me.” His eyes twinkle like some shitty romance novel. It would be sweet if it wasn’t for the gore around you and the threat of removing your limbs. He removes the blade from your mouth.

“If you stay with me, I can ensure that you won’t die here.”

Enki looks through you. Hesitantly you nod. There was no other option for you.

“Good. Now let us leave already.”

You stand albeit shakily, he helps to support your weight from where he was still holding your arm. Finally, the dark priest withdraws his nails from within your arm. Red liquid oozes out. Despite that reprieve, you frown because now his haggard hands have moved to clasp your hands. You cast one more look at your comrades, then you leave with him.

#fear and hunger #enki ankarian x reader #enki x reader #yandere ig #poorly written gore #i can't write

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purplelupins · 1 year

Text

Happy Together

Part I Part II Part III

|The Black Phone|

The Grabber/Albert Shaw x reader

Summery: Nothing like a new city. You just wanted a fresh start, and something comfortable, but what happens when you start to see the exact same patterns in Denver as you did before?

Warnings: the following warning are for the full fic, and not just this first chapter. PLEASE READ THEM. This is a DARK fic.

Dub-con (note that this is a link so it is actually wanted), Daddy kink, size kink, pet names (princess, kiddo, sweetheart, honey and more) mentions of death (including murder, torture etc), cumming in pants, overstimulation, multiple orgasms (f and m) begging, breeding kink, innocence kink, biting, adultery, infidelity, stalking, mentions of kidnapping, home break-in, fighting (verbal and physical)…more will be added.

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD IF YOURE A MINOR DO NOT READ DO NOT LOOK AT THIS DO NOT BREATHE NEAR THIS!! THIS IS NOT FOR YOU

Note: yes we know I’m bad at summaries. This is an extended fic request for my dear friend @mandowifey

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Some say it’s pointless to believe in love.

Soulmates.

Devotion.

They say these concepts are fruits grown from fairytales told to children to ease the horrors of the world. Figments of our imagination. What we might dream of love as, is simply lust paired with blind complacency; soulmates are really just two people settling for the comfort of having another person there for them; devotion is more of a domestic weakness.

And how right they are; perhaps not all right, but closer to the truth than most. There are, however, a select few who chose -or perhaps are cursed- to see life through those fairytale expectations.

True love and a happy ending.

Perfection in all its glory.

And they will stop at nothing to replicate exactly that.

Absolutely nothing.

There was something almost comical about the days following New Years; the odd party hat rolling in the frozen streets, colourful streamers handing haphazardly from bar signs, and a few used condoms barely concealed by an alleyway.

Almost everywhere you went it was the same.

The bitter winter breeze whipping down from the mountains burned a blush onto your cheeks. The bus driver on the Greyhound worriedly asked you again if you were sure you’d be alright in a new city. With no one to give you a warm welcome like he thought you deserved, there was a prominent inkling of worry in his weathered face.

“A pretty little lady like yourself ought to keep ‘er wits about her.” He said, tugging your suitcase out from the bottom of the bus for you.

It was refreshing to have someone offer such concern to a stranger like you, but the distress you saw from him made your heart ache. It wasn’t your place to make an old man worry; especially not so early in the New Year. So to ease his tight shoulders, you just smiled and patted his arm, pulling your large jacket closer around yourself.

“Well I can’t quite stash you in my pocket to keep me safe can I, Simon?” You teased him, taking grip of the handle of your bag, “I’ll be just fine. I’m tough.” You flexed your arm as if you had anything to show- even if you did they were hidden under your many layers.

The aging man cracked a smile at your antics, and fiddled with the gold ring on his finger. You knew the chill from the precious metal was affecting the arthritis he had told you about halfway through the journey across the state. It hadn’t taken long before you realised he was a very talkative man, and while you enjoyed the watching the scenery in quiet as much as the next person, having his babble to distract you was also very welcomed. There was something about learning the story of another person that never ceased to fascinate you- where they placed importance, what they took pride in…what brought them sadness and joy. Simon was just another face you would meet briefly, but just like the other passing acquaintances moving through your life, he gave you a small reprieve from the harsh world.

You eyes caught the movement of his hand on the good band, and your smile faltered slightly.

“Don’t work too hard. You’ll be home soon.” You tried to reassure him, which evidently worked as he nodded and gave you a quick smile that told you if he stood there any longer he would have given you ten phone numbers and half his day’s wages to help you out.

He was a kind man.

Too kind.

One of the few.

Simon clapped his hands once, ensuring that the other three passengers offloading were done. He called out to you to have a happy new year, and you replied in kind with a wave before the bus pulled away.

Now with the full weight of your new home resting on your shoulders, you let your smile fall and your eyes glaze over as you took in your surroundings.

Denver.

A frozen park.

A grocer down the street.

A coffee shop with what looked like a hungover barista.

A pub that made you itchy looking at it.

A deep breath filled your lungs just as a couple of well liquored men stumbled out of said pub- clearly enjoying their last day off before the first Monday of 1978 hit them like a brick. One of them eyed you as they walked past like a couple of huge toddlers, and you offered a friendly grin and a nod in return.

It wasn’t as if you were looking to be eyed-up -what with your several layers, aching back and itchy eyes- but this was a celebrated time of year. Everyone was a little…loose. Besides, you never knew who would turn out to be in your personal circle as you established yourself in your new home. That man might be your new boss for all you knew.

The more sober man of the two continued to almost pull the other to a car, and you noted -albeit a little uncomfortably- how the other’s drunken stare contributed to flicker over your frame. Once he finally looked away, you would hear them bickering in slurred voices.

Best not to pry.

So you found yourself dragging yourself and your suitcase over to what you assumed was a communal bulletin board, and inspected it for any rooms available in the vicinity. But even still, you could hear the two men arguing, growing louder and louder.

Something about how the staring man needed to get his shit together.

Quit it.

Knock it off.

About how he told Nancy that he would stop with that shit.

That he’d do better.

They finally drove off when one of them slammed their car door, which prompted the other to follow suit. Your stomach had started to tighten the longer you listened to them, and you sighed into your scarf once the street fell quiet again.

Home sweet home.

Home was always a strange concept. You were more inclined to believe that home ought to revolve around a person you loved or where you felt happiest, instead of a specific place or house.

And look where that got you.

Falling into a routine after your arrival to the mountain city was as easy as the pie you served at the local diner.

Sure the stiff, and starched blue and white uniform you had to wear wasn’t luxury nor was the smell of cooked food you had to wash out of your hair. But it felt domestic and easy. Being a waitress wasn’t exactly what you dreamed of, but you didn’t mind. After two months, you had regulars who made paying for groceries easier, and made you laugh with their horrid jokes.

Of course there were those who stared too much and tried to get a handful of your dress and what lay beneath it, but again, you didn’t want to make any bad impressions, so you pretended to be alright, and moved on; you swatted playfully and reprimanded when needed- always being sure to never snap- the last thing you wanted was to have to move again.

But for now, it was comfortable. Exactly what you needed.

The sun began to disappear behind the buildings outside the diner window, and you could feel your eyelids dripping with it. It was only when you heard your name being called that a smile eased back onto your face. The boisterous form of your manager, Anett, leaned onto the counter next to you; she was a nice lady with a stern sense of justice and wore a liberal amount of hairspray. Needless to say, you rarely had to worry about any customers heckling you, though you did worry about her hair catching fire.

“Time to go home, honey.” She said with a sigh as her hand found her hip. It was a slow day, like many, but somehow there had been more messes to clean and teenagers to remove than usual. Slow, but long.

“Tired of having me here?” You teased her, slipping off your white apron that was usually fastened over your blue dress.

A tired grin stretched over her red lipstick, and she shook her head, “I’d keep you here all day if I could, you Angel. You know that.”

Her words made you breathe out a laugh, “Well if I could stand these uniforms a second longer you know I would stay happily.” You replied, and she barked out a cackle that only made you smile wider. Anett was frightening to most, but somehow you had managed to worm your way into her soft side.

Once she recovered, she tapped her hand on the counter and said, “Get yourself home safe, alright?”, and took her leave as you folded your apron and stored it away.

Safe.

You pondered that word as you pulled on your sweater and coat to brave the cool walk home.

You weren’t sure you could remember what safe felt like. Not that you particularly felt unsafe…it was simply the way the world felt. Everyone lies, cheats, holds more importance over themselves than those around them like they shat gold. There was little chivalry, and everyone seemed to have ulterior motives…you wondered if perhaps you had ever felt something akin to safety, or if perhaps that feeling had just been the innocence of being a child.

Now that you had been in Denver for a few months, you had to admit it was a dull place. There wasn’t a great deal to do in your new city unless you wanted to go for a hike in the mountains or attend a baseball game. And it seemed that neither was an option thanks to the cool air.

Then speaking of childhood innocence, there were the disappearances of those two boys right there in your new home. You could still remember the exact moment you heard about the first one. It wasn’t a week after you’d moved to that mountain city that you heard the whispers. Then a month later you had had to clean up a shattered coffee cup at the diner after a man had read the morning paper; another one had been taken.

It twisted a sharp pain in your heart. What would possess someone to take those boys? You’d heard about so many other similar cases and trials over the years, and it was almost always the same profile for each psychopath.

Outcast.

Pathological liar.

Exposure to extreme pornography.

And a lack of consciousness.

…and somehow always something to do with the torture of animals.

From what you had seen in Denver, everyone you met were the loveliest, simplest people. They all had their little routines, and dramas that swallowed up their lives, and their favourite kind of cake to eat in Sundays.

Just people.

They were all like you, and you like them.

It made you wonder who you could trust, knowing you were all the same.

By the time you reached your front yard, your cheeks were flushed and your bones had a chill in them. The sheer sight of your little house warmed your heart. Just as your work- your home was comfortable.

Your safe place.

Blue sky greeted you the following day when you drew your cream curtains back. Birds chirped, and you had to admit you almost pinched yourself by how idelic it was. Outside your kitchen window, you could watch the cars go by as people made their way to work, and the children walking past to get to their bus stop.

You thanked your lucky stars that the heat hadn’t begun yet, and nestled into your sweaters and jacket before turning the key in your front door to start your day. While you didn’t have to work, you made a deal with yourself that you wouldn’t hide away there and alienate yourself. You went to a new city for a new start, and you couldn’t do that very well if you just watched your neighbours. While that in itself was good fun, most of your neighborhood was made up of seniors and a few families down the street…and while you loved them and their kind welcomes, they weren’t the most fun to dissect; though it did mean that you had a fantastic stock of baked goods and food in those heavy glass containers you never bought for yourself.

The air was cold, but smelled so good that you didn’t care about how it burned your nostrils when your breathed in.

“Morning Harriet!” You called to the house next to you. The familiar grey hair in their mint rollers were visible between the rose bushes as the elderly -but lively- woman checked her mail. She made the best brownies- you always felt so relaxed after.

Harriet looked up from her mail, and cast you a smile and wave, “Good morning, dear.”

Old or not, you liked your neighbours. Certainly they were a touch too nosy and watched everyone’s every move, but it made it almost a game. Who would catch who in a lie, would would get someone flustered by acknowledging them staring…you loved waving at the old biddies who thought you were odd then watch them pretend like they weren’t gossiping over their white-picket fences.

But Harriet was nice.

Most of them were nice to your face, just as you were to theirs.

Even so, the welcome you had been given when you moved into that little house had been a warm one. Maybe not all the visits to say hello were sincere, but the gesture was still nice. And the food was good.

“Where’s that cheeky husband of yours? Shouldn’t he be getting the papers?” You asked as you walked to your gate. She rolled her eyes and you had to laugh a little at her response, “Let me guess, he threw his back out again?”

Her exasperated nod was all you needed, “The man forgets that he’s not a spry chicken anymore…” she gasped out, crossing her arms as a breeze whipped by.

“Not like you!” You grinned, enjoying the bashful look on the woman’s face.

Harriet waved you off, tucking her papers and mail under her arm, “Oh hush you…off with you now. Go find a nice young man and wait 40 years, you’ll see what I mean.” She began walking back into the house with another roll of her eyes.

Your smile dropped ever so slightly, but you paid it no mind, “Doing my best!” You called to her.

The old woman smiled at you as she closed the door, and you had already begun to turn away when your face fell completely. The dull twinge behind your ribs pinched as you walked, and your shoulders slumped slightly.

You had been called a hopeless romantic for years, and you couldn’t help but envy those with gold bands on their fingers; they had something so precious. Someone to depend on. Someone to love. To hold.

The walk into the city was a fairly calm one. With most people sitting behind their desks or waiting for a customer to enter their shop, there were few people to navigate around. You admittedly did not feel in the mood to converse too much that day.

Before long, the small coffee shop you had begun to frequent came into view, and you quickened your pace as another gust of wind snuck down your back. You looked both ways to cross the street just like your momma had told you, and walked briskly to the door; a smile landed on your face as soon as you stepped inside and the smell of coffee, and butter wrapped you in a hug.

To your good fortune, there was only yourself, the waitress, and a man you had seen in that same shop a few times, and he was very nice. You truly couldn’t have orchestrated a more perfect day.

With your order placed, you took a seat at one of the tables by the window. It was fun to watch the people passing by go about their days. Families, women, men, wives, mothers, fathers, husbands…

It only took a moment before your coffee and muffin were being placed on your table- which you accepted with a smile and a polite smile. One that turned a little more genuine when you caught eyes with the man sitting a table away from you.

“Good morning.” He said briskly. Evidently, he had consumed far more caffeine than you had.

“Morning. How’s the crossword?” You asked, taking your first sip of your much needed coffee. On more than one occasion you had seen him working away at the morning paper, pen or pencil in hand, and had helped him a few times with the odd word.

“It’s going. I’m stuck on an 10 letter word for “cut”…any ideas?” He asked with a certain charm that made your heart beat a little faster.

You scrunched your face up in thought, and hummed to yourself. You had a fairly good idea what the answer was, but didn’t want to give it to him too quickly lest he think himself stupid.

“Um…what about laceration?” You offered with a little smile.

The man’s brows shot up, and he looked down at the page to scan the other boxes to ensure it would fit and sure enough, he looked very appreciative. “I’ll be damned…” he murmured, and quickly scribbled in the word before looking back up at you, surprised.

“Thanks a lot. Quick little thing aren’t you? You got a whole thesaurus up there?” He asked, turning his body towards you. As he did, the light caught the gold of his ring, but you kept your smile.

“I wish…just luck I suppose.” You shrugged it off like it was nothing. Seemed like he needed to read a thesaurus. You went to turn back to your coffee, but your heart jumped a little when he spoke again, eager to talk to you.

“H-Hiding from the cold too?” He said, nodding to the outside.

You let out a gentle laugh and nodded as you leaned in to talk, “Yes I-“

Your words, however, were cut off rudely by the sudden opening of the door. A gust of cold air rushed inside following the person who had carelessly stumbled into the quiet shop. Your shoulders tensed and you body temperature quickly descended, and out of the corner of your eye you saw the man you had been speaking to do the same. You both looked at the newcomer with an air of distain for having been interrupted. Said newcomer was another man, looking to be around the same age as the man you had been talking to, and he shot you both an apologetic look but the damage had been done- you were now freezing cold, and you could have throttled him for his inconsiderateness.

But to end the awkward interruption, you turned back to the man who still seemed interested in speaking with you.

“As I was saying, yes I am hiding from the cold…though it seems it still found me.” You added with a little wink and raised brow, and to your joy the man laughed, but hid it with a cough, “I- I’m still new to town…I wanted to explore the city a bit today but I don’t think I’ll be able to without some warm liquid courage!” you lifted your now lukewarm coffee.

The man breathed out a laugh, and his brown eyes crinkled at the sides, “You picked a hell of a time to move to Denver- I hope someone showed you how to dress warm. Where’d you come from?” He asked, giving you his undivided attention.

You laughed softly and shook your head, “I’ve seen worse actually- I just moved fro-“

“Hey I know you!”

A voice from the service counter called out, and you deduced it was the same made who had already interrupted your pleasant conversation once. Your eye twitched in time with your fists clenching and stomach dropping. Why couldn’t you just be left in peace? Who was this-

Then it clicked.

You looked up at the other man who was now standing over your table with a smile on his face like he’d solved a mystery. You knew exactly where you knew him from.

Thick moustache, always a bright button up, and a fur lined jacket. Yes you knew him.

“Yeah, yeah you’re my neighbour! 7739 Irving st, right? The little house with the bush on the side?” The man snapped his fingers and sat himself down across from you like you were old friends catching up. You watched helplessly and your conversation was hijacked, and your eyes flicked between the two men- hoping that maybe the one you had been in conversation with would help you out. But it seemed neither of you could get a word in as this new man slipped off his coat and had started a conversation of his own. You couldn’t even confirm your identity to him; for all he knew you could be a complete stranger he had mistaken for one of his neighbours.

Then, to your upmost disappointment, you watched as your previous conversation partner awkwardly picked up his things and gave you a nod before leaving the shop. You closed your eyes to calm yourself, and opened them on the notably animated man who was now going on about something without a care in the world. You hoped the other man had a nice day…though you were certain you were a better conversationalist than his wife Nancy.

“-lived there our whole lives you know? Well I’m off sometimes, but I always come back- work not going how I thought and what not. But Al’s always there for me, you know? I hate to be a bother to him but he’s rarely home anyways…worka…what are they called? Workaholic! Yeah. Swear he’s more like my dad than our dad was…but anyways you said you weren’t from here right?” He looked at you expectantly, and you schooled a pleasant look on your face.

Don’t be rude. Just breathe.

“I…yes I was. I just moved here. Bit of a transient myself.” You said, and took a sip from your coffee that somehow tasted a little more sour now and was fully cold.

The end of his sentence caught your interest, and you were trying to wrack your brain to recall what he had been babbling on about. His brother being like a father? You almost laughed to yourself- this man definitely needed someone like that in his life. Now that you thought of it, the house across from yours was very quiet save for the times someone left for work at 8:30am every morning of the week, and when you saw the man across from you…though he was usually with a female partner.

“Where from? Maybe we’ve actually been following eachother.” He joked with a smile and a wink.

Unlikely.

But you laughed, “Came from Salt Lake city. Even harsher winters than here.”

The man whistled, and leaned back as he crossed his arms, “Don’t blame you for leaving there…hope you weren’t there a few years ago…nasty stuff going on if you ask me.” He looked at you expectantly and you could feel a cold sweat break under your sweater and your stomach tie in knots. You hoped he just meant what went on in 1975…who was this guy? A cop? A crime enthusiast?

You shook your head apologetically, “I’m so sorry, I think I missed your name?”

His brows shot up in surprise.

“Oh, shit I didn’t even tell you! I’m Max.” He extended his hand to shake yours and you smiled, “Max Shaw.”

“Well Max, can you tell me what you mean about…the nasty stuff going on in Colorado? I was only there a couple years.” You asked, stomach twisting tighter.

This seemed to spark Max’s interest, and he leaned over the table as if he was about to relay a deep secret. Thankfully, you saw no nosiness in his face. The last thing you wanted was to think about…well…to think about less than good times.

“Well you know…those bodies found in the mountains and whatnot? Bundy or whatever his name was sure liked that city…they got him down in Florida now.” He said in a hushed tone like anyone could be listening.

Ah. A conspiracy theorist.

You sighed and nodded, “Oh yes I heard…That happened right before I got there…have to admit I locked my doors religiously when I lived there.” You laughed off your nerves.

“You’d better do that here too, you know.” Max said suddenly.

At this, you gaze jumped to his, “Why?…do you mean the-“

“Grabber.” He nodded and it was like his eyes lit up at the subject.

While you were still a little bitter towards him for being interruptive, you had to admit that your interest was peaked. This man might be a little nuts but it was true you were intrigued by the strange disappearances, no matter how horrible.

“Max, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you know a thing or two about the town terror. Should I be worried?” You raised your brow in faux accusation.

His eyes widened comically, “No! No I just…I don’t know I feel like there’s something more to it all, you know? Someone has to be doing this for a reason…”

You leaned forward a little and nodded. “I know exactly what you mean.”

While Max had indeed ruined your morning and subsequently the rest of your day, you had to admit that the man made up for it with wild theories that had you pondering the world around you even further. He had begun with zeroing in on the mass amounts of disappearances over the past decade and a half that had never been linked to any event or person- how he was certain there were some kind of underground tunnel system that people used to get around or hide in. Which then led to the possibility of an underground city or country under your feet; operating just like the one around you.

Then from there he leapt into a tangent regarding the untrustworthiness of the government and how he was certain President Carter was a Rockefeller Republican and not much of a democrat at all.

Somewhere along the way, the morning had turned into afternoon and Max insisted on buying you lunch, though it had turned out that he was -very apologetically- short on cash. Not that you had a problem covering it; this man seemed to be in need of a human sound-board.

Now you knew why those lady-friends you always observed him with would leave after an hour of being at his house. You wondered if his brother was even aware of the female traffic…if he was a hard worker like he seemed to be -what with being out all day nearly every day- then you could only feel a pang of pity for him. Poor man probably just wanted to come home and relax but instead he likely came home to his brother with his tongue down a new woman’s throat or knee deep in a new theory.

At some point the two of you slowly meandered back to the direction of your respective homes. Along the way, however, you began to question if Max even fully lived with his brother or if he just stayed there; he insisted on taking blatantly wrong turns, and you had to gently point in the correct direction.

Eventually, however, you did see your little home, and the one across from it that you knew now at Max’s- questionably. While you knew you should have just said that it had been nice to meet him properly - true or not- he somehow managed to coerce you into coming over. It wasn’t as if you had anything to do after your day had been eaten up…but perhaps he would have something good for dinner or you could get a look into another neighbour’s life to see if they were worth befriending.

The Shaw household was comfortable. It was definitely more lived-in than yours, but you noted that there was only a light smell of smoke in the air -rather than seeped into the wallpaper- and a simplicity to everything that you found quite inviting. You gathered the smoke smell was from Max, rather than his brother…and you presumed the half-cleaned line of cocaine on the coffee table was the same.

Your observation was cut short when you heard the low growl of a large dog; sure enough, there were two huge black eyes peering from the hallway into what you imagined were the bedrooms that caught the light of the living room.

Just as you were about to ask who the beautiful beast was, Max came to your side and handed you a beer- one that you accepted politely but knew you wouldn’t drink from.

“Down Samson…sorry about him. He’s a real softy under it all- just a good guard dog.” Max said as he flopped onto the couch.

You took a seat in one of the armchairs, and cast a smile at the black hound. “Aren’t you a handsome boy?” You cooed to him as he took a few steps out of the dim hall. Though his growling calmed, you kept your eyes on him, and your smile widened as he came closer. The beer in your hand went onto the table so you could beckon the dog over, which it did slowly. “Hello!” You gushed and as soon as Samson was within reach, your hands slipped into his fur. Within a minute he was a puddle in your hands and placed his head in your lap once you sat in your seat.

“You some kinda dog whisperer or somethin’?” Max asked, wiping his nose once you turned to him.

“Nah…I think we’re just two animals who recognize something in each other.” You grinned, and Max’s brows rose up.

“Lucky he didn’t bite your hand off…he’s not usually one for cuddles.” He eased back into the sofa and took a drink from his own beer.

You nodded, “I’m pretty good at getting along with just about anyone. I like the challenge of a hard nut…not everyone is all gruff.” You smiled fondly down at Samson, but looked back up when Max snorted and laughed.

“You’ll just love Al then!” He said, and sat up to run a hand through his hair.

“Oh?” You asked.

“Good guy but uh…let’s just say him and his pup there are pretty much the same.”

Noted.

“Y/n I’m telling you there’s got to be something in the water or food that’s making all these killers!”

You perched your head in your hands and nodded along as Max continued on his third tangent that evening, “Yes, yes…and can you tell me why?” You asked, though you didn’t think you would get a real answer this time- just like the other times you asked him for clarification.

Max thought for a moment, and rubbed his nose- you were certain he was going to get a nosebleed. Then he snapped his fingers and stood up, “Population control. Like a…like a secret mustard gas.” He nodded to himself, eyes getting wider.

You nodded and hummed patiently, so thankful for your furry companion that still sat by you, “Right. But if they kill everyone off…doesn’t that go against their favourite scheme of all?”

“What’s that?” Max’s eyes darted around.

“Capitalism.” You said dead serious.

You both stared at one another, then after a moment you both broke out into laughter. He was nuts, but Max was good fun and made for good entertainment when he fell down a rabbit hole.

The laugher between you died down when you were both brought back to reality as the door swung open and you were greeted with a new face all together. You didn’t know what happened then, but something in you froze. You were utterly fixed to the spot.

Greying hair that brushed his broad shoulders, nice build, sharp jaw, weathered face with crows feet and a deep line between his brows that you assumed was there even when he wasn’t glaring like he was then; and then his eyes. Damn well the bluest fucking eyes you had ever seen.

He was certainly older than Max, just as he had insinuated, and you could almost feel the frustration permeating the air around him. The air from your lungs felt sharp all of a sudden like you couldn’t breathe. A butterfly with a metal pin through it waiting for his dissection and approval. Cut you open and see what makes you tick.

Was it the guilt of being in his home without consent? Was it his direct irritation? The second-hand exhaustion? Or the extra beat your heart seemed to take when you saw him. You felt fuzzy, but you tried to stay calm.

Albert was tense. It was very obvious.

You had hoped he might have been a little easy going with maybe an exasperated sigh at his brother’s antics, but it seemed you might have been the last straw. Not that you blamed him…hell you found yourself feeling like a real ass right then.

He cast Max -who had frozen on the spot- an incredulous look.

“Max?”

You hadn’t realised your hearing had become muffled until he spoke. His voice alone made a slow blush rise to your cheekbones. The one word was rasped out in a tired tone, and you wondered if that was how he always sounded or if it was just from talking a great deal at work mixed with tiredness. It was a ragged rumble in his chest, and while you were feeling quite guilty for doing to him what Max did to you, you wished he would say more.

Max had started talking, likely explaining who you were, but you couldn’t bring yourself to listen. He babbled and babbled, following his brother into the kitchen like a son trying to justify something to his father.

Your heart beat even faster.

“-she’s actually your neighbour! We just ran into eachother-“

You watched his elder brother, and took him in.

“-you know and I just thought it would be nice to-“

He must have had a good 10 years on Max, and you found yourself transfixed by the deep line between his brows that framed his cornflower blue eyes so beautifully. You also noticed that while the smile he gave Max was bitter and sarcastic, you could see what startlingly sharp teeth he had; each tooth had a distinct tip to it that looked like it could leave a blatantly and equally distinct bite mark on your skin.

Now you had a much better appreciation for Max’s comparison between him and his dog.

“-I know I said I’d be out of your hair but it’s just a couple more days, Al-“

But there was something in his gaze that made you stare a little longer. Something that shouldn’t be there. Something that you had seen before…but not there. Something you had hoped you’d never see again. A shiver ran down your spine and you could half feel goosebumps springing up as realization creeped into your mind.

To break your deep trance, you blinked a few times and dug your nails into your palm before standing in up and crossing the living room with your head tilted in an apologetic manor. The two of them continued to bicker under the fluorescent lights, but as soon as you had taken a step towards them, Al’s eyes shot to you. Your body told you to freeze, but your mind was far more powerful and made your legs move.

You gave him an impish smile and couldn’t help but wave a little uncomfortably, “Hi!” You started, and the elder of the two stared you down hard.

Get it together.

You swallowed and shifted on your feet, “I’m real sorry about all this…I should have just gone home. It’s Al, right? I’m y/n…” you extended your hand to his that was braced on the counter as he told his brother off.

Albert could see how uncertain you seemed to be on your feet- he almost laughed at it. Looked like you might damn well bold out of there if he breathed wrong. His gaze flicked to your hand then to Max before he took it slowly.

“Albert.” He said shortly, wrapping his long fingers around your much smaller ones. He looked you up and down with his brows pinched and a firm mouth.

Something felt…off to Albert. There was a look of recognition in your eyes as they trained themselves on him. Like you could…see him. But not the him Max saw- not Albert.

Him.

You smiled a little more to try and set him -and yourself- at ease, “Right. I’m so glad to meet you, though it’s not the best circumstances…” one of his brows rose slowly as if to say “Bet your fucking ass it’s not” but you tried to continue, “I know I’m not a welcomed guest…but I am your neighbour and I’d like to make it up to you if you’d let me? I can put these groceries away for you so you can-“

“I can put groceries away just fine.” He rasped, fixing to you with the same hard stare he gave to Max, and you felt very small. Al turned away but not before casting a pointed look at Max who was sulking slightly.

This man certainly was indeed a hard nut. But you were persistent. You were not about to leave that house without fixing that mess or you wouldn’t sleep.

“I’m sure you can, but nothing bad came from being nice.” You said, taking another step up to the older man and held his unwavering stare though his stare made you squirm, “Right?” You hoped against hope that you weren’t being too pushy, and make the situation even worse. If you pegged him correctly, he probably appreciated a woman taking charge of the kitchen; likely seeing his mother do exactly that. And if appealing to that aspect of him would make things blow over, then you’d do that and bark like a dog if he wanted.

After a very tense moment, Al finally sighed, and pointed to the fridge, “You can just put things in there…I’ll fix it later.”

With that, he walked past both you and Max and gave the Samson a pat on the head as he disappeared into what you assumed was his bedroom.

“Sorry about all that…”

You turned your attention to Max fleetingly before making quick work of the groceries.

He sure likes eggs…

“Oh don’t apologise…this is his home after all. You’re his brother but I’m an unfamiliar face…I can’t blame him for being a little grumpy…” you gave him a small smile and hoped your hands weren’t shaking too bad, “You said he works a lot?”

Max nodded.

“I swear he doesn’t have a day off…even when he’s not working he’s doing something, especially lately…”

You turned slowly, and looked at Max sitting now at the small table, your calm face slipping into a far more serious one. “What do you mean he-“

“So you’re the one who moved into 7739?”

Your heartbeat moved into your ears, and suddenly you couldn’t remember how to move. But you forced yourself to look to where Al was now standing just outside the kitchen; now out of his uniform.

“Yep!” You chirped, putting the coffee in the cupboard.

He reached into the fridge and pulled out a soda before leaning against the counter- sufficiently in your space. It was obvious that he was trying to intimidate you, but you were having none of that- he might be a man and much older than you but he didn’t know who he was dealing with. You might have been squirming under his gaze, but you weren’t weak.

“You know…that house had the same old couple living there for as long as I can remember…you remember them, Max?” Albert began, nodding to his brother. You watched Max nod, “Yeah…you know it’s just so funny how they just up and left town right in time for you to move in.” He took a long drink from the soda, staring you down.

That certainly was a surprise.

“Is that so?” You asked, “Well I guess it was destiny!” You added with a laugh.

Albert breathed out a laugh that neither made his eyes sparkle nor made him smile, “Right. So it’s just you?” He asked, nodding in the direction of your home.

“It sure is.” You confirmed.

“You know you should be extra careful these days…weird stuff happening.” He said.

You just smiled and shook your head, “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

He nodded again.

“Well I know why Max is still alone but what about you? How come no one’s scooped a little thing like you up?” Albert asked, with a tilt of his head.

He was pushing.

He wanted to see what was going on inside your head…how far you’d let him go.

Don’t be rude, y/n.

But your smile didn’t falter, “Still waiting for the right guy to come along. You start to get tired of them letting you down…and it gets messier and messier to cut them out of your life once the fun is over.” You said, tilting your head to the side, “Harder to make up stories about what happened too.”

Albert lowered his drink, and felt every one of his facial muscles go lax.

You watched his eyes- the windows to his soul. Or lack there of.

“I think I know exactly what you mean.” He murmured.

Both of you completely forgot about the other person in the room who seemed completely oblivious to your interaction. It’s not like he would understand, since he didn’t know what was so off about his own brother’s eyes.

Max didn’t see those eyes every day when he looked in the mirror- he wouldn’t know what the eyes of a killer looked like.

But you did.

And Albert did too.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

@dogmatic255 @wayward-persephone @ethanhoewke @fuckerofevilmen @honeycovered-bandaids @dancingisdangerouss @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @theroadreader @lxdyred @eth1calcannibal @al-shaw @ebiemidnightlibrarian @katehawke @littleredmuneca @blep--bloop @astroo-babe @Ixdyred @ethanhawkestan @ratpackash @doc-blu @possessedjoker @destiel394 @darkvoidz @belladonnaaura @ang311te @pecter-specter

#the blackphone fanfic #the black phone #albert shaw #ethan hawke #albert shaw x reader #the grabber #the grabber x reader #slashers #Ethan Hawke fanfic #horror

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