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✮ Hobie Brown x male!ballerina reader ✮
You and Hobie started going out about 6 months ago. You met at a black-empowerment student group on your campus years before you had started seeing each other, and you remembered him starkly because he was the only person in the room who had brought up any kind of black queer issue, to which he was quickly shut down. He never returned to the group, and you always thought he was so much cooler than you for that. Being the only dark face in a line of pinky white dancers every day meant that you couldn't give up the small community of black people you had amongst the students. Even if it meant nodding along with arguments like 'gay black folks give us a bad name.' Hobie would never do that. Hobie would have said something. Its part of the reason he swore to never return to organized liberation movements. "If the movement cant be translated to a mentality, its not worth your time my love," he had told you, and you had just smiled, because you knew you would never be as brave and he was. It was one of the reasons you fell in love with him.
He brought you flowers on your first date. They were haphazardly picked and thrown about, clearly hand picked from someones garden he had pilchered, wrapped in an old newspaper. You loved them more than anything anyone had ever given you. You still kept them pressed in between a stack of books you kept at your hostel.
He came to every single one of your shows. Even the ones he couldn't afford, at fancy recital halls that made you feel out of place, he would find a way to sneak into the audience. One time, he even managed to get a job as a lighting guy a month before your biggest performance of the year so that he would be there. You still tease him about it.
The first time you went to one of his shows, you stuck out like a sore thumb. It was right after rehearsals, so you were still in your pink leotard and sheer brown leggings. Angry boys with spiked clothing kept on bumping up around you as the crowd bobbed up and down with the loud music. You couldn't find Hobie anywhere, and you didn't know why you did what you did, but when a particularly hard shove landed you on your hands and knees, scraped up from the grain of the cement floor, you called out for your boyfriend. "Hobie!" You shouted, almost certain he wouldn't hear as the crowd around you swallowed up the noise. Only he did hear, and not a moment later he was behind you, wrapping his long lanky arms around your waist as he pulled you back onto your feet. "You alright sweetheart?" He whispered just loud enough for you to hear. "Just got a bit overwhelmed. Sorry Hobes." You replied. He shook his head fondly at you, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder. "Come with me?"
You spent the rest of the concert in the sound box above the stage, wrapped up in Hobie's big flannel jacket as you cheered on the lovely man you were beginning to fall in love with.
When he told you about the mask, about his other life as a webslining vigilante, you found that you weren't even surprised. Of course, your anti-cop, pro-punk politics boyfriend was Spiderman. It was the first time you had seen him look nervous, so you took his face in your hands and pressed his forehead agaisnt your own. "You're the bravest person I know. I am so proud of you," you whisper against his lips. And then, because it had to be said "don't you ever let yourself get hurt." He kissed you gently and promised.
He broke that promise less than a week later. You were warming up in your room before your first class, far earlier than anyone else was awake, which was why the loud banging on your door startled you so much. Never in a million years did you expect a bloody and battered Hobie Brown to fall into your room. He wouldn't let you call the police. Wouldn't even let you call an ambulance. You would never forget the rasping noise he made as he lay on your floor, blood soaking through your carpet.
You didn't speak to him for weeks after it happened. You were able to bribe some of the medical students from the STEM section of the campus to stitch up your clumsy boyfriend who had fell down the stairs. Apparently, it wasn't even that deep of a wound, just happened to nick a part of the body that blead a lot or something like that. You still woke up shaking when you thought about it.
Hobie does everything to get you to forgive him. He leaves flowers inside your ballet locker everyday, steals new lace for your shoes from the silk shop he knows you lone but can never afford. He apologizes again and again, but you can't look at him without seeing the gasping expression on his face as you thought you were watching him die. It's not until he does the one thing you thought he would never do, the one place where Hobie Brown swore he would never show his face again.
He was at the next black empowerment meeting you attended. You couldn't help the visible shock fall onto your face. "Just for the record, I don't like it here." He stated plain and clear before the meeting had even started. "I think you lot are a bunch of bootlicking, regressive posers who wouldn't know what respectability politics looked if they smacked you in the face." Hobie brought his gaze to his shoes, black locs falling over his eyes. "But I fucked up. I really scared someone I care about, and I dont know how to make it right. He's one of the bravest people I know, and I am so lucky that in some capacity, he chose me." Hobie looked up, directly at you now, "I love you sweetheart. I'm sorry, I should have never put you in that position. Let me make it up to you. However I can baby, let me make it up to you."
You stopped going to meetings. Hobie introduced you to a group of black ballet dancers who he had met when a theater had accidentally double booked his band, and suddenly your community was started to look a lot bigger than the arts campus. He promised you that he would always go to the hospital when he was hurt like that, even if it meant supporting a system of bourgeois control over public health that contributed to the futile distribution of wealth under capitalism. You didn't quite catch that last part. He kept his promise. He made it up to you.
END
#hobie brown#spider punk#hobie brown x oc#hobie brown x reader#spiderpunk x reader#hobie brown x y/n#fanfic#hobie brown x male reader#sfw little post#drabble
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The party is at Steve's house for Christmas. There's presents under the ridiculously large Christmas tree for everyone and Hopper is wearing a Santa hat and is handing the presents out to people one by one.
He reaches towards the back of the tree for the last present and says, "To Stevie, From E." Hopper hands it to a very confused Steve because he's already gotten his present from El; it was a beautiful scarf that she'd knitted with Joyce's help.
"Is this another one from you, El?" She shakes her head, just as confused as Steve. He opens the present carefully, the fact it was addressed 'To Stevie' made something inside him twist painfully because only one person called him Stevie.
And he was dead.
He tears the last of the paper away and gently pulls out the present, everyone's eyes are on him. It's a brand new yellow sweater, almost identical to the one he lost, the one he'd thrown at Eddie before he jumped into the lake. He exhales shakily and runs his hands over the soft material, it's still got the store tag on and as he unfolds it completely, a card drops out.
"Guys, stop playing around, who's this from?" They all shake their heads, a few shrug, Dustin looks like he's going to be sick as he stares at the very un-christmas like bat covered card. "It can't be from... " He cant say his name, hasn't been able to since it happened, it gets stuck in his throat and chokes him. "It's been months."
"That present was under the tree when we all got here." Robin says quietly, she's staring at the spot on the floor where it had sat, it had been right underneath his lounge room window. Steve felt like he was going to pass out. This can't be from Eddie. He'd pressed his ear to his chest and heard nothing, he'd shaken him and begged him to wake up while his lifeless eyes stared up at nothing. This doesn't make sense.
With shaking hands, Steve opens the card and tries not to cry as he reads it aloud. "Hey, Stevie - fuck." He tips his head back and blinks away the tears threatening to fall onto the card.
"I know you probably have a few questions but I can't answer them just yet. He's watching me, Steve. He knows everything I know. I'm sorry to drop this on you on Christmas but you have to know that he's back."
"P.S. I hope you like the present. I felt bad for losing yours and you just look so good in yellow, I had to buy it. I'll see you soon, Stevie."
"From Eddie."
#i dont want to see anyone complaining about me posting Christmas stuff in november#steddie#eddie munson#steve harrington#stranger things#st4 vol2#steveddie
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✨ Cruel Summer ✨
pairing: Solo Sikoa x reader, Jey Uso x reader (briefly)
AN: Literally making this for myself, so if I do ever end up publishing - enjoy I guess? 🤪
w/c: 1198
⚠️ Warnings: 18+ , swearing, violence (this is the WWE after all) slight smut, infidelity(if you squint), jealous Jey, toxic behaviour, bad/embarrassing writing ⚠️
doesn’t follow a specific timeline however it is more recent, total divas making a return.
✨ I love you ain’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard - he looks up grinning like the devil ✨
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“I dunno Trin, the thought of being recorded for 12 hours of the day, like, I enjoy my privacy”.
“Think about it as an opportunity, having the fans see a different side of you. Showing them how hard you work your ass off.”
Trinity is my best friend, she helped me out so much when I joined the WWE 6 years ago. She and her husband Jon took me into their family and helped me adapt into the crazy world of being a WWE superstar.
“Just think about it is all I’m saying. It’ll be fun” trin says nudging me.
Ever since I moved here, we have had a weekly tradition of Wednesday Girls Night, its just snacks, Chinese takeout, and movies, it’s just time for us to catch up and wind down from the gruelling travel schedule.
Right on queue at exactly 11:30pm Jon walks in the door.
“Times up ladies” he says, which is swiftly followed by two pillows being thrown at his head.
“Come on uce, you know better than to interrupt gIrLs NiGhT”
The couch beside me dipped and once again I felt the heat from the body of Josh Fatu, my one weakness. His hand falls to his side and creeps closer to me caressing the side of my bare thigh. You see what people don’t know is Josh and I have an ‘agreement’ - no feelings, just sex and friendship, and it was going great until it wasn’t, feeling were caught, specifically by me and I’m stuck between a rock and hard place as I’m falling hard for him, but I cant let this agreement end because I would rather have him this way than not have him at all.
“Spoke with Joe today, Hunter is bringing him up to the main roster, can’t wait to have my other younger brother fighting by my side”. A third pillow is thrown at Jon from the direction of Josh.
“We are twins, and you are only older by 8 minutes”.
Never a dull moment where the Fatu boys are concerned.
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First day of filming (TD Interview Segment)
Okay, so lets start with a basic intro okay? Ready, go!
The room falls silent the light shines bright on me, I have at least 6 pair of eyes on me, goading me into starting. Gosh why did I sign up to do this!!!
Hi there, my names yn, I am currently on the Smackdown roster and I am the current WWE Women’s Champion.
I’ve been with the WWE for 6 years now and I wouldn’t have survived if it wasn’t for my adoptive sister Trinity, she took me under her wing and I’ve been there ever since. As you guys know – and if you didn't know, the accent should be a huge giveaway, I’m originally from the United Kingdom, I came to the states with a dream in hand and no one there to help me through this bumpy ride. I can never repay her or Jon for the way they have accepted and welcomed me into their little dynamic. Although, travelling the world with Jon and Josh is hard work, they boys are chaotic, I don't know how Trin managed to do it herself for so long!
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Friday Night Smackdown, Atlanta Georgia, 8 weeks before Survivor Series
Walking into the arena for Smackdown I get a message from Hunter asking to meet him in his office. A mixture of anxiety and curiosity fill in the pit of my stomach. In his office I’m met with the familiar faces of Jon, Josh, and Joseph, smiling I look over to Hunter who invites me to sit.
“I got your message, what’s up?
“We have been toying with the idea of a cross brand rivalry - for Survivor Series. Now that Joe has come up to the main roster, we think the Usos and Solo v The Judgement Day would pique interest from the WWE universe.”
“So why am I here?”
“Demi is the Women’s World Champion and part of Judgment Day; it would only seem right that she faces the Women’s Champion”.
Without hesitation I accept. Hunter debriefs us on how it’s going to play out over the next few weeks. We will have to be on both RAW and Smackdown over the next few weeks, so looks like it will be me and the brothers travelling together since Trin is exclusive to Smackdown!
Gorilla, few hours later (TD segment)
Tonight, I have a singles match, however Demi has to interfere and cost me the match – thus starting our road to Survivor Series.
I see Hunter in his usual place over at the screens with his headset on talking to Randy Orton, Randy spots me and immediately comes over to me.
“There’s my favourite girl.”
“I wouldn’t let your wife hear you say that Randy”.
Randy Orton, he is exactly how you would imagine him to be, a cocky little shit, flirtatious as hell, a menace but he has a heart of gold. Many nights we would hit the gym together and training with him before his injury really improved my in-ring ability. He is another one I would call my family away from family.
A familiar scent fills my nostrils, Josh. He stands next to me wrapping his arm around me pulling me closer, as if to stake his claim in me.
“I’ve been looking for you, come on let’s go”.
I smile apologetically at Randy, he just waves me off laughing, as much as I say people don’t know anything about me and Josh, it’s not to say there isn’t rumours flying around, people have their own take on it, and that’s okay, we just laugh it off.
Trin and Jon (TD Interview segment)
“You see yn and josh think they are so slick hiding their little late-night rendezvous” says Jon
Trin sighing, “I just wish they would bang their heads together and realise they are meant to be. Think of the double dates we could finally have Jon.”
Jon’s laugh fills the small interview room, “yeah it would be sweet, and yn is already like family, it would be an easy transition.”
Away from the cameras
“What were you talking to Randy about?” Josh quizzes
“Nothing, you came in and ushered me away before I could say anything.”
“Good, I don’t like it when you get attention from other guys, just me, okay?”
“I think you’ll find Josh that I can speak to who I like”. I say frustrated with his behaviour.
You see as much as I love Josh, this, this right here the way he wants to have his cake and eat it too drives me insane. I so much as look at another guy and he is right there to remind me I’m his, yet he can look at and speak to as many girls and I can’t say shit.
“I’ve got a match to get to, I’ll see you later J.”
“Goodluck out there baby girl, not that you need it.” Before he can come any closer to me, I slip out the room and let my frustrated sigh out. How much longer am I going to keep torturing myself.
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#solo sikoa smut#solo sikoa#solo sikoa x reader#solo silos x yn#solo sikoa x you#jey uso x reader#jey uso#wwe fanfiction#wwe#fan fiction#jey uso smut#wweedit#the usos#total divas#solo sikoa fan fiction#jey uso fan fiction#Fatu#josh Fatu#Joseph Fatu#wwe x reader
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First bit of graphic design I've done in a year and its a fake logo for a hyperspecific AU... don't know how I didn't see that coming honestly.
Ok lets talk about why I went with 'Ghost Fighters' outside of the obvious name pun.
The main enemies the boys face would be ghosts. They are composed entirely of the suffering of people who have passed. The few memories that they have are of their worst experiences, but for the most part they just kind of exist as memories of suffering. Generally these spirits move on after a day or two, but if there is a specific strong attachment to a place or person or trauma sometimes they stick around longer. Someone who was murdered would probably not stick around as long as someone who died of old age.
The general appearance is of an emaciated figure with very few features. They usually have 'ribbons' that extend out of the backs of their heads, the ends of these are sharp and used for fighting. The elongated arms and sharpened two fingered hands with a thumb are also used for slashing.
Ghosts seek out similar suffering in their area. They cant move more than 1/2 mile away from where they died, which gives them a bit of room to roam, but if you live in a place where theres a high concentration of murder they have a higher chance of running into each other.
If they DO. It gets BAD and it gets bad FAST. Ghosts can merge together and so your'e dealing with double the ribbons and double the claws. Their roaming spaces merge which mean that they can find more ghosts to merge with. There isn't really a limit on how many ghosts can merge together. When things like natural disasters happen, you can get large ghost conglomerates and FAST.
It is very rare but sometimes the ghosts will haunt people. People who stay in one space the majority of the time are stuck in the same haunting area as a ghost. All they have to do is temporary move away until either a Ghost Fighter destroys the ghost or it dissipates on its own. If they do end up being possessed you essentially have a ghost in free roam. There really isn't bringing someone back from that.
Generally people cant see ghosts. Ghost Fighters can, of course, but there are also very rare 'psychics' who can see ghosts. Most people cant see them until they start to conglomerate in numbers of 20 or 30. By then it is a VERY large ghost mass and needs to be dealt with. The effects of the ghost can be seen (claw marks in cement, dents where they've been thrown into walls) but generally they go un-noticed by the population.
ALRIGHT. RANDOM FUN DOODLES ASIDE lets talk Ghost Fighter physiology. (it is so so important to me that Roxanne has No Chill whatsoever. SO. IMPORTANT.)
All Ghost Fighters have 'nail polish' with their corresponding color. It used to help them identify each other, but after the rise of nail polish its uhhhhh. not very effective. It's really not nail polish though, thats just the color of the nail now :)
Connection Gems rest on the chest and are embedded into flesh. They allow a Familiar to channel magic through their person! Familiars are a lot like the 'paper flamethrower' metaphor. Lots of power, but unable to use it without destroying themselves. Ghost Fighters allow them a way to express their magic.
EYES. You already know what the fuck it is bro. I don't need to explain myself here yall know me by now but fuck it imma try and find a way to reason it out anyway. Humans aren't really built to contain so much magic, so it shows through in little ways, like shining out of their eyes just a lil bit.
Speaking of which, Ghost Fighters are a little uh. Weird. You know the whole thing with elves? Where they look almost too pretty and the longer you look the stranger it gets? They have that going on. Their hair is always settled just right, their skin is dewy and almost shiny, the light always hits their eyes JUST right. Even bedheads still manage to looks planned and perfect.
SO. When you get a guy like Robbie? Whose attractive to start with but scowls all the time? When he finally DOES smile? Holy Shit. Nobody is prepared for it. Nuclear levels of pretty. Almost hurts to look at. 100 Billion enraptured 30,000 gay / bi awakening.
More stuff about familiars (Eli in particular. Need to think harder about his specific weirdness), transformation sequences, ultimate attacks, and interpersonal relationships on the way. I just. NEEDED. To get what I have so far out there dude. Brain too full. Door stuck. DOOR STUC K.
#ghost rider magical girl au#my art#sketch#ghost rider#robbie reyes#johnny blaze#danny ketch#heads up#this aint proofread this is just my pure unadalturated brain vomit so if you have questions or suggestions FUCKIN HIT ME WITH EM#brother when I tell you this au is wrecking me#I havent abandoned everything else I promise I just need to wait for this. fuckin. FEVER. of an idea to break
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About Kying
(It's the unshaded version of this Image here: "Calm Blue")
I want to talk a little about my boy Kying and his background. Because I'm not sure if this gets enough room to get addressed here.
So a lot of talk under the cut:
Because of his original AU, I still want him to be a refugee from war. He lost his family, his first Fahrar and he stranded in the Black Citadel with nothing. He was alone between strangers. So he had a lot of trouble to fit in. BUT the thing that finally helped, was his talent in combat. He is an excellent fighter. He learns fast and is very good in stealth combat, too. So much so, that a high ranked offcier fought to get him into the Ash Legion.
Thats when the problems started.
Kying never had the ambitions to be good. He just wanted a to fit in. Have friends. A Family. But he never yearns for greatness. He is happy with the small things he is able to achieve. He had lost everything, so a home and something to eat, is the world for this Charr. Something the others never understood.
So a lot of times people get annoyed by him, because he never tried to achieve more. He is cleary able too. He could be a Tribune or even become a imperator! But Kying would rather stick his nose in books and bake bread… The others are disgusted by that. Even offended. But Kying rather do things that make him happy, than to please the others. So over time people see him as boring and lazy. Only because he is still a good fighter and keeps up with his duties, he was never kicked out of his warband.
The first he was in was the Whiff-Warband. That lasted long, until a freak accident occurred, where most of the group had died. Also their Leader. The only survivors where Kying, Huet, Falak and Deus. Deus left and Huet decided to form a new Warband: The Gloom-Warband. He took Falak and Kying with him.
There Kying has the respect as a skillful Warrior, but that's it. He is like a ghost among his people. An Alien, that still has trouble to fit in. Kying met a lot of people in his life. But sooner or later they just left. Some of them without a word. There was a time he really tried his best to please these people. But it was not enough. He was just to different. So one day he just stopped trying.
From that day on he accapted to be just there and function as a cog in a huge construct. Without the urge to want more of the people around him. Or be more then the lazy and boring warrior. Because in the end it will always end with him alone. So why not just accept it?
He could leave the Black citadel and find his happiness somewhere else. But he don't know where he should go. He is stuck in this state of being lost. He knows that a lot of things are his fault. He could do better,… but he just don't know anymore how. He cant shake the feeling, no matter what he does, it will always end the same. And if he goes he maybe has nothing again. At the moment he still has his Warband. And his Leader that at least sees him. Enough that he gives Kying important task. So he can be useful as a charr. And maybe that's the only thing he is to his people - a tool that does his job. And thats fine for Kying. At least he gets something to do and is not thrown away.
And Kying is someone who takes in every hint of affection he can get. Even if it's just a little "You did good" from his Leader. He hords every bit of love and affection like a little gremlin. Little touch and love starved little gremlin.
So it's not a suprise he fell for Valefor in the end. Something he knew he would regret. Knew it will cost his head. Maybe kill him. BUT,… with this fuck up he got lucky. It will be something that last for a lifetime. Because this fuck up will later turn into something healty and good. But only because Kying once more awakened from his depressed slumber and tried once more to better things for himself.
#kying#lore#myArt#my baby#I love Valefor - he is my edgy cringe lord#but kying has my heart#I feel this sad big boy#maybe because I experienced something similar#And if you reading this: Your are breatiful and enough! You don't need to be perfect to be loved. You doing great! Love ya#Never give up. Keep going. Someting good will await you#Sometimes it just needs a little patience
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Pulled an allnighter and read opddmh in one sitting and man definetly one of my favourite fics of all time. Such an enjoyable fic I had an absolute blast reading it
Two questions
One, would fanart be okay?
Two are there any tidbits about ryoma that you can share? I'm rlly curious about him and his issues seem a little more subtle [? I think that's the right way to put it], as he's a quiet guy and mostly trying to rein in Mr. Wanderlust over there as of current. (Also can't wait to put him and Kirumi in a room together and see how it all folds. They're two sides of the same coin, both tied to duty I different ways (what ends you'll reach by trying to fulfill it, and who'll you'll become in the absence of it) and their similarities are thrown into even greater light by the two of them trying to protect/rein in/caretake in a way, of a another escaped contestant stuck in deep denial.)
^ got a little carried away there, sorry. I hope you have a lovely day :D
AAAAA THANK YOU!!!!!! THATS SO SWEET OF YOU THANK YOU SM <3333 :]]]
FANART WOULD BE SO ALRIGHT AND IN FACT I WOULD LOVE YOU FOREVER AND EVER. AND ALWAYS. AND ALWAYS AND FOREVER ❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️
ill chat a bit more about ryoma under the cut >:]
ryoma is suchhhh an interesting guy to consider in a postgame setting.. and i love writing for him <3. he's mentioned before in the fic that he felt the "most prepared" out of all of them when he emerged into reality, because he had so little to lose. while everybody else had families and backstories that were all ripped away from them, ryoma has already had to experience that and had grown placated over the years, which leads him to being a lot less shell-shocked now. if anything, it's an even FURTHER reminder of what he DOESN'T have.
while writing ryoma i always keep in the back of my mind that deep down he is very scared of being hopeful. theres definitely a part of him that knows he could potentially have family out there, family that he had forgotten with the flashback light, but he just flat out refuses to even let himself get excited about that gfhdsjgk. he is NOT willing to go through that heartbreak again, which is also why he is so adamant on staying with rantaro-- he knows what it's like to lose everything and he KNOWS that rantaro is about to experience that full on despite rantaros best efforts to prove him wrong. ryoma is somebody who really tries to keep people at arms length, but he finds himself unusually attached to rantaro primarily due to their shared circumstances. which of course isnt to say that there isnt tension-- the both of them are still pretty irritated with the other for their own reasons lmfaooooo-- but despite it all ryoma isnt willing to abandon rantaro at a time of need. he's moody but he doesn't make a lot of his internal struggles known!!!! half because he doesnt want to bother akane more than he feels he already is and half because he's still trying to dismantle the "brooding tough guy" character arch type that danganronpa has shoved him into lmaoooo
i cant wait for him to have more moments with kirumi .... both of them are being forced into positions of caretaking due to guilt. kirumi feels it is her duty to protect angie not only as an apology for giving her an escape route from the hospital in the first place but ALSO she wants to repent for her actions in the simulator (which ended up being totally for nothing considering she isnt the prime minister lol). ryoma feels its his duty to stick by rantaro when the ball finally drops mostly because he is one of the only people from season 53 that already knows what it feels like to lose everything. theyre both sooooo RUOGGUGHGU i cant wait to write more GODDD
THANK YOU SO SO MUCH AGAIN !!!! <3333 HAVE A LOVELY DAY :]
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Lead me not into Damnation
I cant believe im stuck with this title now. Its all i got though so too bad for me :/
Anyway, welcome to the first story ive written for Wrath of the Righteous. It will not be the last. Arueshalae is the best and i love her and so does my commander Malara.
Please enjoy this short little hurt/comfort i guess, i stand by it
Words: 4.5k
When the Commander came back from Kenabres, everyone knew something was different.
For one thing, she had left with five companions and only came back with four. Now, normally, this wouldn't have prompted such mystery: The worldwound was dangerous and everyone knew it. They would erect a small monument and say a few prayers before offering their condolences to the commander and moving on with their lives because everyone could feel that the end of the crusade was near. But the Commanders other companions who had gone with her didn't react like grieving comrades. Not at all.
Seelah had thrown herself into training with a furious zeal, spitting curses and swears like the training dummies had personally offended her. There was no grief in her, only righteous anger and betrayal. Trever scowled and prowled around the city in a dark haze even deeper than the one he had usually: a great achievement for the former slave of Alushinyrra. Daeran had disappeared and kept himself scarce for he couldn't decide if he wanted to chuckle humorously to himself before wincing guiltily or scowl at any passerby who chuckled or laughed for any reason whatsoever.
And Nenio… Well, Nenio seemed to be focused on the two masks the inner circle had procured and so had promptly forgotten whatever had put the rest of her comrades into a tizzy so at least there was some normalcy out of it all.
And Camellia was gone. Nobody quite knew where she had gone off to and anyone who asked got yelled at, scowled at, or subjected to long and furious ranting by whoever they had asked.
The Commander had sequestered herself into the citadel and had so far not come out, usually the tiefling woman would have been out and about at least once or twice if only to see how the fortress-city was doing but so far she was a no show, it was worrying.
And so people wondered and theorized about what had happened, as they wanted to do with any mystery. And all the while the world turned on.
Just as it wanted to do.
**********
On a very luxurious bed in the heart of the Drezen Citadel, a tiefling woman lay despondent.
The bed was a silken wonder, soft as a cloud and with blankets and sheets that cost more than most people had in their homes. Around the room, hanging from the rafters and across the ceiling, vines crept along every surface they could and bloomed into every flower imaginable. Bright blue butterflies flapped lazily around the prettiest flowers they could find and occasionally joined the ethereal blue ones that currently lay all across the tieflings body and just rested there with her.
The tiefling herself was maybe one or two inches shorter than most people. A leonine face with bright red eyes surrounded by silky black hair currently tied back into a simple braid showed a martial beauty broken only by the numerous scars on the left side of her face, from a childhood encounter with some Inquisitors gone wrong. Ten glorious, starry butterfly wings sprawled out in every direction from her back, the constellations of the night sky etched onto their velvety blue membranes.
The Azata in training would have gone throughout the fortress by now, would have tried to do something, anything at all to get out of her own head, but everytime the urge to do so came up the same phrase that had haunted her the entire time away from Kenabres came back.
“There is no Mireya, I made her up.”
Those eight little words had destroyed her.
Camellia had been a friend, had been a crush when they traveled across Kenabres the first time all those months ago now. She was elegant and graceful and had lied to her face. She had lied and now Malara just lay there and wondered where on Golarion it had all gone wrong.
She had believed her, had trusted her. Camellia had told her it was all for the spirit that tormented her and why would she lie?
“The truth is I like killing.”
Camellia was a monster and Malara had indulged her, had gladly gone along with her horror because she had trusted her. Malara was supposed to be better than that, had been better than that. She was becoming an Azata for Desna’s sake! She was supposed to be a spirit of freedom, and good, and-
“There is no Mireya, I made her up.”
The butterfly winged tiefling curled up into a ball and hugged her legs to her chest in a fetal position. Her wings fluttered before going back to laying uselessly on the comfy bed like they had been for the past few hours.
… Had it all been a lie?
Camellia had said that she was her friend, but she had also said that all the atrocities were for the good of Golarion. She’d lied to her face over and over again so who even knew what the truth of their friendship was.
Malara had faced down two different Demon Lords at this point and had faced down Mephistopheles himself at The Court of Freedom’s Dream. She’d been able to stand tall against temptation even in the heart of Alushinyrra itself.
Admittedly, standing up to Nocticula had been harder than fighting Baphomet or the Devil Prince pretending to be Early Sunset, because the truth was that her greatest weakness had always been pretty women.
And Camellia was beautiful.
And she’d used that to get away with murder again, and again, and again and Malara had allowed it because it was supposed to be for Golarion! It was supposed to help defeat the demons why would she lie!?
“The truth is I like killing.”
Malara sighed weakly as she hugged her knees, the comfortable bed not helping at all. A butterfly landed on her cheek, almost as if trying to comfort her. And then, almost as if mocking, the butterfly took off and headed towards the door, all the butterflies in the room that weren't ethereal extensions of her own power joining them as they all landed on the door and began fluttering their wings.
Malara felt just the least bit hurt, the ardent Desnan had taken comfort from the symbols of her goddess, had taken their presence as proof that Desna was watching over her and approved of her actions.
“There is no Mireya, I made her up.”
Perhaps the proof that she had fallen for a murderess psychopath and let her get away with atrocity after atrocity had been too much for her goddess and she’d finally abandoned her, taking the butterflies away to show that she had turned away from the poor little tiefling who had helped murder countless innocents because it was supposed to be for Golarion, to help close the Worldwound why would she LIE!? A hesitant knock at the door accompanied by some rapid scratching that sounded close to tearing down the whole door made her lift her head, the butterflies now clustering close to the doorknob as they waited.
Normally, Malara would be happy to entertain guests and would happily spend time with anyone that came by so long as they did not try and complain about the Free Crusaders and if they did she would simply direct them towards Anevia and Irabeth.
Well, just Anevia now.
Malara would be happy to open the door, but right now she simply curled into an even tighter ball and refused to get up. If she ignored them, they would probably go away and she could be alone with her thoughts. Her dark thoughts about her failure to stop Camellia, her failure as an ascendant Azata, her failure as a commander, her failure as a friend, her failure as every-
Before her thoughts could continue to spiral, the door was ripped apart as the claws of a worried Havoc Dragon. Aivu, her friend and companion since beginning the path of the Azata, looked worried and frightened. Her insectile wings fluttered nervously while the massive dragon sort of paced behind the door. Her purple scales reflected the torches outside and cast wondrous colors across the room.
Malara raised her head to look at the worried dragon child.
“You wouldn't come out of your room and I was frightened.” She whispered, as if trying to keep it a secret. “I got scared after the second day.”
“It’s alright Aivu, I'm just…” she trailed off in the face of the young dragon's distress. “I’m getting better.” she offered weakly. And falsely.
Aivu made a whine of distress and looked behind her at something. “Come on, get here and help her already.” Who was she tal-
“May I come in, Malara?”
Arueshalae.
If there was one person that Malara wanted to see more than anyone else, it was the Succubus she had fallen madly in love with. And yet the idea of seeing Arueshalae right now, of letting the redeemed succubus see her wallow in failure and sorrow, set her stomach tight with discomfort and her heart burned at the thought.
She couldn't let Arueshalae see her like this, couldn't let her see the depths of her descent.
Before she could try and explain that she would rather be alone right now and not be around people, Aivu stole the option form her by nudging the reformed succubus through the door and into the room before bounding off to go guard the hallway and make sure the two of them were undisturbed.
And so the two were left alone.
“Uh, come in I guess.” She muttered as she turned over so her back was to the wall. She didn't care that it was uncomfortable on her wings because she deserved the discomfort right now.
Arueshalae sent her a concerned look and made her way towards the bed before sitting on the floor in front of her, eye level with the despondent tiefling. She didn't say anything, just waiting patiently for the commander to speak.
Ever so slowly the ethereal butterflies around her took off and began to flutter gently around the room, mixing with the real ones that had come from the little slice of Elysium. They fluttered peacefully around Arueshalae and her, just circling, and that was what finally broke her.
“I trusted her, you know?” she said, staring at all the butterflies around them as they danced through the air. “I trusted her to stand by my side, to help me. She promised that it was all for good, that it had a purpose.”
“I know.” Arueshalae said simply, continuing to slowly pet Malara’s hair as the tiefling woman wallowed in despair.
“They were there for a new job. Horgus hired them to work the mansion. They were just there for work.”
Arueshalae said nothing, merely laying one of her wings on Malara’s side in comfort.
“They had lives. They had families that loved them, maybe even kids. They survived the siege unharmed, they made it out alive after Deskari ruined the city. And I… I…”
Malara shivered, the memories of the massacre imprinted on her mind. She would never forget the faces, never forget that entire day no matter how much she wished that she could.
“It’s not your fault, you know. Camellia-”
“Didn't make me swing the blade, didn't make me do anything.” Malara said, her voice full of self loathing. “She talked me into it because I truly believed in her. I should have seen the signs.”
“If even the Hand of the Inheritor did not sense the evil in her then how could you have?” She asked.
“Because I knew her longer. And I can think of so many little things that… that should have told me something wasn't right!” And that had been all she had been doing for the last two days, just thinking about all the little things that now screamed that she was a monster.
For Desna’s sake, she even knew about spells on how to hide one’s true nature from detection and had admitted as such before them!
Malara had never felt like such an idiot before.
All the bodies she was found with. The murderous glee with which she threw herself into battle.
The little comments she made about murder and slaughter.
“She murdered someone in camp, you know?” Malara blurted out “It was before we met, even before I got the message out to you.” Arueshalae nodded in understanding and offered a patient smile. “Gargoyles attacked the camp led by Nulkineth and made off with half the army.”
“I heard about that.” Arueshalae winced as she remembered the prison bars shaking as Darrazand raged and roared, destroying multiple buildings throughout the fortress and killing whatever demon came across his vision.
Many demons had hid in the prison till the army made it to the gates of Drezen itself as Darrazand went on his rampage across the city. “Darrazand wasnt happy that Minagho and Nulkineth lost their defense forces to the crusade.” Arueshalae said as the days leading up to her rescue danced through her mind.
“Yeah, Nurah led them to us with a fire…” Malara remembered the odd compulsions that led her to giving Nurah a chance to play a prank on Darrazand rather than… she didn't know, going to Anevia or something.
“Either way, in the chaos Lann and I came across Camellia hiding behind a wagon as the Gargoyles made off with whoever they could or killed those they couldn't.” Malara remembered that night well, and remembered the running fight up the slopes towards the horror show that was Lost Chapel. She didn't think she would ever forget that night.
“She had a dead body at her feet, Arue. At the time i thought it was a gargoyle that got him but…” But he hadnt been nearly mauled enough to be a gargoyle victim, and Camellia claimed she just ‘came across’ the poor bastard.
Desna, she felt like an idiot.
“When I went after mortals, I often targeted the virtuous.” Arueshalae squeezed her hand and she realized she had let that last thought slip out. “They never realized my true nature until I had already sunk my claws into their souls, sometimes literally. I targeted scholars from Absalom and priests of Iomedae, those who I saw as a challenge for pulling one over on them would make the desecration all the sweeter.”
Malara listened, holding onto Arueshalae’s hand like a lifeline as she listened to her lover describe what was honestly terrifying stuff.
“Malara, i know how Camellia works and how she thinks because it was how i was until Desna intervened.” She looked at Malara, making sure to catch the tiefling’s eyes. “Believe me when I say that nobody would have known what she was unless she wanted them to.”
“Anevia knew.”
Arueshalae winced, she had been hoping that Malara wouldn't bring that up. “Anevia is a spymaster whose job is to figure out stuff like this.”
“And yet I knew Camellia more than Anevia did and she figured out she was the murderer in a week.” Malara winced again in shame. “She murdered two people and i let her get away with it because-”
“She lied.” Arueshalae said firmly. “She lied and she had been lying since you met her most likely. The only person at fault for a lie is the liar.”
“And I should have been better!” Malara screamed, the hurt and the pain of what she'd done all falling together in that moment and needing to come out. “I'm the Knight Commander! I'm the head of the Free Crusaders! I’m supposed to be better than someone who falls for bullshit like hers!” Tears were falling from her eyes as she hunched in on herself.
Arueshalae swept in and gathered Malara in her arms, holding the tiefling woman as she wept. They sat there for what felt like hours, just holding one another as Arueshalae held the woman she loved in her arms.
It hurt to see her like this, hurt to hold her as she cried. Hurt to know that it was the explicit fault of someone.
Someone who had hurt what was hers. Who had the gall to dare defy her and attempt to ruin her Malara!
She would kill Camellia, she would kill her one day even if it took a hundred years. Arueshalae knew she should tamp down the demonic rage, should try and be better, but right now she felt too angry to care about that.
She would never tell Malara this, but she was going to murder the half elf. Hopefully, Malara would never find out.
The logistics behind how she would do this would be for another day though, for comforting her was more important than revenge. So Arueshalae put the thoughts aside and simply held her beloved, held her and tried her best to be as comforting as possible.
Finally, after so long, Malara’s tears dried and they came apart. Arueshalae knew what to say, knew what would work, and even though it would hurt it would hurt more to leave her like this.
“I lied to Dimalchio and led him into damnation with an endless supply of lies.” It hurt, to bring up her greatest mistake, but it didn't sting like it used to. After dealing with him in the Abyss… she would never be able to forgive herself for what she did but she had at least found closure.
“Arue, you don't need to talk about him if you don't want to.” Malara actually sat up now, wanting to stop the succubus from digging up that particular old hurt. It was proof that Arueshalae was on the right path.
“No, it's important.” She went on anyway, not wanting to stop now. “I lied as easily as breathing to him and caused him to do horrible things because of it. Is he to blame or am i?”
“No he’s not.” Malara said softly.
“I’m at fault, yes.” Arueshalae nodded. “What he did after I left is on him, but what he did due to my lies is on me. So why is he not at fault for falling for my lies but you’re at fault for falling for hers?”
She didn't know what to say, just sat there in thought while Arueshalae waited patiently.
“I killed innocent people, Arue.”
“I know.” She said softly. “She got me to kill innocent people.”
Somewhere in the far distance, the sun finally fully disappeared from the evening sky and the last light went away till morning. Like a wave, the many flowers and vines began to glow, shining pale blue light that bathed the room in a gentle glow as the flowers of elysium took on light to banish the dark of the evening.
The light bathed around Arueshalae and Malara would swear that it appeared as if she had a halo around her head. The reformed succubus looked down at her with such care in her eyes that she felt her breath be stolen away.
“Malara, I won't pretend that I know what you’re going through.” She said gently. “I've caused such feelings of betrayal and hurt before but never experienced them myself.”
She grabbed Malara’s hand in hers and held it to her chest. “You stumbled, that’s no one's fault but Camellia’s. It will never be anybody’s fault but hers.” She frowned and looked away before coming back to her. “ You helped me overcome my mistakes, helped me know what it means to be mortal.”
She offered a radiant smile to the tiefling. “I'll be here every step of the way to help you like you did me.”
“I love you.” The words slipped out of her mouth as she stared at Arueshalae, her eyes watering at the mere existence of this wonderful woman who held such love and care for her in her heart.
Arueshalae blushed. “I… I love you too, Malara.” she got up to leave, thinking her job was done.
“I’ll let you think on-”
“Wait.” Malara’s hand reached out to grab her own before she could leave. She looked back and Malara looked at her with such desperation in her eyes that it stopped her in her tracks.
“I… I can't be alone. Please…” She begged, hating the sheer need in her voice. She was close to breaking and she knew it. She truly was pathetic wasn’t she?
Before Malara could fall back into despair, a weight joined her on the bed and two arms wrapped around her. Arueshalae, bathed in the light of the glowing flowers around them, looked more like an Azata than Malara ever would.
From the small smile on the former succubus’ face paired with a blush, she may have said that out loud. Right now she didn't care.
“I'll be here for as long as you need me to be.” Arueshalae said gently, holding her so lovingly and kindly.
“Don't leave me, not now.” She begged. “Just… stay with me.”
Arueshalae kissed her. “I'll be here when you wake up. I won't go anywhere.”
She was glad, with Arue in her arms maybe… maybe she could… finally fall..
Malara slowly fell asleep, comforted by Arueshalae’s presence. Clinging to her desperately. Arueshalae smiled and tried to stay awake for as long as she could, watching over her dream as she slept.
But now that she was mortal, she needed rest like anyone else. And soon she too fell into a dream.
**********
Arueshalae knew she was dreaming.
Her dream was special to her and she would hold onto it for the rest of her days, she would know it anywhere: A cozy cabin somewhere in the wilds with morning light shining through the windows, flowers hanging from the ceiling to give a pleasant aroma, a table packed with handmade food to share, and Malara sitting beside her with eyes full of such love that Arueshalae’s heart sang.
She knew her dream like the back of her hand, just as she knew that this was currently a nightmare.
Malara did not hold her hands with love in her eyes, instead she sat hunched over in her chair and stared at her with… fear. That hurt more than anything.
“I trusted her, you know?” She spoke casually, idly poking at the dream food with her fork. “I trusted her to stand by my side, to help me. She promised it was all for good, that it had a purpose.”
So far, it was going just like it had in the real world. Malara’s words were a perfect mimicry of reality. Soon, she would start tearing up over Horgus’s dead servants that that bitch had fooled Malara into killing.
But now things went astray, for instead of looking sad she looked wrathful as she stared Arueshalae down. “She led me into damnation because it was funny. Remind you of anyone?”
Two blackened and twisted hands, covered with criss-crossing wounds that dripped pus and poison from them landed on each of Malara’s shoulders. She felt her breath catch as she saw the horrifying figure behind her beloved. Golden hair filled with flowers and a bare chest studded with shining gemstones uncovered by a snow-white toga. All offset by a cruel grin and cold, dead eyes that glowed with malice
“She finally understands me, my venomous butterfly.” Dimalchio, the Azata she had led gladly into damnation, said with hideous glee. “She gets it now.”
Arueshalae flinched when Malara stared her down. The tiefling looked afraid of her which only made the fallen Azata laugh. Even after a century spent in the Abyss, he had had a pleasant laugh.
“How long do you think it will take for her, hmm? A month? Maybe a year or two? Me, i think it will only be half a week at most.” Dimalchio said casually, his cold and cruel eyes never leaving hers.
She didn't want to ask, she knew she would hate the answer, but she also needed it. “How long for what?”
“For her to leave you.”
“I get him now” Malara said, her voice so broken that even in this nightmare Arueshalae wanted to reach out and comfort her. “Camellia started my descent and now i'll always wonder when you'll finish me off.”
“The real Malara knows I'm not that person anymore.” she tried to say, but the words wouldn't leave her mouth. She didn't have one, her hands flying up to claw at the empty space where her mouth should have been.
“She’s already begun her journey.” Dimalchio said happily, petting Malara’s hair and slowly turning it golden as the ascendant Azata started to slowly resemble the fallen one. “A murder here, a massacre there, before long she’ll start to kill those who annoy her, and then just for the hell of it.”
“And then…” He rose, taller and taller until the cabin she had built turned to dust and the world around her resembled his abyssal mansion with him standing taller than Deskari himself. He looked down on her like she would look at an ant and laughed loud enough to shatter glass. “She’ll join me here.”
Malara now looked even more beautiful, she resembled the Azata she deserves to be and yet the same signs of abyssal poison were present in her as well: the ruined hands with venom dripping from them, the cold and hateful eyes, the subtle aura of demonic energy. Her horns looked sharper and had a burning crown between them as the tiefling woman leaned in and whispered.
“And it will be all your fault.”
Arueshalae woke with a gasp, the image of her beloved, fallen like Dimalchio, burned in her mind.
She still held Malara in her arms, the tiefling Azata’s wings lowered and still as she clung to Arueshalae like a lifeline. Here, asleep in her arms, the face of despair she'd worn since returning to the fortress city was gone at last and in its place was a look of comfort and contentment.
Arueshala wanted to run, to let go and move away from Malara so she wouldn't hurt her, couldn't ruin her like she did Dimalchio, couldn't bring her into darkness like that worthless scum beneath her heel that dared to hurt her beloved, hurt what was hers!
She forced down the demonic rage, something that even after overcoming her evil nature she would carry for the rest of her days. She forced it back down and focused back on her beloved.
Running, hiding, avoiding her to protect her… once, Arueshala would have done just that, would have thought that that was for the best.
“She finally understands me, my venomous butterfly.” Dimalchio said in her dream, his voice like a pleasant poison.
But your instincts did not control you and your thoughts did not matter so long as you did not act on them. Malara taught her that. What you do is important, more important than thought or instinct.
And Arueshalae would not run away, not now, not when her dream needed her.
Slowly, Arueshalae wrapped her wings around the tiefling woman, forming a blanket around them to hold Malara and bring her in tight.
Arueshala would not run, not now.
She would protect Malara, and would strive to ensure she became the Azata she deserved to be. If she stumbled and fell, Arueshalae would be there to pick her up. If she doubted, she would be there to reassure. She was not a venomous butterfly anymore.
She was Malara’s butterfly.
#pathfinder#pathfinder wrath of the righteous#wrath of the righteous#Arueshalae#dimalchio#hurt/comfort#fanfiction
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November 22 - 2022
8:29 AM
I’m eager to find more things to DO that are unique and engaging. Like fanfic reading streams or maybe some kind of event hosting group. Anything that isn’t me doing the same things alone in my room. There isn’t much to do in real life around where I am so I’m stuck with online connections but it should be enough to me. Maybe I could find things kind of naturally if I just put myself out there more like I used to. I used to advertise everything I did somewhere so I could fit into the right spaces but for awhile I’ve been keeping to myself. A good example would be my avatar work. Basically no one knows I even do it aside from friends and some shygal enthusiasts.
I guess I already have some things to do, like work on my VR world or learn how to play guitar. If I do the VR world right, it should be a very social experience. Maybe I could get more people then I think to want a statue in the world. Maybe it could actually become a place people wanna hang out or put their art. It would be neat to maintain a world like that.
The guitar thing would probably be a solo activity but very interesting to learn. I’d like to be able to play the songs I like just for fun.
10:20 AM
Tummy is still fucky and it’s actually a little weird but no cause for alarm yet. My main concern is getting work done because I’d much rather let my body relax and heal. I am still a day ahead so I could do it but then I wouldn’t be a day ahead anymore. I figure I’ll try my best to get things done. It shouldn’t be too bad today. And hopefully I’ll feel better in a bit anyways.
Unlike in the past, I try to deal with it and get cozy until it’s over instead of worrying about it getting worse and desperately trying to feel better. I accept I kinda feel like shit right now because I know it’ll go away and I’ll feel better eventually. Its a good excuse to shake myself of unneeded obligations and really cozy up.
12:35 PM
I hate to do it but I’m taking a break today. I just physically need the rest. I don’t know why my tummy is acting like this right now but it’s annoying. Maybe I should start tracking these events so if I end up seeing a specialist, I’ll have something to give them. Might also help for my own knowledge too.
1:13 PM
This fucking sucks. I cant even consider much happening to even be “abnormal”, Its just making me feel BAD. I want it to stop. Maybe I ate something off??? But what could it have been? Everything I’ve eaten has a very very low chance of being spoiled. Its also been gentle foods. Why the fuck is my body reacting like this? I guess it could be the cheese I ate but I never expect it to get THIS bad.
11:41 PM
My stomach started feeling better around 5pm. I even felt genuinely hungry which is uncommon. I mean wholesome, tummy rumbling hungry. I ate a can of beanie weenies and some french fries. The beans were weird to me, they were way more bland than I remember which was kind of weirding me out. But is exactly the kind of thing I need to stop. I’ve made the conscious effort to not overthink this. The can was fine, the smell and texture were fine. My taste buds were probably just thrown off by the salty fries, especially considering the first bite didn’t taste weird to me. I guess I’m still overthinking it but the goal is to accept the truth and move on. I don’t want to stress over dumb shit like this.
12:44 AM
Minor traumatic memory time. I remember age 5 when I was in a North Carolina courthouse while my parents were fighting for custody over me. I remember being largely alone for it, I was sitting outside the room they were doing it in. I remember it was high up and I would look out the window. My memory paints it as much higher than it probably was. I remember it like a skyscraper but realistically it might have been a 3rd or 4th floor. I remember looking at the brick ledge outside the window wishing I could be a bug out there, seemingly unreachable by anything else. Who would bother an insect tucked away in some bricks on the side of a wall so high up?
I remember wanting to be put with my dad which wouldn’t have been a good thing but I didn’t know that because I was a kid. I felt so helpless because I was told by him that all I had to do was go into the room and say I wanted to be with him but I was far too afraid. I know now it probably wouldn’t have done much considering the horrible case my father had, but my child mind made me think I was failing him and myself. I feel such sorrow at this memory and wonder how it might have shaped me as a person. I think when memories have such an important nostalgic feeling, it must mean they played a very big part in my mental development. I figure that the reason they still feel so strongly is because I still feel that way today about a lot of things. I still feel like I fail myself and others because of my fear of doing things that need to be done. I also feel like it won’t matter in the end since everything is outside of my control so why should I try anyways?
Logically I know what’s in my control and what I should be doing to improve myself so there’s no real problem here. Just me talking to myself really. I just had this memory again and wanted to break it down a little.
I still wish I could be that bug sometimes. Maybe with a friend there though. A couple little bugs high up someplace where no one will bother them.
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september nights
request: i was wondering if you could write another soft bill smut? i don’t really have a specific plot in mind, we’re just really lacking content on tumblr rn :( in some really precarious place where they don’t want to get caught
warnings: soft smut, like i mean very soft.
word count: 2118
before your lips met bill denbrough’s, love was always, to say the least, a conundrum. lets be real for second, boys wasted your time, and you let them. only the cute ones of course. you are a hopeless romantic, drunk off of molly ringwald and john travolta films. you wanted any relationship you had to be just like the movies.
through your heart breaks, your best friends stood by you, your losers. eddie, richie, bev, stan, ben, and bill. for each tear you shed a punch was thrown to the man who caused it, they were protective over you. bill the most though, he always got so defensive when you were in the mix. all throughout middle & high school, bill has had to deal with every guy who even dares to think about breaking your heart.
“its not fair bill” you wailed into your pillow. he stroked your back and hushed you, his eyes welling with tears. “im never fucking good enough for any guy and its so fucking sad!” your complaints being cut off mid sentence by a choked out cry. “y-y/n. all of y-your boyfriend are i-idiots. anyone w-who would d-d-do this to you isnt w-worth your t-time. anyone w-would be the luckiest in the w-world to have y-you in their life” you picked your head up and looked at him with swollen lips and blood shot eyes “there no one out there for me bill, no one.”
he bit his lip, fighting back any tears dripping from his eyes “they j-just dont see how p-pretty you are. how g-gentle and caring and s-s-sweet, and h-how your face c-can light up any room. theyre f-fucking idiots, and you d-deserve m-more.” you clearly thought he was being nice, because you could take a MOTHER FUCKING GOD DAMN hint, so you replied “i wish there was someone out there like you, for me, that thinks of me the way you do.”
he furrowed his brows, tossing his head back and running his fingers furiously through his hair. “d-dammit y/n!” he cursed “cant you s-see what ive b-been trying to say? w-w-what ive been t-trying to say f-for the last f-five years!?!” your expression was bewildered, your brain was going a mile a minute trying to figure out what he meant. his frustration got the best of him, he got up and stormed out the door, feeling embarrassed and stupid for trying to make you understand how he felt.
he was half way out your front door, fuming for his keys lodged deep into his front pocket; when suddenly:
“bill!”
his head turned at the call of his name, “y-y/n please i d-”
smack.
your lips locked with his, he rain pouring heavily outside. bills lips stilled at the contact, but this lasted briefly, he deepened this kiss by pulling you in to his abdomen by your mid back. your bunched the front of his base ball t shirt with your fists, and he did the same but with your hair.
the rest is basically history.
now six months later, and you couldnt have been happier. bill knew how to treat you, nights out twice a week (you always wanted to pay but bill insisted,) holding your hand to and from classes, he let you borrow have his varsity baseball jacket, which smelt just like him and was a little too big for you.
when he would drop you off and your classes, he would always grab your hand and transfer a tiny piece of paper into your palm. when you got into class to unfold it, it was always a cute little message about his love for you.
bill had it bad for you, everyone knew that, and you loved every minute of it. he met every and any standard you had, and exceeded your expectations.
it was september, still warm enough in derry to wear shorts, so you and your friends thought of a last hurrah for the ending of the summery weather.
“camp out, its nearly perfect” Richie exclaimed. eddie rolled his eyes “like youve ever been near anything perfect toizer, do you even know what perfect means?” richie shoved eddie “yeah eddie i actually have. have you seen amanda’s tits?”
you tuned out richie and eddies bickering as you’re boyfriend cleared his throat. “you g-gonna go?” he said into your ear, “only if you promise to wear bug spray bill, you know how bad-” he cut you off with a kiss, his mouth forming a small smile at how cute you were. “get a room, honestly” stan poked, pda wasn’t his favorite... “at least i h-have something to k-kiss aye s-stannie”
you arrived at the edge of the forest, parking your car at the last parking ish space. you walked toward the sounds of ben and richie fighting, and came to see that richie really went all out. three tents, sticks for a fire, and more snacks than anyone needed.
you all spent the remanence of the daylight dancing in the light sky, sharing stories, and eating waaaay too many chips. it was dark now, you all huddled in a circle near the fire; making small talk and trying not to admit you were all very tired.
“ok folks, im off to bed” richie yawned “me stan eddie n’ mike will take the green tent, bev and ben in the red.” richie paused and smirked over at you and bill, you were tangled in his limbs, golfed in his navy blue pull over. “and uh- heh- billy boy and y/n in the yellow tent eh?” you could practically feel bills eye roll, god richie was so immature.
“w-we dont have to s-sleep in the s-s-same tent, i c-can ask ben if he’d s-switch” you look up at bill and reassure him “bill no- its not a big deal, right?” he tucks your hair behind your ear and kisses the side of your temple “c-course not.”
you both went into the tent, bill began to unroll the blankets you both had packed tightly into your bags. You both set up your makeshift bed, bill leaned against a pile of pillows while you hugged his side, your face buried in his neck. his smell was absolutely intoxicating; his skin had remanence of his milk and honey body wash, but it was slightly overpowered by wintergreen, clove, and his bourbon cologne.
you were like this for around an hour, the orange crank-powered lantern being the only source of light. you switch positions though, you now laid your head on his lap, reading a magazine you stole from the hair salon. he watched your eyes scan every letter, when you read something funny you’d huff to yourself, and when something was intresting you stuck your tongue out from between your teeth. he adored you.
“d-dont stay up t-too late” he stroked your hair off your shoulder “we have t-to have you w-well r-r-rested.” you sat up from beside him, as he adjusted the pillows and took off his pull over, then his pants. he got under the covers and waited for you.
“nice donut boxers” you laughed. “s-shut up” he blushed and regreted not changing them when he had the chance. you turned around took off your shirt, you were shy about how you looked, but it was just bill. it was just bill. you heard his breath hitch, his eagerness radiating off his body onto yours. the air became tense as you unzipped your pants and threw them to the corner. you turned around, bills pupils growing until you were completely facing him.
“yeah i know. mine are boring” you laugh nervously, brushing your hair behind your ear and getting under the covers next to him. he didnt respond, he couldnt take his eyes off of you.you began to sit up again “i can go put back on-” “n-no!” he interrupts, his blush taking up his entire face.
“i j-j-just cant b-believe i g-get to see something s-so special” he gulped “s-so b-b-b-beautiful.”
you grabbed him by his shoulders and kissed him, hard. youve been with boys before, i mean youve dated plenty of people. but no one ever called your body special. hot, yeah. nice, yeah. beautiful, sure. but no one ever thought that it was special.
bill was a kind boy, the most you two have ever done is get each other off with your hands, always clothed. bill never asked to see more, he felt lucky enough just to make you feel good, and that was enough for him. so when you felt the heat of his hands hovering over your body but not touching it, you new you’d have to call the shots tonight.
“bill,” you laid down “just touch me everywhere, please.” he crawled in between your legs, kneeling so that he could lean over your face “m-my pleasure.”
he traced your collar, leaving small, delicate, kisses to make up for what his fingers left behind as they trailed. he kissed the valley between your breasts, licking slow striped down your skin. he picked up your upper back a little and cocked his head to the side, you nodded and he unclipped your bra. he sat their with his mouth open, taking in the view. you blushed and muttered “hey, keep that mouth to good use.” he dipped down and sucked on your nipples, his mouth felt so good against your skin grazed with goosebumps. he was gingerly with his tongue, it was sexy, it was romantic. he kissed down your stomach, his fingers sweeping down your sides. you could see his member pressing against his boxers, the pressure made him wince every once in a while. his fingers met your panties and he hooked them. again, he looked up for permission, you nodded once again.
he brought your underwear down your legs and off, looking back to see what he had relieved. he licked his lips, getting ready to please you more than he already did. but you felt bad, bill always gave gave and gave. “its ok, im ready right now.” bill looked up at you in shock, he wasnt expecting you’d want to go all the way. “y/n, y-youre sure?” you lean up and kiss his lips, swiping your tongue against his bottom lip “please.”
he pulled down his boxers eagerly, his member sprung out to hit his stomach. he lined up with you, checking once more that it was ok. then he pushed in, bottoming out. he felt bigger than you thought, of course he was well endowed, but he filled you up so well. you mewled, the pain and pleasure making a delicious feeling that made your toes curl.
he waited, but began slowly moving after a bit. he grunted, feeling you wrapped around him was something he’d never be able to get out of his head he thought to himself. he grunted “f-fuck this feels g-good’ he grunted, his breath becoming heavy and full of lust. with every stroke, you felt yourself get more and more lost in the bliss he made you feel. “youre making me feel so good bill” you moan, the sound of his name coming out of your mouth driving him absolutely crazy. he speeds up, loving the view of your face contorting in pleasure and your body moving with his.
he couldnt help but feel admiration to you, your hair formed a halo around your head, and the sweat that coated your skin made you glisten in the orange light. “im t-the luckiest in the world” he husks, holding your cheek.
you felt the knot in your core coming undone, “bill im close” you strain, trying not to be too loud so you dont wake your friends. he moved your leg up to his shoulder, hitting you from a different, deeper angle. his fingers went to your clit, making you bite your had to stop you from screaming. “you l-look so p-pretty y/n, t-taking me s-so well. making y-you feel so good.” “so good bill” you repeat, drunken off his cock and fingers.
without warning, you came came, your legs spazzing as you moaned “fuck bill” he followed, his hips stuttering, as he cried out into your shoulder. he pulled out and laid next to you, both of you breathing heavily and coming off your highs.
“y/n” he looked at you “t-that was really j-just wow- thank y-you.” you kissed him, chaste and sweet “that was great yeah?” “it w-was perfect babe. t-thank you f-for t-that. i love you y-y/n.”
“i love you too bill.”
he sat up, his fingers dancing on your inner thigh.
“y/n?”
“yeah?”
“c-can we p-please do t-that again?”
#bill denbrough#bill denbrough x reader#bill denbrough smut#bill denbrough x you#bill denbrough fanfic#IT movie#it fanfiction#it bill#jaeden martell#jaeden lieberher#jaeden wesley#jaeden x reader#jaeden martell x reader#jaeden martell smut#richie tozier#eddiekaspbrak#stanley uris
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THE BOYS BEING STUCK AS ECLIPSE MUST BE SO STRESSFUL FOR THEM. Do you know *why* they’re stuck, or is that too spoilery? If it is, then what would the Reader’s reaction be to this whole Thing if they don’t get a proper job description? Does it take them a bit to realize Eclipse is two animatronics, or are Sun and Moon immediately panicking about that? 🌻
I mean, if you were trapped in a single room and left alone(awake) for 12 hours at a time and every other adult human you encountered saw you as little more than a fancy washing machine to be dismantled and tampered with on a whim regardless of your own concerns since the moment you came into being, you might get a bit stressed too? Constant threats of decommission, random upgrades and swapping parts on the same scale as having an organ transplant while conscious, getting ordered to parts and service because the 'new tech' wants to poke around and familiarize themself with your inner workings. CASUALLY TAMPERING WITH THE BASE AI and fucking over your entire sense of self until you manage to work with this new normal that never feels normal? There's a lot. But mostly it's just it finally got to be too much. Eclipse wasn't programmed into them. It just... Happened. And it's not responding to it's usual protocols. Because Eclipse has no programmed protocols or rules. It can hurt people. It can move around freely. It can, will, and has injured the P&S guys that tried to drag him down for maintenance. He's probably been stuck like this for a few weeks while people try and figure out that if it's someone that's obviously trying to force them to get help, they reject it. Moving into Reader's reaction~ The gist of "Help the Daycare Attendants" is vague enough. They'd know Sun and Moon are a thing from just general advertising for the plex through osmosis, like those commercials you can't totally ignore so you know about it even if it's not something you look into a lot. The first reaction of them walking into the daycare, half lit, mostly empty, and in an absolute MESS (Half destroyed jungle gyms, craft supplies thrown everywhere, some of the floor padding thrown up and some unfortunate staff bots that got sacrificed for science) it would be startling. THEN you've got this looming, jittery, MASSIVE animatronic just perched at the top of the tower, mostly in shadow, that just rumbles out this dual tone, static heavy "Go AWAY." Nope nope nope, fuck that. Fuck ALL of that. Except the employee that showed you to the daycare locked you in. HA HA HA fuck. alternate option is trying to go up the slide to the ball pit. BUT... that means getting closer to the thing that wants you out. Full on panic. But you're not leaving. Granted you CANT, you're still there. And he's getting twitchier. Agitated. Banging on the door and yelling at the person on the other side to open up, at least maybe it can see you WANT to leave. And maybe he does. When you look back up, it's gone. This isn't comforting. It takes a few hours, till the end of your shift, before someone finally comes back to open the door and you could PUNCH them. You didn't see him again, so at least that's ok, but fuck. For some reason you come back the next day, and the next. If he's just gonna hide, you'll take the free pay for dealing with this creepy ass room. Eventually it would click that the Daycare Attendants are kind of both active, in varying levels. Different vibes from the short first interactions would lean more towards an anxious fidgety Sun or a dark, dangerous, spiteful Moon. It's a coin toss on who's more present at the moment. Some days it's nothing though. Some days he just perches and hisses static at you from the tower. ON THE FLIP SIDE for Sun and Moon, they're in a really weird state. Like the AI Have blended. They're only really aware they're two AI when the swing is REALLY HEAVY one way or the other. If one goes dormant and lets the other lead while they rest (usually after exhausting their reserves). The true blend of eclipse is dual speech overlaid with heavy static, conflicting words and phrases, showing off the torrent of mixed emotions inside. The more they can split and flipflop between one or the other, the better off they'll be. If they can fully split their minds, they can undo the Eclipse state. But as long as they're so fucking stressed and distrustful, and one is latching onto the other mentally, they're stuck.
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Just come on in, dont even knock
Y/n walks in on beej jerking off
Nsft
Musical beetlejuice x reader
Just a small thing I've been thinking about forever
...
"Its been awhile hasnt it~" the demon purred to himself, here the born dead bastard was laying on your bed, half naked, pants and boxers thrown aside, jacket shoved off, tie loosened, looking like a mess and practically glowing pink.
Beetlejuice has taken the opportunity of you slipping out to do boring living people things, to tend to his own personal needs.
In his hand was a freshly worn pair of black silk panties, the crotch of the garment was pressed oh so gently to the demon's nose, he growls with the intake of your scent.
"I bet you taste as good as you smell babes~"
His striped tongue gives an experimental lick, which he was pleasantly surprised by the result.
In the ghoul's other hand was his painfully hard cock, already leaking with precum, you drove the ghoul absolutely wild, hes been dying all day for an opportunity to 'fix' the little problem you stuck him with, how dare you turn him on so easily, laughing at his jokes, making him food, treating him with kindness, you were the hottest tease he ever encountered. God slash satan he wanted you, but would you believe him if he said the L word? No, he had to wait for you to say it, beetlejuice KNEW you liked him, he also knew you were a coward and shy, though it DID have a charm to it. But until the day you confess your undying love for him, beetlejuice decided he could satisfy his craving for you his own way.
The demon takes another inhale of your sent before groaning as he goes back to stroking himself, the idea of you pressing your clothed sex against his face while you stroke him was all he could think about. How your wet panties would be muffling his moans, at that thought beetlejuice instinctively shoved the garment in his mouth, as if to recreate the sensation, letting out a soft whine as drool now dribbles down his chin.
He could imagine all the sweet things youd be saying as you tended to his cock, you were always so sweet to him, the kindness in your voice always got him going down there, not that you knew.
He could hear you now
'Does that feel good?' 'You're so big' 'I cant wait to feel you inside of me'
His hips jump at that last thought, another muffled whine escapes his gagged mouth.
As much as beej wanted to take his time and enjoy himself to the fullest he didnt exactly know, how long you'll be out, it wasnt like you were going to work, you could be home anytime, but that was the thrill wasnt it?
His head now lulled back, eyes closed, as if to focus on his image of you, his hands begin to speed up their lazy pace.
The taste of you on his tongue, the memories of every nice thing you've ever said to him, the image of you now riding his cock, after you shoved your panties in his mouth, this little fantasy wasn't gonna last long, he was getting so close.
Beetlejuice muffled and groan around the gag, cursing and praising how good you felt and how good you are to him.
"Fuck y/n I'm gonna full you up so good-"
...
Coming home from the pharmacy, you drop your bags on the couch, you pause for a second, normally beetlejuice greets you the second you come home, you shrug and think nothing of it.
Until you hear a ruckus down the hall, you groan, he was messing around with your stuff again wasnt he, you huff and head to your room.
Without a second thought you swing the door open, all you could hear as you approached the room was unintelligible mumbles. But you scream at what you see, and so does the culprit.
"Beetlejuice I told you, stay out of my- WHAT THE FUCK!?" You shriek at seeing the demon in question jerking off on your bed
Though your scream made him blow his load, he immediately sits up and tries to cover himself, trying to muffle out some sort of excuse, pink fading from his hair, now being replaced with deep purples and blues
"I am so sorry, I didnt see any, I swear, i, um I should have knocked" you babbled as you quickly run off leaving the demon confused more then anything, you werent gonna scream at him? Banish him? Join in? He sat there for a moment trying to process what happened, taking the soaked panties out of his mouth, staring at the doorway where you once stood.
After a few minutes he has a small chuckle, that was you wasnt it? Shy little y/n, you see a creepy dead guy stroking the snake in your bed and you apologize, getting up from the bed, beetlejuice snaps his fingers redressing himself and cleaning up the mess he made.
He makes his way to you, to push his luck.
There you were sitting on the couch, face in your hands probably dying of embarrassment.
"Hey" he greets
Nothing
"You enjoy the show?" He jokes
Still nothing, the ghoul frowns, purple taking over his form, he gently sits down next to you.
"I promise to wash the sheets if you just say something" he pleads
"...please find a different place to do that" you mumble in your hands, clearly dying of embarrassment, but he'll take it
"No problem sugar, I'll wait for a personal invitation to unload in your bed" he laughs, thankful you didnt banish him, beetlejuice gives you a hug, feeling your body freeze at the contact, he didnt really blame you, as he squeezed you he thanked anyone and everyone who could hear his prayers.
Bonus
Once you over came your embarrassment, you made sure to watch beetlejuice put the sheets in the wash, and show him how to run the machine, and again with the dryer, as the dryer rumbled he chuckled "bet it would feel real good to sit on top if it huh babes?" Hed nudge you, you only have him an awkward smile.
You werent exactly mad at him, just a tad upset, it was a violation of your trust, though beetlejuice was practically on his hands and knees begging you to forgive him, saying your bed is the most comfortable place in the house ect, and how he'll make it up to you, anything you want, now he's stuck on chore duty.
But as you lay in bed that night, alone, beetlejuice took the couch as punishment, you couldnt help but think back to walking in on your friend, and seeing him in such a state, gagged, drooling, an absolute mess, and his package, you didnt expect beej to be so thick down there, you shiver at the thought, the idea of being stuffed by him made you legs weak, and seeing him finish? He was like a fucking firehose, you werent going to be sleep tonight with those thoughts bouncing around your skull.
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Could you please write one of those Tiktok "I tried to kiss my bestfriend / crush" challenge for either Charlie or Owen. Thanks!
Crushtok - Owen Patrick Joyner
A/N: Yes ofc I can! I never wrote for Owen so let me know what you think! I hope you like it :)
Words: 1.9k
Warnings: tiktok and noise (so none really)
Requests are open!
MASTERLIST
--------‐--------------
The sun poked through curtains and you swore that you had heard birds the day before but it was loud, uncomfortably so. All you heard was the clacking of metal and the rattling of the machinery that the construction in front of Owens Appartement made. All the unpleasant noises woke you up in the early morning. Grumbling, you tried to block out the noise with a pillow pressed against your face.
"That's not gonna work sleepy beauty" a lower voice croaked, catching you completely off guard so you let out a quiet shriek. "Oweenn why do you have to scare me badly in the morning?" You whined and took the pillow away from your face.
He sat on the other side of the couch, just underneath your feet and looked absolutely tired. His blonde hair was standing up in every possible direction, his normally piercing blue eyes trying their best to stay open. By the way, he was looking at you with a little smirk on his lips, you figured that you didn't look any better.
"Because it's 6 am on a Saturday morning and I didn't want to suffer alone. So lucky you for visiting me this week!" Owen exclaimed and hit your leg in a joking manner.
"I've got thrown out by my landlord. I'm not here on my own terms..." this earned you a shocked gasp from the boy sitting in front of you. "And there I was, thinking this friendship meant something to you." You just rolled your eyes with a smirk.
"Do you want to come back to my bedroom? With some music playing it's much quieter than out here." Nodding tiredly, he held out a hand to help you stand up; you only noticed when you nuzzled into his bed that he didn't let go of your hand.
You woke up a couple of hours later, quiet pop music filled the darkroom and it was hot, your bare legs sticking to the duvet covers. You turned around and faced a back with broad shoulders that were just moments ago pressed against your back. Groaning, you stuck your legs out of the bed, the cold air cooling you down immediately. Owen stirred next to you and sat up slowly.
"Morning part 2." you chuckled and automatically pushed some of his hair out of his face.
"Mornin" he mumbled back.
"You were right it's much quieter in your room."
You stood up, stretching your limbs, before heading back into the living room where all your stuff was stored, quite impractically but it was stored.
You heard a shower running, that gave you the perfect time to change from your big shirt and little pants sleep attire to a more comfortable day outfit. After rummaging through your boxes, that you packed in a freezy, you choose some brown cotton pants with a white body and to top it off your favourite purple cardigan that Owen gifted you one Christmas. With some extra time, you put on your glasses and started to search for a new place to stay.
"So what do you wanna do today? I have nothing going on so..." you stopped listening as Owen walked into the living room shirtless. He wore some blue sweatpants that hung quite low on his hips, his chest still sparkling from the water.
You would have probably started to drool if he wouldn't have worn his hair in a towel bun.
You let out a laugh that made him stop in his tracks.
"What?" he stared at you intensely.
"Oh, nothing princess... nothing. We uh... could look at some apartments for me and just go for a drive?"
"Am I that bad of a roommate?" he said and plopped down next to you on the couch his arm resting on the top comfortably.
"No but I would really appreciate a place to store my stuff properly." you continued to scroll through places to stay.
"This one looks good." he pointed out and put his finger on the screen, you hadn't realised that he rested his arm just above your shoulders so it took you off guard when you suddenly felt his arm on your neck.
"Mhmm, but you cant look at it today... This one though has a viewing in the late afternoon."
"Then that's our plan for today."
++
"Y/N! Y/N!" Owen screamed loudly from the kitchen "Come here real quick."
With your phone still in one hand, you waddled over to your best friend. "What's the emergency?" you looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.
"Do this TikTok with me." he pleaded and looked at you with a slight pout, shoving his phone in your face. Your eyes scanned the screen and then you scoffed, "First of all since when are you on lesbian TikTok? And secondly, that's a bit... explicit... don't you think?"
"W- Our lips don't have to touch! I don't have anybody else to do it with! Y/N Come On!" he yelled after your figure who left the kitchen with a shaking head and hot cheeks.
Your thought didn't stop racing for the rest of the day. Did Owen want to kiss you? Or was he just so comfortable with your friendship that he really didn't care? You hated that you were a cliche, falling in love with your childhood best friend. Growing up you were always the one rolling your eyes at your parents who thought that you and Owen would make just such a cute couple but here you were, sitting on his couch, your heart beating in your chest and extremely conscious of his presence.
Little did you know that Owen felt the exact same. Over the years and especially puberty, he started to develop feelings for you. At first, he tried to deny them, telling himself that it's just that he's used to you being around but then he left to pursue his acting career and he missed you more than everything in the world. Not a single day went by when he didn't think of you or tried to call you. Ever since then, he tried to be close to you in one way or the other, he didn't care if it was just his leg touching yours or your body heat warming him up.
Due to the fact that you were both anxious people, neither of you ever made a move. He missed your longing stares and you missed the way he was checking you out every time he looked at you.
His friends finally talked some confidence into him and so he took little steps into what should eventually lead to him confessing his love for you. He started to flirt more with you, give you loads of compliments and asked you if you wanted to do some TikTok or lives with him.
Tapping on your shoulder made you look up from your phone, the TikTok you've been watching looping on your screen. Owen stood next to you, his phone pointed to you, a mischievous smirk prominent on his face and whipped cream can in his other hand.
"No." you tried to be serious but a chuckle escaped your lips. Owen turned the camera to him and sprayed some cream into his mouth then stared at you with squinted eyes, the whipped cream flowing out of his mouth.
You stared at him for a couple of seconds, your brain in overdrive, hands sweaty and heart beating rapidly. An idea washed over you and you tilted your head before leaning in close. Owen's eyes went wide and he nearly choked on the cream. But you weren't gonna kiss him seconds before your lips would have met, you halted. Then you slowly took the can of whipped cream out of his hand and sprayed it all over his head.
"You didn't!" he gasped with a full mouth while you laid on the floor, holding your stomach in laughter. Something wet hit your face that stopped you from laughing further. Owen had a massive grin on his face, one hand dripping slightly and his hair, less creamy.
"Be cautious Joyner" you warned standing up on your tiptoes to be as close to him as possible, your pointer finger pressing into his chest "I know where your bed sleeps."
You tried to back out of the situation, knowing damn well that it can easily get out of hand with you two and a whipped cream match would make a lot of mess. But Owen being the child he is, didn't back out, instead, he ripped the can out of your hand and sprayed it down your back.
The war ended peacefully. The cans of whipped cream, yes you found more cans, laying somewhere in the living room both of you covered from head to toe, breathing heavily. Owen held his hands up in surrender and looked up to your position on the coffee table.
"Ha! I win! Told you I didn't want to do the TikTok." you smiled triumphantly. "I say loser cleans this up." before Owen could protest you sprinted to the shower. Lucky for you he actually started to clean up when you walked out of the bathroom, dressed in comfortable sweats and one of Owens hoodie, your damp hair falling over your shoulders.
"Hey Y/N?" Owen asked somehow nervously. "Yes darling?" you answered with a bad British accent.
"Can you come here for a second?"
"Owen I'm not doing that TikTok with you, you just saw how that ended," you argued but made your way over to him. He stood in the middle of the room, his phone propped up on a shelf.
"You have something on your face." you chuckled and whipped away some dried leftovers from your previous war.
"Can you react to this song? I don't remember where I know it from" he asked, his voice shaking slightly. You furrowed your eyebrows at his odd behaviour just moments ago he was normal and now he acted very strangely.
"Sure." he pulled you in front of him, his hands resting on your shoulders.
'Baby, you're like lightning in a bottle
I can't let you go now that I got it'
“Sounds like BORNS…” you whispered more to yourself than to him and continued to listen to the song “Are you sure you just haven't…” you turned around to face him.
Owen took this as his opportunity to cup your face with both of his hands, softly pressing his lips to yours.
Your breath hitched and it took you a second to realise what was happening. The confidence Owen had just moments ago vanished when you didn't kiss him back immediately. Why should you? You never gave a hint that you liked him like that as well.
Just as he was about to pull away and apologize profusely, you overcame your state of shock. Your arms grabbed his hips to pull him closer, deepening the kiss. You felt him smile against your lips. Your stomach erupted with butterflies, your whole body tingled and your cheeks felt hot.
He was the first one to pull away, resting his forehead on yours. Both breathing heavily, the filming camera was completely forgotten, you looked in each other's eyes.
“I wanted to do that for so long,” you admitted and unconsciously bit your lip. Owen gulped heavily, “Me too but, what the hell! I mean how crazy is that?!”
#jatp fanfic#alex mercer#jatp x reader#owen joyner imagine#owen joyner fanfiction#owen joyner#owen joyner x reader#owen patrick joyner gif#owen patrick joyner#owen joyner x y/n#owen joyner fluff#owen joyner fic#owen patrick joyner x reader#owen patrick joyner fluff#owen patrick joyner imagine#julie and the phantoms
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Unmotivated..
Why do I feel so uninspired. So unmotivated with what life has given me. Or to be frank, has thrown at me from the deep edges of hell for me to jump over. There is of course wonderful days to thank over. I always pray for more. Having shreds of happiness to cling onto in my most heartbreaking moments. Only to be starved, having only sleep for sustinance, having my bed shared by anxiety, depressive and the leeching feeling of uselessness by me taking no action. Instead, scared of the unraveled consequences. How stupid is that to say out loud, but it happens.
Just being always having my hands filled felt so accomplishing but so painful to think about, afraid of that deadline. It keeps you occupied and having some sort of safe space but its a facade, A facade that gives you new worries, new responsibilities than the ones you hear on a daily basis. In conclusion, That "safe space" manifested in your subconcious a labrynth with multiple doors leading to multiple problems to walk through rather than dealing it all through that single door. Your'e just not able to come to grips to say that that hallway to another room is not a salvation. That door is just taking you deeper into the labrynth until its difficult to get out.
To have people tell you to take a break is good to hear. Makes you think they care, and they do. There are definitely people you can love and trust through this time, but you feel so used to the routine you cant stop. You can stop the cycle, but it requires sacrifices and the mental torment of change. Change is a pain that's beneficial, a daily prescription I personally need to take continuously and so do many others. With change, my inspiration and my motivation will recover. And we can do better in life by seeing the positives more clearly, And to not overlook the bad, but be able to understand and keep that negative at a healthy dose so it doesn't spiral within us again.
(Hello! It's been a long time since I posted here. Based on this post, been feeling so down for a long time and back and forth trying to pull myself up. I thought to start again I could write about those feelings because I know a lot of people who feel a little similar. And thank you so much to the people who liked my other works that means a lot to me because I always feel a bit scared to share my thoughts on the internet of all places but now I feel more inspired and want to see people who maybe liek my perspective or want to say there own thoughts on subjects with me. I find it interesting. I hope you have a great day, and if you're stuck in a cycle like me. It's ok, take your time to get out but of course, acknowledge the longer you take the more impact it'll happen on you.)
#my writing#feelings#tw depressing thoughts#writers on tumblr#poets on tumblr#unmotivated#uninspired#whats on my mind#honest writing#support writers#support poets#support creators#like if read#follow if you want#comment what you want me to talk about next#say your thoughts in comments
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Slashers Toy Story!AU
Or, *cough* a way for me to write out a buncha funny Incorrect Quotes and smoosh two things I love together.
Woody: Jason Voorhees
Buzz Lightyear: Michael Myers
Jessie: Ghostface
Prospector/Stinky Pete: Roman Bridger
Bo Peep and Ham: Freddy Krueger
Mr Potato Head: Chucky / Charles Lee Ray
Mrs Potato Head: Tiffany Valentine
Slinky: Carrie White
Rex: Bubba Sawyer
Barbie: Jennifer Check
Ken: Patrick Bateman
Lotso-'O'-Huggin' Bear: Sheriff Hoyt / Charlie Hewitt. Was gonna be Bo, but Hoyt just fits way better. Plus he has Thomas.
Chuckles: Monty
Big Baby: Thomas hewitt
The Chatter Telephone: Luda Mae Hewitt
Also, Sunnydale Daycare: Ambrose. Because why not.
*I'm thing the kids in Toy Story are the fanbase and creators of the Slashers in this AU. Like, Andy and Bonnie are the original creators that make up the canon stuff and created them to be the infamous characters we all know- and Sid is us fan-people that twist and distort the characters for our own pleasure, haha XD *
An abundance of Incorrect Quotes bellow the cut!
Chucky: *With all the features on his face mismatched*
Chucky: Hey Freddy, look! I'm Picasso!
Freddy: ... yeah, I don't get it. *Leaves*
Chucky: *what... * You uncultured swine!! *Shakes his fist at Freddy's retreating back. That was a good fucking joke, goddamn.*
~
Michael: *Writing down on whiteboard:* Excuse me... I think the word you're searching for is
THE SHAPE.
Jason: *Already so done with this edgy boy's bullshit*
Jason: *Moves attention to his own whiteboard, starts writing*
Jason: *Shows board*
NO. The word I'm 'searching for', I cant say, because there are preschool toys present.
*Gestures ferociously to Carrie and Bubba.*
~
Jason: *Ughhhh. Shows board that he frantically wrote on:* Its not a KNIFE! Its a little stick of plastic!!
Freddy: What's wrong with him??
Chucky: Knife envy~
Freddy: Ah been there
~
Jason and Michael: *Watching Dr Loomis give psychology advice*
Jason and Michael: *Slowly tilting their heads sceptically, in unison*
Michael: *Holds up board for Jason to read:* ... I don't think that man has ever been to medical school.
~
Jason: *Trying to get Michael to help him. Writes passive aggressively on board and shoves the thing in Michael's view:* Would you give me a hand!???
Michael: *Fucking slices his own arm off and chucks it at Jason*
Look, he's having a bad day...
~
Freddy: *Sneaks up on Jason and digs his fingers into the giants sides*
Jason: *Whips around and cracks Freddy in the face from shock*
Jason: *Realises its just Freddy as the other groans and holds his nose, and looks a little guilty. Oh, Freddy. Writes on board and shows him:* There's gotta be a less painful way to get my attention.
Freddy: Agh- Fucking- Merry Christmas, hockey puck!
Jason: *Catches sight of something above them, tilts his head. Writes and shows board:* Isn't that mistletoe?
Freddy: *A slow, creepy grin rips across his face* Yep.
~ Toy Stoy 2~
Jason: *Frantically holding up a board:* Michael! I was a yo-yo!
Freddy and Chucky: *Look at each other*
Chucky: 'Was'?
~
*Michael and the others watching a dude try to buy Jason and failing.*
Michael: *Thinking: Mm, now just walk away.*
Man: *Follows after where Jason went.*
Michael: *Thinking: ... the other way.*
~
*After Jason has been stolen- everyone is panicking*
Michael: *Stomping his foot, trying to gather these psychopaths' attentions. Wait a minute! Wait, hold on! When he semi has their attention, he shows a piece of paper with writing on it:* This is not time to be hysterical.
Freddy: Its the perfect time to be hysterical.
Bubba: *Gasp. Should we be hysterical!?*
Carrie: *Tries to calm Bubba down, a hand on his arm and voice gentle* No-
Chucky: Yes.
Michael: *Thinking: ... well, maybe*
~
Freddy: Give this to Jason when you find him
Freddy: *SMACKS MICHAEL UPSIDE THE HEAD*
Michael: ... *Holds up board* Alright. But I don't think it'll mean the same thing coming from me.
~
Freddy: *Up ahead* Hey guys! Why did the toys cross the road!?
Michael: *But rolls his eyes. Not now bacon bits.*
Bubba: *Perks up and waives. Oh! He loves riddles. Why?*
Freddy: To get to the chicken... on the other side!
*They all look out and celebrate, seeing where Jason was being kept hostage... but then realise how dangerous getting across will be as a giant fricken truck careens by and crushes a can the same size as them*
Bubba: ... *Promptly turns around and starts walking back the way they came. Oh well. We tried-*
Michael: *Grabs Bubba back*
~
Jennifer: I can help! I'm Tour Guide Jen!
Jennifer: Please keep your hands, arms and accessories inside the car, and no flash photography! Thanks.
Chucky: -I'm a married man, I'm married man, I'm married man-
Freddy: *Shoves Chucky out of the way* Then make room for the single fellas.
~
Michael: *Ugh. Writes on board:* They're on level 23.
Carrie: How are we gonna get up there?
Bubba: *Gestures to balloons, then up to the sky. Meaning: Maybe if we find some balloons, we could float to the top!*
Chucky: Are you kidding? I say we stack ourselves up, push the intercom, and pretend we're delivering a pizza.
Freddy: How bout a roast? *Grins*
Freddy: *Assesses Chucky and Carrie in turn* With tenderised pig and a slaughtered lamb as sides.
Chucky: Hold the fuck up did you just call me a pig- and a side-
Carrie: What?
Bubba: Oh! Oh! *Pats his chest excitedly. Do him! What about me??*
Freddy: ... Eh, you can be the toy that comes with the meal.
~
*Michael does something to get them all hurt and doesn't to care at all, of course. Just moves on.*
Chucky: Remind me to glue his mask on his head when we get back.
Freddy: *Nods, yep*
~
Chucky:*Embracing Tiffany after having been away saving Jason*
Glen and Glenda: You saved our lives! We're eternally grateful!
Chucky: Oh, fuck...
Tiffany: You saved their lives, Chucky?? Oh, my hero.
Tiffany: *Immediately drops Chucky in favour of picking up the babies* And they're adorable! Lets adopt them!
Chucky: *Thinking: What? No- Absolutely not- Don't say tha-*
Glen and Glenda: Daaaaddy!
Chucky: Fuck.
~Toy Story 3~
Jason: *Holds up a sign as he stands there menacingly with his machete:* You got a date with justice, Charles.
Chucky: Heh, too bad, 'sheriff'. I'm a married man.
Tiffany: *Comes out screaming, wielding goddamn nun chucks*
~
Michael: *Eyes narrow behind mask, slowly holds up sign he prepared earlier:* Bastard son of a hundred maniacs.
Freddy: Hah. That's Mr Bastard son of a hundred maniacs, to you!
~
*The toys/Slashers watch some toys, including Jennifer and her car get thrown in the donation bin*
Ghostface: Oh, man, poor Jen.
Freddy: ... I get the corvette.
~
Tiffany: Its alright, Jen, it'll be okay.
Jennifer: Well... Needy and I have been growing apart for a while...
Jennifer: Its just... I cant believe she would kill me!
Chucky: *Who's 'best friend till the end'/victim also killed him* Yeah. Welcome to the club, toots.
~
Hoyt: They just love new toys, don't they?
Chucky: Love!? We've been chewed, kicked, drooled on-
Tiffany: Just look at my nails!
Hoyt: ... Hm. Well, here's the thing, sweetheart. You aint leavin' Ambrose.
Tiffany: *Thinking: Oh fuck no he did not just- * Sweetheart!? Who do you think you're talking to!? I have over 10 kills, and I deserve more respec-
Hoyt: *Covers Tiffany's mouth with his hand* Ah, that's better.
Chucky: *Thinking: I'm going to fuck this douche up- * Hey, no one takes my wife's mouth. *Shoves Hoyt back off her by the chest* 'Cept me.
~
*Hoyt and Thomas bring Chucky back from 'The Box'. He's more fucked up looking then usual, sand all through his hair and stuck to his plastic features. He shakes it out of his pockets.*
Tiffany: *Gasp* Sweetheart!
Chucky: Eugh... it was cold. And dark. Nothin' but sand and a couple of Lincoln logs.
Freddy: Ehhh... I don't think those were Lincoln logs.
~
Ghostface: I was wrong...
Chucky:
Chucky: Ghostface is right. He was wrong.
~
Jennifer: *Fake cries*
~
Chucky: *Slaps a Pidgeon*
~
*Trying to reset Michael back to his former settings/self (The one that knows them and therefore will maybe-perhaps-possibly not kill them*
Freddy: Oh- oh- oh, here we go. there should be a little hole under the switch.
Jason: *Little hole little hold little hole- Nods. Got it!*
Freddy: To reset your Michael Myers action figure, insert paper clip-
Jason: *Sharply turns to Bubba, urging him to put his finger in the hole quickly*
Freddy: Caution; Do not hold button for more then five seconds...
Michael: *Suddenly stops thrashing and goes slack*
Everyone: ...
Bubba: *Jumps off him, holding up his hands. Its not my fault!!*
~
Michael, on Spanish Mode: *Gives Jason two sweet kisses on either cheek*
Jason: *Awkwardly, slowly holds up sign:* We gotta switch him back.
~
Ghostface: Oh! Mikey!!
Michael, still on Spanish Mode: *Sees Ghostface*
Michael: *Drops to his knees, gathers up Ghostface's hand*
Michael: *Looks up at Ghostface in utter awe and admiration*
Ghostface: *Freaken freaked out. Shouldn't he be the creepy one in this outfit? Leans away* Uhh... did you fix Michael?
Freddy: Uh, sorta. I mean I for one think this is a huge improvement.
~
Michael, STILL on Spanish Mode: *Does a dance of feelings around Ghostface, wanting to express himself*
Ghostface: What- why- please stop I'm gonna pee myself- Of laughter or fear I have no idea but I WILL PEE
Michael: *Grabs and dips Ghostface, and holds up a sign* We will be the most famous killers in history, together.
Ghostface: *Thinking: Oh I can get behind that, hell yeah- *
Jason: *Arrives*
Ghostface: Oh- *Scrambles out of Michaels hold* JASE!
Michael: *Watches them move on together* *Throws down the sign*
Freddy: I suddenly feel disgusting, like... I somehow ended up in some kinda... love-square, of some kind...
~
Jason: *Nicely gestures for Michael to give him some help*
Michael, stillllllll on Spanish mode: *Sniffs his nose at Jason's hand, shoving him out of the way with one arm like no thank you.*
~
Jennifer: Authority should derive from the consent of the governed. Not from the threat of force! // Or, alternatively which I think fits a whole lot better- // I am not going to stand back here and let another fucking old white guy tell me what the fuck to do!
Chucky and Freddy, two old white guys: *Look at each other*
Chucky:
Freddy:
Chucky and Freddy: *Shrug*
And that's it seeing as I don't really wanna see Toy Story 4. I hope you enjoyed this silly thing with me at least a little XD
Okay so I got a little attached in the end.
#Slashers Toy Story!AU#Toy Story!AU#Slashers#Horror Villains#Incorrect Quotes#IQs#Chucky#Charles Lee Ray#Chucky x Tiffany#Tiffany Valentine#Chiffany#Freddy Krueger#Jason Voorhees#Freddy x Jason#Frason#Jennifer Check#Bubba Sawyer#Carrie White#Ghostface#Michael Myers#Glenn Ray#Glenda Ray#Freddy Krueger x Jason Voorhees#Charles Lee Ray x Tiffany Valentine#Chucky x Tiffany Valentine#Jason Voorhees x Freddy Krueger#Toy Story#Toy Story 2#Toy Story 3
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Out of Context
Request: First of all, congratulations on 1,000!!!! Could you do a a sequel to Interloper where maybe an interviewer is giving her shit for having once been a groupie and Bri Rog and Deaky defend her and have amazing sex after at like their hotel 😂-foursome anon (I’m back)
Interloper / Snapshots From Before (Prequel)
Pairing: Roger Taylor x Brian May x John Deacon x Fem!Reader
Warnings: SMUT (18+), gangbang/foursome, oral sex (m and f receiving), anal sex, tit fucking, light choking, slightly dom reader, cheer up sex, some spanking, double and triple penetration
Words: 6,145
A/N: This was another request from back at my 1000 follower celebration last year. It’s been sitting half written in my drafts since then and I finally felt inspired to finish it lmao. Foursome anon I hope you’re still around and you see this!!
Blurb Advent: Day 10
Taglist: @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies
Doing press wasn’t easy, especially when interviewers insisted on questioning you all separately. You preferred having at least one of the boys to back you up. They’d been dealing with the whole interview process for so long now they knew how to avoid answering things they didn’t want to, knew how to deal with rude reporters. But it was all new to you. Perhaps that was why this particular interview had gone so badly. There was no Freddie to make the right snide comment, no Roger to get pissed off on your behalf, no Brian or John to squeeze your knee comfortingly or take over when you go tongue tied.
Things between you and the rest of the band had been going much better since Freddie had locked you in that room together. It didn’t happen overnight, there were still lingering tensions. But any badmouthing they did of you was out of your hearing which you much preferred. Gradually, as the tour wore on, there were less tensions. They got used to having you around, began including you in their games of scrabble and their not-quite-awake conversations over hotel breakfasts. Until one day, in the final leg of the tour, when Freddie admitted to you quietly that he hadn’t overheard any whispered comments for nearly a week. “And here I was thinking we’d never get there.” “Oh hush, darling, I told you from the beginning they wouldn’t hate you forever. Sure they took a little longer to come around than I had anticipated but it all worked out in the end. And now when you tell them the execs have asked for another full album featuring you, they probably won’t kill you.” They hadn’t, of course, though you’d worried for the safety of everyone involved in making the decision. Roger looked as if he were a second away from punching the first person to talk to him.
They took less time to calm down though, especially after they saw how nervous you got before the first interview. Your agent had decided some preliminary press would help build excitement for the album before the songs were even written. Calls were made, journalists were found, and before you knew it you were facing a crowd of people vying to ask you their questions, cameras flashing the whole time. It was a lot. More than pushing you into the deep end, you’d be thrown to the bloody sharks. Any lingering ill will the boys had for you vanished after that. They’d all thankfully been there too, had drawn the attention to themselves rather than let you struggle to answer everything on your own. After that they’d kept an eye on you during the smaller interviews. Mostly the reporters were happy to talk to you all together and, as long as you said one or two things about how excited you were to be working with Queen again, and how much fun touring with them was, you could get away with letting them take lead. But every now and then you got stuck with some jackass who wanted to quiz you solo. And this interview, this horrid interview, had been one of them.
Roger pushed the magazine away from himself, letting it slide as far down your kitchen table as it would go. “She’s a fucking bitch that reporter.” You looked down at the magazine, still open to your interview, the headline alone making your stomach turn. “No, sorry, that’s an insult to dogs. She’s a fucking cunt.” “Rog,” “No, that’s an insult to vaginas. There is no word strong enough for that poor excuse for a journalist.” “Roger, sit down.” Roger shot Freddie a dirty look but sat down anyway, his knee bouncing with restless energy, “Sorry. I’m just pissed off.” “Yes, we gathered that, thanks Rog,” “She took everything I said out of context, you have to believe me.” “We do, Y/N, we do,” John said softly from beside you, rubbing circles on your back. “It started well, I swear. Just the usual questions y’know, what’s it like working with Queen? How does it feel to be singing next to Freddie Mercury? Were you nervous about touring with them? Can you give us any hints about the new album? All the things that usually come up that Freddie coached me on how to answer, and I was doing fine. I had my prepared answers and there was no stumbling over words or anything like that. I thought I’d finally got the hang of it all and then she asked me to elaborate on what it was like working with you. I’d already told her the usual thing – it was fun and y’know blew my mind and all that. But then she asked how it compare to being your groupie.” “You didn’t answer her did you?” “Christ no, Brian! Jesus what do you take me for?” Brian held his hands up in apology. “I told her that it wasn’t relevant, but she kept asking, one question after another thrown at me and no matter what I said she didn’t stop. All sorts of stuff, like which of you was the best shag, and if I’d only wanted to be your groupie because I hoped it would lead to my own album, and if I was still offering my services,” you made air quotes around the words, “accused me of using you for my own gain and asked if you were the first band I’d tried it with or if you were just the only ones gullible enough to let me. I tried to tell her no and that I wasn’t going to answer those questions but she just kept going and then she told me to get used to the attention and left. I guess she didn’t need my answers to write a whole article about it.” “Which of us is the best shag?” Brian repeated the question though you suspected he wasn’t just checking he’d heard you correctly. The others all fell quiet, waiting to see if you’d answer. “Really Bri? That’s what you got from that?” “Right, right, sorry, not the important part. Look, it’s not as bad as you think it is.” “Bri’s right, love,” Roger said, much calmer than he had been before, “there’s nothing of substance in here. Like this quote, as for the fun Ms Y/L/N mentioned was had on tour, one can’t help but wonder just what she meant. Could the stories about nights spent playing boardgames be covers for debauched, drug-fuelled, orgies the likes of which would make a pornstar blush, I mean, there’s nothing there. It’s all conjecture and anyone worth a damn will see right through it.” “But some people will believe it,” “Maybe, yes,” Freddie said, “but it’ll blow over. We’ve all been in the same place you are at one time or another. If anything this officially makes you one of the band.” “Yeah, Y/N, it’s all just spiteful rubbish.” “Thanks guys, but I think I might just call it a day, go back to bed. Stay if you want, I don’t mind. But if you leave lock the door behind you.” You stood and headed to your bedroom.
The four boys stayed quiet until you were out of your room but you heard their hushed voices and hissed comments through your bedroom door as you pulled off your jeans and unclasped your bra from under the baggy jumper you wore. It took about five minutes before there was a soft knock on your bedroom door. “Y/N, can I come in?” You contemplated feigning sleep. “I know you’re not asleep.” You sighed and sat up, hugging your knees to your chest, “Fine, Roger, come in.” “Freddie’s gone to make some calls,” he said, standing just inside your doorway, hands in his pockets. “Calls about what? It’s out there now, there’s no getting it back.” “No but we need to make it clear to other journalists that those kinds of questions won’t be answered in any future interviews, and hopefully we can make sure that parasite never gets to come anywhere near us again.” “Isn’t that mean to parasites?” Roger chuckled, “getting over it already, see,” he sat on the edge of the bed and placed his hand on your covered knee, “I know this sucks, and I get that you’re ashamed, but I promise it’s not as bad as it feels right now.” “I’m not ashamed.” “What?” “You said I’m ashamed of it but I’m not.” “Oh. I thought-” “I’m a bit embarrassed because obviously I’ve never told my family what it is I got up to when I went to all those concerts and now they’re all going to know, lord knows some of them will believe the worst of it. And I’m pissed off that I didn’t stand up for myself more. I just let her keep cutting me off and talking over me when I should have told her to fuck off or at least called her out for being a prudish arsehole who probably only attacked me because she’s jealous I’ve fucked three quarters of Queen. And I’m annoyed that you’ve all been brought up in the article, and she’s questioning whether your good people just because you sept with me. I mean does she expect you all to be virginal saints or something? It’s just frustrating and yes, upsetting. But I’m definitely not ashamed.” “Huh, okay then.” “What?” “Nothing, just, we assumed you regretted sleeping with us.” “Lord no. It wasn’t planned, like she was insinuating, but seeping with you definitely helped me get my foot in the door with this whole music thing. And even if it hadn’t done that, it was still fun as hell and made me feel good. If I wasn’t fucking you I would have been out having mediocre sex with guys I met in pubs and I don’t care how much of a slut it makes me seem, but I’d rather fuck a whole band every single night and actually get off than have a disappointing drunk lay with a guy who’s never heard of the clitoris. Fuck, I’d still be doing the whole groupie thing now, and be perfectly happy with it, if Freddie hadn’t heard me singing that day. That night at the after party, that was heaps of fun.” “Give me a second would you,” Roger stood and walked to the door, giving you another glance before he turned the corner. You watched the doorway, not quite sure what to make of his behaviour but your questions were answered soon enough when he reappeared with Brian and John following. “So apparently we misread the situation,” Brian said, taking the seat Roger had just vacated. John sat cross legged at the end of your bed while Roger flopped onto the mattress beside you. “I can’t believe you’d think I regretted being your groupie. Have you met me?” “In our defence you seemed very upset, what were we meant to think?” “I had a shitty interview and got called a whore in a very public way, of course I’m upset. Doesn’t mean I regret anything.” “Yeah, that makes sense. Sorry, we should have realised. But we have a proposition for you. We actually thought of a way to cheer you up when we first saw the magazine this morning but then when we got here you seemed so sad and we didn’t want to make you more upset or uncomfortable,” “What Brian is trying to say is that we have an idea we think you might like.” “Jesus will you two stop beating around the bush?” “Shut up Rog, I’m getting there.” “Y/N,” Roger said cutting off the others before they could waffle any longer, “Would you like to fuck us again?” You almost choked. “Zero tact. What he means is, we thought we could cheer you up. All three of us, entirely focused on making you forget that magazine.” “Wait, I’m confused,” you massaged the bridge of your nose as you tried to catch up to them, “you saw an article that called me a whore and thought it would cheer me up to, what, be your shared fucktoy again? Yeah it was fun but-” “No, no, no, that’s not what we mean,” John said, “you’d be in control of how it all happens. It wouldn’t be like last time.” “So, you’d be my whores?” “I guess?” “The point is,” Roger chimed in, “we want to make you feel better. If that means making you cups of tea and buying you a box of chocolates that’s fine. But it could also mean you having three cocks and all the orgasms you can handle.” You looked from Roger to John to Brian and then back again, trying to work out if they were joking or not. But they all seemed sincere enough for you to actually think about their proposition. It wasn’t what you were expecting to hear from them, and it hadn’t crossed your mind until they mentioned it. But now that they had, you had to admit it sounded fun. Last time had been fun and that was when you’d been passed around and used mercilessly, so having them all again, but with a bit more say in how it happened, could only be better. Plus, part of you wanted to prove how unashamed of your groupie history you were and what better way than this? “Okay, I’m in.”
“Do we need to set any ground rules?” Brian asked. “You all know my safeword,” “Saxophone,” You laughed at the chorus of eager voices, “Yes, exactly. Other than that I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. Not like this is new exactly, is it?” “Well, no, I s���pose not.” “Exactly. And if there’s anything I don’t want I’ll tell you. So you’re,” you pointed at Roger, “going to kiss me now, while you two undress,” “Getting right to it, excellent,” Roger laughed, as he pushed himself closer to you. He didn’t waste any time, leaning in to kiss you right away. It started off a little too soft for your liking but as soon as soon as you made it clear how into it you were, kissing him back harder and pressing yourself closer, Roger reciprocated. His hands wandered down to your chest as you felt Brian and John get up, following your orders, their clothes left where they landed on the floor. Roger’s hands were soon replaced by Brian’s as he knelt behind you, and you found your head being pulled around so he could kiss you too. Roger took the opportunity to undress as Brian and John caught you between them. You couldn’t tell who was removing your clothes, only that once your jumper had been pulled over your head John was kissing you. He leaned back, tugging you along so Brian could pull your underwear off, his hands caressing your bare bum. “How do you want us?” John asked, brushing your hair back behind your ear. “Um,” you looked around at the three very naked bandmates waiting for your word, “One of you is going to eat me out. Don’t care who but I am going to cum.” “Yes Ma’am,” John laughed, lazily saluting you before rolling you onto your back and shuffling down between your thighs. You were taken by surprise when you felt his tongue run between your lips, expecting nips on your thighs and the teasing puff of his breath as he hovered just out of your reach. But he was clearly taking the job of cheering you up seriously. Brian and Roger weren’t any different, settling into the spaces on either side of you, their light touches only enhancing the feeling John had set off. You felt their fingertips on your breasts and in the ends of your hair, tugging just enough to send a shiver down your spine but not enough to make you gasp in pain. “So what would you like from us, love? What dirty little fantasies are going through your head right now?” Roger tapped his finger on the middle of your forehead. You opened your mouth but a small oh as John latched onto your clit replaced the words you’d been intending to say. “Think we’re going to need a little more than that, Y/N. C’mon, tell us what you want. Do you want us to just take turns fucking you, filling you up over and over and over.” “Or are you thinking more along the lines of last time? Taking two at a time because one cock isn’t quite enough for you now?” “Try three,” you managed to get out as you slid a hand into John’s hair to hold him in place, “want you all at once.” “Jesus,” Brian swore, dropping his lips to your neck. “I’ve been a piss-poor groupie considering the stories that reporter’s peddling. Everyone’s going to think I’ve been taking all three of you at once constantly, but we’ve never actually done that, have we? Might as well embrace my slut title and change that,” “Let us work up to it, Love” Roger said softly, recapturing your lips as he rolled your nipple between his fingers. You whined, partly from Roger and Brian’s attention and partly because John raised his head, your hips rising slightly at the loss. “Guess I should start stretching you out then,” he said offhandedly as he licked his fingers, the same way you’d seen him do a hundred times before while playing. You couldn’t stop the moan that rose up in your throat, the sound only making John chuckle against you as he lowered his head and resumed his focus on your clit.
It only took a few more minutes to have you swearing through your first orgasm. The two fingers John had inside you enough to send you over the edge as they brushed against every sensitive spot they could reach. Your neck tingled where Brian had marked it and your nipples were stiff peaks, extra sensitive to cool air after he and Roger had delighted in torturing them with teeth and tongue and fingertips. “How was that?” John asked, slowly withdrawing his fingers when he was satisfied you’d finished. “Fuck,” was all you could say, the three boys laughing, John dropping a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Think you can handle more?” “Actually Bri I think I might be done,” “Oh. Really?” “I’m kidding.” “Thank Christ. I’m so fucking hard there’s no way I could get my pants back on anyway.” You laughed and pushed yourself to sit up, “Poor thing. I suppose you can use my cunt for a bit.” “Classic guitarists always getting first go,” “Shut it drum boy, I was about to offer to blow you but if you’re going to be like that,” “No, no, I didn’t say anything.” “He did Y/N, I heard him, blow me instead,” “Ignore Deaks, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” “Like a couple of – oh!” you were cut off as Brian grabbed you round the middle and wrenched you onto your hands and knees, “children. A little warning next time please,” “Sorry,” Brian leaned forward to kiss your back as his fingers trailed up the inside of your thigh, “but if I didn’t move this along we’d be stuck arguing about who gets to blow who forever.” “N-no we wouldn’t,” you stumbled over your words as Brian’s long, talented fingers pressed into you, “I made up my mind, Rog in my throat.” “What about me?” “Don’t worry Deaks, you’ll get your turn. If you want you can spank me though, or bite me or pull my hair or whatever else you can think of. You know my limits. Also we’ll need lube so if you want to go digging through my bathroom draws and find some you can. Might be a reward in it if you do.” “Spankher, please,” Brian nearly whined, “always makes her cunt so tight.” “Think I’d rather claim that reward thanks” “Alright then I’ll spank her,” “Guys! Can you stop arguing. I have holes enough for all of you, that’s kind of the point of this. And, Brian and Roger, if I don’t get both of your cocks deep, deep inside me within the next thirty seconds I will kick you both out and let John have his way with me on repeat.” A moment of silence accompanied your statement. You saw Roger, eyes wide, look over at John and then to Brian, and could only assume they were returning his dumbfounded look. “Twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven,” Roger blinked as if waking from a daydream and hurried to kneel in front of you, one hand gliding over the length of his cock as the other reached for your hair. Your mouth fell open in a gasp as Brian suddenly filled you, holding your hips tight as he bottomed out, which gave Roger enough opportunity to push himself towards the back of your throat. There was a shift in the mattress as John got up but you were a little too preoccupied to hear the door open and shut or the sound of him rummaging through your bathroom. You only realised he’d returned when a sudden, loud spank hit you and you knew Brian’s hands were still occupied with your hips. For their parts, Roger and Brian were keeping you busy, skewered between them, not sure whether the noises coming from your own throat were moans or gags or wordless begging. Brian breathlessly laughed as John spanked you again, “So fucking tight. Bit harder?” “Y/N?” You made an assenting humming noise and nodded as much as Roger’s cock would allow which John rightly took as permission and so hit you again, harder than the last.
It was an intoxicating feeling, taking two cocks at once, all the while wanting more and knowing you’d have it before long. Brian fucked you hard and precise, as if his goal was to split you open from the inside out. Had it just been him and you alone you would have found yourself creeping further up the bed. It had happened a few times before, leaving you either hanging off the edge of the bed, or with your hands over your head and pressed against a wall in an effort to keep from banging your head. But all he managed to do was push you further onto Roger’s cock, making you gag and choke more often. Roger didn’t seem to mind that though, giving as good as Brian, firmly gripping your hair so that you couldn’t even attempt to move off him. The added impact from John’s hand just made you shiver and moan. He was the one who sensed you were getting close though, reaching under you to rub your clit and give you the extra push you needed to get over the edge. Brian wasn’t too far behind you, groaning as he tried to keep fucking you, his hips faltering as he twitched inside you and spilled his seed. You felt his hands on your backside as he spread your cheeks, leaning down to spit on your arsehole before he pulled out of you. Once Brian was finished with you, you tapped Roger’s thigh and he pulled back. “You okay?” he asked, stroking your cheek with a knuckle. “Brilliant, just thought that since I can move a bit easier, I’d take over. You look like you were close.” “Fucking yes I was close,” You giggled as you readjusted your position to be more comfortable, once again taking Roger’s cock between your lips. This time you pushed yourself lower, taking him deeper, making Roger swear above you. You pulled back again, hollowing your cheeks until you sank down once more. A strangled moan seemed to catch in Roger’s throat and it spurred you on. You reached out to cups his balls, massaging them in your hand as you took him as deep as you could and hummed. The hum turned into something akin to a squeal (though slightly muffled and choked off at the end) as the sticky cool of John’s lube covered finger teased your arsehole, tracing circles around it before slowly sinking into you. The sight seemed to be enough to finish Roger off, one hand on the back of your head to steady himself as he shot his load down your throat, pulling out towards the end so the last of it dribbled down your chin. “Now me?” John asked, pushing a second finger in with the first as Roger let you go. “Stretch me out a little more and then yes,” “Oh, no, I’m not ready for that yet. I want your tits.” “What?” “Your tits, Y/N. Turn around,” His fingers left you and you were free to move, shuffling on your knees to face him. John pressed down on your shoulder pushing you to sit back on your knees and adjusting your angle so he could slide his lubed up shaft between your breasts. He pushed them together with his palms and slid them up and down his dick as he rutted against you, spreading the sticky lube over your chest. With a slight smile at John, you dipped your head a little and kissed the tip of his cock as it moved towards your lips. “Fuck, been waiting so long for this,” he groaned, “gon-na make a mmm-ess all over you.” He gave up on speech as he neared his released, communicating exclusively in grunts and increased speed until he finished, covering your chest and sternum in ropes of cum that dripped down your skin.
You laughed as John fell back. The hardest you could remember laughing in a while. “What’s so funny?” Brian asked, reaching out to rub your shoulder. “Just thought what that reporter would say if she could see me now, naked and dripping in spunk,” you managed to get out between giggles, “her face would be fucking priceless.” The boys laughed along with you, glad you could see the funny side of the situation with the article. “Does that mean you’re feeling better?” “Yes Rog, but I’m still not done with you.” “What did you have in mind?” “Well,” you crawled over to where Roger was sitting, leant back on his hands, and placed your hand on his throat, tilting his face away from you a little so you could lick a long stripe from his jaw to his temple, “I meant it when I said I wanted all of you.” “Never doubted it, love,” he sounded a little breathless. “Just let me know when you’re all ready to go again. Not you Rog, I can see you’re ready.” “I’m good too Y/N,” “Yeah, same,” “In that case,” you shifted your position, lining yourself up with Roger and sinking down on him, squeezing his throat a little harder as you adjusted. “John, you still got that lube?” “Yes, uh, yeah here,” there was the sound of a cap flipping open and you leaned forward encouraging Roger to lay back so you could give John better access. “Hey, Rog, can you spread your legs a little wider,” “S’pose so, just don’t kneel on my bollocks or anything,” “God give me a second, the thought of that just made mine try and jump up inside me,” You giggled as John shuffled closer, using his fingers to spread some more of the lube over you and to keep stretching you out. “What about me, Y/N?” “I haven’t forgotten you Bri. I want every inch of your cock shoved so far down my throat I can feel you for a week. Just let me get used to the others first, yeah? Still feels kinda odd having two of you at once since we’ve not done it much.” Brian nodded, contenting himself with running his fingers through your hair as he waited. John, having pulled his fingers from you and slicked up his dick with more lube, sank into you slowly, his hand on your back to keep you bent forward. It suddenly felt hard for you to pull in a new breath as you tried to adjust to the feeling of both of them, especially when John gave an experimental thrust, fucking you slowly to make sure it felt okay for everyone. Brian talked softly, reminding you to breathe and telling you how well you were doing, until you were better in control of your lungs and ready for more. “Are you sure you want me as well?” “Yes. Lets show that parasite just how far I’ll go, huh?” Roger laughed, “that’s the spirit.”
Brian didn’t need more convincing than that, though it did take a little trial and error to find the best way to accommodate all three of them. Brian tried perching his arse on the headboard but Roger whinged about “seeing nothing but Bri’s ballsack flopping about. And I know you see things when you’re gangbanging but that is too much.” In the end Brian stood next to the bed by Roger’s head, enough to the side that Roger’s view wasn’t impeded but still close enough so that the angle wouldn’t strain your neck. He gathered your hair into a messy ponytail as he pulled your mouth onto his cock, letting you work yourself further down his shaft as slowly as you needed, checking in with you every now and again to make sure you could take more. The other two were mostly still as you adjusted to Brian, though once or twice they’d given a small thrust or shifted slightly and made you whine. Once you had Brian buried as deep in your throat as he could go you paused for a few seconds and then pulled back again, strings of saliva breaking on your lips. “How was that?” “Good,” you gasped, “New. Kinda weird but very fucking good.” That didn’t really explain anything but you weren’t sure how to describe the nearly overwhelming fullness, the sudden heat, the tension in your belly which you couldn’t pinpoint as either anticipation or nerves or just because you were stretched open on three cocks. “And that’s without us doing anything,” “I know,” you grinned, “I’m excited. Why didn’t we try this sooner? But now you guys can cut loose. I’m not sure I’ll be much use in like riding you properly or whatever. Just don’t know my brain can focus on keeping both of you in my holes while I’m thinking about blowing Bri well. So, just fuck me however you can and we’ll see how it goes.” “Don’t worry, we’ll make you feel good,” John said, rubbing your back softly. “Yeah, course we will, love. And if ends up being shit then we can just take turns instead,” You nodded and took a deep breath before leaning forward to take Brian again. You controlled the pace once more, bobbing up and down his shaft, sucking on his tip, as the other two figured out their rhythm. It was a strange sensation to start. It felt clumsy and more than a little awkward, especially when John mentioned how he could feel Roger inside you. But that eased as they adjusted and worked out how best to fuck you. John held your hips as he plunged into you, each thrust harder than the last as his confidence rose and he found out what you liked most. Roger’s hands moved over your skin rather than staying in once place, palming your breasts and teasing your nipples between his fingertips before sliding down your side to grasp your waist and then back up to your breasts. You were rocked on his cock with each of John’s pounding thrusts, which only made you moan around Brian’s. You let instinct take over there, one hand stroking from his base up to meet your lips as you swallowed him deeper. His hips jolted when you whined or moaned and before long you dropped your hand away from his shaft, instead grabbing his arse to keep yourself steady. He pulled you off him again and you could feel the spit on your chin. “Forgot what a fucking incredible cocksucker you are.” Brian groaned, “But can I take over? Fuck your throat?” “Yeah, okay,” You had time for another breath and then you were pushed down again, right to the base. “There we go,” he groaned, pulling on your hair, “Gonna make you feel so fucking good.” Your hum was choked off and ended in a gag as Brian ground his hips into your face. That seemed to be the tipping point though. The moment all three of them forgot about awkward views or who was positioned where and became entirely consumed with fucking you deep and hard. You were glad to let them lead, grabbing you, pinching and pulling and squeezing every inch of you they could reach. And all the while spearing you on their dicks, keeping you in a cycle of mounting pleasure as they found all your most responsive spots inside and out. You felt your orgasm building again, the heat rising, getting more urgent as you got closer and closer. The sounds you made were muffled by Brian but that didn’t stop you making them, moaning with every pounding thrust. As you neared the edge Brian pulled you off his cock so they could all hear you properly, their encouragement mixing in your lust addled brain and creating a wall of noise that pushed you over the edge with a loud cry. And yet they didn’t stop. Brian waited until your orgasm was reduced to aftershocks that made you wince and whine and then cut off your air as he entered your throat again, resuming the long, deep strokes that made you gag until he came, holding you down as he emptied himself completely.
As soon as the other two didn’t have to worry about giving Brian access to your mouth they adjusted your position, John pushing on your back until you were bent over. Roger attached his lips to your throat as they simultaneously fucked into you, the change of angle pushing Roger’s cock against you in a way that had you seeing spots. You cried out again as Brian lay a slap on your arse. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” John grunted as he came too, unable to hold out any longer though he didn’t withdraw from you either. His hips slowed a bit and he whined softly but he kept fucking you. “Rog,” you panted, trying to get him to finish too. “You’ve got another one in you, c’mon love,” You whined but nodded, the familiar sensation already tightening in the pit of your stomach. Again the three of them encouraged you, John wrapping his hand around your waist to find your clit, Brian reaching under you to squeeze your breast as his other hand came down on your arse again. They gave you no option but to cum, shivering between them. Finally Roger let go too, moaning into your ear as he filled you up.
It took a moment to disentangle everyone, John being careful not to go too fast and hurt you, but finally you were able to collapse together, sweaty and panting, spread out over the room. “So, cheered up now?” Brian asked from where he’d lain down on the carpet You peered over the edge of the bed at him, “Think so. Thanks for that, it was fun.” “Any time, love,” Roger chuckled from the end of the bed, patting your knee, “and I mean that.” “I’m not you groupie anymore,” “Never said you were,” “Then what?” “What Rog means,” John cut in from where he’d spread out on you window seat, “is that if you ever need cheering up or to let out some frustrations, we’re here. We’re happy to help,” “Does your help always involve a gangbang?” “Not always,” Brian laughed. “Well, a lot of the time,” Roger added with a wink. “I’ll keep it in mind,” you chuckled, “I’ll have to face my family at some point and there’s a high chance I’ll leave upset and frustrated so, we’ll see. Wonder how Freddie’s getting on with those calls.” “I’ll go give him a ring and find out,” Roger said, half groaning as he stood and stretched. He didn’t bother grabbing any of his discarded clothes before he left. “I’ll take Rog his pants,” John sighed as he got up and replaced his own underwear, exiting the room with an eyeroll, Roger’s underwear pinched between his thumb and pointer. “And I’ll...stay here?” Brian said, “unless you need anything?” “Nah, I’m going to jump in the shower. Let the other two know that’s where I am, would you?” “If you’re doing that, can I have the bed?” “Sure Bri,” you laughed, “as long as you promise to change the sheets when you wake up.”
#my writing#my fics#queen fanfic#queen smut#roger taylor x reader#roger taylor smut#brian may x reader#brian may smut#john deacon x reader#john deacon smut
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Death Awaits (Vanya Hargreeves x Reader)
Summary; When Vanya Hargreeves wife is put in a coma thanks to Hazel and Cha-Cha, the apocalypse arises. The other Hargreeve siblings must do all they can to stop the apocalypse, starting with making sure Y/N wakes up from her coma.
Request; Umbrella Academy Vanya story- where reader isn’t apart of the 43 children but she has powers, and she is with Vanya when Cha Cha and Hazel attack the manor, and she helps the others fight them off-her powers being able to control earth, and water, and air to where she can like cut off people’s breaths lmao fiesty- but Cha Cha gets a shot at the reader and Vanya has to watch the reader collapse with blood loss? Thanksss
Request 2; I know you said you haven’t watched Season 2 yet (Or even finished Season 1) but AH please write a story with Vanya where the reader somehow finds Vanya after they are thrown into the 1960s and Reader actually lands with Vanya and she’s scared Vanya won’t remember her?
Warning(s); Gunshots, fighting, near death, angst.
A/N; I finally finished the show! I had a lot of fun doing this story. It is EXTREMELY long. Sorry.
Another A/N; Leonard is JUST A FRIEND. Like, reader and Vanyas best friend kinda shit.
Date started; Demember 16, 2020
Date published; December 16, 2020
. . .
“Too high,”
Vanya grunts in slight irritation at your comment. Her hand slides up her violin to fix the miss-pitch of her note, eyes barely glancing at where you sat on her bed in the manor.
Your legs gently swayed, wearing black riding boots- acquaintanced with a checkered shirt you had bought not too long ago with dark jeans. Leaning on your knees, you watch as Vanya repeated her line of notes, smiling when the wrong note is now fixed,
A slight jerk of her hand causes Vanyas note to hit too low, her shoulders dropping in defeat as she huffs a breath, “It’s never right,”
“Not if you give up that easily,” You raise an eyebrow, your wife copying your motion, “Breathe, baby. You’ve got this. There’s no one else in the room but me,”
Vanya smiles, tilting her head down before raising her violin to her shoulder, starting from where she had first messed up.
A muffled gunshot directs your attention to the door, going unheard by your wife due to the music right against her ear, so when she sees your brows pinch and your body move to stand up, she stops to watch, “What is it?”
On cue, two more gunshots ring, louder, Vanya setting her violin down gently enough despite being in a rush, following after you with you already feet ahead,
You skid to a stop at the bottom of the stairway, two masked figures standing back to back with Luther on one side, Diego on the other, and Allison opposite of you,
“Stay back,” You demand to the woman behind you, Vanyas eyes shifting to the back of your head before she steps back, moving to the empty hall feet from her,
You move three steps forward before raising a hand, fingers curling as you watch the earth under you raise, the masked killers looking down when the ground cracks beneath their feet, both pushing away from each other to avoid being dropped into the earths crust, now raising their guns to you,
A gust of wind forces their guns into the air and behind them, free hand raising to throw off their masks, revealing one male, and one female,
Your fingers clench on your left hand to wrap an invisible field around the males neck, his hands instantly raising in reflex in an attempt to pry the false pressure off,
Before the woman could run back for her gun, a bubble of water wraps around her head, and the Hargreeves siblings are forced to watch her hold her breath in a panic,
“What do you want?” You hiss, moving closer to slightly drop the water from her mouth, allowing her to gasp in a choked breath,
“We just want the boy,” Cha-Cha spits, your eyes narrowing- Five. “And we’ll be on our merry way,”
“Well he’s not here,” You flick your hand to where Cha-Cha is thrown back into the wall, turning your attention to the male, Hazel. He has now turned blue due to his circulation for air being cut off, a slight smile in your face.
You drop your hand so Hazel dropped forward with his hands on his knees, gasps wheezed as he coughs and hacks for air. You lift both hands so walls of rocks came from the ground, pinning at his sides so he yelled in pain at the pressure of his body.
Then you feel it. Vanya sees it. They all see it. Your powers screech to a halt when the bullet pierces the front of your shoulder, the bolders dropping to release Hazel to collapse, your eyes widening when you see Cha-Cha lower her used gun.
Diego is first to lunge forward, catching the top half of your body before you could fully collapse, your vision already falling black before Vanya could make it to your side,
“Y/N!” Vanyas voice is high pitched, breathy, in alert, “Oh my God,”
“Get Grace,” Luther demands, jabbing his finger to Allison, who stood in high alert,
“Now!” Diego and Vanya shout, Vanya pulling off her button up so she was left in her sweater, pressing the button up to where your white and black shirt was already stained dark red,
Vanya forces herself to look up to your face, eyes shut and skin pale, Diego’s finger pressing to your neck in search for a pulse,
“We can’t wait for Grace,” He hisses, moving to lift you off the debris littered floor, Vanya following, staring at the blood that stained the ends of her sleeves,
She’s quick to follow after her brother, the robot she called her mother calmly waving Diego into the medical room that had been used too many times, Diego lowering your body into the table so Grace cut the front of your shirt, revealing the bullet wound that Vanya forced herself to look away from,
“Pogo,” Grace calls, softly, pulling on gloves as she glanced to the ape, “Please escort the children out,”
“Wait,” Vanya pleas, brows pinched as she steps up to the table, but Diego is swift to catch her at her front, leading her backwards to the door Luther and Allison stood, “I need to be with her,”
“Grace has excellent medical experience. Miss Y/N is in great hands,” Pogo reassures, Vanyas eyes snapping up to your face, before she allows the door to shut, her chest tight with fear.
. . .
“I always knew your family having powers was weird,” Leonard lowers his steaming cup from his lips, frowning, “But now it’s just scary,”
“I know,” Vanya murmurs, stirring her cup mindlessly, “Y/N was just trying to protect my family,”
“How-,” Leonard clears his throat, “How is she? By the way,”
“She’s resting. At home. She hasn’t woken up yet,” Vanya shuts her eyes, pressing her hands to her eyelids, “My tryouts for the front chair is this afternoon. I don’t know if I can do it,”
“Dont do that,” Leonard shakes his head, Vanya lowering her hands to pinch her brows, “Dont put yourself down because Y/N isn’t physically here. Just,” Leonard pauses, hand waving in thought, “Is there anything that Y/Ns ever said that just- stuck to you?”
“Breathe, baby. You’ve got this. There’s no one else in the room but me,”
Vanya smiles, nodding, slowly, “Yeah. Just this one thing. It’s always been a constant reminder she gives me when I’m rehearsing. No one else but her is in the room. Even when someone else really is in the room,”
“See?” Leonard chuckles, sipping the last bit of his coffee, “Y/N gives off that effect to make you believe what she says. She knows it’s a sense of comfort for you,”
“She’s always been good at that,” Vanya murmurs, watching Leonard set down his mug and nudge her arm, standing up,
“C’mon. I’ll walk you home. We can get your apartment nice and cozy for when Y/N gets back,”
. . .
“What is your name again?”
Vanya regrets it. She regrets everything. Coming to this audition, letting you nearly give your life for her family. She regrets it.
“Vanya,” She cant stop how low her voice is, but the conductors booming, louder, please, demands her to state, “Vanya Hargreeves,” Four notes higher.
“Right,” The conductor clicks his tongue, looking up at Vanya on the stage which makes her want to run off, “Well?”
“Breathe, baby,” Vanya nearly hears you say, as she lifts her violin to her shoulder, “You’ve got this,” She raises her bow, “There’s no one else in the room but me,” And plays,
She finishes her last note with a pause, terrified of opening her eyes, but when she does and sees the conductor staring at her in awe, she can’t help the breath she lets out, head tilting back with a smile of relief.
She had gotten the front chair.
. . .
A short gasp enters your lips. Whining out in pain, you force your head to the side. Home. How did you get here? The academy-
You sit up, shortly, crying out at the sting of pain it caused to your shoulder, eyes pinching shut before you raise your head, looking around.
“Three new voice messages,” The voicebox of your phone startles you to cover your face, heaving out an exhausted breath, “Hey, Y/N. Just checking on you in case you wake up and I’m not home,” Vanyas voice speaks, your head raising. “I’m currently at rehearsal, on March 29th, about four in the afternoon. I love you. Call the Academy or the theater if I’m not home,”
“Y/N, it’s Allison. I haven’t heard from you, not sure if you had woken up. But if you have, please call me back. Vanyas went missing. I think she’s with Leonard,”
“Leonard?” You push off the bed, stumbling into the kitchen. You lean against the wall beside the phone, running a hand down your face. Vanyas keys were gone. As was her violin,
“Hey, Y/N?” Diego’s voice comes next, “You remember that apocalypse? Yeah. Vanyas the cause. Get your shit together and meet us at the theater the night of the concert. We need you,”
Your eyes widen, flickering around for your shoes before you grab your keys, moving out the door with a shaky hand on the door, “That’s tonight,”
. . .
“What the hells going on?” Your voice startles four of the Hargreeve siblings to turn around, all watching you rub your patched shoulder,
“Y/N!” Klaus cheers, arms up, “Youre awake!”
“Vanya has powers,” Luther hisses, your eyes flicking to him, “She’s out of control, starting with slicing Allison’s neck,” He jabs a finger to said woman, where you see a patch at her neck,
“Why are we here?” You exhale, Diego stepping up,
“The apocalypse starts today. And you had hell of fucking timing waking up. You’re going to be our distraction,”
“Distraction, how?” You demand, Allison holding up her finger before jotting down words on her notepad,
She’s been scared you wouldn’t wake up. She may calm if she sees you.
“What triggered them?”
“Leonard?” Diego questions, “Yeah. He manipulated her for her powers. Good thing he’s dead now, huh?”
“Leonard’s dead?” You hiss, Luther shaking his head at you,
“We don’t have time. You need to go. Vanya needs to see you,”
You nod, shaking your arms out and wincing at the pull it gave your shoulder, moving forward to the entrance to the audience.
Your footsteps remain slow as you move down the walkway, eyes firm on Vanyas seated figure at the front of the stage. Her eyes remained a bright blue- nearly white, on her paper.
Her eyes flick up at the sight of movement, meeting your own so you stop your footsteps, smiling tearfully at where she sat. Her lips pull into her own smile, pausing slightly,
“There’s no one else in the room but me,”
Her hand is quick to catch up to her song, your feet moving back down the walkway, screeching to another halt when her head snaps to the side, in time for Diego and Luther to rush out onto the stage,
You watch in alarm as she stands up, a wave of blue thrown off her bow so Diego and Luther are knocked off the stage, the audience around you shrieking in fear and running off in large groups,
“Vanya!” You call, over the panicked shouts of the men and women around you, moving up to the stage, “Baby! I’m here!”
Her glowing eyes force themselves to look down at you, waving her bow so the musicians behind her sat back down, her jaw clenching,
“Y/N, get down!” A rough tug on your injured arm causes you to cry out, Vanyas eyes opening to see Diego pull you behind a row of seats, your back falling against his chest with a short gasp, your hand pressing to your shoulder,
“I need to get to her!” You heave, looking across the walkway to Luther and Allison, “She’ll listen to me!”
Allison shakes her head, gesturing to her own arm. “Screw the gunshot wound,” You hiss, Diego’s attempt to catch your arm when you stand up failing, where you stand in the middle of the walkway,
Luther and his siblings are quick to surround you, “Here’s how it goes!” Luther starts, “We go at her from all angles,”
“I call front,” You state, moving around him to jump onto the stage, stopping feet from your wife, “Vanya!” You plea, hand up as she continued to play, her suit now white, “Baby- it’s me! I’m okay!”
Her eyes don’t leave yours as you take another step forward, before she raises her bow, your body quick to drop before the wave of blue could hit you, the four boys behind you lifted into the air, her power quick to suck the life from their bodies,
You look up in a panic, pushing to stand up in a rush, crying out when a gunshot rings through, dropping the four brothers to the ground. Your arms jolt out to catch Vanyas fallen figure, your shoulder screaming in pain as you lower yourself to your knees, Vanyas head rested in your lap,
“Vanya!” You cry, hand running down her hair as your free pressed to her neck, “No! No, baby-,”
Your sob cuts short when feeling her pulse and no blood, looking up at Allison behind you with a false gun in her hand. “You didn’t shoot her,” You choke out, looking back down to the woman in your hands, “Oh, my god,”
You lean down, lips pressing to Vanyas forehead, sniffling as you clutched her hand in yours on her chest, “I’ve got you, sweetheart. You’re okay,”
“We did it,” Luther heaves, Klaus moving to point at the window in the ceiling,
“Then what’s with the giant moon rock flying towards earth?”
You look up, eyes blurred with tears, sniffling as you look back down to your wife, fingers tucking her hair away from her eyes.
“So much for saving the world,” Klaus mumbles, your head leaning against Vanyas as your eyes shut, hiccuping.
“This doesn’t have to be the end,” Five rushes, moving next to you and Allison knelt by you, “I have a way out of here. I just need you to trust me,”
“Five,” You call, now looking at him, “I trust you,”
You feel your body lift off the stage, Vanyas body leaving your arms so you flailed in mid air, yelping when you are dropped onto the concrete just seconds later
Dallas, Texas, 1963
“Shit,” You whisper, looking up at where the blue vortex vanished, “Shit. Shit! Vanya!”
“Miss?” You look over, to a blonde woman standing with her son, panic on her face, “I have a woman saying her names Vanya. Might she be who you’re looking for?”
“Oh my gosh,” You mutter, nodding as you push off the floor and follow her to her car, where you see two bystanders helping Vanya off the floor, “Hey! Vanya, are you okay?”
“I think so,” She murmurs, taking your arms as she stands, her eyes flicking to your patched chest, “What happened to you?”
“You don’t remember?” You whisper, brows furrowed, your hand sliding to her cheek. You turn to face the woman from before, “Ma’am, do you have somewhere we can go? She needs to be checked up on,”
“Did I cause it?” The woman, Sissy, panics, moving up to you, “I didn’t see her, I swear,”
“It’s okay,” You breathe, and look back to Vanya, your eyes teary, “You’re okay,”
She nods, warily, letting Sissy move you to her car.
. . .
“I’m sorry, I still don’t understand,” Vanya exhales, leaning forward on the couch you both sat on in Sissy’s house, “We’re married?”
“Yes,” You nod, licking your lips in fear, “Is that okay? We- we don’t have to,” You pull your hand from where you reached for her own, Vanya shaking her head as she takes your hand, tightly,
“No- I mean- yes, it’s okay,” She smiles, your own lips pulling upwards, tiredly. You lean forward, allowing your forehead to knock hers.
“You two look like you’ve had a long day,” Sissy speaks up, handing you a cup of (favorite/warm/drink), “I only have one guest bedroom,”
“I can take the couch,” You heave, reassuringly, Vanyas brows pinching as she tugs at your hand,
“We can share, Y/N,”
“You barely remember me,” You murmur, clenching your jaw and laughing, tearily, “Why would you want to sleep with a woman who you don’t know?”
“I may not know you but I trust you,” Vanya states, raising your hand and hers to show the rings you had, “You say we’re married. I will keep trying to regain my memories as long as I can to remember our wedding day,”
Your eyes flick up to hers, smiling, weakly, with a nod, sniffling as tears began to refill your eyes. Your hand raises to wipes your cheek, Vanyas smile dropping in worry as her hand touches your jaw, directing your attention to her, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” You whisper, shaking your head, “It’s just been a very long day,”
You suck in a deep breath and sniff, looking up at Sissy who smiled, sympathetically, “Do you kind if I borrow your shower? And maybe some help rewrapping this?” You lift your bandaged shoulder, Vanyas hand falling from your face to her lap as Sissy nods, gesturing you to follow her down the hall.
You run a hand through your damp hair, silently shutting the bedroom door behind you,
Your eyes shift to Vanya on the bed, resting in a pair of Sissy’s clothing, same as you, “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” You move to the bed, Vanya looking up at you- finally seeing the exhaustion in your eyes. What had happened to you today?
“Of course,” Your wife murmurs, extending her hand for you to take so you slide underneath the covers,
“I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” You whisper, now on your side to face her, “You don’t even know me,”
“But I feel like I do,” Vanya corrects, watching as the tear in your eye slipped from the corner and down your nose, “I’m trying to understand, but I can’t do that without you,”
Your lips purse to stop the sob in your throat, hand raising to cover your pinched eyes. “Hey,” Vanya panics, shaking her head as she slides her hand to the back of your head, guiding you to rest against her chest, “No no, please don’t cry. I’m sorry,”
You let your arm slide to her backside, tightly, hiccuping against the skin of her collarbone, “No, I’m sorry. I’m so emotional and tired, and I want things to go back to normal,”
“I know,” Vanya brushes her lips against your hair, her free hand dragging her nails soothingly across your upper back, “We don’t have to talk about it anymore. What do you want me to do?”
A pause, “Just hold me,” You whisper, leaning your head back to look at her, “Please,”
Vanya nods, quickly, her eyes flicking to your lips before she looks back up to your eyes, your body pushing forward to force your lips against hers.
Vanya exhales sharply against your mouth, her fingers tightening in your hair as you peck her lips, once, twice, barely pulling away so you still felt her breath on your skin,
“I love you, Vanya. I wish I could’ve helped you,”
Vanyas brows pinch, wanting to question what you had meant, but she only finds herself pulling you back in, allowing her lips to recollide with your own, slow against the darkness of the bedroom.
#vanya hargreeves#vanya hargreeves x reader#vanya hargreeves imagine#the umbrella academy x reader#the umbrella academy#the umbrella academy imagine#hazel and cha cha#five hargreeves#Diego hargreeves#luther hargreeves#Allison hargreeves#klaus hargreeves
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