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manicpixiedreamcurl · 1 year

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The More You Give ❧ (Part VII)

Pairing | Eddie Munson x shy!reader

Warnings | 18+ only, do not interact if you are underage. Heavy petting, P in V sex, soft dom!Eddie. Discussion of uncomfortable sexual experiences. Inordinate amount of praise kink, good girl's, and vulnerability on both sides.

Word count | ~10,000

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Previous Chapter

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Most days, walking into the cafeteria comes with a cool sense of dread. A heaviness in your chest, mind working overtime to prepare yourself for an hour not quite talking with your not quite friends. You’re never sure what you prefer; the white hot shame that comes with laughter at your expense, or the simmering ache from being ignored entirely.

But there’s a levity to your mood today. You’re proud, or maybe more accurately relieved, at the circled red letter on the top right of your Chemistry test.

You spot May at the usual table as you file in, catching her excited wave over the head of some of the cheer girls. The others offer a cursory glance before returning to their conversation, but May’s expression is expectant. “So? How’d you do?”

You grin. “A minus.”

“I knew it!” She squeals, removing her bag from the chair next to her to make space for you. “You always make a big deal out of tests, and then breeze through!”

She’s half right.

Something about the weight of potential failure, some unknown consequence to doing poorly, always has you worrying about tests days prior, heart pounding in the moments before you flip the paper. Then you second guess yourself all the way through, scribbling over wrong answers before writing the same thing down again.

But you certainly don’t breeze through. The weight of this test on your mind had you bursting into tears in Eddie’s van last week. What was supposed to be a movie theatre date turned into an impromptu study session at the library. Eddie sat opposite you while you read over your notes, writing up his campaign ideas and flicking through a book he’d found in the fantasy section before working begrudgingly on an essay about JFK he was supposed to have handed in the week before. He switched to the seat next to you when you failed to hide a sniffle, let you tuck yourself under his arm and press your face to his shoulder.

“C’mon,” he said eventually, coaxing you out from the damp spot on the collar of his shirt. “Talk me through what you don’t get, okay? I bet the answer’s up here.” He pressed a finger to your forehead, narrowing his eyes like he could pinpoint the spot in your brain the information was hiding. “We just gotta knock it loose somehow.”

He must, truly, have been bored to death as you went through the problem, starting over again and again each time you explained yourself into a corner. But he listened anyway, prompted you to keep going until you came to an answer that satisfied you, a conclusion that made sense, and then he listened to the next problem.

You apologised at the end of the night. For all the hysterics, for dragging him along to a joyless evening. He’d swiped the thought away with a casual wave of his hand. “You couldn’t be my smart girl if you didn’t have to study sometimes.”

Just thinking about it now, your eyes flicker from May’s hand on the back of the empty chair beside her to the place Eddie sits, far on the other side of the room.

It’s an invisible line you haven’t crossed, spending any time with him at lunch. Eddie would never let you question whether he wanted you to sit with him, never let you worry about seeming clingy. He’d made it clear you were always welcome. What stopped you was that tug at your heart, that feeling that you’d be taking another step away, putting more distance between you and your friends. Or May, at least. You can’t remember the last time Heather sat with you more than once a week.

And you promised, sincerely, that you would try a bit harder with the cheer girls. Apart from that one tipsy conversation with Tracy at a party, you’re not sure you’ve quite fulfilled that.

But you want so badly to tell him. Shamefully, it was your first thought when you turned your paper over today. Along with the usual relief came excitement, knowing Eddie would be pleased for you and make it clear, call you his smart girl till your face burns hot.

“I’m just-” You start, tucking your bag up on your shoulder, glancing back to May. “I’m just gonna show Eddie quickly.”

There’s a pause. Her pleased expression, the gentle curve of her wax pink lips, doesn’t falter. Instead, it seems to calcify on her face. “Oh. You’re gonna sit over there?”

“Just for a while,” you reason. “Just to show him my grade. Okay?”

She makes a high mm hmm noise, half agreeing, half unsure, but you decide to take it at face value, making a beeline for Eddie’s table.

As usual, he sits at the head, the frizz of his hair lit up in the natural light from the window behind him. His expression is a touch bored, eyes blinking slowly, chin resting on his palm as a boy at the other end of the table - young, with tight brown curls tucked under a yellow cap - talks a mile a minute. You catch the words radio and roof as you approach, but your own mind goes blank when you reach them.

You’d feel only excitement, if it was just Eddie who noticed your presence. For his part, his whole posture changes; from slumped over the table to sitting straight up, his pouty lips turning to an excited smile in your direction as his hand drops away from his chin. But on top of that, six additional faces turn to watch you walk up the side of the table. Maybe you could handle three, used to some attention from Jeff, Gareth and Matthew at this point, comfortable in their acceptance of your silly little fidgets and occasional long silences.

But the other three, all freshmen, staring at you like you grew another head on the way over, have you shuffling in place, playing with the strap of your bag. You vaguely know Mike from watching him run out the door on the occasions you’ve babysat Holly, though his hair is a good couple inches longer than the last time you spent an evening at the Wheeler’s. The others, Lucas and Dustin, you know both from Eddie’s descriptions and his complaints.

“Hi,” you say, voice quieter than you’d like as you wave at the group.

“To what do we owe this pleasure, Princess?”

Your mouth opens, and your throat closes. Your face feels suddenly warm under the eyes of his whole table. In an instant, you regret coming over here. What must you look like? What will they think of you, when they realise you came over here to brag about a simple test result?

Eddie hums a questioning sound, bringing your focus back to him. He’s looking at you the way he does when you both know you’re going to have to be the one to speak first. There’s anticipation there, but the little curve of his lips is all kind patience.

You swallow, glance down the table again. You make eye contact with Lucas, give him an awkward smile at his friendly wave. Even at that, you know the words won’t come. Sighing quietly, you unzip your bag and search through your books for the test, drawing out the paper and fiddling with the corner for a second. How do you tell him, all of them, that you really aren’t bragging? That more than anything you just want to thank him?

Eddie’s eyebrows raise as he looks between you and the paper. When he holds his hand out, and you find yourself passing it to him instinctively, toes curling in your shoes.

“An A!?” He screeches immediately, thoroughly dispelling any hope you might have had that he’d keep it to himself. Though your face burns, you fight the urge to glance around and offer an apologetic smile to his group, to the people that turned at the sound of his yell, because this is Eddie. Any embarrassment you might feel pales in comparison to hearing the pride in his voice, to see it on his face. What do judgmental looks and cruel whispers from strangers mean to you when they’re caused by Eddie, so excited and pleased for you that he’ll yell it publicly?

You tuck the top of your foot to the back of your ankle, playing with your skirt, correcting him shyly. “An A minus.”

Eddie scoffs. “An A’s and A, sweetheart. I’d know, I’ve missed enough of them.”

Knowing now that at least Eddie himself has taken it the right way, you let yourself indulge. “I was two marks off a real A.”

Eddie’s hand slams down on the table with a bang, making you and everyone in the surrounding area jump as he rises, kicking his chair back with a screech. You watch, left in some strange place between proud and mortified as he practically floats over to the neighbouring table, flicking the paper at a group of juniors dressed exclusively in neon.

“You see that? My girlfriend got a fucking A in Mr Brown’s AP Chemistry class!” He moves the paper around, displaying it for each of them. “That shit’s like fucking gold dust- hey!” He turns to shake it at a passing boy with a calculator in his breast pocket. “You’re in that class, right? How’d you do in this test, huh?”

“If you must know, Munson, I got an A plus.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“Okay, man. Shit. Kinda showing off a little-” He turns to you, eyes wide and head tilted as if to say get a load of this guy, but you’re shaking your head, desperately biting back a smile.

“Eddie!”

“Ah, she calls to me.” He drifts over to you then, frizzed hair flying out behind him. You giggle a little wildly behind your hands, still shaking your head at him though any disapproval is for show at this point. Everyone who turned to watch Eddie crow seems to have returned to their conversations, this side of the room apparently well used to his outbursts. He stops close enough that he’s all you can see; his dimpled smile, eyes shining at you while he hands you your test back.

“Take my seat, Princess.” He gestures with a wide arm, directing you to the chair he rose from. You make a quick glance over at the cheer table, find Caroline just sitting down now with her tray, and feel an unusual sense of relief. It feels like freedom, to be on this side of the room, and not directly under her gaze.

By the time you’re settled in his seat, Eddie has retrieved a spare chair, carrying it above his head and dropping it down next to you with another outrageous bash. He collapses into it, his arm finding the back of your chair as he leans in to Jeff, sitting on your left. “You’re in that class, too, right man?”

“You know, we’ve been friends three years now, Eddie, and you’ve never once taken an interest in my grades,” Jeff answers, shutting down Eddie’s inquiry before he can really ask. He turns to you. “Bet it was question 18 that got you, huh?”

“Mm, no, that was okay.” You answer. “Eddie and I went over retention factors so much at the library last week. I understand it way better now.”

Six pairs of eyes blink at you, and the relief you were experiencing is fading fast. Instead, you get the recognizable sense that you said something wrong. Your foot starts tapping at pace, fingers finding the edge of the table and running over the edge.

“You were at the library?” Gareth asks Eddie, aghast tone mocking but serious in its surprise.

“I’ve been to the library before,” Eddie bites. “M’there all the time.”

“We’re not talking about monopolising the fantasy section, here,” Matthew says. “You were studying, Eds.”

“I told you,” Eddie replies, widening his legs until you feel the denim of his jeans rough against your bobbing calf. “I’m working hard this year. Trying to get out of this shithole.” He presses his leg more firmly to yours, and you realise it’s a deliberate touch, a silent reminder that he’s there, that he’s not going to leave you alone with whatever’s got you fidgeting.

“You said that last year,” Jeff says.

“And the year before that,” chimes Gareth through a bite of his sandwich.

“Yeah, well, I meant it this time,” he says, leaning back in his seat with a deep sigh. “Jesus, Henderson, you look like you’re gonna explode. Go on. So you’ve built your stereo on the roof.”

“Not a stereo, Eddie- a radio!” Dustin cries through a mouthful of cafeteria lasagne.

Eddie’s face darkens. “Do I look like I give a- Christ.” He closes his eyes tight, shaking his head with genuine frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Whatever, man. Please, please, just finish your story so we can all move on with our lives.”

Undeterred by Eddie’s rough tone, Dustin launches right back into what he’d been speaking about as you approached. Mainly focused on how he convinced his Mom to let him up on the roof in the first place.

You sigh in quiet relief as the attention of the table moves swiftly away from you, leg slowing until it stops shaking altogether. Eddie’s knee bumps yours, and you feel the warmth of him as he leans in to speak softly, just to you.

“My smart girl,” he says, drawing pleased shivers up your spine. “You deserve it, yeah? You worked real hard.”

“I wanted,” you start, grabbing at his sleeve, thumbing the chain that holds the leather together. “I wanted to say thank you for helping me. I know it was kinda boring.”

“Nah, glad I could help.” Eddie’s expression turns a touch sheepish. “I, uh, actually got a C on that History essay? Mrs Kelly said I would have got a B, if I’d handed it in on time, so…”

Your eyes widen, barely able to process the sight of him now. Eddie Munson, who just yelled across the room about your academic achievements, now looking anywhere but at you, scratching his face and shrugging like his own barely matter. You find his hand, squeeze it tight until he shows you his eyes.

“Eddie, that’s brilliant!” You say. He puffs out air like it means nothing to him, shakes his head. “When-”

“You aren’t even listening, Eddie!” Dustin calls from the end of the table. Eddie rolls his eyes, but then he gestures ;azily for Dustin to continue, now with the gift of his attention. It’s enough for anyone to believe he finds the boy annoying at best, but you know from how Eddie talks about them that Dustin’s kind of his favourite. There’s a clear fondness in Eddie’s tone when he rants about Dustin trying to contribute ideas to his campaigns, the begrudging respect he has for how unapologetically himself the boy is. The touch of jealousy that creeps in when he talks about Dustin’s friendship with Steve Harrington, of all people. Badass, my ass, he mumbles each time.

You listen in comfortable silence to the conversation as it continues, occasionally contributing a little yes or no when Jeff asks you leading questions, your fondness for him ever increasing. Only when you watch Eddie retrieve a bag of pretzels from his backpack do you remember your own lunch, too taken in by the awe in Matthew’s voice recounting the first time he heard a Judas Priest song, apparently life changing.

You frown at the realisation that the half empty bag is all Eddie brought for himself, immediately offering your open tupperware and holding it steady under his shaking head until he acquiesces to tearing one half of your sandwich in two, chewing on the quarter in between his contributions to the conversation.

Your ears prick when you move on to tearing the segments from your satsuma, handing a half to Eddie without a word. Amongst the chatter, Mike laughs about Dustin’s current failing grade in Latin, an unusual outcome for him. Dustin sighs like an old man.

“I ask you, how many tenses does one language need?” He groans. “I thought there’d be something we could use for a campaign, The Exorcist style, you know? Instead I’m trying to remember the difference between types of declensions. Or I will, when I fully grasp what declensions are.”

The conversation about Judas Priest you’d found yourself somewhat involved in fades with how much you’re focused on Dustin’s defeated tone. One part of you is screaming that you could help him, that he seems really worried about it and he’s a smart boy so it probably wouldn’t be much work to get him on the right track. Then another part, the one that screeches and wails its distress until your head hurts, asks, what if he says no? What if he laughs? What if they all do?

You open your mouth, wondering if you should just say it across the table. Just offer; just do it. Of course he won’t say no. And if he does, he’s Eddie’s friend so it will be gentle. Still embarrassing though. Your mouth closes again, teeth digging grooves into the gum behind your lips. Just help him. You pull your sleeves down over your hands, playing with the soft ends. You clear your throat, take a breath-

“I’m good at Latin,” you say, immediately cringing at how that sounds. But you’re pleased when Jeff goes on chatting about the album he just bought, letting you contribute to the other conversation across the table freely. Dustin blinks at you owlishly. “I mean, I can help. Tutor you, or something? If you want.”

“Seriously!?” Dustin asks, flashing you a braced grin when you nod. “That would be amazing! Thanks!”

You smile, just sighing out your relief when you feel another nudge at your knee. Eddie’s watching you, eyebrows raised. You shrug shyly, grasping the sleeve of his jacket again to fiddle with the chains. He pulls free, but only to take hold of your hand instead.

You’re basking in the feeling of knowing Eddie’s proud of you, your own pride in yourself, and you know you couldn’t force yourself back across the room today if you tried.

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You realised, walking alone to class, that you hadn’t spoken that much during lunch the entire time you’d been at highschool. Giggling at Lucas’ jokes, asking about their DnD characters, getting increasingly comfortable talking about metal with a group of people who are genuinely excited to hear about your introduction to the genre. By the end it felt almost natural; simple and fun to talk to an entire table of people.

But you’re feeling some of the effects of it now, even quieter than usual in Eddie’s van as Gareth considers whether to paint or sharpie the Corroded Coffin logo Eddie designed onto the front of his bass drum.

From the soft hum you’d given in greeting as you climbed into the van after school, Eddie had offered you his palm, open and relaxed. Now, your forefinger traces the long groove from his wrist to the base of his thumb that forms his life line. You love Eddie’s hands, love how they feel in yours, and on every other part of you they’ve touched.

You swallow, face suddenly hot. It’s been easier, nicer, every time Eddie’s touched you. So much so that you now understand why it’s all some people think about, all that drives them. The way Eddie feels inside you, all the words that spill from his mouth as he moves; how much he wants you, how good you make him feel. You find your mind circling back to it at the strangest times. In class, making dinner, driving home with Eddie’s friends-

You jump a little at the chorus of bye’s from the back, the sound of the doors being thrown open. Eddie’s already watching you curiously when you look back to him, unable to hold eye contact, half convinced he’ll be able to read your thoughts with one good look at you. “You okay, sweet thing?”

“M’just tired.”

“Right,” Eddie says, nodding thoughtfully. “The guys- they can be a little intense.”

Mirth spreads through you at the thought of Eddie ‘jumps on cafeteria tables’ Munson describing anyone as intense. “I like them.”

“You say that now. A week tutoring Dustin and you’ll be changing your name and moving to Idaho. I’ll never see you again, and it’ll be all that little punk’s fault.”

“He’s your favourite.”

Eddie’s tone goes from playful to offended in a second, as to close a screech as his deep voice can get. “He is not- I don’t even have- Even if I did have a favourite, which I don’t, Dustin Henderson would not even come close-” He pauses at the sound of your laugh, narrowing his eyes. “Mmh. I get it. Tired, but not too tired to rile me up.”

You chew the inside of your lip, fighting a smile. Running a finger along his palm again, you reply, “it’s not particularly difficult.” You expect another dramatic yell of offence, or maybe a laugh. Instead, you get something pleased from his expression, dimples on his cheeks. “What?”

“Nothing. I just like it when you tease me.” His fingers close around yours, weaving together. “S’like you’re more comfortable around me, I guess.”

You’re sure he’s right. Every day it’s a little easier. Every time you see him, your mind gets in the way less and less, slowly coming to accept that he’s not waiting for you to say the wrong thing, that he won’t abandon you when you inevitably do.

“You make me feel comfortable, Eddie.”

“Yeah?” His eyebrows raise, waiting for your quick nod. “Does that mean you’re coming back to mine?”

“Actually,” you start, truly needing that comfort now. You know the implications of what you’re going to ask, sure that if somebody other than Eddie heard you, they’d come to conclusions about the kind of girl you are.

The more time you spend with Eddie the less you’re sure that it matters if they would be right or wrong.

You press your knees together, tap your fingers in a wave along Eddie’s knuckles. “Well, my parents aren’t home...”

There’s a second of silence, long enough to have you squirming, finding his dark eyes and then looking away again in a loop.

Eddie leans into you, chin tilted to capture your gaze and keep you there. “You mean to say that the Princess’ tower is unguarded this night?”

Your stomach squeezes at the sound of his voice, serious and soft, like a real adventurer on the verge of committing himself to a great quest. You love this about Eddie, how easily he can slip into characters like this. It’s something he learned from DnD, or maybe Eddie’s so good at the game because he has this ability to play at being somebody different without hesitation, without a hint of the worry you’d feel if you tried it, convinced you’d do it all wrong, sure you’d sound stupid.

“No dragons for me to slay?” He asks, closing one eye like he’s trying to work out if you’re tricking him. Your head shakes, and Eddie turns your hand in his to bring it to his mouth. He kisses your knuckles, a soft warm press. “S'that what you want?”

“Yes, Eddie.”

“Okay,” he says, lips meeting your hand once again. “To the castle, it is.”

Eddie is as quick as usual to drive you home, each turn forcing you to lean to the door or to the centre console. But any urgency seems to vanish the second he’s pulled up by your house. In the van, you wait as he makes sure he has his wallet and his keys, sets the sun visor back into position. When you've jumped out, you watch him check that he's locked each door of the van with more care than you've ever seen from him, like he's particularly worried about a carjacker on your suburban street in broad daylight.

Inside, Eddie is careful about unlacing his shoes and placing them at the door next to yours, toed off your heels carelessly. Then, at the top of the stairs, when you think you finally have him at a regular pace towards your room, you are jolted back by his sudden stop on the landing, leaving your hands connected at the end of stretched arms.

“‘M looking for anything I can use as a weapon, you know?” He says, peering into a vase of fake orchids, examining a glass seahorse statue, scrunching his nose when he gets hit with the scent from a bowl of potpourri. “This all feels a little too easy, and you’ve gotta expect the unexpected in situations like these.”

“Eddie?"

You’re so endeared to him, watching him examine the objects your Mom set out playing up to this story he’s created. But the way he’s stalling, almost hesitant, has you sure you missed a clear sign along the way. “Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you, like, not want to come here?”

His head shoots up then, round eyes blinking. “Of course, I did. I do.” Eddie laughs airily, tucking some of his hair behind his ear as he approaches. “I’m a freak, okay? I’m not crazy.”

You still feel like you’re missing something, wondering if you should offer him another way out. Eddie makes a sweeping gesture with his arm, inviting you to guide him forward. Walking slow to give him time to change his mind, you make your way to your door, decidedly not looking back at him when you enter.

Eddie is unusually quiet, then, following you in but stopping once again when he takes the first step onto your cream carpet. You only glance back at him when you’ve dropped his hand and started playing with your sleeves, comforted by the fact he just seems to be taking everything in. He stands out, all ragged denim and black leather in the pastel softness of your bedroom, and yet he fits so well in a room full of things you love.

He shifts his weight back and forth on the soft carpet, subtly sniffs the air that must smell of you and the apple blossom diffuser on your side table. His eyes drift as he takes in each focal point; the desk laden with textbooks and paper, your windowsill, lined with a couple snow globes, a ceramic cat you’d painted as a child, a framed photo of you and your friends Heather gave you for your 16th. He scans quickly over the cork boards to the corner of the room, smile lines appearing at the sight of your long favourite stuffed animal, a soft grey elephant you’d carefully positioned on a pink cord beanbag, looking ready to start reading judging by the pile of books to her right.

His gaze eventually circles back to you, waiting nervously for his reaction. Eddie shifts back and forth on his feet. “You know, I, uh, gotta admit, I imagined some stained glass.” He gestures lazily to the window, then to your bed, the wooden frame and the blue floral bedspread. “And I was sure you’d have one of those beds with all the fabric, you know what I’m talking about?” He raises both hands to motion the shape of a canopy bed, fingers wiggling.

“Disappointed?” You say, only half joking.

Eddie finally takes a step further in, turning to the shelves of books by your bed. “Me? Nah I was worried about getting tangled up in it, to be honest.” He flashes you a quick grin before scanning over the spines. Eventually, he points to one. “Iron Maiden, yeah?”

You check the book he’s pointing to, The Complete Poems of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and nod, always pleased by the reminder that Eddie listens, really listens, when you speak. That he remembers so many innocuous things you share with him, things you’d never expect him to remember.

You badly want to reach out for him then, fingers itching to hold his hand, play with his sleeves. You almost do, raising your arm a touch, but a wave of concern hits you, still trying to work out if you’ve done something, said something wrong to make him act like he’d rather not be here.

Eddie catches your stunted movement, eyes blinking at your fidgeting hands before shifting to your face. You’re sure then that your anxiety is clear in your expression, that he sees how eagerly you’re waiting for him to give you an explanation for his hesitancy in the hallway.

Eddie frowns, looking at the books again. He clears his throat. "I've never been in a girls' room before," he tells you. From his voice, it sounds like a confession.

“Oh.” Your brows furrow, trying to work out how that matters. “I mean, they’re not all like this.”

"No, I mean, it’s just that it’s like, a first. For me.” When that doesn’t quite cover your confusion, he continues. “Nobody ever wanted, y'know, me in their room. Or whatever."

Your heart pangs with sudden understanding, the memory of Eddie lying across from you on a blanket, the warm sun on your skin. Am I being too intense? That's what Eddie had asked you, that day at the lake. People say I can be too much too soon.

“And it’s already different, with you. Better. I mean, shit, a million times better,” he says, eyes wide. “But I still just didn’t expect you to, just, ask me, like- Like, you just want me here. Cause it’s never been that simple. Shit. I’m fucking this up, aren’t I?”

“No. No, Eddie,”

“I didn’t wanna make you worried or anything. It’s the complete last thing I’d ever want. I guess I was kinda just waiting for the other shoe to drop.” He laughs again, but it’s hollow, and cuts off too suddenly to be real.

You give in entirely, practically launching at him to wrap your arms around his torso and pull him into a tight, desperate hug. You wish, not for the first time, that you were more like him, better at getting your thoughts into words and saying them.Then you could soothe him like he deserves. Then you could tell him the truth.

Eddie’s face presses to your hair, arms tight around your shoulders.

“Eddie,” you murmur into his shoulder, squeezing him again before you build the courage to look him in the eyes. “You’re so-” Your throat tightens, forcing you to whisper. “You’re so good.” It seems lacklustre, probably a million better words to describe all that Eddie is, but it feels right; it’s what you think, that Eddie is, deep at his core, so good that it hurts. “You’re too good, too good for anyone that made you think-” Your voice cracks, and Eddie blinks shining eyes at you when you reach up to stroke his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he assures, pressing his face to your palm. “I’m okay. Really.”

You press your lips to his, hoping he understands this at least. You feel his smile, and believe that he does. He hums as you shift your kisses to the corner of his mouth, his cheeks. You peck the end of his nose, watch it scrunch sweetly. You’re warmed by the sight of his reddening face, the sound of his laugh. “You know how to make a guy feel appreciated, sweetheart.”

Your hands seem incapable of moving from him, only moving from his cheek to his shoulders, wrists tickled by the fluffy ends of his curls. “I want you here,” you say, a little strained. “I promise.”

“I know. I know you do.”

“I would have invited you earlier,” you continue. “It’s just…”

Eddie’s eyes flash. His hands, big and warm, rub up and down your back, pulling you closer to him until you’re flush against his chest. “It’s just, we couldn’t have done what you want to do,” he finishes. “Not with your parents downstairs. That’s right, isn’t it?”

Your stomach twists with that exciting shame, face hot. You don’t have anywhere to hide, caught by Eddie’s gaze. You still can’t look into his eyes for too long, lest your heart beat out your chest, so you find yourself staring at his lips, pillowy and pink. “Not just that.”

“Okay,” he answers, hand drifting down to skim the end of your skirt. You press closer to him when his fingers tease the soft skin of your thighs, and he breathes a laugh. “But, mainly that, huh?”

Your fingers curl into his shoulders, embarrassed and excited in equal measure that he’s naming your intentions so clearly. You bounce a little on your toes, still gazing at Eddie’s lips, the dents of his laugh lines and his dimples.

Callused fingers reaching under your skirt, his thumb grazing the cotton of your panties, pulling at the elastic. You think you’re being subtle, the way you open your legs a little to make space for him, but know immediately that you failed when Eddie laughs, eyes crinkled at the sides. He breathes a sigh, watching you lose the last pretence that you aren’t a little desperate for him to touch you how he wants. “My good girl.”

Oh, but that makes you ache for him. Your head drops to his neck, hiding your face in his skin. You breathe him in, smoke and Eddie, swallowing a whimper.

“You like that, don't you? Like being a good girl.”

You nod on impulse, willing to agree to just about anything when his fingers drag over your mound, press to the split of your pussy through your panties, the material just grazing your clit. But something about what he's said isn't quite right, and you start shaking your head instead.

Eddie's mouth finds your ear, warm breath teasing the sensitive skin at the top of your neck. "No? Not a good girl?"

You shake your head again, because that's not right either. You tilt your face to catch his gaze, ink dark eyes already waiting for you. "I like-" You sigh when his fingers catch at the fabric that sits at the top of your sex again, giving a single teasing circle that helps you relax enough to tell him the truth of it. “It’s for you, Eddie.”

"Ah," Eddie breathes, finally, finally dipping his fingers past the elastic of your panties. He hums his approval when he finds your clit, swollen and waiting for him. He gives you one tap just to see you pout, then he’s rubbing tight circles that have you trying to press even closer to him, nails digging into his shoulders. “My good girl, mm?"

"Yeah," you nod desperately, proud to see how pleased he looks with you. "Yes, Eddie."

"That's right." He continues, watching your face as your lips open to moan softly, eyelids flickering. His fingers dip quickly to your entrance, dragging slick up to ease the way for his fingers on your button. “Just for me. Cause I'm the one who gets to touch you," he says. "Only I get to hear you like this, yeah? Hear you begging me with that pretty voice?"

"Only you. Please, Eddie."

“S’cause you know I’m gonna take care of you, don’t you, sweet thing? You and this pretty pussy?”

Eddie's fingers keep rubbing at your clit, pulling sensations from your body that only he ever has. Staring at him, hearing his rough voice even as he looks at you like you’re precious, you feel it again, as you have with increasing frequency. How badly you want him like this and every other way. It almost overwhelms you, makes you want to hide away again in his shoulder. But Eddie is owed the sight of the pleasure he brings you, deserves to see it play out on your face, hear every whimper clearly. Eddie coos softly at the sight of you, his free hand coming to support the back of your neck, nodding you through each shaking breath. “That’s it. That’s it. You gonna cum?”

A tremble moves through your body, hips rolling against his hand as you groan into the air. The high builds to a long, half painful peak, your hands grasping at Eddie’s t-shirt, his hair, first for something to hold on to, then because the resulting groan has your cunt clenching around nothing. It crosses over into too much suddenly, twitching away from his hand between your legs even as you give in and throw your face to his neck, kissing your gratitude all over the pale column of his throat. You find his pulse, feel its steady beat under your lips, and bite. It’s little more than a scrape of your teeth, but Eddie shudders in your arms, tilting his head back to let you soothe the bruised skin with your tongue, then kisses.

You sigh deep, relaxing your death grip on his body while Eddie kisses at your sweaty temple. You peek at him then, find the warm brown of his irises swallowed up by darkness, his tongue licking quick over his bitten dark lips. He pulls his hand from your panties, showing you the remnants of your slick on his fingers before licking at his ring finger. “Always taste so good, baby. Wanna try?”

“Uh huh,” you say, head fuzzy with pleasure. Your mouth drops open for him, letting him press his middle finger to your tongue. You close your lips around it, sucking gently. You don’t think it tastes of much at all, but Eddie seems suddenly desperate to get at what he’s given you. He drags his finger from your mouth and captures your lips before you’ve even registered the loss, his tongue licking at yours like he can steal the taste of you back. “That what you were thinking of when you invited me up here, mm?” He says when he breaks away, lips still grazing yours as he speaks. “Or do you want more?”

You do want more. You want Eddie. Want him filling you with the length you can feel, hardening against your thigh. You want to make him feel good, want to hear him groan when he cums. “More, Eddie,” you whisper without shame. “Please.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, leaning in for another desperate kiss, taking advantage of your pliant state to open your mouth to him. “Fuck. I wanna bend you over so bad,” he admits, watching your face for your reaction. “You want that? Want me to fuck you like that in your pretty princess bed?”

Your toes curl, clit throbbing at the playful tone of Eddie’s voice, teasing and rough. “Mm. Okay.”

Eddie tilts his head, meeting your eyes, checking in. “Okay?”

You try to picture it, imagine how Eddie will feel fucking you that way. In truth, you’re stuck on how vulnerable you’ll be; exposed, not able to see him or cling to him the way you like. But it’s Eddie, you assure yourself. You take a breath. “I want that, Eddie.”

The kiss that follows is sweet. It’s a comforting reminder that no matter how much Eddie teases you, how rough he gets, he's still the boy who calls you princess, holds your hand in the car, promises to take care of you.

He helps you remove your shirt from your heated skin, pulls his own over his head the second you start tugging at the hem. Once you have access to his skin, you can't stop touching him, palms flat to his chest, kissing his neck while he pulls your panties down over your hips.

“C’mon, sweet thing,” he murmurs, turning you to face your bed. He kisses your shoulder, his body warm at your back. "Climb up for me, mm?"

You want to do what he says. You want him to touch you like this. But you still feel a prickle of nerves as you crawl up to your pillow, body exposed and missing Eddie’s skin already.

“So pretty,” Eddie says above you, behind you, as you rest your chin on your curled arms on top of the mattress. You hear the clink of his belt, toes curling at the sound. Then you feel him through his boxers, hard and hot as he rolls his hips against your ass. You hear him whisper, shit, say something about protection. It's followed by a far off, satisfied a-ha at locating a condom in his discarded jacket, but it’s fuzzy beneath the sudden rushing in your ears.

You feel him again, grinding against you, and you're not sure where all the excitement went. You’re staring at the blue cornflowers on your pillowcase while he continues behind you, remembering the last time you were positioned like this, tense and vulnerable. You try to breathe slow. When that doesn’t work, you try to let the heavy throb between your legs remind you how badly you want this.

It doesn't work, and you focus instead on feeling of just having to lie like this, get through it for him, just stare at the flowers and don't cry and he’ll be finished soon-

The pressure behind you disappears, the mattress shifts under you. Eddie bounces when he flops down beside you, face level with yours and hidden behind his flying hair. He makes soft puh noises like he’s trying to spit it out, blowing it away from his face. You blink, the white noise in your ears fading when you touch him, tucking his hair back behind his ear to find his grateful smile.

“Thanks, baby,” he says. He reaches for your hip, rubbing soft as he presses your arched body down until you're lying, flat to the bed. Then, all heartbreaking gentleness; “where’d you go?”

You stumble, embarrassed. “I, I didn’t-”

“Stopped making those pretty noises for me," he reasons. “Isn't any fun without 'em." Your bottom lip shakes, and you feel like an idiot.

Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. Not Andy, not some boy here for himself, only to take and never give.

"Hey," he says, shuffling in until he can bump your nose with his. "We don’t have to do it like this if you don’t want. You know that, right? Don't have to do anything you don't want.”

“It’s not that, I-” You sigh, watch Eddie’s shining eyes, round and soft, waiting for you. “I needed to know it was you. I’m sorry.”

Recognition registers in his face. He frowns, cupping your face in his palm. “No apologies. Not about what you need, okay?”

“Okay, Eddie.”

“Wanna cuddle?”

You do. Desperately. You reach out for him easily, shuffling until you're surrounded by him, clinging to his torso, cheek to his chest.

"Ah," Eddie breathes, wiggling like he can get his skin any closer to yours. "That's the good stuff."

You hadn’t realised how fast, how hard your heart was beating until you’re settled in Eddie’s arms and it starts to slow. There's a minute’s comfortable silence, letting his presence ease you back to comfort. Then he hums, strokes at the hair on your temple. "You gotta tell me when something's not right, ‘kay?" he says seriously. "I like to think I can read you pretty well, but I could've missed it."

"I'm sorry," you say, then, remembering you just agreed not to do that, "sorry."

Eddie breathes a laugh through his nose, leaves a wet kiss on your forehead. "My shy girl, mm?"

"Sometimes it's just…hard to say what I'm feeling. I didn't want you to stop.” You hum. “I don't think I did."

Eddie considers that, still stroking at your hair. "Do you, uh, know what a safe word is?” You shake your head, and he continues. “S’kinda like a code. Something you can just say if you wanna press pause, you know? Means that instead of getting in that head of yours, trying to work out what you want, you can just say a word and we’ll talk about it, yeah?”

You consider it, imagining the scene if you'd been able to just say one thing and slow down. Easier not to have to think through what you need before you tell him, just say one word and let Eddie help you get there, coax from your head what you haven't worked out yourself. "That sounds good, Eddie."

"Yeah?" He asks, eyebrows raising. “Okay. We can keep it simple for now. If we wanna stop completely, for any reason, we say red, yeah? If we need to slow down, talk a little about what we need, we say yellow. And green for keep going. How’s that sound?"

"Good," you say, feeling grateful that you’re learning all these things with Eddie. "It sounds good, but I- I am sorry that I'm, y'know. Difficult, sometimes."

Eddie blinks, eyebrows pulling together. "Difficult? My sweet girl? Nah. Besides," he leans in, closing one eye. "I like looking after you."

You sigh happily when he kisses you, gentle and seeking nothing more than sweet presses. But you're still wet and wanting, hand rubbing across the softness of Eddie's tummy until your fingers draw across the sparse hair at the top of his pants. Eddie makes a noise in the back of his throat that has you pressing your thighs together.

"You wanna turn over, mm? Open those pretty legs for me?”

Yes. You love having Eddie on top of you and inside you. Better every time, as your body gets used to him, as Eddie learns how to draw pleasure from you, as you learn what makes Eddie gasp, makes his hips move desperately like you're the only thing he needs.

But you pause. Now, comfortable in the knowledge that you know how to slow down, stop when you need to, you let yourself imagine Eddie behind you. His hips hitting the back of your thighs, his big hands holding your waist, arching your body just right to slide inside. Letting yourself be vulnerable with Eddie, the feeling of offering yourself up to him, the reward of his touch.

“I want to try, I just, I need-” You don’t know, exactly. You feel another wave of irritation at yourself, wishing you could be a little more simple. That you didn't need to cling to him that first time, that now you need him to work out this hurdle.

Eddie hums, and the mattress shifts again as he sits up behind you. “Lift these hips for me again, sweet thing?” He asks, helping you shift your knees forward, tilting your body up for him. You hear the crinkle of him tearing open a condom, his soft sigh as he rolls it down over his cock. “There’s my girl,” he murmurs, hands smoothing your skirt up, exposing your hot flesh to the air. You shiver up your spine, but when Eddie grinds against you, what follows is his torso stretched along your back until you can feel him pressing wet kisses to your shoulder. The tension falls away, replaced by the tickle of Eddie’s hair at your neck, his sweet sting of his teeth nipping your shoulder, the sound of his pleased hums.

A final touch, his left hand grabs yours on the mattress, linking your fingers up and resting them in your eyeline. You know Eddie’s hands better than you know your own. Thick fingers adorned with a pig, a cross, a skull; all pale skin but for the subtle pink at his knuckles and around his nails. The veins that run from the end of his fingers to his wrist, the dip at the end of his thumb.

“Better?” Eddie asks. You hum happily. You’re so blissfully wrapped up in him like this, surrounded and safe. Eddie’s right hand teases your clit again, presses gently at your entrance and finds you still went and wanting, bearing down at the first dip of his digits inside you. “Fuck, don’t worry, sweet thing. Gonna give you what you need, mm?”

“Eddie,” you say, his name a gentle plea.

“I know,” he whispers, squeezing your hand in his. He reaches between your bodies to guide himself to your entrance, the head of his cock tapping torturously at your clit. You have half a mind to kick your legs out in impatience now, settle on whining at the back of your throat. Eddie breathes a laugh into your shoulder, but it shifts immediately to a groan as he presses inside.

You’re still not entirely used to the feeling of him slowly filling you, the edge of pain still leading you to bear down on him, body stuck between desperations; to force him out or or pull him deeper. But then there’s the perfect ache of feeling full, the warmth and heaviness of him inside.

Eddie’s hips roll, the wet sound of him pulling from you making your toes curl. He starts up a steady pace, easing your body into letting him slide deeper into your cunt with each thrust. His fingers return to the top of your sex, rubbing at your sensitive button. With every slow thrust, each stroke of your twitching clit, it feels like your body is opening up to him, easing the way for him to press deeper, push inside a little rougher. Your body flinches, tightens and loosens up all over when the end of his cock finds the back of your pussy, sending waves of pleasure up your spine.

“Feel good?” He says, amusement in his tone. You moan freely, happy to be teased by him as long as he keeps touching you. “Tell me.”

“Feels good,” you parrot, staring at Eddie’s hand in yours, the slow movement of rose tone up his wrist, along to his knuckles as he heats up. You shiver to let in his warmth, his breath on your shoulder, his chest at your back. His cock, hot and thick, fucking you open.

“My good girl,” he murmurs, groaning at the way your cunt clamps down, gushing wet around his thick cock in thanks for his praise. “Christ. I shoulda known that was your favourite,” he breathes, his right hand pressing at your mound to angle your hips just so, helping his cock find the spot at the end of you that makes your thighs shake with every heavy push. “S’mine too.”

His lips travel up the side of your neck to the top of your cheek, eyes finding yours when you turn to him. Eddie gives you a gentle pout at the sight of your mouth open to take gasping, whimpering breaths, your eyes fluttering when he starts to bully your clit in line with the increasingly harsh movements inside you. “You were fucking made for me,” he tells you. “You know that, don’t you, sweetheart?”

You cry out, arms giving way underneath you when your body twitches all over, squeezing tight around Eddie’s invading cock. Your head drops into the mattress next to your joined hands, but you nod desperately, wanting him to see that you know perfectly well. That nobody could make you feel as good as Eddie does.

Eddie keeps your body angled how he wants, adjusting your hips to pull your back into an arch. “All mine, aren’t you? Mine to look after, mine to touch. Mine to fuck-” He gives you a harsh thrust that makes your thighs twitch, legs close to giving out if he wasn’t holding you up with his arm under your stomach. “I wanna feel you cum, yeah? Think you can?”

You’re still nodding, hand gripping his tight, fingers curled through his.

“For me? Just for me?”

Always. Only for Eddie. You can’t say it, mind too far away to form the thought properly, but the feeling of him saying it like that, claiming your pleasure for himself as he drags it out of you with his cock, heavy and hot, and his hand playing with your clit, drives you over the edge. You mewl into the mattress, cunt clenching tight around his throbbing cock as your pleasure peaks.

Eddie makes a soft whimpering sound as you cum, following you down to bury his face in your shoulder. His hips move faster as he starts chasing his pleasure instead of focusing on yours, hand that was teasing your clit now stroking at your hip to soothe your sensitive, twitchy body.

Hearing him now, gasping breaths, whimpers in your ear, you sink happily into this feeling. Almost as good as reaching your own peak, the knowledge that you’re making Eddie feel good. That this boy who treats you so well, dedicates himself to helping you find your pleasure, loses himself a little at the clench of your cunt around him.

You drag your clasped hands to your mouth, kissing at the pink skin of his knuckles. How could anybody not want this with him? How could anybody have given him up? You feel a sudden, desperate possession of him, the need to claim him like he claimed you.

“Mine,” you murmur, pressing your lips to the back of his hand in an array of gentle kisses. Your other hand reaches back to tangle in his hair, scratch at the back of his head as he whimpers. You crane your neck, searching for his eyes. They’re dark, shining as they take you in. His cock twitches inside you, and you squeeze his hand again. “Mine?”

His bottom lip shakes. “Yeah. M'yours. Yours, fuck-” He captures your lips but the kiss ends quick when he groans, hips stuttering in your warmth then sinking deep. You keep scratching at his neck as his body shakes through his orgasm, and still after when his weight drops on you and you fall flat to the bed together. You lie there for minutes, catching your breath, luxuriating in the feeling of being held by Eddie, pussy still clenching weakly around him.

Eddie hums, pulling from you slowly with another wet sound that makes you bury your face in your pillow. He rubs at your hip gently, squeezes your hand a final time before untangling from you to deal with the condom. You make a mental note to do something with that before tomorrow morning, but Eddie has your mind going wonderfully blank again when he bounces back beside you and pulls you in. You’re both a little sweaty, cheek a touch too hot against his chest, but you have no interest in cooling down if it means you have to stop touching him.

“Good?” He asks, fingers rubbing at your temple. You hum a long content sound in answer, not ready to form any coherent thought yet, and feel Eddie’s chest shake with laughter under your cheek. “Good.”

You lay like that, clammy and pleasured, convinced nothing could drag you from this bed. Until you feel a quick pang in your stomach, and the quiet reverie is interrupted by a deep rumble. There’s a moment of silence, then Eddie snorts underneath you. You’d be embarrassed if his laugh didn’t make you want to follow his happiness, smiling shyly when he rubs gently at your tummy. “Hungry work, huh?” He asks, giggling. “Never fear, sweet thing. I can fix that.” He pauses then, licks his lips quickly. “Hey, you got a box of mac and cheese sitting around here, somewhere?”

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦

You flinch, watching with increasing horror as Eddie’s attempts to chop the onion you’d handed him. Fingers splayed and terrifyingly close the blade, you’re stuck between gently taking the knife from him and asking point blank how he’s managed to keep all ten fingers intact this long.

“Do you want me to finish that?” You ask, frowning when he shakes his head, still fully concentrated on each dangerous movement, his tongue just poking out of his lips in a physical demonstration of his focus.

If you weren’t so terrified, you’d be appreciating how soft and comfy Eddie looks right now. Black Sabbath t-shirt tucked into his jeans, socked feet ready to slide along your kitchen floor. His dark curls pulled back from his face and braided by your own hands, tied at the end with your favourite lilac scrunchie that you kind of hope he’ll keep.

But you can’t think about it, because you’re terrified Eddie’s going to ruin his musical career here in your kitchen, making pasta.

“No, need, sweet thing,” he assures. “This is a patented Munson technique for chopping onions.”

You could curse yourself for not having any boxed mac and cheese, for suggesting you cook something from scratch together in the first place. You’re used to cooking, with your Mom and Dad, with your friends, and eventually for yourself. But you get the sense that Eddie does a lot of microwaving, looking after himself the same way he has since he was a kid, at dinner time when Wayne is working nights.

“Eddie, can I?” You gently take the knife from him, turning the half of the onion left and chopping it with your thumb tucked in.

He tilts his chin. “Lacks the adrenaline rush that comes with the Munson method,” he says when you’re done, watching you tip the contents of the chopping board into the heated pan on the stove. Then, a little sheepishly, “I, uh, I don’t cook much. If that wasn’t obvious.”

“You don’t like it, or?”

“I like this,” he answers. “And I make breakfast sometimes with Wayne. But not dinner, so much. He’s usually at the plant that time of day, so nobody ever taught me, I guess.” He pauses. “That’s not true. My mom and I used to cook, I think. Sometimes.”

You wait for a couple of seconds, watching the onions and garlic soften. “When you were a kid?”

“Yeah, we’d make stuff like this. Or, she would. I think I’d just watch mostly. Stir stuff, lick the spoon.”

“Best part,” you say, smiling. Then, watching him carefully. “Your Mom, she…?”

“She died,” he finishes with a shrug. He taps at the counter with his knuckles. “Then I lived with my old man, and he was not one for cooking lessons,” he laughs derisively. “Then one day the bastard dropped me off at Wayne’s. Best thing he ever did for me. Not that he cared either way, he was just sick of having me around.” Eddie finally looks at you then, and catches something in your expression that makes him wince, the laughter that follows clearly forced. “Christ, sorry. I’m really dumping on you today.”

“Don’t apologise, Eddie.”

“Nah, I shouldn’t have-” He shakes his head, tapping the counter again before resting his palms at the edge. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Eddie, of course it matters,” you say, turning off the stove to approach him, standing separated from his body by his arm reaching to the counter, keeping you from wrapping around him the way you want to. “Of course it matters.”

Eddie shrugs again, and it’s another one of those moments where you wish you were more like him. Eddie always knows what to say, senses where you’re hurt and how to soothe it, knows when to talk and when to just hold you.

But now that it’s your turn, you’re left feeling useless, stuck just wanting to cry at the thought that anyone has ever hurt him, made him feel like he has something to apologise for just for being around.

“I think you’re so wonderful, Eddie,” you say. “I want you around all the time.”

There’s a second of something. He turns to meet your gaze, searching your face with a frown. Then he gives you a small, barely there smile. The arm between you raises to let you close, wrap him up in a tight hug. You feel his body lose tension as he sighs, your hand stroking his back the way you know he likes. “I want you around all the time, too, sweet thing,” he says softly. “I really do.”

Next Chapter

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x shy!reader

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writeriguess · 20 days

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The bell above the door of Family Video jingled as you stepped inside, the familiar sound pulling a smile to your lips. The store was quiet, save for the low hum of the air conditioner and the soft rustling of tapes being sorted. You scanned the aisles, searching for a familiar head of perfectly coiffed hair.

Steve Harrington stood at the counter, leaning on his elbows with a bored expression, flipping through a magazine. He hadn’t noticed you yet, lost in whatever article had caught his attention. The sight of him made your heart flutter, a feeling that had become all too common these past few months.

You approached the counter, trying to keep your voice light. “You know, if you stare at those pictures any harder, you might burn a hole through them.”

Steve’s head snapped up, his bored expression melting into a grin the moment he saw you. “Hey! Didn’t think I’d see you today. How’s it going?”

“Not too bad. Thought I’d stop by and see if you could recommend any good movies for a lazy night in.” You leaned against the counter, your heart doing a little flip at the way his eyes softened when he looked at you.

“Ah, the age-old question,” Steve said, straightening up and tossing the magazine aside. He moved out from behind the counter, gesturing for you to follow him. “Let’s see… are we talking horror, comedy, romance? Or maybe a little bit of everything?”

You pretended to think it over. “Hmm, how about something with a happy ending? I could use one of those right about now.”

Steve shot you a sideways glance, his smile fading slightly. “Everything okay?”

You shrugged, trying to keep your tone light. “Just one of those days, you know? Could use a little pick-me-up.”

Steve’s brow furrowed, and he stopped walking, turning to face you fully. “You know I’m here, right? If you need to talk, or… just want to hang out. I’m always here for you.”

His sincerity made your chest tighten, and you found yourself smiling despite the heaviness that had settled over you. “Thanks, Steve. That means a lot.”

He nodded, his expression softening. “Anytime. So, happy ending, huh? I think I’ve got just the thing.”

He led you to the romance section, pulling out a few tapes and handing them to you one by one. “This one’s a classic. Guaranteed to make you smile. And this one? Total tearjerker, but the ending? Perfect. And this one…” He hesitated, glancing at you with a small smile. “This one’s kinda special. First movie I ever took a girl to see.”

You raised an eyebrow, taking the tape from him. “Oh? And how did that date go?”

Steve chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, let’s just say I wasn’t always the charmer you see before you now. I think she spent more time laughing at me than at the movie.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad. But I have to admit, I’m curious to see what a young Steve Harrington considered a good date movie.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know I had excellent taste, even back then,” he said, his voice playful, but there was a hint of something else in his eyes—something tender, almost shy.

You looked down at the tapes in your hands, a warmth spreading through you. “You know, it’s been a while since I’ve had a proper movie night. Care to join me?”

Steve’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, but then his smile returned, brighter than before. “Are you kidding? I’d love to. I mean, I was just gonna be here all night anyway, so…”

“Perfect,” you said, feeling lighter already. “My place or yours?”

“Yours,” Steve answered without hesitation. “I’ll close up here and meet you there?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

The walk home was quicker than usual, anticipation making your steps lighter. By the time you reached your front door, you were practically buzzing with excitement, your earlier melancholy forgotten.

True to his word, Steve arrived not long after, a bag of snacks in one hand and the movies in the other. He greeted you with that same easy smile, and you couldn’t help but think how lucky you were to have someone like him in your life.

As you settled onto the couch, the first movie starting up, you found yourself leaning a little closer to Steve, your shoulder brushing against his. He didn’t pull away, just glanced at you with a small smile before turning back to the screen.

Halfway through the second movie, you noticed his arm resting on the back of the couch, his fingers just barely grazing your shoulder. It was a casual touch, one that shouldn’t have made your heart race, but it did.

“You know,” Steve said suddenly, his voice low, “I’ve been thinking.”

“About what?” you asked, turning to look at him.

His gaze was focused on the screen, but you could tell he wasn’t really watching. “About how much things have changed. About how… how much better things are when you’re around.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest. “Steve…”

He finally looked at you, his expression earnest. “I’m serious. I don’t know what I’d do without you, honestly. You’re… you’re kind of my favorite person.”

A smile tugged at your lips, your heart swelling with affection for the boy sitting beside you. “You’re my favorite too, Steve.”

He leaned in slightly, his eyes flickering to your lips and back to your eyes, as if asking for permission. You didn’t need to think twice. Closing the distance, you pressed your lips to his, the kiss soft and sweet, filled with all the unspoken feelings that had been building between you.

When you finally pulled back, Steve rested his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed, a smile playing on his lips. “That was… better than any movie I’ve ever seen.”

You laughed softly, your heart light. “You’re such a dork.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, his smile widening. “But I’m your dork now.”

The rest of the night passed in a blur of laughter, stolen kisses, and the warmth of knowing that, with Steve by your side, you had truly found a place where you belonged. A place that felt like home.

#steve harrington x reader

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unnoticed-poison · 3 months

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⌞✰ᴅᴀʀᴋ! ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ! ᴍᴀɴʜᴡᴀ/ᴍᴀɴʜᴜᴀ ᴠᴀʀɪᴏᴜꜱ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ✰⌝ 【 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝟏𝟎 】

【 𝕿𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖑𝖊𝖗 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕 】

【 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝟏 】

【 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝟐 】

Chapter 3 to 9 are posted on AO3, Wattpad and Quotev :3

Damn this semester was craaaazy man but thankfully I passed the year 🥳

Also to those reading this before other chaps, no mc is NOT pregnant

Anyways sorry in advance if there's any grammatical error I missed and hope you enjoy the chapter 🌻🌻🌻

Gazing intently at the shimmering ruby ring on his finger, the man's brows creased with thought at his current predicament.

It has been two days since Kim Rok Soo, now known as Cale, arrived in this new world. He was currently at the tea shop called [The Fragrance of Tea with Poetry] to clear his mind. When he decided to visit the shop early in the morning, the owner, Billos, walked over to him and warmly greeted him with a bright smile upon seeing him walk through the door, talking to him as if they were longtime acquaintances.

"Welcome Cale!"

Cale blinked, then replied. " Hello."

Billos glanced at the ring he was wearing and decided to ask. "So, what did she think about the ring?"

Ah yes, that.

The red-head faked a found smile as he lifted his hand to admire the ring. "She loved it." He did his best to sound sincere. "Thank you again; I appreciate it."

"It was no problem! Anything for my dearest client."

....sure.

"Anyways, I want-"

Before he could say another word, the blonde beat him to it.

"Ah yes, the third floor is empty as usual. You go sit yourself down while I prepare the sweet tea and bring the novel you requested last time."

Oh, so Cale was a regular here, noted.

Cale nodded silently, placing a golden coin in the man's chubby hand. "Consider the rest as your tip."

That coin was worth one million gallons. He was aware that the guy was wealthier than him, but he didn't give a damn. After all, since he was the son of a filthy rich Count now, he was finally able to do what he always wanted to try but couldn't due to his lack of money.

Billos smiled. "Ah, generous as always."

.......

(･ω･)つ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⊂(･ω･)

And so here he was, surveying the city gates from the window, with a steaming cup of tea in his hand. Waiting for the hero to arrive, he took a sip and hummed in satisfaction. The sweet flavor was a nice change from the bitter tea the creepy old assassin kept serving him.

When he first transmigrated here and found himself in the body of Cale Henituse, the minor antagonist that got beaten to a bloody pulp by the protagonist, he looked at himself in the mirror for a while before slapping himself multiple times, trying to wake himself up from this silly dream, but alas, it was unfortunately real.

Adjusting to the new environment has been a bit challenging due to it being different than what he expected. The lack of fear or annoyance from those around him made him feel lost, but he got over his shock pretty quick and began looking for answers.

Fortunately, he managed to catch a maid who was alone last night and drag her to somewhere secluded without anyone noticing.

Young master? Is something the matter?"

Ignoring her bewildered look, Cale crossed his arms. "Please tell me everything that went down the past month and don't leave out any details, understood?"

The maid was confused, and rightfully so.

"Huh..?"

What kind of request was that?

Cale pulled out something from his pocket and tossed it to her.

She opened the pouch, and her eyes widened.

The pouch was full of gold coins!

"Oh god..."

"Now, tell me everything."

"O-ok!"

She spilled out everything, how the madam fell down the stairs after revealing what 'he' actually did and lost her memory, how the Count threatened to disown him if he didn't make things right, and how he managed to fix his reputation after the truth was out and win the woman's affection, then proposed again on their anniversary during the festival.

The maid sighed blissfully as she recalled the event.

"It was so romantic, and then you two went back to the mansion early and...." She trailed off and coughed, a blush covering her cheeks from the memory. She happened to pass by the room late at night, and oh god, the things she heard the madam say...

Cale groaned, of course. He didn't want to hear THAT kind of detail! "Is that all?"

"Yes, young master."

"..Hm, thank you then."

He handed her another small pouch. " This is for your silence, tonight never happened ok?"

.....

"Who am I and what is this place?"

Cale chuckled at her words, Good.

Money really is the best.

(･ω･)つ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⊂(･ω･)

It was all weird. but he'll have to get used to it. Besides, this wasn't so bad; at least he doesn't have to pretend to be trash or anything of the sort; that was a plus.

He won't miss his past life that's for sure. With him being an orphan with no money or loved ones to speak of, his life had no purpose or meaning.

That was not living; that was just...not dying.

He shook his head, sighing deeply.

The man absolutely hated pain and death, so for now, he has to make sure he avoids triggering Choi Han's rage. After that, he can enjoy his family riches to his heart's content and live his dream life of being a slacker without fear of any harm coming his way.

After all, his life motto was pretty simple.

"Living long without pain. Enjoying the small joys of life. Living a peaceful life..."

Yup, that would be perfect for him.

As for his wife...

Cale covered his face with both his hands as he recalls the 'joyous' news; the word 'father' still caused him to have the chills.

Well...that can wait. He will cross that bridge when he gets there.

He looked out the window again. Today was the 31st day of the 3rd month in the 781st year of the Feliz calendar. The Harris Village, where the hero considered it his home after leaving the forest of darkness, is most likely burned down with no survivors by now.

Choi Han was going to arrive any day now, and he has to be prepared. As much as he wanted to stay in his room and not interact with the man at all, he can't avoid him since he needs to run into Ron and his son so they can follow the hero on his long journey, so he needs to make a good first impression.

Tsk, this was troublesome.

Cale decided to relax first and enjoy the sweet tea while reading the book the original owner requested, it was a transmigration novel...huh, interesting.

After a while, he exited the cozy shop and found himself greeted by a small kitten. Its vibrant red fur and golden eyes caught his attention almost immediately. It sat there, seeming to be waiting for someone; its ears perked up and its tail wiggled with excitement once it saw him. He had to admit it was quite adorable.

"Meow!"

Cale frowned and tried to shoo it away. " I don't have food for you, go away."

The feline didn't seem to be phased by his words, simply blinking at him and mewing again as it rubbed itself against his leg, making the man sigh before setting his sights on a bakery nearby and making his way over there. He thought the kitten would be hot on his heels mewing for food, and planned to buy it some meat while he was at it, but it sat there, watching him for a while before running off as soon as he brought loads of bread.

Oh well, he shrugged as he walked off, leaving behind a very very happy baker who was closing his shop for the day. He made 2,2 million gallons! That's far more than he can make in a month!! This would allow him to pamper his beloved wife with a lavish gift and treat her to a nice dinner!

Hmm~ he couldn't wait.

(･ω･)つ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⊂(･ω･)

"I-It's a man-eating tree! It will kill you!"

Ugh...those brats won't shut up; he was aware of

the dangers thank you very much.

He was currently at the hill that looked over the city, there he found a small spot that was fenced off from all directions except for the empty space that previously had an old wooden door that he was easily able to break.

The tree that was inside looked to be hundreds of years old, it was given a special name by the people here.

The man-eating tree, those who decided to end their lives and hang themselves there became mummies overnight and were beyond recognition.

Placing the heavy bag on the ground, he looked at the tree with a faint smile. That's the one he's been looking for, and those punks trying to warn him confirmed it.

A long time ago, during ancient times, there was a priestess who got kicked out of the temple she worked at, the reason being that her gluttony was far too much to handle.

The woman died soon after from starvation as a result and a tree grew on top of her body. Her grudges and power resided in this tree, a power he wanted to obtain for himself.

[The indestructible shield]

That shield is the left-over of that woman's power, and he was going to get it.

He began emptying the bag and feeding the hole that was large enough to fit an adult's head. When the bag was half empty he was interrupted again by the little girl tapping his back.

"It's dangerous!"

.....

Cale rubbed his temples for a bit before he took out two breads from the bag. "I won't die." He mumbled, tossing the little bags to her. "Here, now get lost."

The little boy grabbed his sister's hand. "Noona, let's go."

"...ok." She looked at him again, her eyes held some concern. "Be careful sir.." She warned him one last time and backed off, handing one of the breads to her brother, who happily tore off the wrapping and began eating it.

Finally, now he can work in peace.

He began feeding the tree again, once the bag was completely empty he smiled in satisfaction upon seeing the darkness that was formed by the grudge became fainter than before.

"M..more.."

Creepy...

"I'll bring more tomorrow." This would probably need about seven more large bags or so.

"MORE..!"

Geez, gluttony was such a scary thing.

He stood up, dusted himself off and stepped out of the fenced area. He spotted the two children sitting near the entrance, happily munching on the bread and scoffed.

"Listen here, if you want more food tomorrow, don't utter a word of this to anyone understood?"

More food!?

They nodded eagerly, which was not surprising; after all, the children of the slums treasured food above everything else, they did not fear anything, not even death.

Cale left after that, the children paused and watched him silently. Once he was out of sight, the silver-haired girl ran to the other side of the fence, where a woman was waiting there with a bag.

"He's gone now miss!" She exclaimed, Hong stayed where he was as his sister pulled on the woman's hand.

Who was this woman?

Why of course, who else could it be other than you?

(･ω･)つ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⊂(･ω･)

Standing by the ancient tree, a heartwarming smile spread across your face as you ruffled the boy's hair. "Good job Hong, you did amazing!"

Beaming with pride, the boy grinned at the praise and scratched his nose bashfully. "It was no trouble for me!"

Placing the sack on the ground and opening it, you said. "Well then there you go, a deal's a deal." You handed them a bag full of bread and some pastries.

Delighted beyond words, the two could hardly contain their excitement as the girl swiftly grabbed the bag, expressing her gratitude with a bow. "Thank you!"

With that, they left and waited outside the fence for you as usual while devouring the food, leaving you to do your task in peace.

You received no new task, so as a way to pass time you spent most of the day either in your room reading novels and being a lazy bum or shopping with Lily. She was such fun company!

Recently you decided to do this, feed the creepy tree and at the same time get closer with the kids. Their cuteness was almost too much for you that you were resisting the urge to just up and adopt them instead of Cale every time you came by.

That damn baker you buy the food from better keep his mouth shut, you thought. As you bent down and threw the food inside, you heard Xian speak in a cheerful tone.

[Speeding up the process for the protagonist! Good job host!]

.....sure.

....

[...You weren't planning on taking the holy shield for yourself, right host?]

.....

[Host..?]

You snickered, amused at how he was so easy to fool. 'Of course not you dummy, why would I do something like that?'

[ Don't scare me like that! .⁠·⁠´⁠¯⁠`⁠(⁠>⁠▂⁠<⁠)⁠´⁠¯⁠`⁠·⁠. ]

'What's with those emojis?'

[ They're cute no? I wanted to try something new :3 ]

Well, it was kind of cute. 'Sure sure, whatever makes you happy.'

[ Oh by the way I forgot to mention, would you like to see what the other hosts think of your performance so far??? ]

....the fuck.

You abruptly stopped what you were doing. ' What do you mean by that?'

[ Every host's actions is recorded by their system for future reference and security reasons, I posted the recording of you online and let's just say you've gained quiet a few admirers! ]

....

Did you hear that right?

'You.What?'

[Where did you think those points came from? 70% where given by the main system while the rest was gifted by the hosts who liked what they saw.]

Did he also show the....

"Hmm.."

'The kids aren't here right now so why don't you come out~?' you thought in a sickly sweet tone.

[ No, you're gonna break my screen if I do. ]

OBVIOUSLY-

[ I didn't post footage of you having sex with the minor antagonist if that's what you're worrying about! ] Though he was tempted to do that as payback for the stress you put him through.

Oh. Well then.

You sighed in relief, at least you got points from it. 'Just don't do it without asking me next time k?'

He rolled his eyes, like when you asked him when you made such a reckless plan? [ Of course host! ]

[ Anyways, I have the comments left by the other players and the comments left by the readers from the real world reading the novel from Kim Rok Soo's pov; which one would you like to see first? ]

'Wait, the real world? My world?'

[ Yup! We actually aren't allowed to see those, only the main system can. ]

'Then how did you-'

[ My friend hacked into it for me just this once :D ]

'.....Never mind, that's none of my business, I want to see the comments left by the readers please.'

[ Alright! Just a moment please, those comments are a mix from the Manhwa and the novel. ]

A screen hovered before you.

Hm, nice!

[ There's still many more! Would you like to see view them as well :D? ]

'Later, I'm done now.' you answered as you threw the last pastry in. The darkness didn't fade, not a tiny bit, which was understandable since the bag was not even half the size Cale brought.

[As you wish host.]

Walking out of the fenced area, you turned to the kids. "Thank you two for keeping watch. I'll bring you some cake tomorrow. Do you have any flavours in mind?" You needed to bring some fruit and meat as well; eating sweets everyday was unhealthy.

"Carrot-cake please!"

"Chocolate!" The boy beamed.

"Chocolate again? You sure don't want anything else?"

Hong shook his head, jumping up and down. "Chocolate!!"

"Alright alright." You laughed softly at his enthusiasm before turning to leave. "Again, don't mention me at all alright? Especially to my husband."

"Yes miss!" They exclaimed in unison.

"Alright then, take care."

"Bye!"

(･ω･)つ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⊂(･ω･)

That's how it went for the next few days. On or Hong would keep an eye out for Cale while you fed the tree, just not enough to make the darkness grow fainter, least Cale gets suspicious.

It became a routine. That is, until the kids decided to put their little plan into motion.

Watching you throw the last piece of pastry into the hole, On made eye contact with her brother, silently nodding to each other as they stood up and headed over to you.

"Finally."

It's going to take about 1 or 2 more trips for the darkness to completely fade. You decided to leave the rest of the work to Cale since you grew bored of doing this.

You felt something pull on your dress.

Hm?

You looked down and paused, taken aback by the big, puppy-dog eyes Hong had while On was eating a cookie as he spoke with hesitation.

"M..mom..?"

.......

So..so..SOO CUTE, AHHHHHHh!!

[ Dont fall for it host! ]

'Too late.'

[ Host! (⁠˘⁠･⁠_⁠･⁠˘⁠) ]

Resisting the urge to hug the boy and squeeze him to death, you bent down and pinched his cheek. "You sly, sly brat, you think I'll fall for that?"

They flinched, looking down in shame. They failed...

"No! That wasn't my intention! I-I..-"

"Because you're right."

"..Huh?"

You reached out and ruffled their hair, your expression softening. "I'm taking you two home."

What!?

They looked up; their eyes widened in surprise. "Really..?"

"Of course!" You replied with a grin. "Don't try to trick me again though." Your words were firm, but your expression was still gentle.

[ Shouldn't the protagonist be the one to take them in..? ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ ]

'Oh come on it's not that big of an event; besides, they're warming up to him anyway so whoever brings them home doesn't matter, just let this one slide k?'

[....I give up! (⁠ノ⁠｀⁠Д⁠´⁠)⁠ノ⁠彡⁠┻⁠━⁠┻! ]

A little while later, you could be seen shopping around the city with two happy, adorable kittens in your arms while the servants followed you, holding the items you brought. You made it a habit the past month to shop around the city the whole day when Xian reported spotting Ron spying on you once to report to the Count on your actions. After about a week of doing that Ron stopped seeing that you weren't doing anything suspicious.

"Bring this." You pointed to some shoes that caught your eye. "This as well, and that one, in fact bring me the whole shelf."

"Yes madam!"

While Cale gets three gold coins as an allowance, you get five, which was more than enough to buy whatever you wanted.

While you tried on the heels, the two kittens stayed near you, cheering on the inside. They still couldn't believe their luck; the plan worked! They finally have a home now.

There was still a small problem they forgot to mention to you..

They glanced at each other again and shrugged. That's a problem for future them, they just hoped you won't get too angry.

"Who wants some fish?"

"MEOW!!"

(･ω･)つ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⊂(･ω･)

Back at the mansion, Cale silently observed the kittens in your arms. "I see you decided to have pets now."

You gave an enthusiastic nod. "Aren't they adorable?" You cooed, your fingers gently caressing On's silver fur, making her purr in contentment while Hong tapped your hand with his paw with a pout, wanting to be caressed as well. " This one-"

Cale cut you off; his tone cool and measured. "Is a girl while the red one is her younger brother."

He figured that out long ago, he'd be an idiot not to.

"What I would like to know is what my beloved wife was doing out in the slums holding such heavy bags while pregnant."

......

How did he-?!

Cale's expression shifted to one of amusement upon seeing you tense, not stroking the cat's fur anymore. "You really thought I wouldn't find out?" He asked with a hint of playfulness in his voice.

....

You glared at the siblings as they avoided eye contact. You snitches! Those gifts were wasted on you!

Cale chuckled, getting those punks to talk was surprisingly easy. Once he noticed the hole appeared to be slightly lighter than when he saw it last time and the chocolate smudge on the boy's face he knew someone else must be aware of the power the tree held and want to claim it for themselves.

When he asked the kids...

"I can't tell!"

"If you two tell me who's been feeding the tree as well, I might take you two in, in your cat form course." They'll be useful.

They exchanged glances, unsure of whether to speak up or not.

Was he serious..?

They'll be able to stay with the nice lady in a fancy house?

......

Seeing them not willing to talk, the man began walking off. "Ho? Well then, I guess I have no choice but to go to every bakery and ask them; I'm sure they'll talk once I pay them enough."

"W-wait!"

The man stopped and looked over his shoulder at them, raising his eyebrow impatiently. "Hm?"

The girl hesitated, looking down at the ground. Her brother took a step forward and answered in her place.

"It was..."

He didn't lie, he was planning to take them in after Choi Hans arrives, but you beat him to it.

.....

"I can explain-"

Your dumbass didn't think of an excuse in case he found out.

Fortunately for you, the maid came right at that moment to escort you two for dinner, Cale rose from his seat with a fleeting smile. "We'll talk later."

Before he left the room, he turned to you. "Won't you come with me?"

"N..no I'm not hungry at the moment, you go ahead."

"Suit yourself." He said with a shrug before walking off as you glared at the snitches one more time before handing them off to the maid to be bathed and fed, leaving you alone in the room as Xian appeared beside you.

"How are you planning to explain that host?"

"Shut up and let me think please."

[ (⁠￣⁠ヘ⁠￣⁠;⁠) ]

Ok ok, what would be a believable explanation...think think you stupid bitch.

With your mind racing, you suddenly recalled the fortune teller you met at the festival, and a light bulb went off in your head.

That's it!

You turned to Xian with a grin. " I found an excuse."

Rather than looking relieved, the little screen looked nervous, confusing you.

"Ah..host.."

Aye, you didn't like that tone. "...what?"

"Remember Harris Village?"

"Yeah..? Aren't they supposed to be dead by now?"

After they confirmed the pregnancy, you told the Count you wanted to visit your family and tell them the happy news yourself, and at the same time see the place you were born and grew up in in hopes of getting more of your memories back.

Obviously, the man approved, as long as you take at least 20 guards with you for protection.

You couldn't believe how easy it was to fool those people, but you didn't complain.

You were planning to prepare the gifts you were gonna take with you and wait eagerly for the day you'll finally leave, then when the original protagonist, Choi Han, arrives and informs them of the massacre you'll have a mental breakdown and miscarry in the process.

Simple, but effective. The doctor thing is going to be tricky though.

You suspected the virus thingy played a part on the previous one.

"That's the issue." He laughed nervously. "They aren't dead; the main system just informed me."

"......"

"They were supposed to be dead on the 28th last month, but the assassins haven't come yet for some reason."

Obviously it's because of the virus dumdum.

With a furrowed brow, you spoke. "And why did they wait until now to inform you of this?"

"Some events are okay to take a little while to occur from their original time, with a maximum delay of one or two weeks, it's already been about 6 days now and since this is a key event they're growing concerned, I'm worried they'll have you a dangerous task of some kind because of that."

Hm...that won't do.

Maybe...

"If they end up not showing up..maybe I can..." You spoke softly, trailing off, unsure of whether you should vocalize your thoughts or not.

....

"Host, you're not suggesting..."

Just at that moment, a screen popped out.

Ah..well shit.

Village gotta go hehe

A new novel got mentioooooned in this chapter!

For the readers comments, I was planning to only add hosts comments but I made a mistake and with me being too lazy I just decided to have Wang Yi hack into the damn system just once just not to redo those texts.

I got the blue screen thingy from Pinterest, the background behind the screen from the Manhwa itself and all the pfp I used are from Pinterest, I might actually use one of them as my new pfp they're so cute!

Drew this last year during summer :3

Anyhow hope you all have a wonderful summer!

#trash of the count's family #svsss #yandere manhwas #yandere manhwa x reader #dark manhwa various x reader #yandere cale henituse #totcf #i have to be a big baddie #i have to be a great villain

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daryltwdixon · 4 days

Text

The Ruins of Us: Chapter 8

Summary: You're getting ready to officially leave for college, when a familiar truck pulls up outside your house. When you go to say goodbye to your best friend, there is more tension than you expected. Flash forward to the immediate aftermath of the explosion, and you stand up to Shane once and for all.

See notes at the end, as they contain spoilers for this chapter.

Warnings: mentions of smut, but still SFW.

You were nervously packing your thrifted backpack with the half used notebooks and pencils from your room, head spinning with the list of things you needed to buy for your first semester at Georgia State University. You were lucky you had some student grants to help you with things like your dorm room costs and buying new bedding for the new bed you’ll have. But the costs of textbooks, extra clothes that weren’t tattered with stains and holes, and --if you found one good and cheap–a laptop were looming over you. You heard a honking outside your front door that pulled you away from your mental list in your head. You zipped up your backpack and hauled it over your shoulder along with the duffel bag with all your other belongings. You were headed out to the bus stop anyway, managing to find a couple bucks under your mom’s mattress while she was out today. You figured you’d find out who was honking outside on your way out. When you opened the front door, you froze in the doorway, half turned around to close it behind you. There was a glossy black truck in your driveway. You slowly brought the door shut behind you. Looking around the street to see if anyone else was nearby, you dropped your things on your porch and walked down to the driver’s side door hesitantly.

“Hey,” Shane says in a hoarse whisper, leaning out the window.

“Hi,” you say simply back. You stood a few feet away from the car, waiting for him to say something, and he looked lost for words. He pushed his hand through his long black hair that sits piled on top of his head in a neat tousled style. His beard was growing a bit fuller now, and you stopped yourself from trying to think of what it feels like to the touch. The way Shane acted the last time you saw him was still fresh in your memory. You reached up to your neck unconsciously before bringing your hands back down to your sides.

“Listen…” Shane finally began, “I–I’m sorry. About everything. I was such an asshole, baby. I should’ve known better,” he said nervously, “You are everything to me, Y/N. I hate the way I treated you that night. I haven’t stopped thinking about you. I miss you. I know what I did was wrong and…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You took a deep breath, processing everything he was saying. On the one hand, you wanted him to feel as hollow as you had the past couple weeks without him. You were glad to hear he’d been hurting from the way he acted the last time. He had left bruises on your skin, but what hurt you the most was that he wouldn’t even listen to you. He completely disregarded your words, let alone how terrible you were feeling that night. But at the same time…god, you’ve missed him too. After a long while, you come to your answer. Your mind is screaming to you that you should’ve said no, but your heart managed to answer first.

“Okay,” you whisper. He looked up with you, his puppy dog brown eyes full of hope.

“Okay? You forgive me?” he said. You nodded with a small smile.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said, getting out of his truck to hug you tight to him, “you’re everything to me, truly,” he whispered into your hair as he held you against him. He felt warm and muscled under his officer uniform–he must’ve just gotten off of work. You pulled back from him, and looked into his eyes, searching for sincerity.

“You mean it?” you whispered.

“Yeah, of course I do,” he says, reaching down and pulling you for a hard kiss. He captures your mouth possessively, holding your face to his with his large, rough hands. His tongue plunges into your mouth with fervor. You hummed in satisfaction and he pulled you into the truck, sitting you on his lap. As he sat back in the driver’s seat, he ran his rough hands down your arms, making you shiver. You straddled him, knees deep in the seat as he pulled you closer. “How ‘bout one more time, before you have to go,” he teased, pulling you into him for a few small, wet pecks to your lips.

“I have to get going, I’m going to miss my bus,” you said, your arms around his neck.

“I’ll drive you, I don’t want you on that nasty public bus,” he said with a playful hint to his voice.

You hesitated. You were planning on seeing Daryl on your way out, to say goodbye. You weren’t moving far, but the chances of you being able to afford bus fare and come back to see him were few and far between.

“It’s really okay, I don’t mind,” you insisted, pulling your arms away from his neck. You went to press them on his chest but he reached up, holding your arms in place. “I’ll take you to see ‘em,” he said knowingly. He rubbed his hands down your arms again, comforting you. His voice was quiet and soft. Gentle, even. Your eyes widened in confusion.

“Really?” you asked.

“Yeah, ‘course. But first,” he smiled coyly, “…I’ve missed you,” he said, squeezing your ass in his large hands, making you grind your hips onto him. You toppled forward onto him, his lips finding your neck, kissing and biting you.

“Okay, okay,” you giggled, “make it quick–then I really have to go,”

“Deal,” he said, grabbing your hair and pulling you further down into his lap.

You breathlessly pulled your shirt back down to cover yourself and zipped your shorts up when you climbed out of the truck a few minutes later.

“I gotta go get my bags,” you began, buttoning the last fastening on your shorts, “And I think I forgot something,” you said with a big smile, going up to your house for the last time. You run to haul your bags over your shoulders, dashing inside.

You had thought this was a good idea–Shane dropping you by Daryl’s on your way to leave for school. But the closer and closer you got to his house, the faster your heart beated against your chest. As Shane put the truck in park, he pulled your chin to look at him and brought you in for a long kiss before releasing you.

“Go on, I’ll be right here,” he said gently.

You smiled and pushed open the door with one hand, a cupcake in your left. When Shane offered to give you a ride, you suddenly had remembered you made one vanilla cupcake for today to bring to Daryl. You were going to miss his birthday that weekend, but still wanted him to know you remembered.

When you shut the truck door behind you, you stopped dead in your tracks. Daryl was perched on his front porch railing, smoking a cigarette. You looked back into the truck to see Shane staring him down now. Had he pulled you in for a kiss because he knew it would be in front of him? Shane wouldn’t be that petty--no. But as you watched their stare down continue, you weren’t so sure.

Daryl wasn’t looking at you as you approached the house, but staring hard at the vehicle in his driveway. When you made your way up onto the porch, he finally turned his head to look at you, his glare still glacial on his face.

“I came to say goodbye,” you said quietly to him. You held out the cupcake to him, “and to say happy early birthday,” he looked down at the cupcake, and back up at you. Without saying anything he just looked back out at the truck, eyes narrowed.

“Daryl, please,” you plead to him, lowering the cupcake. You don’t know what else to say, so you stood there, just waiting. Daryl brought the last of his cigarette up to his lips, still watching the truck. Once he had let out a long puff of smoke out to the sky, he hopped off the railing, putting the cigarette out on the wood, and walked right past you into his house. He made sure to slam the door behind him, the bones of the house shaking. You stared wide eyed at the door for a long moment, not sure what to do. You felt your face flush with heat, and before you would allow any moisture to gather in your eyes, you sat the cupcake down on the cigarette butt littered table by the door, and ran back out to the truck.

x Flash Forward x

By the time you and Daryl had made it back to your truck, there were pieces of ash and debris falling out of the sky already. He had gotten up off of you once the explosion had made its initial blow, bringing you up to your feet, only to turn and run to the cars at breakneck speed. So now, you’re finally reaching the truck door and swinging open the passenger side as he throws his crossbow and gun in before hopping in himself.

“You idiot! You absolute idiot! ” he was shouting at you, “the hell were you doin’ in there? You nearly exploded with the whole damn building!”

He is shaking with rage as he waits for some sort of explanation from you. When you both turn to see Dale and Andrea make it to the RV, he reaches down to turn the key in the ignition. He rests his hand on the wheel, waiting to start moving, and looks over at you expectantly.

“So did you!” you yell back at him. “I was only in there ‘cause I was lookin’ for you after I didn’t see you come out with us!” his red face is livid, and spit flying as he yells. You are taken aback, sitting against your seat. With your hesitation, Daryl continues, “What the hell were you even doin? Forget a magazine ‘er somethin? Lip gloss left behind?” He starts moving ahead, behind the rest of the group's cars. His hands are white knuckling the steering wheel.

“Oh screw you, Daryl. I was looking for you , asshole.” you narrow your eyes and point an accusatory finger at him. Now it’s his turn to look stricken, so you continue, "I didn’t see you. I didn’t see anyone when I came out of my room. I had to—" you pause, trying to find the right words, "I couldn’t leave without… knowing for sure where you were." Your voice drops to a whisper. "I just needed to make sure no one else was in there," You end quietly, but with a sense of finality. You know what you really wanted to say, and hope he could read between the lines without making you say it out loud. “Well don’t do anythin’ like that again,” he says quieter, “ Stupid. It’s stupid to risk your life for me, Y/L/N,” he says even quieter, almost to himself.

“Back at you, Dixon ,” you say with sarcasm, folding your arms over your chest in annoyance. Rick’s voice suddenly comes over the radio on Channel 40 after a long stretch of silence between the two of you, and you reach down to turn up the volume.

“--gonna pull over here by these houses,” the bad connection breaks up his voice, “--some vehicles we can siphon some gas,” his voice is crackling from the static, but you’re able to make out the important information. Daryl pulls the truck up on the dirt driveway and looks over at you.

“‘m serious, Y/N. Never again.” he says seriously. You almost roll your eyes but think better of it, and just ignore him. Hopping out the passenger side, everyone is grabbing the gas cans, ready to see what they can find from the abandoned vehicles left behind.

Shane is approaching both you and Daryl, and you stiffen, “We’re gon’ need to ration the gas we can find,” he says with authority to Daryl, “you okay with drivin’ the bike to save gas, we can take what’s left in the truck and use it for the RV?”

Daryl just nods, moving to the bed of his old beaten up truck to start unstrapping the motorcycle. You stand in front of Shane, who has his hands on his hips, looking down at you.

“Listen Y/N,” he breathes, but you shake your head.

“Let’s just forget about it,” you say, whispering to him and shaking your head, “I don’t want to know what’s going on with you and Lori. It’s not my business,”

“Okay, but I–” he begins, but you hold up a hand, stepping directly in front of him to shield anyone’s prying eyes.

“But if you ever touch me like that again,” you seethe, your eyes filling with fire, “I will not hesitate. I will tell every member of this group what’s goin’ on and what you did. And I happen to know two people who would have a real problem with that information,”

He stares down at you, his eyes hardening.

“You and me, Shane, whatever this is, whatever it was, is no longer. I can’t do it anymore. You crossed a line. A really fucking big line. I ain’t your ‘plaything’ anymore. I’ve had enough,” you finish, quoting his words from last night. You step away and turn before he can say anything else. Rick is watching the two of you, and when he looks over your shoulder, he nods to Shane, maybe in question, you can’t tell. You don’t care anymore.

Daryl is sitting on Merle’s bike now, engine roaring to life. He walks it up as he sits, pulling in front of you, cutting off your path. He just shoots his head over his shoulder gently, waving you on. A silent understanding that he was done being mad at you. Without a word, you hop on, and grab him by the sides of his tattered sleeveless shirt. You look over to Shane, who watches Lori and Rick before Dale calls him to get into the RV. So, you have only three vehicles now: the RV, the hatchback, and the bike. You suppose the guys must’ve funneled the fuel they found and conserved what they could from the other two you had to leave behind. Until there was any chance of finding a camp, resources had just become very, very scarce.

You hear the RV start behind you, and Daryl leads the newly minimized caravan ahead to the highway.

Notes: yes I'm annoyed at the MFC too for getting back together with that asshole. But she must! For the plot!! She doesn't know any better! She's never had a father's love! yes it's a short chapter, I was emoshie over Daryl and you, okay??? and can we just have a moment for that pic of young Daryl????

Chapter 9 is here

#daryl #daryl dixon #twd daryl #the walking dead #daryl x reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl one shot #daryl dixion imagine #daryl fanfiction #daryl twd #the ruins of us #Shane Walsh x reader

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ineffable-sideburns · 10 months

Text

In this post, I'm going to tie numerous observations on screen together to make a single season 3 prediction

it relies on this premise, which i'm about to build a case for:

the way the characters interact with the story is informed by the mythical/historical figures they are directly and indirectly coded as, but it’s not always in the way you’d expect, and some characters are coded in more than one way. we can still use these relationships as Clues to postulate where the story might go and how the characters will interact with one another.

this is by no means exhaustive, obviously. i’ve seen people say that Crowley is coded as Jesus, Aziraphale as Mary, and numerous other figures. i’m just pointing out some things i’ve noticed that I haven’t seen brought up as often.

we’ll start with Crowley, then go on to Sandalphon and Saraqael, then Gabriel, then Aziraphale. yes, it'll all lead up to something and i chose these characters in this order for a reason.

Crowley

so we obviously know he’s coded as Ashtoreth when he dresses up as Nanny Ashtoreth in season 1. yes, we will note that in the book, it’s very vaguely implied that Crowley and Aziraphale both hired Ashtoreth and Francis

in season 2, when trying to get the deets on bae, Beelzebub offers Crowley a “hefty” promotion and then later tells him “you could be a duke of hell".

in researching Beelzebub, at some point I found out about Milton's Unholy Trinity in Paradise Lost, which includes Lucifer, Beelzebub, and Astaroth as the first heirarchy in Hell, and which has (seemingly) lent that idea to demonology in general.

Astaroth is often referred to as the "Great Duke of Hell."

so now with season 2, Crowley has been coded in the show as both the feminine and masculine demons derived from the eastern goddess Astarte.

note: coded != Crowley is literally Astaroth/Ashtoreth. it means we can infer things about the story through the coding

the obvious would be him becoming a duke of Hell somehow in season 3. i personally am not convinced the story will take that route, and it would be sad to see him end up back in hell. this coding is the least compelling for me. it could just be a Milton reference, or maybe, since at this point in season 2, we don’t know why Beelzebub wants Gabriel, this could be a Clue that Beelzebub was sincere. maybe it just shows how powerful Crowley could have been if he’d accepted the deal. or maybe it just adds weight to parallel the decision Aziraphale makes later when offered his own position of power. people have analyzed Crowley and Ashtoreth/Astarte before, and the book/show discrepancy is always brought up, so i'm ignoring that and just addressing the added layer of Astaroth coding. anyway, let's move on to the more interesting observations.

Sandalphon and Saraqael

i’m doing these two together because i’ve found what i believe to be a major connection between them based on Neil’s answer to this ask, a shared trait their mythical figures have, and Saraqael’s actions in the show.

when Sandalphon is introduced in season 1, we learn that he was smiting and turning people into salt during Sodom and Gomorrah. then we see the direct connection Saraqael has with Sandalphon at the end of season 2, when Michael asks her to turn Maggie and Nina into salt pillars and her hand flys up.

but that’s not secret, is it?

you know what is, though?

the fact that she immediately recognizes Metatron in his human form, looks scared shitless for multiple shots, and then proceeds to act like it never happened when he starts addressing all the angels. she doesn’t let anyone know that she recognized him.

do check out this post by @most-normal-eccles-cake-ignorer with more shots and analysis of her reaction to Metatron.

still don’t believe me and think that reaction is nothing?

well, let me tell you something both the mythical figures Sandalphon and Saraqael have in common.

they both saw Metatron in his human form.

according to one source, Sandalphon was Metatron’s twin brother, and Sandalphon, like Metatron, was originally human.

in the book of 2 Enoch, Sariel/Saraqael was one of the angels who brought Enoch (human!Metatron) to Heaven.

if Sandalphon had been in that room at that moment, he’d also be secretly recognizing Metatron.

obligatory: remember what I said at the beginning of this post? we are using this coding to analyze the story and how the characters interact with it and eachother. you don’t believe that Sandalphon or Metatron were literally human at one point in GO? that’s fine. i’m just giving a reason why the author may have chosen Saraqael and Sandalphon to serve the same purpose in this scene

it isn’t crazy to think that a lot of the historical lore was used to inform the characters, and if you think it is, at least read about Gabriel first.

Gabriel

Gabriel is being coded…as the actual archangel (fucking) Gabriel. (and as Lord Jim from the novel of the same name by Joseph Conrad - the book Aziraphale glances at before choosing to call Gabriel Jim. but you can google the plot of Lord Jim and how it relates to Gabriel on your own time. it’s too much to get into right now.)

Gabriel is an archangel with the power to announce God’s will to mankind. He is associated with messages, vision, telecommunications, and revelation…

…and in the Bible he announces the birth of John the Baptist, and later, Jesus.

30 And the angel said unto her, Fear not, Mary: for thou hast found favour with God.

31 And, behold, thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and bring forth a son, and shalt call his name JESUS

Luke 1:30-31

"hey Sithis dude you will not believe this… God now grants that you may conceive seven more children…yippe!!”

let’s get back to that thing about him delivering messages and revelation though.

Gabriel starts off season 2 carrying a box to the book shop (that we think was empty but later find out had a fly in it as well as a message scrawled on the bottom about where his memory is)

he also tells Aziraphale that something terrible was going to happen to him so he had to give him something. you can take that as being the fly, and consciously it probably was, but throughout season 2 Gabriel is unconsciously and unintentionally giving other people messages.

ex.

technically, a message “delivered” (dropped) by Gabriel, found by Muriel

after Crowley not-so-nicely commands Gabriel to remember, Jimbriel says, in a voice that shifts to sound like God’s voice, “I remember when the morning stars sang together and all the angels of God shouted for joy." Crowley recognizes this as what God said to Job, and then another flashback of Job begins.

later, during another vision caused by Crowley mentioning the word tempest: "There will come a tempest then darkness and great storms and the dead will leave their graves and walk the earth once more, and there will be great lamentations... every day it's getting closer."

in the Hebrew Bible, Gabriel appears to the prophet Daniel, and explains his prophetic visions. in Good Omens though, Jim IS the prophet having prophetic visions through Gabriel.

when in the book shop with Aziraphale, Jimbriel starts to hum every day, which is what causes Aziraphale to search down the pub with the jukebox playing that song on repeat. we know from what Terry and Neil have said about every day that it’s the song of the apocalypse, but none of the characters know that, Gabriel included.

what does a song do?

each message the archangel of (fucking) messages delivers is unconscious. not how you’d expect him to live up to his name, right? of course, if they are actually God’s messages, it makes sense that they’re useless, vauge, and well, ineffable. one last thing: spiritually, Gabriel’s messages and prophecies are often believed to be delivered through dreams (or in other words, the unconscious)

edit: this post by @noneorother actually inspired me to look at the mythology of archangel Gabriel, so it’s crucial you check it out. i’ve also seen a post somewhere that posits Gabriel shouldn’t even have some of the memories that go by really quickly before the flashbacks of him and Beelzebub, but i lost the link to it.

edit II: just wanted to add this post by @drconstellation, which analyzes the symbols coded into Jimbriel's clothing.

Aziraphale

it’s hard to ignore the fact that Aziraphale’s name is similar to Raphael, and that we’re missing an archangel Raphael. i’ll link some analysis on the meaning of Aziraphale’s name and share a quote from Terry, but this has all been said before. i want to look at who Raphael is mythologically to see if there’s similarities in Aziraphale’s character, and i also want to see if we can find out the relationship between Gabriel and Aziraphale, and why the latter was a suitable replacement.

Terry said about the name's origin:

"It was made up but... er... from real ingredients. [The name] Aziraphale could be shoved in a list of 'real' angels and would fit right in..."

For instance, Islam recognizes the Archangels Jibril, Mikhail, Azrael (see also the annotation for p. 9 of Reaper Man ), and Israfel (the subject of Edgar Allan Poe's well-known poem of the same name), whereas from Christianity we get such names as Raphael, Gabriel, Michael, and Uriel.

the excerpt above was taken from here

NOW that that’s out of the way, who is archangel Raphael, the mythical figure?

Raphael’s name means “god heals.” it’s believed he helps people heal and overcome their struggles spiritually, physically, and mentally, and that he protects people on their journeys. he’s also considered to be the angel of joy, love, marriage, matchmaking, and travels.

as an example, in the Book of Tobit, God sends Raphael on a journey with a man named Tobias so that he can meet and woo his future wife. Raphael is also sent to heal her and Tobias’s blind, ageing father.

all the people and things i can count just off the top of my head that Aziraphale has healed or protected:

Anathema (healed)

Anathema’s bike (healed)

the dove he accidentally killed (technically healed by Crowley in the book)

Jimbriel (literally tells Jim he promised he would protect him)

Maggie and Nina when the demons enter the bookshop (tells them he will protect them)

bonus: in a scene cut from season 1, he stops a baby’s stroller from crashing

…and one he couldn’t:

collection of gifs of Aziraphale being full of joy:

you just have to look at Aziraphale smiling, especially at Crowley...

...to know that he represents joy and lo--

oh, but wait, he’s known for hooking people up, right? in case you forgot: Maggie and Nina va voom? originally his idea

similarly to the book of Tobit story I mentioned earlier, who did Aziraphale protect on his journey to meeting his beloved?

remember: the characters don't know they're being coded as anything and they don't know what kind of story they're in, so while Aziraphale didn't know he was going to be reuniting two lovers when he protected Jim, he played the role Neil made for him. it doesn't matter that he didn't know in the same way that it doesn't matter that Crowley could have (potentially) been powerful, or in the same way that it doesn't matter that Gabriel's messages were delivered unconsciously.

one more thing. Raphael heals people spiritually, physically, and mentally, right?

so is it any surprise that Aziraphale thinks he can heal the *ahem* spiritual corruption in Heaven?

we're going to tinfoil hat theory-land now ya'll, but I swear all of these observations are leading up to something cohesive...

Why did Aziraphale replace Gabriel?

i'll spare you all the long theories about Metatron's reasons, although i quite like the idea that Metatron was listening in ever since Aziraphale opened the portal to discorporate the demons attacking the bookshop, and he saw Aziraphale use his halo to declare war in order to protect Maggie and Nina. this shows Metatron that when pushed into a corner, or when it means protecting someone, he can force Aziraphale's hand...even to war.

But can we find a link between Gabriel and Raphael mythically to explain it instead?

if you've made it this far, you know i've got an answer for you. i withheld one detail about Gabriel earlier. in Christianity, he is often associated with blowing the trumpet at the end times to announce Judgment Day.

"okay, so?"

well, do you remember the quote from Terry and the excerpt from lspace I mentioned earlier? when mentioning the origins of Aziraphale's name, the excerpt mentions both angels in Islam and Christianity. the counterpart to Raphael in Islam, is Israfil/Israfel...

who blows the trumpet to signal the Day of Judgment.

"but Aziraphale wouldn't do that!"

he wouldn't intentionally do it. he's not a villain.

you remember who didn't intend to start the apocalypse in season 1, but who was there and given a role to play, regardless of whether he wanted to?

…the one who said no to heaven and hell and refused to be their pawn this time around when offered powerful positions by both?

Aziraphale, after nuking some demons with his halo, with painful foreshadowing: "I think I may have just started a war."

obligatory reiteration: the way the character-coding manifests is not literal, and it isn't always in the way you'd expect. there may be no literal trumpet. but i'm just pointing out the potential symmetry with season 1 in it being Aziraphale who "starts" apocalypse II.

one last thing: Raphael protects people on journeys, and helps them overcome their struggles — but now Aziraphale is on his own journey, and he will have to overcome his own moral struggles (ironically what Crowley helped him with)…alone.

#good omens theory #good omens season 3 #good omens speculation #good omens 3 #good omens analysis #good omens meta #good omens sequel #good omens spoilers #good omens #good omens clues #gabriel #aziraphale #anthony j crowley #crowley #sandalphon #saraqael #raphael

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funniestpersonalivefr · 3 months

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HELLO im terrible with request ideas but can u do a claire x jill phone sex?

thinking of you.

boy oh boy i am excited for this one. very little plot, main smut so mdni. nsfw under the cut. not proofread. bottom claire and top jill bc ive got an agenda to push. credit to image owner i found it on pinterest. twas a little rushed sorry. anyways hope you enjoy!

jill and claire had been apart for what felt like forever. this came with their work though, missions lasting for months. they'd often spend time in completely different countries, calling whenever they could.

claire was at home and she was so needy, so desperate to just hear jill's voice instructing her on how to touch herself. she had spent the day sending jill pictures of her in revealing clothing and compromising positions. these were accompanied by teasing texts, she knew jill was busy but she needed her girlfriend.

as jill got to her hotel room she felt like she was going to explode from claire's teasing. claire's phone screen lit up, her thighs rubbing together at the sight of jill's contact photo. she wasted no time answering the call.

"hello? jill? baby?"

jill hums into the phone.

"you sure are missing me right now huh? aren't you claire?" her tone was teasing, claire felt herself get wetter.

"what were you thinking? sending me those pictures?" jill continued, "while i was at work too? god you must be needy right now."

claire at this point was laying in their bed, feeling herself up over her clothes.

"just thinking about you, thinking about all the things you'd do to me," claire answered, moaning softly when her hand slides over her cunt.

jill hums as she leans back on her hotel bed, she pushes her shirt up over her bra before she pulls her boobs out. her fingers ghost over her nipples.

"and what did you want me to do exactly? c'mon baby use your words. let me know what you want so i can give it to you when i get home," jill says as she rolls her nipple between her fingers.

"i want you to kiss me," there's a brief silence before claire continues. "i want you to kiss my neck, then kiss my tits. only when you have me completely desperate for you, you finally kiss my aching cunt."

jill moans out loud as she slips her hand into her pants, under her panties. her fingers are quick to work on her clit as she rubs circular motions on it.

"god, i'd love to see your pretty face right now," jill says. "your perfect fucking body and how it reacts to every little touch."

claire's fingers are already knuckle deep in her pussy, jill can hear the familiar sound of it as she plunges her fingers in and out. both are left moaning messes, fingers inside them as they continue to lament about how much they miss the other.

"god i'm gonna cum, jill," claire moans out.

"cum for baby, please cum for me," jill responds as both chase their orgasms.

claire cums first, her vision going white as she moans out loudly. jill can picture it perfectly, her favorite sight. claire's face is flushed, her pupils are dilated, and her lips are parted as she falls apart.

jill is not far behind her, her orgasm is not too different from her girlfriend's. she swears with a groan, her head being thrown back in the pillow. her legs are clamped around her hand as she begins the ride out her high. her hair sticks to her forehead with sweat.

the call is silent except for the sound of both of the women catching their breaths.

"god you're fucking amazing, i love you so much," jill says, her tone is sincere. claire's heart does the familiar flutter that never has left over the course of their relationship.

"i love you too, jill." claire says before clearing her throat and continuing. "i know you hate to hear it but please be safe and try to get home soon."

jill sighs, "of course, now tell me about your day. i wanna hear your voice."

#resident evil #resident evil smut #claire redfield #jill valentine #claire redfield smut #jill valentine smut #claire redfield x jill valentine #claire redfield x jill valentine smut #better valenfield #they are gay i dont make the rules

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francesderwent · 5 months

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Hello! I hope this doesn't come across as a Taylor-bashing question. While I believe that artists should be able to sing/write/create about their lived experience, there's something about the way Taylor handled mental health in this album that rubbed me the wrong way. I'll try to put it succinctly in three points: 1) TTPD seems to spill out the mental health issues/depression of Joe Alwyn, who seems like a very private person. I don't want to bring celebrity drama into this, but there's something discomfiting abot Taylor being more subtle and silent about his mental illness when they were together, and then spilling about it when they've broken up. 2) The way that she writes about mental illness/depression strikes me as hurtful. An example: "You sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days." The takeaway seems to be an accusation that the subject chose his depression over her, which is...iffy. 3) The aesthetic of her album seems to be 'insanity' and 'mental torture' and, especially given the above two, it seems to be in poor taste?

I don't mean that Taylor shouldn't write about her experience about being resentful for a partner's mental illness/how they handled it, it just seems she's threading a sketchy line and I'm not sure if she handled that very well. But, I would really appreciate it if you have another way of looking at this. I do like Taylor's songs, and I appreciate your insights to them!

well first of all I sincerely love you for numbering your ask, it’s so readable and coherent. bless!! I’ll answer in order:

I think she absolutely was not any more subtle or silent about his struggles while they were together. his sadness has been all over so many of her love songs about him, using the exact same images that she brings back in ttpd. she says in hoax, “don’t want no other shade of blue but you, no other sadness in the world would do”. and she talks in the long pond sessions about this for her being an example of true love, the person you want to be with in really dark times. in renegade she says “the shape of you was jagged and weak, there was nowhere for me to stay, but I stayed anyway”. a lot of what she says in ttpd is a purposeful callback to words of love she spoke in earlier songs, not undoing them, but mourning the fact they weren’t enough. mirrorball says “I’m still trying everything to get you laughing at me”, So Long London says “I stopped trying to make him laugh, stopped trying to drill the safe”. it’s not about airing his private business, she doesn’t give us any more details now than she did when they were in love. the only difference is in how it made her feel.

I don’t think Taylor is saying that her partner chose depression over her, or that it’s his fault for not pulling himself out of it. if we look at You’re Losing Me along with this album, I think it’s abundantly clear that the reason she left is because She Wanted To Be Married. “do something babe, say something. choose something babe, I’ve got nothing to believe unless you’re choosing me.” “are we really gonna talk about timing in times like these??” she wanted them to choose each other despite everything difficult and sad. and he simply never did. you can say that a huge commitment like that would be horrifically hard for a person deeply depressed, but she waited six years, and he was showing more interest in anything but her (“I’m the best thing at this party” “I founded the club she’s heard great things about” “it’s not right to be scared every day of a love affair” “fell victim to interlopers’ glances”). “is it your anxiety that stops you from giving me everything or do you just not want to?” indeed.

I don’t think there’s any reason to assume this is merely an album aesthetic. I don’t necessarily take it as literal-diagnostic as some other commenters have, but when Taylor talks about her mental health on this album, I think we can take her pretty seriously. “how much sad did you think I had”, “am I allowed to cry”, “you don’t get to tell me about sad” are repeated through this album, but it’s not new. “I’m with you even if it makes me blue” in Paper Rings, “when my depression works the graveyard shift all of the people I ghosted stand there in the room” in Anti-Hero, “a house, not a home, all alone 'cause nobody's there, where I pace in my pen and my friends found friends who care” from Dear Reader. she’s suffering too. the breakdown that happens over the course of this album is not a performance, it is very very real and a long time coming.

tldr: I think she really really loved him. and she loved him while both of them were really sad. he didn’t choose depression over her, but he also didn’t choose her, and that finally broke her. she has every right to leave a relationship that’s dragging on and never going anywhere to seek somebody who wants the same life she does.

#asks

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marley-manson · 11 months

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Comrades in Arms has so much gender role stuff going on and I'm very into it.

Brief preamble, masculinity and femininity aren't 'traits that men have' and 'traits that women have,' they're socially prescribed attributes that can vary from society to society and are forcibly assigned to men and women. I feel like I should mention this because in addition to good things I describe a few pretty negative things as feminine and that's because they are. Because most societies, especially 50s military society, want women to have traits such as passivity. Not because they're inherent to men and women.

So anyway, I'm just gonna dive right in. A lot of Hawkeye and Margaret's bickering in the first episode revolves around Hawkeye not being masculine enough. Margaret calls him a coward when he doesn't press forward through the shelling, Margaret gets angry when he can't fix the jeep ("How can a grown man be so mechanically incompetent?"), and she asks, "What kind of man are you?" in the next scene.

Hawkeye's attitude in return is wry self-awareness. "If you don't mind, I'm going to go into a mild panic," after the coward remark. Pretending to know what he's doing with the jeep with an exaggerated casualness ("Oh sure :) no problem :) I'll have this thing going in no time :)") before kicking it and then going "that's this right?" when she tells him to open the hood. Singing a jingle and joking that it's a civil war marching song and he's just trying to be military. And my favourite, Hawkeye's answer to Margaret's what kind of a man are you is, "Certainly not a serviceman," followed by, "There's a YMCA over here. Act like you got a moustache," and topped off with calling the hut he found "cute." There's also a moment where he is aware of something military (strategic significance of the hut), which surprises Margaret, and he pointedly downplays it by claiming he saw it in a movie.

My point being that the vibe is Margaret being consistently irritated that Hawkeye isn't performing a certain kind of military-flavoured masculinity, and Hawkeye knowing it and poking fun at her frustration. Margaret wants Hawkeye to be more military and more masculine in ways that go hand in hand, Hawkeye is resistant to that and plays up the opposite, both to bug her and because it's more genuine for him. He doesn't know how to fix a jeep, he is scared of bombs, he does cruise at YMCAs, etc

There's the fun scene with the debris and Hawkeye's injured leg, where they begin the sequence with Hawkeye on top of Margaret, shielding her, and Margaret mistaking Hawkeye's injury for an innuendo when he says he can't get off of her. Then they swap positions when Margaret examines and dresses the wound in his leg, complete with deliberate innuendo this time ("Margaret, there's no time for that now, look at my wound.") Which again, kinda highlights, advertantly or in, Hawkeye being more comfortable the less he has to conform to masculine standards. Not literally ofc, Hawkeye's obviously got no problem fucking women lmao, but as a joke that serves as a continuation of this gender role stuff I think it's fun and works well.

You can make a case that they start to get along when Margaret acts more accepting of Hawkeye's nonconformity. When Hawkeye says he's tough when he refuses morphine for the stitches and Margaret sarcastically says "uh huh," before he starts screaming. When Margaret opens up to him about the letter when he finally asks sincerely and Hawkeye listens and tries to be as genuinely supportive as he can. And when they start making out after Hawkeye commiserates with her about being scared and joins her in screaming his head off about the shelling.

The next morning this gets exaggerated in an interesting way. In the first half Margaret was outwardly tough and cold the majority of the time, insisting they drive through the shelling instead of running back where they came, checking the jeep herself, arming herself before going to bed. Even when telling Hawkeye about the letter, she insisted she was fine and that she prides herself on being able to adjust to anything. Hawkeye may not be masculine, but she is.

When they wake up, she's the opposite. Warm and affectionate, exaggerating her femininity in some ways (insisting on "making breakfast," fishing for compliments on her looks by being self-depricating, sudden passivity when they see a North Korean soldier and she irrationally insists they'll be fine and he won't come in), and emotionally "open" to the point of blatantly lying about or at least exaggerating how she feels (eg saying she loves his sense of humour after not getting a joke and before castigating him for making too many jokes a few scenes later).

She's playing an overly feminine role that doesn't suit her, but that she sees as the natural state of affairs for a man and a woman in a relationship, and she tries to shove Hawkeye into the appropriate type of masculine counterpoint. Most egregiously while treating him like one of her soldier boyfriends while she's panicking about being discovered ("Oh my brave soldier, you're wonderful, you're my inspiration," and, "I love to see a strong man who takes charge like that," lol), but also when she says she'll buy him a new shirt, assuming commitment and monogamy on his part, asking if he ever shaves ("Just my legs," says Hawkeye pointedly.)

Hawkeye is still Hawkeye - unmasculine, unmilitary, unable and unwilling to be the man Margaret invented for him. As he awkwardly goes along with it at first for whatever reason, he constantly looks like he's staring down a poisonous spider, and eventually he starts getting actively sarcastic in response.

Anyway, yadda yadda yadda, after an argument Margaret reverts back to her usual self and drops the feminized roleplaying, and when Hawkeye comes to her tent after the welcome back party, she finds a happy medium in genuine emotional openness, begun and encouraged by Hawkeye.

Essentially this episode explores Margaret's relationship with gender performance with Hawkeye as a counterpoint and, in the brief moments when they connect, mainly when they're screaming in terror together and in the last pre-tag scene, a parallel. Margaret starts off the episode as her usual masculine of centre, closed off, brusque self to Hawkeye's pointedly feminine-of-centre, emotionally open self. Halfway through, to Hawkeye's terrified bewilderment, she puts on a performance of femininity that doesn't reflect how she really feels, and in no way complements Hawkeye's gender expression, which isn't masculine enough to suit her and not saccharinely feminine enough to parallel her.

But at the end she finds she can still be herself, while adopting a little of Hawkeye's more healthy femininity in her newfound attempt to be emotionally open, and that's the place where she and Hawkeye click as friends. When they're sharing their feelings and commiserating and supporting each other. When she's not trying to be something she's not, and not trying to force or berate Hawkeye into being something he's not, and they can both just be a little gender non-conforming in their own ways that complement each other.

#i will write one or two more posts about this ep probably tomorrow lol #but this is the fun one #mash #marley on mash #mash s6 #hawkeye mash #margaret mash #is this episode deliberately about gender? idk. i think it's a deliberate aspect of their relationship #i mean carry on hawkeye exists too. it's a Thing for them lol #i probably read a bit more meaning into it than intended but i think it works as a motif.#in an episode that's basically about hawkeye getting margaret to be more emotionally open the way he is it makes sense yk?#long post #mash gs

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worseforwords · 2 years

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The Strawberry Song - Part 2 (Alessia Russo x Reader)

Here it is, part 2. I decided to add the song I made for it yesterday, which is terrifying by the way. I hope you like it. If you haven't read it yet, here's part 1.

You closed your eyes as you took a deep breath in an attempt to calm the nerves creeping up your stomach as you made your decision: you had to get back out there and face your fears, this was your last chance to save your relationship and you had prepared for it extensively. When you were about to open your eyes, you were startled by a knock on your window. “Y/N?” Apparently you had been sitting there, gathering courage, just a bit too long and she found you before you could find her.

You quickly got out of your car. “Hi.” Was all you said, as you already felt your eyes starting to water from looking into hers. “Hi, erm, I was actually about to go do some grocery shopping, but I can do that later. Want to come in?” She said, pointing towards the front door behind her with her thumb. You nodded as you locked your car, slowly following her lead into the house.

Right off the bat, the atmosphere inside was tense. A place you’d once called your second home, now felt cold and threatening. You recognised the smell, a mixture of the air freshener she always used and her own signature scent, which made your stomach turn in confusion. It was like the sweet aroma made your body want to wake its butterflies, but it also send a knife down your throat that could kill them at any given moment. You looked around as you contemplated where you should sit down, eventually choosing to just stand instead.

“How are you?” You finally broke the silence. “Been better.” She answered quickly. “You can sit down you know.” “Right, thanks.” You said as you moved to her couch, sitting on the opposite side of your usual spot, or what used to be your usual spot anyways.

“How about you, how have you been?” She asked in return, as she sat herself down at the other end of the sofa, leaving a noticeable gap in between the two of you. “Good, actually.” You answered, making her look at you in disbelief as you could see the disappointment in her eyes. “Oh, well good for you.” She said, trying her best to sound sincere. “No, no, not like that. I mean I- I missed you Less, so much.” Her expression now changed into one of confusion. “I mean I have been doing better, taking care of myself and stuff, you know.” You were stumbling over your words so much you had to take a quick breath, but the frown on Alessia’s face starting to disappear encouraged you to continue.

“I’m working out again, almost everyday, and I asked my mum to help me manage my schedule. She is awfully strict with me but I think that’s just what I needed.” You smiled faintly at that last part, as Alessia knew your mum and could definitely imagine how having her in control of you schedule would be a pain. “So how about the band? How did they react to all of this?” She asked carefully. “I actually arranged a meeting with them shortly after our, well, you know, pause.” You awkwardly looked away as you didn’t want to bring up that subject yet, before quickly continuing. “Our manager, Paul, was even there, and I brought up the subject of our mental and physical health and how our current lifestyle wasn’t sustainable if we wanted to grow further and have a future. I cried and it was terrifying to call everyone out like that, but in the end they all agreed with me.” “Even Paul?” She asked, amazed. “Well, it took him some time to get on board with the whole plan, but after two days he suddenly changed his mind. I reckon my mum has something to do with that, but of course she denies everything.” You chuckled lightly at that whilst the muscles in Alessia’s face slowly relaxed further. “I’m glad to hear that, Y/N.” She said genuinely.

An awkward silence arose as you tried to remember everything you wanted to say to apologise to her whilst she looked at you expectantly. She must have sensed you were heading towards panic mode, as she suddenly got up from the couch. “Can I get you a drink? Tea maybe?” She knew how poor your decision making skills were, especially in your current flustered state, so she handed you an easy answer. “Yeah, thanks.”

When she came back with two cups of tea however, your mind was still all over the place as you nervously danced with your feet and neither of you sought eye contact. In a desperate attempt to both calm your nerves and buy yourself some time to gather your thoughts, you took a sip of your tea, which was obviously still way too hot, making you flinch before swiftly putting the cup back down. You figured maybe you just had to start talking, so you opened your mouth slightly, but nothing came out. “So, erm-” Alessia started, finally forcing you to speak up. “I’m sorry, I-“ You stuttered. “Sorry for what?” She asked, probably aiming to help you find your words. “I just- I prepared this whole speech for this moment but now I’m drawing a blank. No words seem good enough.” You blurted out. “Oh.” Was all she said, followed by another dreadful silence.

“I wrote you a song.” You finally said, still staring at your dancing feet, making her head shoot up to look at you. “Really?” She replied, looking at you in disbelief. “Yeah.” You answered. “Want to hear it?” She nodded and you walked to your car to grab the synthesizer you brought.

You walked back into her living room, synth case wrapped around your shoulder, amplifier in your hand and keyboard stand firmly clamped under your armpit. “Oh wow.” She said upon noticing the gear you brought. “Yeah well, I’m not singing to you a capella.” You chuckled. “You're singing to me?” She looked at you in awe.

As your bands keyboardist, you usually only sang backing vocals, so you weren’t quite used to putting your voice out there like you were about to do. That, combined with the fact that this song was far more intimate and downtempo than anything you would usually write or play with your band, made you feel very fragile, but you knew that’s what you had to be like now.

You hastily plugged everything in as your heart rate started to increase rapidly, making your hands shake and struggle to connect the final cable. “Need any help?” Alessia asked, clearly noticing you anxious state. “I’m good, thanks.” You answered, knowing her getting closer to you would only make matters worse.

When everything was plugged in and ready, you positioned yourself behind your synthesizer. “Here goes nothing.” You mumbled to yourself as you looked at the girl you were about to serenade to, before closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. Your fingers found the right keys with your eyes still closed, and you laid down the first chord. Towards the end of a brief intro, you took another deep breath before softly but openly carrying the first note into the song.

Night skies, dark and stormy Soft cries, as you lay before me Blue eyes, could never bore me No lies, please inform me How, can you be, so Wow, I can see, some How, you cared for me, but Now, I made you flee Strong grips, a feeling I savour She flips, making me quaver Eclipse, do me a favour Her lips, strawberry flavour How, can you be, so Wow, I can see, some How, you cared for me, but Now, I made you flee How, can you be, so Wow, I can see, some How, I want you with me, I Vow, to love you like you should be loved, loved, loved, should be loved

As you laid down the last chord and note, a single tear rolled down your cheek. Since you had played most of the song with your eyes closed, you had no clue how Alessia responded to it. You kept your eyes closed a little longer, letting the sound completely fade out, before finally peeking at the girl in front of you, to find her glancing at you in awe, eyes brimmed with tears. You both remained quiet for a bit, not breaking the eye contact, before she got up to pull you into a tight embrace. “Thank you,” she muddled into your neck, “that was beautiful.”

Alessia sat back down on the couch as she opened up her arms again, gesturing for you to join her. You carefully sat down next to her, and she pulled you into her for another tight hug. Both of you lay curled up on the couch for a while in a comfortable silence, sinking into each others embrace. “I’ve missed this.” Alessia finally spoke. “Me too.” You said and you returned to silence. Neither of you wanted to ruin this near perfect moment of finally being able to hold each other again, but you also knew the conversation wasn’t finished. You were glad she liked the song, but there was more to be said.

“I am so sorry Less, about everything.” You said. “Y/N, it’s okay, I get it.” “No it’s not.” You interrupted her. “I was having a hard time adjusting to my sudden new life, but that’s no excuse for treating you the way I did. Nothing is.” You said, finally finding the right words to say. “I was absolutely blind to your needs and I completely broke your trust. I know I don’t deserve another chance whatsoever, but if you’ll let me, I’ll do everything in my power to be better, and to regain your trust.”

She slowly sat up, breaking out of the embrace you’d been in this whole time. Thankfully she just did this now, as her piercing blue eyes staring right into your soul sure made it a lot harder to find your words. “Listen, Y/N/N,” her finally using your nickname again made you swoon, “I am glad to hear you’re working on yourself and you’re living a healthier life again, and I really loved the song, it’s truly beautiful.” She paused for a bit to think. “But?” You asked anxiously. “But,” she repeated, “two weeks is not enough to prove you have changed, because what you did, Y/N, and how you acted, it really did break my trust, and it will take time to heal from that and regain it.” She took a long pause again, before adding: “If ever.” That last part hit you like a brick fell into your stomach, but you held yourself together, knowing she was right, and you deserved this. “Of course.” You replied softly. “I get that. Take all the time you need, okay?” You tried to reassure her.

“So what now?” You asked after yet another silence. “Let’s just take things slow, right? If you want we can go out next week, and then we’ll see how things move from there.” She replied. “I’d love that, Less.” You smiled softly. “Good. I’m looking forward to it, Y/N.” She said, a genuine smile on displayed on her face.

“By the way, do you have a recording of that song somewhere?” “Erm maybe, why?” You answered suspiciously. “You can’t show it to your friends!” You said, to which she chuckled. “All right, I won’t, but please, I’d love to listen to it again.” She said, persuading you with her puppy dog eyes. “Okay sure, but if you show it to anyone you’re dead. My tough reputation is on the line here.” You said, to which she snorted, making it known that was not the reputation she’d known you to have at all. “Then maybe we’ll be even.” She mumbled, but still loud enough for you to hear her, making you gasp. “Too soon Russo.”

She walked you back to your car, assisting you with your gear. “Thanks, roadie.” You joked. “Hey, watch it, don’t make me make you carry my boots and shin pads around.” She retaliated. You’d missed joking around with her so much. “Don’t even joke about that. You know I’d do it.” You said, referring to how, before everything went down, she had you wrapped around her finger. “Oh I know.” She smiled, raising her eyebrows provocatively. “Hey Less” You started in a more serious voice. “Yeah?” “Please keep me in the loop, you know, about everything you’re feeling about this, I mean, us.” “Yeah, I will, you too.” She replied. “Will do.” You said as you closed the trunk of your car. Before you got into your car, she pulled you in for a quick hug again, swiftly placing a kiss on your cheek. “See you next week, Y/N.”

Just as you started to feel at peace with how everything went today, a car pulled up next to yours. “Y/N?” An angry sounding voice called out. You knew that voice all too well from how it told you you were dead to her a little over two weeks ago. “Ella, hi.” You said calmly, whilst screaming on the inside. She got out, leaving her car in the middle of the street, as she slammed her door shut with a loud thud. “How dare you show up here after all that you’ve done?” She yelled “Ella, it’s o-” “You stay out of this.” She shushed her best friend. “Alessia might still have her love goggles on for you, but I sure don’t.” She turned back to Alessia. “Less please, remember how she ruined you. Don’t give her a chance to do it again.” Alessia remained quiet as she stared a the ground, clearly doubting everything that had happened today as her best friend tried to knock some sense into her. “Ella I-” “I don’t want to hear it.” She cut your attempted explanation off. “Piss of Y/N, I never want to see you near my girl again.” She said, pointing an angry finger at you that almost touched the tip of your nose. Clearly, there was no point in talking to her right now, so you decided to respect her wishes and you got into your car and drove away.

When you got home, your mind was all over the place again, reviewing all of todays events, not knowing whether to feel happy or terrified, as your stomach felt like a spinning washing machine filled with both bricks and butterflies. You decided to text the girl this was all about asking whether you were still on for next week, but as the day went by you got no reply.

You knew you would have no chance at getting any sleep without hearing from her, so you decided to call her before you went to bed. To your dismay, your call went to voicemail almost straight away, like she immediately swiped it away, so you had no choice but to go to bed without any affirmation whatsoever. As you lay awake, you thought about Ella’s words. Was she right? Should you just leave her alone so you couldn’t hurt Alessia again? This taking things slow thing was going to be way more difficult than you had thought upon agreeing to it.

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

Part 3 out now!

Writer's note: I feel like I'm really putting myself out there with this one, with the song and everything, so I hope you liked it. I wanted to distort my voice to remain anonymous, but ended up kind of liking the effect and I played with it a little. Of course it doesn't sound like the reader is singing it live, but I'll leave that to your imagination. :)

#alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #lionesses #lionesses x reader #muwfc x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso x reader #engwnt x reader

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littleoddwriter · 7 months

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Hello. I am so happy that you've started your journey to a happier and truer you.

I was wondering if you could write a Mark Hoffman fic with a male reader where the reader is another Jigsaw apprentice but unlike Amanda they try to be civil with Mark and try not to be rude. They are generally a nice/civil person so Mark starts to wonder how/why they even became a Jigsaw apprentice. Mark questions(more like interrogates) the reader and it turns out they were failed by the justice system and wanted revenge(how they were failed is up to you). Mark's reaction is up to you as well

Why Are You Here? | Mark Hoffman & Male!Reader (Platonic/Pre-Relationship)

Hey there! Thank you so much!!! <3 And thanks for the request (and waiting so patiently), I hope you like what I did with it! summary; See above. notes; Male!Reader (can be read gender neutral); Jigsaw Apprentices; Mentions of Past Abuse & Murder; Reader's ex was abusive.

Ko-Fi. Ao3.

All his life, Mark has had trust issues. It’s always just been him and his sister; and after her untimely death, his issues only became worse. He couldn’t trust anyone anymore, least of all himself. Not that he’d ever admit that to anyone. But it shouldn’t come as a surprise, considering that he failed to protect his sister. How could he ever trust himself again after failing and losing the only person that ever mattered to him?

After he’s been forced to help John Kramer, aka Jigsaw, Mark was always on edge. He couldn’t let anybody know, of course. Nobody at the police department could ever so much as get an inkling of what he was doing when he wasn’t at the station.

So, when Jigsaw suddenly had a new apprentice, Mark was extremely cautious. He wasn’t good with people anyway. He didn’t get along with Amanda at all and never would. He found her obnoxious. But she’s been there for a while now, and Mark knew that she’d never do anything to sabotage John or his cause. Thus, Mark just ignored her as best as he could if he had to work with her.

He didn’t know what to think of the new one, though. Y/F/N Y/L/N.

Of course, he’s already done a background check on you, but nothing came up. Nothing was sealed away from your youth, either. You didn’t even have a parking ticket. A law-abiding citizen. A goody two shoes, so to speak.

So, what the Hell were you doing here, working for a self-righteous murderer?

For weeks, Mark worked alongside you. He didn’t say much and just went about his tasks stoically, while you were smiling at him, asking him kindly for tools, attempting to make small talk with him, and so on and so forth. It was aggravating at first. And then it became confusing because you couldn’t possibly be sincere with your kindness. Right? Eventually, he found himself… captivated by your demeanour.

Nonetheless, he didn’t really acknowledge you most of the time, wordlessly handing you the things you asked for, or grunting in answer when you greeted him, asked him how his day’s been; things like that.

After several weeks of this, though, he couldn’t quite let go of his curiosity, regarding your presence as Jigsaw’s apprentice. You were usually responsible for the machinery and mechanics, more so than Mark or Amanda were, now that John was too weakened to even lift up a hammer.

The two of you were alone, tinkering on a trap for the next game. John was in bed, somewhere down the halls of the warehouse, sleeping. And Amanda was near him, hovering over his sick, weakened self with a keen eye and deep anxiety.

“Why are you here?” Mark asked bluntly after a few minutes of focusing on the task at hand.

“What do you mean?” you retorted with a raised eyebrow, twisting a screw in tightly.

“You know what I mean,” Mark grunted, annoyed, “What are you doing here, as a Jigsaw apprentice? You have no criminal record, no history. So, why?”

“You were checking up on me? Aw, Hoffman!” you teased him, avoiding his question.

Huffing, Mark rolled his eyes at you. “Stop avoiding my question and just answer it,” he said lowly, but in a commanding tone, as though he was interrogating a suspect.

For a moment, you turned away from him, twisting the pair of pliers in your hands. He could see the tension in your shoulders. And when you turned back to him, your jaw was clenched.

“I’m here because our so-called justice system is utter bullshit. What John is doing may not be morally correct, but it’s a whole lot more just than the system,” you muttered darkly, tightening your hand around the pair of pliers to the point of your knuckles turning white.

There was a pause before you continued. Clearly, it was difficult for you to speak about what exactly happened to you, and Mark felt a twinge of sympathy for you.

“My ex was an abusive piece of shit. Physical, emotional, psychological. You name it. He did it.” You exhaled sharply and shakily. “When I had the guts to call the police on his ass, they didn’t really do much. They said they couldn’t, but I knew why they refused to really help me. Because it certainly wasn’t the lack of evidence.

“I packed my essentials and left instead. I tried to go as far as I could with the little money and energy I had after he attacked me because of my call to the police. But he soon got a hold of me again, hurt and nearly killed the people who tried to help me, who gave me shelter. And then he almost did the same with me. I just got lucky there…” There were tears in your eyes, still unshed, but visible to Mark.

“The police did come and apprehend him that time, but it didn’t stick for long. The trial failed because of a technicality. All I wanted was to get justice. To have him rot in prison for what he did to me and probably others before, and now after, me. Now, I only want revenge,” you finished your story. Mark couldn’t lie to himself. It hit him hard.

“Then why didn’t I see any of this when I checked your records?” Mark asked after composing himself for a moment. He didn’t want to let you know how much your story affected him. Not yet, at least.

“I had to change my name and move states because of it all. That’s why you couldn’t find anything on me,” you responded simply. It made sense. Of course you’d be forced to do that with your ex running free.

Mark nodded in acknowledgement of what you said.

“I understand where you’re coming from,” he commented quietly, “After my sister, Angelina, was killed by her abusive boyfriend, I also wanted revenge. And I took it.” Mark surprised himself with how much he was telling you.

The sympathy you felt for Mark was almost palpable to him. It made him feel sick, but deep down he knew he needed it, craved it, even.

“Did it make you feel better?” you asked him softly.

“No,” was his simple answer. It was the truth. It didn’t feel good to kill Seth, and it didn’t fix anything. His sister was still dead, and he still blamed himself. “But maybe it’ll be different for you. Give you closure,” he added.

“Yeah, maybe,” you echoed quietly with a soft sigh.

After that, both of you moved on from the conversation and simply continued working. All the while, Mark thought about what you told him. It explained why you were at least civil toward him. Your kindness wasn’t fake. He’s seen it a lot in his time as a police officer with the many abuse victims he had to deal with.

Before you both parted ways that night, Mark put a hand on your shoulder and said, “I hope you’ll heal.”

He didn’t wait for your response, leaving before you could even open your mouth.

#male reader #gender neutral reader #mark hoffman #mark hoffman x reader #saw franchise #saw fanfic #slashers #slasher community #fanfiction #fanfic #jesse.writes

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dyns33 · 1 year

Text

Fucking fate - part 2

Vaas x soulmate reader are back

Y/N had been living in a pirate camp on Rook Island with her psycho soulmate for two months when a group of natives attacked and some hostages offered her to come with them, taking advantage of the panic to escape.

They knew who she was, but they considered that it wasn't her fault, that she was unlucky, and that she deserved to be free.

Two months was not enough to develop Stockholm Syndrome, as Y/N agreed to follow them almost immediately.

It was only later, after several days in the jungle and when they had found a boat, that she hesitated.

On the way, they had heard some conversations, hidden in the bushes. The pirates were terribly talkative.

"Did you hear what happened at the central camp ?"

"Yeah. Fucking rakyats. Francisco is dead. He was selling the best shit, too bad."

"I was thinking more of Vaas' mate. She disappeared."

"He must not be happy."

"Not happy ? He was already mad, but now he completely lost his mind. He killed all the hostages, and the guards who survived the attack. He ordered that they searched everywhere for her, and as long as he doesnt have any news, he goes around in circles in the camp, hitting those who are not looking."

"He knows she's already dead, right ? The jungle must have eaten her."

"I know. But it's his mate, man. Shit, he needs hope. When we find the body, he's going to be impossible. Whoever brings the news will probably be hanged. If he just doesn't burn the whole island."

Y/N tried not to think about it as the others got the boat ready to go home. It wasn't her problem what would happen here after she left. She had been kidnapped, she had seen people being tortured and killed, and she deserved to return to a normal life.

Even if it meant rejecting her soulmate.

Except that while he wasn't perfect, not perfect at all, Vaas wasn't that terrible.

It was weird to say, because he was crazy. He was dangerous. He was doing the worst things in the world. And yet, with her, Vaas could be adorable. A tiger that was turning into a little cat, purring against her.

He hadn't hit her, not once. He was even upset when she was afraid of him. He also didn't shout, whereas Vaas shouted a lot at others. He always asked her if she was ok with doing something. Yes, he naturally made it sound like it was a bad idea to tell him no, but Y/N had told him no several times anyway, and Vaas had simply nodded, accepting the answer without further ado.

"You know, mi corazon. You're the best thing that ever happened to me." he had said one evening, while cuddling her in bed. "It's true. I had a shitty life. A shitty family, a shitty sister. A shitty job. Yeah, I like having fun with people, but it's still shitty. I'm drinking, being high and kicking idiots every day. Even my beloved island has become bland over time, controlled by an asshole and populated by tattooed morons. Then you came, mi amor, mi vida. I waited for you my whole life. I'm so happy."

He sounded so sincere that Y/N couldn't not believe him. He had told her what her sister had done to him.

When he had been pissed off that she was talking to his men, not liking her getting out of his crip, she had used it against him, quite deceitfully.

"You or them, right, Vaas ? Right ? You or them ?!"

He had looked at her. He understood very well what she meant. He had wondered if he was becoming like his sister, if he was doing to her what she had done to him. So he hit a wall, smashing his hand, before leaving. The pirates, frightened, had avoided him.

Y/N felt bad. She had followed him, she had apologized, taking his bloody hand, trying to hug him, to kiss him, to bring him back because he seemed very far away. He let her do what she wanted, listening to her excuses, then following her back to camp without saying anything, like a child.

To cheer him up, she had cooked, she had put on his favorite movie, she had put on some music and invited him to dance with her, and after a long time, he had sighed, with a tired smile, accepting to join her, laughing together.

Her soulmate wasn't perfect. He had a lot of problems, and it was impossible for him to change, since the situation on the island wouldn't change either. But above all he was a broken man, alone, lost, who needed her.

Most of the little moments they had spent together were happy.

Maybe two months was enough to develop Stockholm Syndrome after all.

Several voices were heard behind her, as Y/N ran along the beach, then through the jungle, looking for the nearest pirate camp. It wasn't easy, as he often said Vaas's men were a bit stupid, but she approached with her hands up, saying she was his mate.

Since they had all heard of the attack, they were very careful with her, calling their leader right away.

When she arrived at the central camp, Y/N noticed two things.

The place was in a terrible state, and no one had started the repairs, probably too busy looking for her, not to be killed.

And Vaas didn't seem happy to see her.

He said nothing, his eyes blank, simply thanking his men for bringing her back. Then he ordered Carlos to take her to his room, bringing her something to eat, before going to fetch the doctor to check that she was not injured.

For several days, he seemed to avoid her like the plague. It was hurtful. Y/N could have left, she might already be in her country, with her loved ones, but no, she had chosen him, and that was how he thanked her.

She tried to talk to him, but it was a disaster.

"If you're not happy here, you didn't have to come back, nena." he hissed, playing with his gun. "You could go see my sister. Find a cabin near the beach. Swim to shore."

"I'm just saying you act like a fool."

"Oh, a fool ? Me ? That's probably true. I was stupid enough to think everything was fine, but one day, poof, you have the opportunity to leave, and you leave. You leave ! You leave me !"

"But I came back !" she cried, starting to get scared, because it was the first time he had raised his voice with her.

"She came back ! She came back ! Great ! Welcome back, hermosa ! I have work to do now, leave me the fuck alone !"

It was too much. Y/N went crying with rage in a corner of the camp, far from everyone, while Vaas continued to shout at his men. Maybe she should have left. Maybe she still could.

Pushing a crate against the wall, she jumped over it, walking quietly away from the camp to the beach, where she sat down to think. Could she really swim to shore ? Vaas had probably said that in jest, he had warned her about the sharks. Maybe he wanted her to be eaten. He didn't really seem to care.

"I found her, jefe !"

Or not.

Y/N recognized the voice of Carlos, Vaas' right-hand man. There were several footsteps, then mumbles, and finally a single person who came to sit next to her.

"Nena, come back to camp. You scared us, that's not nice."

"I'm staying here. You don't want me on your side anyway."

"Mi corazon..." he sighed. "You know very well why I am angry."

"No, I don't know. I mean, yes I left. It was chaos, and I didn't want to die. But I came back, you should be happy."

"But you had no choice, right amor ? I guess your friends died, or you lost them in the jungle, and you thought 'Damn, what do I do now ? Oh, I know, I'm going to go back to Vaas, that idiot Vaas. He adores me, he never refuses me anything, he's my bitch, he can't live without me, he's going to take me back.' And of course I'll take you back, because I'm really an idiot, and I love you more than anything hermosa, but it hurts. It really hurts, shit."

After that, Y/N finally stopped sobbing, continuing to watch the ocean. He was stupid and angry, but not for the reasons they both thought.

"The others took a boat."

"... What ?"

"We found a boat. I left before they started it, but I guess they're home now. Or drowned. I don't know. But they were fine when I left. When I decided to leave. To return to the camp."

To return with you. Because I wanted to.

Vaas stared at her for a long time, before rubbing his face and then his skull, visibly embarrassed.

"Damn, nena... I'm an asshole."

"Yes."

"You came back... Shit. You're as stupid as me."

"Excuse me ?" she was indignant, finally looking at him, annoyed.

"I thought you had no choice, but you chose me. Me ! Me, and this shitty island, and this shitty life, when you could have left, been safe, happy, found a good guy, and have a great life. I would have understood. But no, me ? Shit. I'm super happy right now. I feel like my heart is going to explode. Can I kiss you ?"

"Go to hell."

"Come back to camp with me, tesoro." he whispered in her ear, his eyes sparkling, his hands hugging her tightly. "I was an asshole, sorry."

Vaas was not perfect. He knew it and he knew that she knew it. Even though he did his best to make her feel good and have everything she wanted, he understood why she had disappearred, he would have understood if she had left the island, and he couldn't imagine that she came back of her own free will.

"You're as crazy as me, aren't you nena ? Mi nena. Mi mejor mitadn mi media naranja."

"Fine, we're going home." she muttered, feeling a little too hot between the sun and Vaas kissing her again and again on the neck while purring words of love in Spanish.

No doubt he was right, and she was just as crazy as he was, but it was fucking fate after all, and she had accepted it.

#far cry 3 #vaas #vaas montenegro #vaas montenegro x reader #vaas montenegro imagine #vaas montenegro fanfiction

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nocturnalazure · 6 months

Text

An answer to Echoweaver

@echoweaver - I thought it best to make a separate post again in reply to your comments but we can continue the discussion via PM after this if you prefer?

Your comments:

I don't really have a better place to post this, since it seems weird to put an essay about your story on my blog. I wanted to follow up on this, since I'm sure it was my reaction the prompted your thinking. I definitely had feels about Erik and Gloria's breakup, and I wasn't coherent about them. Mostly I was feeling defensive of Gloria. The first responses seemed to indicate she'd overreacted, and I don't really think she did.

The core of my thinking was that she told Erik she wanted to be his priority, and he didn't answer her. I'm sure his body language gave her an answer at some level, and we all knew what it would be. But he didn't actually tell her until he was leaving, about to walk into danger and leaving her to process alone. That's very different from Romeo and Jamie, where Romeo brought his disclaimers up front and allowed Jamie to decide what he could live with.

I wish Gloria had made a different decision, but with the way Erik forced the decision on her, I would have broken up with Erik too. And of course, Gloria came not only second in Erik's life, but third, since he's in love with his boss. She also came after Laurie as a person, and she was sensing that. There wasn't a lot of Erik left over for her.

I do still have a lot of trouble with Erik/Laurie. Erik's intense way of defining himself by his role in the mob makes it impossible for me to see a route to them having a healthy relationship -- Laurie is Erik's boss, and Erik has no line between personal and professional. In addition, Laurie is very cerebral, and Erik is not a verbal communicator. Erik seems like he'd be better with someone like Carmen (we all marry our parents??).

As a side issue, I've spent decades dealing with friends and fans who compulsively sexualize male intimacy, and I find it frustrating. I really liked Erik and Laurie as platonic partners, and I still kind of mourn it. I love Anh, and I do hope her arc with Laurie, whatever it is, takes her to a good place.

The end.

My answer:

As an author, I haven’t found the right balance yet between leaving the readers have their own interpretation and giving them a nudge in the direction I want. So two sides compete inside of me: the thrill of seeing my characters dissected and analysed, and the frustration when the results are not what I had hoped for. It brings up all sorts of self-questioning about my writing abilities. Is a good writer one who manages to make their characters as universally relatable as possible? Or is it one who simply sparks some thinking? If I were to judge by all the bad books that I have read and that I still remember to this day… I’d rather go with the former proposition. But at the same time, I can’t deny that it is flattering that someone would take some of their time to think about my characters. So thank you for this, sincerely.

I see Erik as a flawed human being. So basically, just a human being. It wouldn’t have struck me as very realistic for him to discuss beforehand with Gloria everything that his job implied. Sometimes, discussions happen when they have to happen, because that is how it goes in real life too. And yes, in Erik’s case, there is more to it than just the job. Maybe he’s not ready to admit it out loud. Maybe he’s afraid to hurt Gloria even more. Maybe he wants to keep his promise to Laurie to keep it quiet. Anyway, you’re right: no, he wasn’t upfront with her when she asked him to be his priority and he didn’t answer for many different reasons. And obviously, she was right in asking that precisely, because that is the core of the problem between them and why it would never have worked. Gloria tried, thought she could do it, but in the end it meant changing Erik and that is asking for the impossible. And to Erik’s credit, he did try too, so much. He threw himself headlong into that relationship, in a very Erik way, and he wanted so bad to make her happy because from the get-go, he was afraid that he wasn’t good enough for her. All things considered, it doesn’t matter if Gloria ends up second, third or even tenth in Erik’s list of priorities. She would not have been first in any scenario. And to be fair, that is also the case for many real-life couples: your partner comes second after work, the kids, friends, even hobbies,… Sure, that is not healthy but many people live like that. I don’t pretend to depict ideal couples either.

Gloria was surely right in breaking up with Erik, since they have different outlooks on what being in a relationship involves. That being said, she was (still is) in love with him and she hadn’t expected him to choose his work (or Laurie) over her if she issued an ultimatum. Right now, the poor girl is devastated and kicking herself for not leaving the door open. It is too late, unfortunately. Something has switched in Erik’s mind too.

From a long time now, I have shown Erik as being loyal to Laurie as a person. Not necessarily to an organization or what it represents. He even says at some point that he has “faith” in Laurie. This goes beyond simple duty, and yes, personal and professional are intrinsically connected. However, I don’t see Laurie and Erik as having a strictly hierarchical relationship. Erik has a disregard for the rules inherited directly from his father, and even if Laurie did use his authority from time to time to distance himself from Erik, he’s never been able to really keep him away. Erik, by default, just does whatever the fuck he wants to do. And that’s also what Laurie likes so much about him.

I see your point, but I don’t agree: opposites attract. I think it is very interesting, particularly in fiction, to explore how two characters with very different personalities and backgrounds can find common ground and how they can actually enrich each other. I am always cautious of making similar-minded people automatically get together, be it as friends or lovers. In real life, it creates a dangerous cognitive bubble. I love to find out how two outwardly conflicting personalities can interact and ultimately appreciate each other. By the way, Anh and Laurie are far from being completely similar. Their brain functions in much the same way but they are both strongly opinionated and will clash inevitably. We either marry our parents, or the complete opposite of them (as is my case).

Finally, I hear what you’re saying about sexualizing male friendships. It is a bit of a touchy subject. I don’t do that in real life, that’s for sure. But I allow more leeway in fiction because a big part of the fun is to explore different aspects of life, including sexuality. I’m a straight person. That doesn’t mean I’m not genuinely interested in other sexual identities. Love is love after all.

I can only say that I’ve never intended to write a gay romance with Laurie and Erik. It did start out as a true friendship. But their relationship developed as we know, and I don’t regret a thing because to me, they make a lot of sense together. It just seemed that obvious and I felt like I had voluntarily kept them apart because I was scared of what people would think. Now my favorite part of their relationship is that they never question their (bi)sexuality. They just have romantic feelings for each other that they cannot help, and neither of them really care about labelling those feelings (very much like Sam doesn’t want to define how she feels for Ash).

Finally, l I want to say that Laurie and Erik’s relationship and my determination to write it as well as possible have been an opportunity for me to learn a lot more about the LGBTQ+ community. That has certainly enriched me.

#text post #replies

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gabriel-xander · 3 months

Text

Don't Forget

[Sans x Female!Reader]

9: He's Scheming

♪⁠────✿⁠(⁠✧◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕✧⁠)✿⁠────♪

Napstablook has gotten the absolute pleasure of getting to know you for the better part of the passing week. Sure, the experience was slightly watered down because, as YOU had warned him, your period made you a little more emotional and dramatic than usual. He can’t even blame you for it either; what kind of fucked up shit is this that you have to bleed for a whole week??

You were always quick to sincerely apologize whenever you accidently raised your voice, or when you would get jealous over a monster having cute ears, or when you would outright sob when you ate that delicious burger he brought for you from MTT-Brand Burger Emporium.

You were a bigger cry baby than he was! Honestly, Napstablook was pretty impressed!

But as much fun you two were having together in the Ruins, he knew that it couldn’t magically fix one specific dilemma.

You needed to get out of these Ruins.

The catacombs are very small and the amount of monsters living here are smaller. They tend to keep to themselves as well, and aren’t the most receptive when it comes to you. Yes, they’re polite and don’t turn you away, but when you were subtly telling the owner of a few places that you’d basically work for free, they found every excuse to turn you down.

“Oh, I’d just feel bad for taking advantage of you and your time.”

“Then pay me the bare minimum.” You’d counter.

”I-I don’t think I have the funds to afford another employee, you see…”

“No… No, I get it. Thanks for hearing me out, though.” You’d force a smile, letting everyone know who was involved that YOU know it was complete, and utter bullshit.

You don’t actually want a job, you don’t want to work for free. You just want something to do. You need new stimuli and the Ruins cannot provide that for you.

”it’s just a shame…” Napstablook tells the smiley skeleton, “but she doesn’t have a lot of options…”

After seeing each other every day for the past week, Sans and Napstablook have built a small routine with each other.

If Sans manages to catch the ghost BEFORE entering the Ruins, then Sans will have a ghost-friendly snack to share as Napstablook tells him the plans you two have for the day. If Sans catches the ghost AFTER, then they’ll both share what their day was like (aka, Sans trying to know more about you while giving short answers when it was his turn to share).

Right now, Napstablook and Sans were munching on some hot cats, talking about your sad day yesterday. In a little bit, he’s going to have to wrap this up so he’s not late.

“hm, guess the monsters in the ruins are still a little close-minded about humans,” Sans gives an honest opinion, “if the human is actually as nice as you say, then it has nothin’ to do with her, and everything to do with her just being human.”

‘you keep saying that…’ Napstablook thinks to himself. ‘“If she is actually this or that”… why do you distrust humans so much…? especially this one…?’

“i feel so bad for her. i can tell she’s getting exhausted…”

“why can’t she just leave the ruins then?”

“it’s not safe…” Napstablook hesitates for a moment, “not just because she’s human, either… there’s a monster who almost killed her when she first fell down… according to miss toriel, anyway… that’s the real reason why miss toriel asked me to hang out with the human. so i can make sure she can safely leave the house and watch out for that monster…”

Sans freezes for a second.

Napstablook is obviously talking about Flowey. He wouldn’t put it past that invasive weed to try and immediately kill a human that isn’t Frisk at this point. But Frisk was also almost killed by Flowey, but not once in ANY time line was Toriel THIS worried about their safety. Other than asking Sans to make sure that Frisk doesn’t die (not that he ever bothered to do that either), Toriel never made this much of a fuss over a human.

What kind of fucked up shit did Flowey do to you?? And why are you cowering so much?

…

Wait.

This gives Sans a great idea.

“hey, blook,” Sans’ grin widens noticeably, “i think i got a good idea to help out your friend. but uh… we might gotta be a little sneaky about it to work.”

Napstablook gives the other a (rightfully) hesitant look. “what do you have in mind…?”

⁠────

Napstablook gives you a small smile, waving goodbye in spirit (hah) as you go into the house. It was another good day, albeit a little shorter than usual since he has something else he has to do. You were a little dejected about it, but you didn’t put up a fight.

At first, Sans’ plan seemed out of nowhere and sketchy. Not that he’d ever have the courage to say that to the skeleton’s face of course. Sans never showed much trust or faith for you, so his plan to “help you out” doesn’t sit very well with Napstablook. No, he doesn’t think Sans is going to do anything erratical, but…

After spending this day with you, Napstablook decided that he can’t allow you to go down this path. Sans’ plan is sketchy, but it’s also your best shot at finally leaving the Ruins.

It does not take long to find Toriel. Again, the Ruins are small, and there are only so many places one can be. He managed to find her leaving the Spider Bake sale with a few spider donuts, and a jar of spider cider.

Uh oh. You two had already bought some before getting you back home since you were complaining this morning that you wanted to help their cause. It seemed that Toriel had heard you and wanted to treat you to a surprise.

Toriel blinks at the ghost’s appearance, “Oh, Napstablook. Is [Y/n] safe at home?”

“yes, miss toriel…”

“I already told you just—Never mind,” She shakes her head with a smile, “Was there something you needed?”

“ah, yeah… i wanted to talk to you about [y/n]… you must’ve noticed it, right…?”

Her expression falters, and her smile becomes crestfallen, “Yes, I… I cannot deny the truth that is right in front of me. [Y/n] insists constantly that she is content with staying in the Ruins, especially because we have yet to find that flower monster. But I know this is no place for someone like her to spend her time.”

“i really enjoy her company, and i don’t mind coming here to see her… i don’t go out a lot, but even i still have a lot of places i can to go to make up for it…”

Napstablook avoids eye contact as he continues, “i know it’s scary-for you and [y/n]-but… it’s something to think about… she can’t stay here forever…”

Toriel looks down, “Yes. Yes, you are correct. I will give it more thought. Thank you, Napstablook. It’s comforting to know that [Y/n] already has another friend who cares for her dearly.”

“she’s a good friend… i’d hate to see her get worse…” Napstablook starts to back up, “i-i need to go now, but… give it some thought… for her….”

”I will. Thank you, Napstablook. I will be seeing you tomorrow, correct?”

“yes, miss toriel… see you tomorrow…”

“Goodbye, Napstablook.”

Napstablook floats away, leaving the goat monster to her thoughts. She sighs through her nose, walking back to her home… Her home with you…

Toriel doesn’t want you to leave. You are quickly becoming one of her best friends already, and she adores you. You two have bonded so closely, and shared each other’s souls. In her long, long life, the only ones she had allowed to see her soul (outside of battler) were Asgore and Asriel. And you—You didn’t hesitate for a second to share your soul in return. Your beautiful, fragile, human soul that, after a brief look, had NO defense at all.

You trusted her-you trust her so adherently. She doesn’t know if she can bear to lose you if something happened to you. She doesn’t want to leave the Ruins, but she doesn’t want you to go off on your own. Perhaps it’s overbearing, but it’s better to be safe and sorry.

Maybe…

Maybe it’s time to finally tell him.

⁠────

Step one of the plan has been done. Once Napstablook told Sans exactly how the exchange went, the skeleton looked proud. He can tell that the ghost does not fully trust him, but Sans has no qualms about it. After all, the only time Sans has ever gone out of his way to speak to Napstablook is about the human. The skeleton knows he did a shit job at trying to conceal that he doesn’t trust you.

It’s actually reassuring in a way to know that Napstablook doesn’t trust blindly, even if they’re “on the same team.”

After sharing briefly about each other’s day, Napstablook headed home to work on some remix of a song you played on the piano about a week ago. Conveniently, this is the day he usually speaks to Toriel, so he opted to stay back, sitting against the door for a short nap.

Sans only gets to nap for fifteen minutes when a familiar knocking pattern on the Ruin doors rouses him from his sleep. It takes him a moment to reorientate himself, but in a few seconds, he’s knocking back.

”Hello, old friend,” Toriel greets rather… seldomly.

Sans feigns confusion, “hey, you okay?”

”Yes, I am fine. There’s just–something weighing on my mind, I suppose.”

”well, you know you are always more than welcome to tell me what’s bothering you,” Sans hums, “only if you wanna share, no pressure.”

There’s a silence between them for a moment. Sans doesn’t rush her; he pulls out his blue comb to brush his beautiful, lucious skull. Actually, he just has the comb to scratch his head since his gloves don't let him do it right. After a few minutes, she finally opens up.

“I have a confession to make, but…. Please, hear me out first.”

”yeah, of course.”

“For the past month, I’ve been housing a human. An adult human woman.”

Wait, you’re an adult?? Napstablook had him believing this whole time that you were just some kid. He probably kept away that information on purpose. The skeleton barely hid his dislike for you, it would've been ten-fold if he knew you were much older.

Huh.

Good on Napstablook.

“Her name is [Y/n], and she has been nothing but a sweetheart and a delight. She’s so funny, and she’s incredibly smart. Ah-ha ha! I sometimes have trouble keeping up with some of the things she’ll share with me. Her humor is all over the place, I think you’d enjoy her jokes, too.”

You have Toriel wrapped around your finger too, huh? Napstablook wasn’t enough for you? No…No, Sans is just being unfair now. You are not Frisk. You might not even know what the hell is going on and you’re staying with Toriel because of that promise of protection from Flowey. He wishes that was enough to reassure him, but he’s just… he can’t be too careful.

“sounds like you really care for this human,” Sans hesitates for a second, but he needs to ask. For his own sake. “she isn’t… you’re sure she’s good?”

“Hm,” Toriel huffs out a small laugh, “Just the other day, she willingly showed me her soul, even after I thoroughly explained what it means here in the Underground to do something like that.”

“she what?”

You—Are you stupid or just overly trusting?! Sans barely lets Papyrus see his damn soul and his brother is one of the few people that Sans will never feel any different for even after so many Resets. Papyrus has shown his soul many times, but never pressed Sans into doing the same because he understands.

For you, someone who is supposedly SO intelligent, to trust a boss monster so willingly even when Toriel had explained it to you…

Crap, but that totally means you’re familiar with the sensation of someone looking at your soul now. Sans won’t be able to look at your stats without you knowing. He normally wouldn’t give a shit if that were the case, but it’s going to be more awkward when you know what it means to share your soul with someone.

“[Y/n] is very precious to me, so… so when the first day she arrived, there was a monster who nearly killed her… it had put me on edge in a way that I’ve never felt before.”

She must be talking about Flowey. Sans still doesn’t understand why it’s such a big deal this time when Frisk was almost killed by Flowey too.

“really? do you remember what the monster looked like?” Still, Sans has to ask to keep up appearances.

“It was a flower, I believe. It’s strange, I’ve never seen any other monster like it.”

Yeahhh, crazy…

“is this why you’ve been keeping her in the ruins and not telling anyone about it?”

“Yes, precisely. We’ve come to the agreement that she wouldn’t leave our home alone since we were worried that if she was alone, the flower would come back to kill her.”

Right, Sans knows this (now) thanks to Napstablook.

”But lately, I’ve noticed a change in her behavior. She’s been more reclusive, and she isn’t as energetic as she used to be. [Y/n] would also tell me that when she tries to get hired just so she can have something to do, she’s turned away because she’s human.”

Yikes. Sans might not like you very much (nothing personal, he just doesn’t like humans), but even he thinks that’s pretty fucked. From the sounds of it, you really are just trying to live peacefully with the situation you’re given. Staying with Toriel. Trying (and failing) to get a job. Literally doing what you can to survive a psychopathic flower.

…Maybe Sans’ mental image of you is a little harsher than what the truth actually is.

“[Y/n]’s only other friend suggested this, and I’m reluctant to agree with him, but this isn’t just about me. I want [Y/n] to be happy, too.”

“what are you thinking?”

”My friend, if it’s not too much to ask, and if it’s not too much of a burden,” Toriel takes a deep breath, “can I entrust you to watch over [Y/n]?”

Sans’ grin widens. Seems like his plan worked.

Taglist:

@lemonboy011

#fanfiction #reader insert #female reader #don't forget fanfiction #sans undertale #sans x reader #undertale #sans #toriel #napstablook

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