#because it's uncomfortable and scary and you don't want to be or be seen as a Bad Person

[uncanny-tranny]

Being in pain and anguish can make you a deeply unpleasant person when it starts to grate on you to the core of your soul how unwell you are, and it really can make interacting with others so much harder.

It is hard to be around other people when you're in pain, and the sounds around you quite literally hurt, and you feel the crushing weight of reality settling deep on your chest and throat, and it feels like the world is against you. It's hard to be "pleasant" when everything feels stacked against you.

I hope to be with all of you in a metaphorical way. It's hard to be disabled and to act "normal." It's important to recognize that we can become so entrenched in the horrors of disability and pain that we lash out because when we recognize the cause, we can start finding ways to notice what might help.

Disability can feel like you're turned into a shell of who you thought you "should" be. Give yourself the space to grieve if you need to. I know it's hard. Take it a day at a time.

[sysig]

whoops i asked in the wrong place. would you be willing to do a request of the vargas boys in a SAW trap? thank you in advance <3

Day 2 - Was it not obvious enough

[eff-plays]

The way Astarion reacts depending on how you compliment him in the mirror scene (I have no interest in insulting him so I won't be covering that here, have fun though!) drives me fucking insane.

"I want to know what the world sees when it looks at me. What you see."

And you get two types of responses. First, your choices for compliments are

Strong, piercing eyes.

The creases when you laugh.

Pick the first, and he's pleased. "Go on," he says, sounding very seductive. You're giving him exactly what he wants, and he's encouraging it.

Pick the second, and he gets upset. He's an eternally young vampire, not your doting grandmother! You can do better than that. Even if you meant it as a compliment (I know my Tav definitely did), he doesn't seem to take it that way.

Your second options are

That dangerous smile.

The way your hair curls around your ears.

Once again, the first one pleases him, and he even praises your efforts. Very good. Now finish the scene and tell him he's beautiful.

But if you say the second, he gets exasperated. This is meant to be flattery, not poetry. Just tell him he's beautiful and we can call it a day, he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. He doesn't need to hear this crap, just tell him what he wants and fuck off.

Of course, it doesn't matter how you get to this point, and every dialogue option at the end of the scene nets you the same amount of approval. If you call him beautiful, it's +1. Call someone else beautiful, it's +1. If you ask whether he just wants shallow praise (aka don't call him beautiful), you get +1. So this is me pulling this out of my ass I guess.

I always choose to call him beautiful becuase 1) he is and 2) my Tav thinks so too and would oblige him if he asked for it that directly.

But I am obsessed with the different routes you can take to get to this point and what they imply.

Strong, piercing eyes and dangerous smile pleases him more outwardly, but doesn't actually affect the outcome. He's satisfied and confident with these compliments. They confirm what he's trying to project into the world, what he aspires to have and to be.

The creases when he laughs? The hair curling around his ears? Those are things he can't control, can't use against someone else. But he asked to be seen, and if this is what Tav sees, then what does that mean for him?

Why are they complimenting his laugh lines? Why are they speaking poetry at him? Why are they seeing things he has no control over, and why are they revealing them to him?

He doesn't want shallow praise. Questioning this nets approval, and giving it to him doesn't increase approval. What he wants is assurance that what he's trying to be is what the world sees, that he's in control.

And if you actually act as a mirror, point out the things unique to him that you see, he gets uncomfortable, because you're showing a reflection of someone he thinks he's not, of someone he has no control over. And that's scary, even if it's supposedly complimentary.

Because what's scarier than losing control?

But then, compared to how genuinely upset he seems when you insult him (I looked these up on YT for context), the laugh lines and hair curls are still accepted as compliments. So what does he think when Tav says these things?

They see past his piercing eyes and dangerous smile. They see something else that they like even more, things he's not aware of or doesn't appreciate as much. What does that feel like, to cultivate such a perfect image of oneself for the purposes of seducing and tricking others, and then be stumped when someone walks past all that and points out something entirely different that they noticed and found endearing?

Do you do him a favor, and tell him you see only what he wants to be? Or do you speak the truth, and show him what he actually is? Which one is better? Which one is worse?

[fuckincrow]

Olfactophilia

summary: You're dating Homelander and he's horny for your scent, pretty much porn without plot. AFAB reader, gender neutral.

warnings: homelander is a warning on his own, dubcon, scent kink, somnophilia, homelander is a pervert, dry humping, oral (fem receiving), established relationship, canon homelander behaviour

┈┈┈┈┈◦•✩•◦┈┈┈┈┈

Homelander was not a good partner. One could hardly call him a boyfriend, whatever your endeavor with him was did not seem like a normal relationship. It was scary, you were scared of him, knowing he was at the verge of a homicidal tantrum on most days. And despite this, the only times you had witnessed his anger had been directed at others. A fellow supe, an unlucky intern, maybe Ashley. Mostly Ashley, you always thought that woman deserved a raise. But his feelings toward you were... different. It wasn't a normal kind of love, more of a dependency. You saw it in his eyes whenever you touched him, that slight shift of expression, the way his muscles tensed up and his breathing became ever so slightly faster. Maybe that was part of the allure, the fact you could render this monster useless with a few caresses and honeyed words. As long as he didn't realise how weak he actually was for you, you'd be fine.

You never liked sleeping in his penthouse, it was too much. The American memorabilia was almost comical, although you'd never commented on it, knowing it would probably upset him. It was hard to get in the mood when you felt George Washington staring at you, but Homelander's passion proved enough distraction. The sole reason you were in his bed was because he'd been extra needy lately, eventually you got tired of him showing up at your house unannounced, so you simply caved and temporarily moved to the Tower.

As you try to get some rest, you feel a cool breeze hit the back of your neck, followed by the silent pitter patter of his feet against the carpet, like a cat sneaking back home. He always took the window, he thought he was being stealthy when he flied in, but he always managed to wake you. Sometimes you wondered if he did it on purpose. The next thing you feel was the warmth of his body against your back, the padded suit kind of uncomfortable against whatever skin your pyjamas left exposed, it was like he was glued to that thing. In fact, you had only seen him fully naked once or twice. Since you don't hear any greeting, you assume he thinks you're asleep, and so you did just that; go back to sleep.

★・・・・・・★ ・・・・・・★ ・・・・・・★

You were so close, too close. He never could get enough of it. Homelander moves to rest his nose against your neck, sniffing your skin. You hadn't showered tonight, just how he liked it. His enhanced senses only made him get a bigger enjoyment out of your natural musk, specially in the summer, when sweat built up under your armpits, under your breasts, the bases of your feet. "(Name)?" He calls out in a soft voice, testing the waters. No answer. After a few moments, he slowly removes his gloves, carefully placing them on the night table. His hand sneaks on top of your waist, a fairly normal gesture, but it slowly travels upward. His fingers travel over your armpit, collecting some sweat. For a moment he just stares at his two fingers, his breathing growing a little heavier just from the knowledge of what he's done. Not out of shame, you're his to do whatever he wants with after all, but the fact this scent he loves so much now coated his own skin. Homelander brings the two digits to his nose, taking a good, long sniff, and breathing out in pleasure. He could already feel the bulge straining against his suit, painfully uncomfortable. "Fuck..." He muttered, now fully pressing his crotch against the curve of your ass, his face buried in your neck like he was trying to inhale every last pheromone you exuded, his hips pathetically humping you from behind. He couldn't care less if you woke up right now, surprisingly self aware of how messed up he was for grinding against you like a dog, but he couldn't stop. Your smell drove him insane. It was your fault for laying in his bed like that, without having showered.

Nearly two minutes of this went on before you stopped pretending to sleep. You had caught onto every little move, it wasn't like you were going to stop him. If he was going to get off on your sweat so be it, you wouldn't be the one to risk one of his temper tantrums against you. What you didn't like was how close he was to your core, inevitably making you wet from the friction, which slowly got quicker as his huffs got louder.

"John."

The mention of his name, his real name, made his blood run cold. Homelander stopped completely, as if stopping his movement now would somehow make you forget what had been going on since he arrived. You turned around to look at him, his face was equally flustered and shameless. You knew him enough that his embarrassment didn't come from a place of morals or a general idea of consent, it was purely because you saw him as he was; needy. Human.

You slowly shift to face him properly, his lips are slightly parted as he looks at you with puppy dog eyes, if you didn't know any better you could've said he was being gentle. Your hand rakes through his blond curls and he nearly melts at the action, his breath briefly hitching when you tug down on them. The action is a command, one he understands immediately, and without the need for words he removes the sheets from your body and lowers your pyjama bottoms along with your underwear down to your ankles, his eagerness practically tears them apart (it wouldn't be the first time).

Homelander lived for moments like this one, the sight of your cunt in front of his face, the smell of your wetness invading his nostrils. For a moment he's left a little starstruck, running his fingers slickly up your hole, letting your fluid act as lubricant as he caresses your clit. The contact earns a little whimper from you, the sound making his stomach flip. He would've teased you for it, but he's not a patient man, and the moment he hears that little sound he's pressing his entire face against your mound, the death grip on your thighs keeping you fully spread. His tongue is fast, his nose hitting your clit whenever he moves, and slowly but surely your breaths become pants, whimpers and moans falling from your lips and only making him more eager. He doesn't bother hiding how he's rutting against the mattress, you believe he's doing it purely out of instinct. Your hips buck forward chasing friction, and a muffled groan from him sends perfect vibration up your core, tugging his hair in response.

You've orgasmed a few times and you're ready to ask him to stop now that you're satisfied when you hear a crack in his voice, followed by a long, drawn out moan and a shaky breath that follows suit. Your mind still a little foggy from the climax, you sit up to look at him. "John?" He simply looks up at you, panting a little, a warm and wet spot between his thighs. It takes you a moment to register the fact he's creamed his pants just from eating you out, and if you weren't this exhausted the thought alone would be enough to rile you up for round two.

"You're welcome." You say with a little grin, chuckling as he practically collapses against your chest, burying himself between your breasts and merely humming in response. Next time he'll just wake you.

[filthgarbage86]

Take me to Church

Note: this definitely has absolutely nothing to do with the church, but when Eddie feels you for the first time, he's convinced he's found a new religion: you.

You're over at Eddie's for a movie night and dinner like every other week. Normally, you both agree to just wear your pajamas for ultimate comfort. But tonight, you were a little bit more comfortable than normal...

Content warning: smut. filth. innocent, painfully innocent reader. lots and lots of consent, lots of reassurance. Praise kink/degration kink. Body Worship. reader!has a vagina, Eddie x reader, ass grabbing, fingering, p in v, kitchen sex, teasing. Let me know if I missed anything!

you had to know

Eddie is sitting on the edge of his seat, in the kitchen, as you're reaching for something in the cupboard.

Except you're in your night-time wear. Which is always a big shirt and underwear. But you usually put shorts on or pants on in front of Eddie, you guys had only just recently gotten together. You were still getting comfortable with him.

You seem to be plenty comfortable, because as you're not wearing your shorts or pants. You're wearing cheeky, little, boyshort undies that have Eddie realizing he's never really seen your ass. And he feels like he's transcended.

Surely you know that you're showing your whole ass right now.

But you continued to reach on your tiptoes to get something, a snack from the top shelf, but you still had to reach with every inch you could.

"Should I say something?" he thought to himself, immediately followed by the smallest, tiniest, moment of selfish-intent of he didn't want to say something. He wanted to enjoy just looking at you, completely unaware.

"Am I allowed to look? Is this okay? We are together, it's not illegal i guess, but what if-" his spiral came to stop as soon as you came back down, flattening your feet.

You mindlessly pull down your shirt, just like you normally do, oblivious. Until you turned around. And you're greeted with Eddie turning his head so quickly down to the table, trying to cover the bright flush of his cheeks, hoping he didn't get caught. He definitely got caught.

What's up with him? What could have... You immediately go to cover your ass, literally, and are bug eyed. He was totally looking. You giggle a little to yourself. Eddie was staring at your ass and you totally caught him.

"What's so funny?"

"I don't know, what's got you so flustered, huh? See something?"

It was his turn to go bug-eyed. "I didn't mean to- not that I didn't want to, I mean I did, but I didn't want you to get uncomfortable- but I thought for sure you had to have known- but i didn't want to- I was"

You're giggling once again, you've finally got big, scary, mysterious, metalhead dork babbling on, all because he got caught looking at your ass. You walk over very swiftly but gently and hold onto his face, his cheeks immediately warming yours. His face settles into your hold, you loved when he did this.

"Eddie, it's okay, I'm not mad."

"You're not?"

"No, of course not, I'm just a little embarrassed"

"Angel, why are you embarrassed?"

It's your turn to blush, "cause.. you know.. i didn't really realize you were paying attention and that my ass was just out. it's a bit embarrassing of me."

He immediately puts his hands on the curve where your hips and waist meet "Honey, I promise you, it was not embarrassing in the slightest. I felt very guilty at how lucky I felt..."

"Guilty? Lucky? What are you-"

"Can I touch it?"

"What?"

"Y/N, can I touch your ass?"

well shit you are officially more flustered than he was before all of this. Shit. What was even happening? You couldn't do much more than nod your head slowly and softly. He was going to die, how could someone be so fucking hot and so fucking cute at the same time?

"Are you sure? I want you to be fully comfortable. You can tell me how you feel if you don't want me to okay?"

"I know. It's okay. You can do it."

"Can do...?" Okay now he's just being mean.

you are trying to look everywhere else, but it's hard when he's still sitting at the kitchen chair and looking up at you like you hang the stars individually. You take a deep breathe, close your eyes, and at that he squeezes your hips a little. God damn it, you thought you were in control in this situation. "you can... touch me, Eddie"

"Thank you" and with that he slides his hands down your hips with a slight squeeze, then your thighs, first the front a few times, to the sides, wrapping his arms and hands around your thighs starting from the backs of your knees and slides up to grab your ass. Finally.

Both of you groan at this gesture. Your body felt like it was on fire just from his touch, you're already doomed. It felt so good to touch you, you were so soft and were so perfect to him. He couldn't stop groping and kneading and gripping onto your ass as though he was trying to burn the feeling into his head. He practically was.

You breathe out a quiet "Eddie" and he groans again

"Yes Angel?" "Nothing it just.. feels.. good. Thank you" "oh you sweet, beautiful angel, no need to thank me, you are worthy of worship." "Cheeseball." "I'm so serious. you look like those paintings we had to study in history."

You were so fuzzy brained just from his touch, you wanted him to keep touching you. You wanted more. You needed more. It was almost like he heard your thought. He takes one of his hands regrettably off you, but just long enough to where your whine in protest turned into another breathy moan. He grabbed the back of your neck and kissed you feverishly, gripping onto your ass with his other hand hard. You wondered if there would be marks left over, you hoped there would be.

You couldn't stand even the slight distance, you give up caring and straddle him on the kitchen chair. Before wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him close to you, not wanting to take your lips off his for even a second, you moved his hand back onto your ass. He groans, deepening the kiss and holding and groping and feeling you.

He moves then to kissing your jawline, down your neck, and up to your sensitive spot near your ear where you could feel and hear every breathe, every whine, every moan this man let out and you were lost. You were completely lost in the moment, your whole body on fire, a heat you've never felt before. You needed him, desperately.

"Eddie, I want.." "Hmm? What was that baby? What do you want?" "Mmmhmm eddieeee" He loosens his grip slightly, having you whine again in protest, "What do you want princess? What do you need?" "I want you to touch me." He chuckles to himself "I am touching you honey" "I mean.. everywhere" "What was that?" Bastard even leaned into you so you could repeat your whisper

"Damn it, Eddie, I don't know. I just want you to touch me everywhere, touch me like you want me."

His face was so still for a second, before his eyes flash with vigor, something sinister behind them, coupled with a wicked smile that went ear to ear. "I can touch you baby?"

"Please."

You would have thought you just told him he won the lottery and are performing in Vegas. He crashes his mouth back onto yours and holds your hips down as he grinds up into you, causing you to gasp at the friction. He used that moment to deepen the kiss, engulfing you in the understanding that he wasn't just touching you how he wanted, but how he needed.

His hands were everywhere. On your hips, thighs, your chest, your ass still, wrapped around you, he couldn't stop until he memorized every single inch of you. He has you writhing under his touch. You were delirious, grinding down onto him as he worked you up. Both of you were just a pair of huffing, panting, moaning messes.

"Do you... want to.. move to.. my room..." Eddie said in between kisses, which he took turns where he was kissing.

"No I need you now. Right now. Please."

"In the kitchen? that's filthy, baby"

"Doesn't matter, I want it, I need you. Please."

"Don't gotta tell me twice"

He lifts your shirt off first, practically drooling at your exposed chest and you had to fight every intention of hiding them. He quickly disguarded his own shirt and then latched his mouth onto one of your nipples and teased the other with his fingers.

"fuck.. shit... god yes. thank you."

"Fuck you're so polite baby, how'd I get so lucky to have such a well mannered filthy little slut?" you whimper at his words, near tears from pleasure. This was going very fast but you were so caught up in it, you didn't dare stop it.

Eddie took one of his hands and slithered down and down and down until he reached your cute, sinful little booty shorts and spread your ass just slightly to rile you up again. This man was going to be the absolute death of you.

He slowly drags then his hand down until he's literally holding your clothed pussy in his hand and you have to really control yourself not to immediate grind down into his touch. That didn't last long though, as he presses two fingers gentle upwards to add pressure directly to your clit. Your eyes roll back a bit, you're so sensitive right now and you just want to put your head down into his neck but you didn't want to give up just yet.

You finally do grind down onto him and he grabs you by your ass with both hands, stands you up, pulls your underwear down while staring you. You couldn't not look at him but that didn't stop you from going completely fuzzy brained. You felt like you were short circuiting.

"You still with me, Angel? You're awfully quiet" "I just don't want to ruin it." "Sweetie, you couldn't ruin this. You are... everything. Like you are so unbelievably stunning, I don't know what to do with myself, but I have many ideas of what I want to do to you. If you still want."

"Yes please."

"Can I finger you, please?" How could you say no to him when he asked so nicely.

You settle back down onto his lap and his kisses turn more gentle. He kisses you on your shoulders, your collarbone, your neck, everywhere he could get to. Down the valley of your chest, even kisses you on both sides with such lightness it makes you dizzy and drunk from affection. You were in heaven.

As he's doing this, his hand slides back and behind you, slipping his fingers in between your pussy. You are soaked. Wet, sticky, sweetly soaked and he decides right there that he himself is ruined forever. He's never felt such a plump, soft, wet, beautiful pussy as yours. He rubs a few circles around your clit to test the waters a bit and are welcomed with breathy moans once again.

"Yes please" you whisper moan to him, your head really meeting his shoulder. He takes this as encouragement to keep going. He takes one finger and inserts it slowly, until he is knuckle deep. His finger starts pumping into at a pain-aching slow speed - "Eddie.. more please. Please a little faster"

He immediately responds and is welcomed with even more sounds. you are giving him so many hums and moans and whines as he changes up his speed, inserting one then two more fingers into you. He's still kissing you all the while and you couldn't care anymore what you look or sound like. It didn't matter, you were a goddess to him.

"That feel good, baby? You like that?" "Feels sooo goooood eddieeee, thank youuu"

"Anything for you, angel. Fuck, you're doing so so so well."

"Can you fuck me, please? I'm ready. I want you to fuck me."

He slips his fingers out of you, leaving you empty long enough to pull down his boxers down enough to spring his dick loose, slapping against his stomach. It was big. It was long. Oh fuck, why are you both scared but so excited at the same time?

You resaddle him, literally feeling like you're saddling up, take hold of his dick and rub the head against your slick. Both of you groan at the sensation, Eddie more so once your hand fondled his cock a bit to distribute your slick onto his dick as lube and he was going to lose his mind. Finally, you line up, and start inching your way down down down until you're flushed against Eddie's lap.

Both of you just sit there for a minute, Eddie trying not to blow his load just from how warm you are and how well you squeeze his cock around your walls. You've never felt this full before, you've heard of the stretch before but you felt like you felt Eddie in your stomach and it felt good. You started rocking a bit and you start seeing stars.

It isn't long until Eddie is humping into you to meet how you bounce and grind down into Eddie, both of you wondering how this could feel so damn good.

"Fuck, you feel amazing." "You too, shit, you're so big" "You're so warm, you're perfect, I'm going to fuck this pussy any chance I get, fuck."

"Yes please, Yes please, Yes please"

You both start going faster, faster, faster until you were losing your rhythm and was obviously trying to hold out. "Babe I'm not going to last long if you keep riding me like an animal" "Me neither, I'm fuck so so so close, please please please"

Your pleads turn into a loss of breathe when your climax tips over you and crushes into you. You're seeing white light and stars until you feel nothing but warmth. Eddie's pumping into you one, two, three more times and then he releases himself. Thank gods you were on birth control. You two just sit there in bliss, ecstasy washed over both of you.

You slump down into his chest and he wraps his arms around you, hugging you into him. You both sit there holding each other as you're catching your breath.

Well, your first time together certainly was eventful.

"So wait.. should I wear shorts around you again or no?"

"If You deprive me of that simple joy and rightful access, I'll protest until the day you understand your ass is my new religion."

That has you laughing hard again, in the midst of your bodies sticking together. "But seriously, you do whatever you're most comfortable. But I wouldn't ever protest to be able to pay worship."

You smack him in the shoulder at that, but you were blushing none the less. You didn't know what you were going to do or how to thank him for looking at you that way. He still felt like he should be thanking you. The feelings were mutual.

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

Author's Notes: oh heyyy so like literally all my other pieces, I have uh no fuckin clue where this came from but I definitely needed to share the thought with y'all. Hope you enjoy and if not, please just scroll! Let me know know if you liked it!

[eddiesghxst]

PRICE OF FAME (PART 3/12)

ALRIGHTY HERE WE GO !!

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: eddie and gareth don't get along and eddie thinks you look cute when you're sleeping

contains: enemies to lovers trope, smoking, alcohol use, maybe gareth's a bitch lol, scary feelings, a sprinkle of fluff, and eddie being down bad in every way, shape, and form <3

word count: 5.3k

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| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

Breakfast has been your favorite part of joining Corroded Coffin on tour. Aside from the fluffy, soft, sweet pancakes, grease-dripping bacon, and toe-curling orgasmic coffee, breakfast has always been lighthearted and fun. Richie makes everybody sit at the table together like a family so there can be some sense of normalcy throughout the busy days; it’s nice.

You alternate with your seating, wanting to get to know all of the crew members as best as you can while you have the time, and you’ve had decent conversations amongst some awkward ones. On the first day, you sat next to Mitch, the light coordinator, and listened to his story about how he met his husband. They’re expecting a baby this fall, and you two bounced a few names off each other for him to consider. On the second day, you sat beside Kaylee, the tour stylist, and talked about your college horror stories. On the third day, you sat next to Brandon, a stage manager, and spoke about… well, you don’t really remember because he talked the entire time, and you kind of blanked out. Slowly, you’ve made your way around the table each day, learning little things about the group.

Today, however, there is not the usual lighthearted and familial atmosphere at the table.

You came down to the breakfast hall a bit late from your shower, and the second you stepped into the room, you could sense the tension still hanging from yesterday. You haven’t spoken to or seen Eddie since he confronted Gareth at the studio, and you’re not sure if he’d even want to see you, but you have no choice but to take the only open seat next to him.

You quietly say good morning to everyone, and Richie is the only one who gives you a warm response. “How’d you sleep, birdie?” He questions around a mouthful of eggs. You nod and settle in, “Good, I almost slept through my alarm.” You jokingly admit. Richie chuckles, “1500 thread count sheets will do that to you.” He says, causing the table to erupt in a soft symphony of laughter.

It falls awkwardly silent, and you try your best to avoid glancing at Gareth, but there’s no doubt everybody notices the shiner he’s sporting on his eye. The room is filled with sounds of forks clanking against plates and the quiet mumble of short, faint snippets of conversation until Richie clears his throat, “We’ve got an interview with the press at twelve and rehearsals at three, like always, so do what you need to do before then. We can’t be late for this interview, got it?” He reminds the crew, and everybody’s head nods in understanding, all but one.

“I’m not going.”

All eyes turn to Gareth, a full plate sitting untouched before him as he slumps back in his seat. Beside you, Eddie lights a cigarette, and you opt to busy yourself with taking a bite of your French toast, practically feeling the anger radiating from Eddie as he takes a drag. Richie clears his throat once again, scooting closer to the table and tilting his head with a look of confusion, “Um… why not?” He questions.

Gareth glances at him as best as he can with his black eye, “Because I’ve got an eye the size of a tennis ball on my face, Richie.” Everyone at the table seems to uncomfortably shift now that the elephant in the room has been addressed. Eddie doesn’t waste a second to speak up from beside you, “Nothing you didn’t deserve.” For the first time since yesterday, Eddie looks at Gareth and sees the swollen eye he left from yesterday. Eddie doesn’t show a single hint of regret.

The table returns to quietly eating as Gareth ignores Eddie’s comment, “I’m not going.” He reiterates. Richie sighs and rubs the coarse mustache on his face, “You have to go, Gareth. Just put some shades on.” He suggests, returning to his food as if the conversation finished, but Gareth holds up. “I’m not gonna sit there in shades like a fucking idiot, man.”

“Well, you don’t have a choice, son,” Richie snaps, dropping the fork in his plate to look at Gareth. You wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole, and you’re sure you’re not the only person with that wish when you look at the other crew members at the table. “This band has an album coming soon,” he reminds the group, “We don’t have time for rumors and gossip to start circulating; you need to show up as a unit. This isn’t up for debate.”

The conversation could’ve ended there because, quite frankly, it seemed like Gareth was willing to go with it, but Eddie couldn’t let the moment to say something slip, “Just let him go, Rich.” He shrugs. You glance at Eddie, watching as he taps his cigarette ash into his plate, “It’s not like he brings much to the table anyway.”

Across the table, from the corner of your eye, you see Gareth lean forward to glare at Eddie, “The fuck does that mean?” He snaps.

Eddie looks at Gareth for the second time and shrugs, “Means you’re a shit band member, man. Fuckin’ Mitch has done more for this band than you ever have or could’ve done.” He gestures towards Mitch, ignoring when the man slightly cowers in his seat. Gareth looks at Eddie with a stone-cold glare, saying nothing momentarily and letting the thick blanket of silence curl around everyone's neck. He leans forward and points a finger at Eddie, who’s not even looking at him anymore, “Fuck you. You wonder why Chrissy left you for Jason Carver, it’s because you’re a fucking asshole.”

“Jesus Christ, guys–” Jeff tries to interject, but Gareth continues speaking, “At least Jason acknowledges her. That’s more than you ever did.” He jabs. Eddie chuckles, shaking his head before speaking around a cloud of smoke, “You don’t know shit about me and Chrissy.”

Gareth tauntingly laughs, “Nah, she filled me in quite a fuckin’ bit.”

The invisible ticking time bomb seems to have gone off in Eddie’s mind. He stands up from his chair, a loud screeching noise grating everyone's ears as he flicks his cigarette into his plate, “The fuck did you just say?”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Richie interjects, standing up and raising his hands as a gesture to stop. “Enough. Fucking enough,” he glances between the two heated men in annoyance, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you boys, but you need to figure your shit out on your own time.” He snaps. Your hands rest in your lap, anxiously picking at the seam of your jeans, wanting to shrink into your seat because you can’t help but feel as if this is your fault. It was your journal he read anyway; you play some part in the issue, right?

Richie sits back down with an exhaustive huff, picking up his fork to resume eating, but before he picks up a piece of his food, he gestures at the table, “Either sit down and finish your goddamn meal, or fuck off somewhere. Both of you.”

Eddie stands for a moment before deciding to leave without another word.

By the time the press interview rolls around, you’re more anxious than you thought you’d be. Between the time frame of breakfast and now, you had more than enough time to ponder over the messy situation you’ve accidentally created between Gareth and Eddie.

Truthfully, you had no idea that the Chrissy Gareth had mentioned during your conversation was Eddie’s ex-girlfriend Chrissy; hell, you didn’t even know Eddie had an ex-girlfriend named Chrissy until yesterday!

On one of your few sit-downs with Gareth, you ended up discussing his love life, and you took the leap of faith to ask him if he’d ever been in love.

“…There was one girl. Her name was Chrissy; we went to high school together.” 

“You dated?” “No,” Gareth shakes his head, “No, we never dated. But I always had this weird connection with her… like we understood each other in a deeper way.”

You smile in awe of the sweetness behind his words, jotting down little notes in your journal as he speaks. “I always admired her to an extent, but she, uh,” he clears his throat and scratches at his jaw, “she was in another relationship for most of the time I knew her.”

Gareth silently watches as you continue to write. You look up at him when you realize he’s been silent for a while, and you open your mouth to ask what is wrong, but he speaks before you, “Is this um,” he gestures towards your journal, “this bit isn’t going in the final publish, right?” He asks. You tilt your head, a few questions running through your mind, but you brush them off, “Um… well, I suppose I can leave some of it out, yes.”

Gareth nods, shifting in his chair and clearing his throat. “Okay, good. Um… well, anyways,” he begins, “Me and Chrissy didn’t hook up until I went back to Hawkins during our break off from last year's tour.” 

Ultimately, Gareth had explained that Chrissy had recently left a three-year relationship when they’d hooked up. He explained that they crossed paths at a bar, and things took off from there, but he cut it off with her the following morning. He never told you why he cut it off, but you now understand the guilt of betraying his best friend had forced him to do so.

You had no idea that the entire conversation was pertaining to Eddie’s ex; if you had known, you would’ve never written it down. You wouldn’t have even finished the conversation if Gareth had told the whole truth because, quite honestly, you would rather not be in the mix of this disaster. 

You’re disappointed. Upset that Gareth practically used you to get the guilt off his chest. And the truth is, that conversation did little to nothing for Gareth in the long run; he still felt guilty for never telling Eddie, and it’s only gotten worse with the added tension between them now that the secret is out.

Eddie was cold toward you before, but now he’s thicker than the ice in Antarctica. He’s avoiding you at all costs— and maybe he’s just avoiding everybody. Still, you can’t help but take his avoidance personally, especially when you’d thought you were finally reaching some sort of middle ground with him.

You sit off to the side of the stage with the rest of the band’s crew as you watch them take their seats for the press interview. Eddie sits on one end of the table while Gareth sits at the other end, the other two members filling the two seats in between. Gareth had no choice but to cover his black eye with a dark shade of glasses, and it seemed like nobody paid mind to it— typical rockstar wardrobe and all.

The interview was off to a good start, with reporters asking questions about the upcoming album, life on the road, and relatively anything about the music. Near the end, however, is when things seemed to get rocky. The questions became more of a filler than anything important, and boys were evidently tired of answering. It wasn’t until a journalist asked a specific question that things seemed to reach a tipping point.

“There’s been rumors that this album has more love songs than usual. Could you confirm or deny that?” 

The boys look at each other, and Gareth leans forward to respond, but Eddie beats him to it. “There were a few, yeah, but um… They didn’t make the final cut, so maybe next time.” 

The energy vividly shifts amongst the boys; Gareth looks at Eddie and scoffs before leaning back into his chair, clearly throwing in the towel for the rest of the interview. You don’t understand the apparent dispute just now, but you find out when the boys finish the interview and walk into the green room.

“What the fuck, man?” Gareth spits, walking a few paces behind Eddie. “We’re not cutting the song.” His loud voice booms through the room, not caring if anybody will overhear their dispute. 

“I’m not putting a song out that you wrote about my fucking ex-girlfriend, Gareth. Are you out of your fucking mind?” Eddie snaps. 

Richie turns to the band and crew members and motions for them to leave the room, which nobody even bothers to protest, eager to escape any more awkward conversations for the day. Everybody else makes a beeline for the tour bus, planning to fill in the few hours before rehearsal.

You glance back at the room where Eddie and Gareth are bickering, and you bravely choose to sit in the chair outside the doorway. You try not to stick your nose in their business, but they’re arguing loud enough for you to hear snippets either way. The conversation doesn’t last long before Gareth storms out of the room and down the hall, bursting through the doors and out of sight.

You glance back into the room where Eddie stands, fishing out his pack of cigarettes and sparking up. You figure now is better than ever, so you clench your bag strap and stand up, hesitantly stepping into the room. Clearing your throat once you’re a few steps away from Eddie, you watch as he exhales a cloud of smoke. He glances at you and turns away, “What do you want?”

You take one step closer, “I um… I wanted to apologize.” You begin. He looks at you again, brown eyes tired and riddled with pain— and you can’t imagine how much of a whirlwind the past twenty-four hours have been for him. “For what?” He asks, confusion and annoyance laced within his tone.

He’s turned to face you, shiny chains glistening on his hips beneath the building lights. You shake your head, struggling to find the words, because, was this really even your fault?

You obviously can’t apologize for Gareth fucking his ex-girlfriend— you had no part in that— and it’d seem silly to apologize for accidentally dropping your journal. So, what exactly do you apologize for? How do you let him know that you’re sorry this was how he found out, even if it isn’t entirely your fault?

You decide to try and redirect your wording, “I want you to know that I was never going to put that in the final article.” You say.

Eddie scoffs, taking a drag of his cigarette before responding, “And why would I believe that?” He questions. 

He’s gazing at you like the first night you’d met when he was watching you from across the green room and commanding you to leave. You think he has the same intentions now, but Eddie has yet to learn that you’re stubborn.

“Well, for starters, Gareth asked me not to put it in,” you admit. Eddie’s jaw tenses and part of you feels as if you’ve tossed Gareth under the bus, but you had no choice. This was Gareth’s doing, and if you have to tell the ugly truth to save your image, then so be it. “He didn’t tell me why, but I know now. And now that I know the full truth behind that story, I definitely won’t write it in.”

Eddie watches you momentarily, intense eyes burning holes through you before he turns away. He scratches his jaw for a moment, taking a breath before returning to you. Eddie points to you, the burning cigarette hanging between his fingers as he speaks, “You know,” he begins, “somehow, you’ve managed to persuade everyone that you’re some sweet, innocent small-town journalist that just wants to ‘appreciate the artists,’ but that,” he gestures to your bag where he knows your journal is resting, ashes fluttering to the ground with each wave of his hand.

“That proved everything I believed about you.” He says. “People like you are fucking vampires. You suck the life out of people to keep you alive, and it’s fucked up.” He snaps. 

Your face twists in anger, subtly shaking your head as you subconsciously step closer, “Eddie, I didn’t… I didn’t even know she was your ex, and if I did, I would’ve never written about it.” You exclaim, tossing your hands in exasperation. “And I’m sorry you found out the way you did, but you can’t hate me for something someone else did!”

Eddie frustratedly rubs his face, “That’s not the point!” He exclaims. “I read your journal. I saw everything I needed to see to confirm that I was right about everything with you and this fucking article.” He stresses, his loud voice echoing throughout the empty room.

“I'm not here to destroy your life, Eddie!” You snap, voice raising to match the level of his own. Eddie steps closer, towering over you and glaring so intensely into your eyes that you almost cower, “I don’t fucking believe that for a second.” He snaps back.

His chest rises and sinks like a rocky boat beneath his angry breaths, and he’s so close you can smell the cigarettes and mint on his breath. The scent of his cologne wrapping around you and choking you like a snake.

You don’t know how much more patient you can be with Eddie. You don’t know how much more of this back-and-forth you can take before it drives you insane. You want it to end. You want him to understand that you’re not his enemy; you never were.

You can only think of doing one thing: unzipping your bag and reaching in to grab your journal. Eddie watches with a hint of confusion in his eyes as you crack open the journal and start flipping through the pages. “What are you doing?” He asks in annoyance, patience running thin at your silence.

You flip through nearly half of the book before finding the pages you sought. You don’t think twice before ripping them out, not even caring if it destroys the binds of your precious journal. “The fuck are you doing?” Eddie asks again.

You tear each page out and drop the book to the floor, ignoring Eddie’s questions as you shred each torn-out page to pieces. Eddie watches in silent and hidden shock as each pen-soaked strip flutters to the ground, creating a heap of trash between where you both stand.

You tear the last piece and let it fall before looking at Eddie, watching as he gazes at the torn pages. Nearly five pages worth of writing, gone.

“There. It’s gone. Do you believe me now?” 

Eddie says nothing when he drags his gaze up to look at you, shock-ridden across his face. “I’m not who you say I am, Eddie. I’m not here to ruin your life; that was never my intention.”

Eddie stays silent, seemingly lost for words, and even if you want him to say something, your braveness has begun to falter, and you itch to leave the room. You’re strong-willed, but you’re no fucking superwoman, and Eddie has pulled every exhausting breath out of you, and you can’t seem to get a grip because every time you breathe in, all you smell and feel is Eddie.

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

You grab your destroyed journal from the floor, not bothering to try and fix the binding before you shove it back into your bag, and you don’t say another word as you leave the room.

You’ve been writing for hours when you check the clock— twelve thirty-two. The band played a show tonight, but you decided to stay in your hotel to let your ankle rest— you haven’t been taking all the precautions the medic advised you to, so by the time lunch rolled around, you were in an uncomfortable fit of pain. You used your free time by tweaking the draft of your article— adding in new pieces of information and taking out unnecessary notes. You’re about twenty pages in, but by the end of the month, you’ll have compiled it all into ten; but for now, it seems your brain has become a muddled mess of words and ideas. 

You suppose drinking three glasses of wine didn’t help fix that, either. You’re tipsy, teetering on the edge of drunk, and that’s a dangerous place to be when you’re practically working. You don’t even want to think of the past drunken works you’ve made; they’re worse than you’d like to admit.

You sigh, dropping your pen onto the hotel desk, leaning back in your chair, and rubbing your hand down your face in exhaustion. You glance over to the chair you’ve propped up to rest your injured leg, deciding that you should probably ice it since you’ve neglected to do so all day.

You figure you’re done writing for the day anyway, so you put your things in order before grabbing the ice bucket and making your way out of the room to find the ice machine. 

What you don’t expect to find on your journey is a sleepy Eddie sitting in the hallway just a few doors down from yours. Maybe you drank four glasses of wine.

Out of common, drunk courtesy, you redirect your path and limp over to where he sits, arms folded across his chest and head leaned back against the wall with shut eyes.

You gently say his name to grab his attention, but he doesn’t budge. You shuffle closer, calling his name out again, and when that doesn’t work, you gently nudge him with your non-injured foot. His eyes flutter open, blinking away the light sleep from his eyes as he looks at you.

You tilt your head in question and ask, “What are you doing sleeping in the hallway?” 

Eddie shifts in his spot, grunting and glancing at the bucket in your hands. From the looks of it, Eddie is as sober as can be, so you guess he decided to skip out on the after-show festivities they usually partake in. “I um… I lost the key card to my room.” He explains, gesturing to the door across from where he’s seated.

“The band is out for the night, and the lobby’s closed, so…” 

You nod in understanding, glancing around the empty hallway, catching sight of a cleaning lady entering a room down the corridor. And technically, you don’t owe Eddie anything.

You could leave him here in the hallway to spend the night sleeping on the hard ground, and it probably wouldn’t bother him either way because Eddie clearly doesn’t like you, but fuck you feel bad.

You’re not a terrible person. You wouldn’t kick somebody when they’re already down, and Eddie… Eddie is clearly down.

Before you can thoroughly think it over, your liquor-weighted mouth speaks before you can stop yourself, “You could crash in my room for the night.”

Eddie looks at you with the blankest expression he could ever muster and blinks, “Why would I do that?”

God, he’s such a fucking asshole.

You shrug, gently swinging the bucket in your hand and glancing around again, “I don’t know, unless you'd like to sit here all night like a moron, then be my guest.”

Your ankle hurts as you stand and wait for Eddie to make up his mind, and just when you almost decide to throw in the towel and let him fend for himself, Eddie grumbles a short “Fine,” and gets up.

You watch as he reaches down to grab his leather jacket and turns to you, “You can go ahead; I have to get ice for my foot.” You tell him, pointing to your door so he knows where to go.

Eddie glances down at your injured leg and says nothing before he reaches forward and gently takes the bucket from your hands— cold, jewelry-covered fingers brushing up against your warm knuckles and sending shivers up your spine.

He hands you his jacket, and you stand silently, confused by the exchange. Before you can ask what he’s doing, he answers your question, “I’ll get the ice.” And he doesn’t even bother looking at you before turning around and leaving to find the ice machine.

You’re too drunk to figure out what that was about, and your ankle is starting to throb under the pressure of standing, so you walk back to your room clutching his jacket and trying your hardest not to let the familiar scent of Eddie knock you dead.

You leave the door slightly propped open for Eddie and place his jacket on the chair near the desk. In the meantime, you busy yourself with removing your suitcase and clothes you’d haphazardly tossed around from the extra bed where Eddie will be sleeping. You figure you’ll just head to bed once Eddie gets here, so you exchange your jeans and fitted top for shorts and a ratty old He-Man shirt from high school.

You’re setting your previous clothes aside when Eddie steps into the room, a bucket full of ice in one hand with a Coke and chips in the other. You raise an eyebrow, questioning the extra items, and he shrugs as he shuts the door with his foot, “What? The vending machine was right next to the ice, and I was hungry.” He explains as he places the bucket on the desk, making sure to avoid placing it on your work pages. He tries his best not to look at what you’ve written, and you don’t point it out when he clears his throat and diverts his attention to something else. He grabs the wine bottle and shakes it, raising an eyebrow when he realizes it’s less than halfway full, “I take it someone had a good time?”

You roll your eyes, walking over to take the bottle and put it back on the desk. “Not that it’s any of your business.” You respond, turning to grab a ziplock to fill with ice. Eddie takes the bag from you and shoos you away, “Go sit down, I’ll do it.”

Your face twists in confusion, “You’re starting to scare me. Are you gonna kill me?”

Eddie laughs and busies himself with scooping large chunks of ice and dropping them into the open ziplock. “I will if you don’t sit down.” He responds.

You relent and walk over to your bed, sitting at the head of the mattress to lean against the pillows near the headboard, doing your best to shove a pillow beneath your foot lazily. You sit silently, hands folded against your stomach, watching Eddie work.

He’s wearing his usual black jeans, decorated with hanging chains from his waist, and a plain white shirt, hidden muscles flexing beneath the soft cotton. His shoulders are broad yet hidden beneath the thick, curly mane of hair he has. Tattoos litter his arms, a few trickling down to his fingers, and you catch glimpses of his knuckles dripping with drops of water from the ice and— fuck.

There’s no way you’re checking out Eddie Munson, the asshole who’s made your life a living hell these past few weeks. You really can’t handle your liquor.

You panic and grab the TV remote, quickly turning it on to fill the silence. You distract yourself by watching the random sitcom playing until Eddie steps into your view. You must’ve been focused on the show because Eddie seems to have traveled to the restroom to get a towel to wrap around your makeshift ice pack. Your sheets are pulled back, leaving your bare legs on display, and you can’t help but squirm when Eddie stands at the foot of the bed and takes in the sight of you.

He says nothing as he gently lowers the ice onto your ankle. His inked fingers sink into the plush cotton of the towel, and if Eddie weren’t an artist, you bet he could land a job as a hand model. Or maybe you’ve really lost it.

His gaze flickers to catch your wide eyes, and you hold your breath when he speaks, “Is it too cold? Do you need another towel?” He asks. You stutter to answer him, so you shake your head no, eventually sputtering out a response of, “N-no, it’s fine. Thank you.”

Eddie turns to grab his snacks and falls into the other bed with a sigh, cracking open the bag of chips and popping a few into his mouth. You grimace and pull the sheets over your body as you comment, “If you bring ants to my room, I swear to god, Munson, I’ll hunt you down.” 

Eddie chuckles, glancing at you as you shift around and get comfortable in bed, “Not with that broken foot, you won’t.”

You glare at him over the heap of expensive duvets and pillows, “I wonder whose fault that is?” You respond, falling back into bed when you see him roll his eyes. 

Eddie clears his throat after a moment, “Speaking of that,” he begins; you peek over at him once again to watch as he puts the chips aside and grabs the remote to start flicking through channels. “Since we’re off these next four days, you should keep it light on your feet.”

You sarcastically laugh, “Don’t tell me you’re actually concerned for my well-being. This night keeps getting weirder and weirder.” You joke. Eddie pauses his task to glance at you, “No, I just…” You raise an eyebrow, urging him to continue. He rolls his eyes, “I’m not a complete asshole, you know?” He grumbles, turning back to the TV.

You’re snuggled into your sheets now as you watch Eddie flip through the channels, admiring how different features of his face light up under the different colors from the screen. He’s… pretty.

“What do you have planned for your days off?” You question behind a drawn-out yawn. You think you catch a glimpse of a smile on Eddie’s lips, but you can’t see very well in the dim lighting. “My Uncle Wayne is flying in, so… I’m spending time with him,” Eddie explains. You smile, “Your uncle?” 

Eddie nods, and you hum, “That’s nice… Can I meet him?” 

You’re never drinking wine again.

Eddie looks at you as if you’ve asked him the dumbest question on earth, “Why would… why?”

You shrug, “Maybe he’ll help me figure out why you’re such a grump.” You half-heartedly tease. Eddie scoffs, returning to watch the movie he’s landed on, “If you think I’m grumpy, you’re not equipped to meet Wayne.” He comments. And then something remarkable happens.

Eddie smiles to himself.

It’s small and obviously not meant for your eyes, but you see it either way, and it… fuck, it makes you feel things you would’ve never imagined you could for such an asshole of a man. What is going on?

“He can’t be any worse than you.” You joke. Eddie scoffs, “Nah, Wayne takes the cake for grumpiest man alive,” he bids. 

Eddie tells you about Wayne, little memories he remembers that bleed into more memories until, eventually, he’s practically taking a walk down memory road. You go back and forth with him, commenting when you had a similar situation or when Eddie mentioned the same show you loved in high school.

At some point, Eddie’s stories and the low hum of the TV lull you to sleep, and you find yourself lying in cotton candy clouds, sinking into the softness and letting it surround you. 

Eddie’s not sure when you checked out on him, but he figures he’d been talking to himself for a while because you're fast asleep when he looks over at you.

He watches you for a moment and appreciates the way the blue and white hues of the TV dance across your face. Your skin looks soft under the fluorescent lights, and he thinks the steady rise and fall of your breaths is more entertaining than any movie he could’ve landed on. And you’re so pretty— soft and molded to perfection, and Eddie thinks he might like you more like this; when you’re not talking and being the most obnoxious person he’s ever met. Eddie hates the feeling he gets in his chest from just looking at you. 

You’re cute, he thinks.

He shakes his head to free himself from whatever weird feelings are spiraling through his mind, and he turns off the TV, letting the darkness swallow the room.

He’ll just have to worry about his feelings another time, he thinks.

————

part four

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a/n: HII U MADE IT TO THE END, U CAN ALL THANK MY STINK @mmunson86 FOR THE TINY PIECE OF FLUFF, THIS WAS FOR U BAE <3 ANYWAYS, PLS LET ME KNOW HOW U LIKED THIS PART I ALWAYS LOVE TO HEAR UR FEEDBACK, ILY BYE

————

cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @jesssssmaybankk @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2 @mvnsonslvt @s-u-t

[zhvakinnn]

HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII, can I request a poly sbg x fem gyaru reader who gets bullied by Barron and his friends? (Angst but a very fluffy ending) :3

I'm not sure if you want this romantic or platonic so I'm gonna write it both

So you can read this in a platonic or romantic way

Btw sorry i was busy doing loads of commissions and I'm so happy theres so many requests don't worry i will do all you're request ^^

Characters: Tyler, Ben, Aiden, Taylor, Ashlyn, logan

Warnings: mention of sexual harassment, bullying, death threaten, suicide, self-harm

✨as always i don't know much English so if something is wrong correct me✨

You met them when you went to that scary mansion and became friends they love your style so much

Taylor loves doing you're nails and you love doing hers and sometimes you paint all of your nails tyler said he hate it but still wears it

Ashlyn and Tyler is the one defending you she doesn't like you getting picked on because of your style

Aiden well let's say your both dork and do nothing but do shitty things that annoyed you're friends

Ben loves playing guitar while you sang songs and sometimes you do band with them

Logan helps you and everyone study

They don't mind you're style they just know they love you and that's all that matters

But then one of Barron's friend kept bothering you telling you how small you're skirt is, how sexy you are and other uncomfortable stuff you didn't tell them because once you do they will start another riot

And they kept telling you that you should die already and the gang would be happy if you no longer exists

And your starting to feel insecure about your style so you started to change a big and that caught everyone's attention on you like you're still wearing a make-up but there's something different

Then Barron spread a fake rumor that your friends hates you aswell you didn't believe them at first then he showed you a video recorder hearing they're voice's talk shit

"i really hate that woman's make up i mean its to many makeup"

"yea and te way she dress psh pass"

But little did you know they were talking about that one woman who attacked Taylor

But yet you didn't know you started to avoid them and come less in the school

Whener your in the realm you didn't care if you did die In there but the only thing that comes to your mind is run away and never see them again

"what happened to her i cant find her anywhere..?" Tyler said with a bit of concern in his voice

"I'm starting to worry even in the realm we cant see her" Ashlyn said

They tried to knock on your door but everytime they went there you're parents shrug it off and say your just sick and you need more time to rest

There's no windows or doors that are unlocked no curtains were up your house seems a like a dark cave now

Then one time they knock again now really getting worried they were ready to confront your parents no matter what happens they wanted to see you but when they're about to knock they heard a loud screech

Ben heard it and broke down the door your as they went to your room they can see both of you're parents holding you while your dad was lifting you and your mom holding a phone calling an ambulance

When they saw you chills ran down they're spine

You were pale and purple and Taylor saw the rope in the ceiling and a chair knocked out

They were all in the waiting room your mother was walking back and forth while your father calm her down

They were all sitting there dumb founded they just saw you lifeless body on the floor

Aidens smile was never seen

Ben kept fidgeting non stop

Taylor and tyler were holding hands trying to comfort each other

Logan wouldn't stop the sweat in his hands

Ashlyn who couldn't sit still

They all love you they cared now...

Then everyones parents came to check on their children and they asked what happened to you

Ashlyn was so curious what you're mom was saying so she didn't care if her ears hurt she wanna know what the hell happened to you

"and then she said she was getting death threath and she started to get sexual harass by some guy and we don't know what happened they started not to eat and we noticed there are big scars on her wrist we tried confronting her but its just getting worst... And then this guy who I've heard Barron.. he beat up my daughter whom he was a guy-."

"BARRON?!" You're mothers mouth went shot when Ashlyn stand uo and looked at your mom

Her eyes were full anger and hatered

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

She explained what she heard from her mother

Aiden tried to calm Ben down but he couldn't sit still just like that all because of this because of Barron

Logan was flaming anger aswell he knew about how Barron's treats to him

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

( i don't wanna add a fighting scene here sorry)

They spend most of the days by your side they were still happy they were talking to each other joking around but they cant help get more worried about you

Not until they all fell asleep and you were awake and saw Aidens rubix cube you also noticed your parents on the couch you smiled slightly then looked at them down on the floor

Once aiden woke up he saw you playing

"look... I can finally do it..its hard work though" you said weekly

Aiden couldn't care less about the rubix he held you so tightly making the rubix cube fall which landed on Tyler's head

"ow! What.. what the heck Aiden!..." He whispered yelled when he stand up he saw you hugging aiden and when you looked at him with a slight smile he couldn't stop the tear drops

"please please never do that again"

Once they all woke up you said sorry to them but confusion started going in your head didn't they hate you you asked them why did they said those things

Taylor said they were talking about that asshole and not you

You cried in the verge of tears

"but please if you're getting bullied or something don't hold back to tell us please we don't want to see you or be like this alright?" Logan's smoothing voice said then you heard a loud sound coming from Ben he typed

"I'm angry but i love you"

You smiled as you were all now in the growing hugging

When you're parents woke up they panicked when they didn't see you anywhere but stopped when you're father noticed you were all in the floor

Bonus:

They found you're body in one of the bus in the graveyard and they protected it while you're still unconscious

And that's it sorry if i haven't done one of your request but i promise i will

Masterlist | about me | rules

[speirslore]

when you get hurt hcs [officers + roe]

a/n: requested <3 usually in my writing the reader is implied to be a part of easy company in a vague way bc i know ppl have different preferences but some of these include getting shot (not graphic or anything) so ig that implies they're on the front lines

lmk if you would like to be on my taglist! @ronsparky @bcon24 @blueberry-ovaries @1waveshortofashipwreck

[dick winters]

you hit your head prettyyyy hard, and you're out of it, probably definitely concussed

it happens right in front of dick and he tries really hard to keep calm

he wants to be strong and level-headed for you

shows more obvious affection then any of the men have ever seen from him; pets your hair, holds your hand, is always by your side

he immediately gets you a medic and transported to an aid station and doesn’t want to leave you

but when dick's back with easy, he gets uncharacteristically easily angry and frustrated...

he gets quiet and withdrawn and a little snappy with zelensky and nix... and they both immediately know why

whenever he can go see you, he's there.. he even gets behind on all his paperwork (but nix offers to help)

which dick is hesitant to accept for many reasons, he feels guilty, like he's not focusing on his duties but lew is always good at keeping the reports concise lol

very fragile with you, he isn't underestimating you but he just absolutely does not want to push you or hurt you

is a stickler for the rules, follows absolutely everything the doctor says

he has to wake you up every few hours and you keep insisting it’s unnecessary and dick is absolutely not having it

you try to get up and move around and all dick has to hear is the sheets moving and he just gives you that stare, a little bit like a disappointed mom, and you're right back laying down

he’s way more clingy than usual, wants to be by your side, subtly holding your hand

in that moment it definitely hits him how much he loves and cares about you... he hasn't really had time or space to process those feelings until now <3

[lewis nixon]

it does not look good at first

it's really scary for everyone there, you loose a lot of blood and lose consciousness

lew is not there when you're first shot in the leg and everyone is very glad that he didn't have to see it

but when he finds out... oh he is not keeping cool, is not pretending even a little bit to be okay

starts lashing out and snaps at the driver who's taking him to the hospital to drive faster, mad that they didn't tell him sooner, mad that you were injured, mad at the war, furious at absolutely everything

lew has to be monitored by dick not to go full self destruction mode and get incredibly drunk

he hates just sitting with the constant uncomfortable feeling and reminder that you're hurting

he will not leave your side at first when you’re sleeping a lot, on a lot of medicine, and out of it

one nurse does approach him when he's the only vistor in the hospital left, "sir, the visiting hours-"

he just looks up, obviously devastated, voice cracking, "i'm can't leave. you can drag me out but i'm not going, thanks."

they back off after that

does go through a phase where he hates going once you're more conscious because he kills him to see you like that and face this feels irrational guilt he feels for not being there

because he definitely has the tendency to avoid his problems and things that hurt him

but it hurts you too and you don't fully understand

you look up at dick and harry, slightly delirious from the morphine, tearing up, "does he not want to see me anymore?"

after that they do drag lew to see you and you just straight up tell him feeling guilty is pointless and not fair to himself (or you)

and then it's right back to not leaving your side and always trying to make you laugh or smile

[ron speirs]

okay so i love the angel of the company x speirs trope

by now he's the co of easy and your relationship is a widely known secret...

he assigns you and the group of other men to a patrol... it wasn't an overly risky or bad order, a standard order from sink

but you guys make contact and you're shot in the arm

it just absolutely wrecks him

the guys feel like he's just going to go across enemy lines and find the soldier that shot you himself

the rest of the guys are furious too because everyone just absolutely loves you

for a short time, he's mad at the other soldiers on the patrol and you have to reminder him they didn't do anything wrong

but ron is really just irrationally mad at himself for not being there, for not being psychic, he's just angry he somehow didn't stop this

ron is not controlling and not possessive and he knows you can hold your own but he feels responsible for taking care of you and making sure you're safe

even if he can't quite articulate all of those feelings yet

he doesn't understand all the emotions he feels and doesn't even have time to try to understand them

he listens so attentively to the doctors, he can recite everything they've said word for word

like with chuck, he demands the absolute best from the doctors

this incident shows his more compassionate side and the guys start to see how much he really cares about you... bc they're protective of you too!

you have to comfort him and his voice breaks

and he feels weak and he feels bad that you're comforting him and not the other way around

"i'm messing everything up, doing everything wrong," he says more to himself but you frown, eyebrows furrowed and everything

"you're so hard on yourself, ron. when it's not your fault, it was routine, you didn't shoot me. then i'd be really pissed." you smile and he smiles weakly... but he's on edge for a longgg time after this

[carwood lipton]

unfortunately you and lip just cannot catch a break

your leg gets injured while he has pneumonia

it's not a major injury but a bullet ricocheted off of a wall and slightly grazed you and you need a few days of staying off of it

lip really tries to be comforting

and wants to be there for you and he is!

but it's very hard for him, he just wants you to be okay so badly, even when he himself isn't okay

trying to lecture you about staying off of your leg and asking others for help but breaking out into a coughing fit and then you're trying to help him sit up and to go get some hot water for him

and then he's back to telling you to stop and starts hoarsely calling for luz

it's a MESS

but carwood is a natural caretaker and has been one for most of his life

it makes him hover sooo badly especially because since he's sick too he doesn't have a lot of work to keep him busy

but you're not complaining honestly, it's nice to have more private time and something of a break, even if you're both miserable

you get the special privilege of an actual private back bed room with a mattress and blankets

kind of a bonding experience

you just laugh because what the fuck

it's kind of romantic, first time in a longgg time in an actual bed together

you just go back and forth talking about your future and the life you want after the war

"i don't like this wallpaper," you murmur into his chest

he laughs and that turns into coughing again and you're just rubbing his back trying not to bend your leg... domestic bliss <3

[buck compton]

buck... does not take it well

he takes it extremely hard

like his reaction to joe and bill...

you have pneumonia and the peniciln you need isn't available in bastogne

and it's even worse that he finds out you're sick only a few hours after that and that you've been sick and struggling for the past few days

maybe his reaction would've been different earlier on in the war

but now, it just feels like a destructive domino effect that's sparing no one

it's obvious after all of his friends injuries and your pneumonia that he couldn't stay on the front line... his red bleary eyes and slightly trembling hands said enough

when he gets taken off the line, you're both in an aid station together for a few hours before you're both transferred to different hospital

so his presence is silent reassurance

you want so badly to comfort him but you're so sick and he doesn't want you to, he feels so guilty leaving you

but you hoarsely tell him he needs a break and to process what happened

you're feeling slightly better this day so that makes it a little better... but not that much

both of you have been through hell

but there is a light in the tunnel... or at least you feel that way

buck isn't on the front lines anymore and you both have a chance at a life together post-war

he does not want to leave you, it has to take a lot of malarkey's coaxing him and promising to update buck

[eugene roe]

gene can't decide if having medical knowledge makes it better or worse

and if being the medic and being the one to have their hands covered in the your blood, was better than leaving it in the hands of someone else

he decides it's awful... definitely worse

the very few hours he slept, it was just dreaming of your terrified face

and he wakes with a jolt and is completely miserable

and life just goes on...

a lot of pacing and murmuring

gene closes in on himself when he's upset and stressed, so he becomes even quieter than normal

and the other guys are worried like ??? do we need to intervene and lip just stops them, "leave him alone, he'll be okay."

prays for you a lot, gripping his rosary so tightly and the photo that he has of the two of you when you were still in england

when you both felt some semblance of normalcy

he can't abandon the company to stay with you full time at the aid station to his incredible frustration and disappointment

it's just hard for him to go on like everything's fine, it shatters whatever illusion he has of fairness and hope and safety

whenever someone else gets injured or they need supplies, he'll take any excuse to ride back to the aid station to see you

and if anyone else goes, they always see you and give gene an update

winters definitely notices and tries to give him opportunities to see you

likes watching you rest and sleep (because you definitely needed it, even before you got injured) in the sweetest, non-creepy way

gene loves to just sit with you, see you with his own eyes, and know for certain that you're okay

[fallingfor-fics]

Jealousy - Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Okay this is scary ... my first Melissa fic! Please let me know if yall fw it.

Warnings: minimal angst, dom!Melissa/spanking, not any straight smut tho

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: You accidentally make Melissa too jealous in a space out of her control, so she decides to take it into her own hands and remind you of your place.

This is inspired from a scene in one of my new fav movies Secretary (2002)

This was thrown together when I got the inspo so I hope its not too shitty!

The day started out wonderful, birds were chirping and the sun was peeking in through the sheer curtains that glazed the windows in Melissa’s bedroom. You couldn't have had a better start to a Wednesday. Wednesdays were always your favorite day, no lunch duty and halfway done with the school week. Which meant you were halfway to spending all weekend tangled up in your girlfriend's arms (and legs). The traffic on the drive to work was practically non-existent and you seemed to only hit green lights. Melissa had a firm hand on your thigh as she drove and you managed to make it to work on time. So how you ended up flushed, out of breath, and bent over your desk as Melissa’s hand placed firm smacks on your ass, was a mystery. Or so you pretended it was.

“How was lunch duty yesterday Y/n?” Barbara asked from across the breakroom as she went to sit next to Melissa at a table. 

“It wasn't that bad for once!” You chirped, making eye contact with the red head who smirked and turned back to her coffee allowing a small blush to grace your cheeks from the interaction. Before you could make your way to the table you heard a voice call your name from the doorway. 

“Miss L/n can I talk to you for a second?” Dylan, a new fifth grade teacher like yourself, called with a smile on his face.

“Of course, and please Y/n is fine!” You smiled, setting your coffee down next to Melissa, who looked up at you with an unsatisfied glare which she allowed to follow you out of the door as you approached Dylan. You didn't enter too far in the hallway and could still be seen, and heard, by Melissa's spot at the table, and of course as nosey as she is, she didn't take her eyes off of you and Dylan.

“What's up? Have you been settling in okay?” You ask politely with a smile gracing your face.

“Yeah I have, thank you so much for all the help, you have been so kind to me and helping with the lesson plans, and oh god the projector-- has been so appreciated.” he gushed and flashed you a grin, looking you up and down, stepping closer. Melissa rolled her eyes at the remarks, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

“Oh don't mention it! I had someone do the same for me when I first started and I don't know what I would have done without her.” Your back was turned slightly to Melissa so you couldn't see the cocky grin she had on her face over-hearing that. You and her were keeping your relationship under wraps to avoid the whole school making a big deal out of it. Something you both were perfectly content with and honestly preferred. Melissa was snapped out of her daze when she heard the sweet sound of your laughter from the hall. She must have missed the joke Dylan said that was apparently so funny it had you covering your mouth as your cheeks grew red and you placed a hand on his arm, shoving it playfully. Melissa felt her own cheeks growing hot but not from laughter. She squeezed her mug tight, her knuckles turning white as she forced herself to look away. Melissa was an incredibly jealous person, but you loved that about her cause so were you. You knew the root of jealousy for you both did not come from insecurity but more so possession. When Melissa was jealous she became incredibly protective and therefore sexy. You always secretly loved when a man would flirt with you when you two were out, because it always led to Melissa giving a snarky remark to the man, and then taking out her anger on you in the bedroom. You knew Melissa was watching, and you wanted her riled up so when you got home tonight, she didn't… hold back. What you didn't know was that things weren't going to necessarily follow your pre-planned timeline. 

“So what do you say? Dinner tonight?” Dylan asked, flashing dreamy eyes at you. You stopped laughing fairly quickly and was obviously caught off guard from the question. 

“Wait, what?” You squinted in shock, your hand now resting on your chest to play with your necklace, one gifted to you by the redhead who was fuming a few feet behind the scene playing out. 

“Dinner. To go over lesson plans.” Dylan restated confidently, moving his arm to rest up against the doorframe beside you. Your gaze followed his arm and soon realized what he was proposing. 

“Oh. By lesson plans I thought you meant in my classroom like last time.” You cleared your throat, taking a step back slightly. He shook his head and moved his arm back to his side, not wanting to completely bruise his ego. 

“Oh yeah we can do that then. Rain check on dinner?” he smirked.

“Uh yeah, sure.” You said with slight uncertainty, “I'll see you in my classroom after school then?” you clarified. 

“Yeah I look forward to seeing you Mis- Y/n.” he corrected himself with a nod.

Before you could say a farewell of any kind so you could get back to your lunch, you felt someone roughly brush by you running into your shoulder as they walked out of the break room. You quickly noticed it was Melissa and your eyes went wide. That seemed a bit more aggressive than you were intending. You knew you couldn't follow after her immediately without looking suspicious so you watched as she disappeared down the end of the hall and you went to quickly finish your lunch. However, you didn't have time before lunch was over and you had to get back to teaching. Since you taught fifth, your students had three periods throughout the day and changed between you and two other teacher’s classes, Dylan being one of those teachers now. During the period changes Melissa would usually stop by to talk with you while her kids went on a bathroom break or were watching an educational movie. It was a short amount of time to see each other but something you had been doing since you practically started, however she didn't come today and you grew worried. You brushed it off knowing that you would at least see her at recess and continued on your day until then. But there you were, sitting on a bench watching kids run around playing, their screams growing muffled as you scanned the yard and checked the entrances continuously. No sign of Melissa, her kids were out here playing in the smaller jungle gym, but the redhead was nowhere in sight.

“Hey Barb, where is Melissa?” you yelled slightly so you could be heard over the noise.

“I don't know, I haven't seen her since lunch.” She shrugged.

You asked her to watch your kids while you ran to the bathroom and she nodded. You quickly made your way to Melissa's room, practically sprinting to get there. Crossing your fingers and praying to every god that she would be in there. Sure enough she was sitting at her desk, glasses perched on the end of her nose, a red pen in her hand as she graded papers. You walked in slowly, heels clicking on the tile as you approached her desk.

“Hey sweetie.” You greeted softly and she didn't answer. She continued to harshly mark the papers with X’s or checks. 

“Do you want some help? Must be a lot to do if you're in here instead of at recess.” She still didn't answer, just grabbed a stack and a red pen and held them up for you to grab.

You grabbed them without question and sat at the desk in front of her and began grading them, every now and then glancing up at her. You could feel the heat radiating off of her and it honestly scared you a little. You were reluctant to say another word, or ask her a question in fear she would either explode or just storm out. You had played with her and her possessiveness before but she hadn't ever reacted this way, maybe you went too far. You couldn't have predicted Dylan would ask you out! You finally got the courage to speak up, hesitance present in your tone.

“Melissa?” you called and she hummed in response, that's a good sign. “Um, is everything ok-” before you could finish your sentence the bell was ringing, and you realized you left Barbara outside with the kids. 

“Shit” you muttered, standing up and walking to her desk. “Um here, I'm sorry I'll see you after school?” you asked gently and she just grabbed the graded papers from your hands and nodded. One of the scariest things about this was the silence. It was thick, heavy, and suffocating. Melissa loved to argue, she loved to prove herself right, so the fact she was giving you the silent treatment was terrifying.

The rest of the day dragged on insufferably slow and you couldn't tear your eyes off of the clock, waiting for it to hit three fifteen and to hear the sweet ring of the bell. Finally the time came and you dismissed your students. You figured you wouldn't have time to see Melissa before Dylan got here so you just hoped and prayed she would come to you. Thoughts of the redhead filled your mind and caused the guilt to take over. You didn't understand what was so different about today that caused her to react this way. Maybe it was the environment. That's when it clicked, she was probably incredibly frustrated that she wasn't able to show that you were hers. She wasn't able to chew Dylan out with sarcastic yet classy insults because you were at work. That made you feel even worse at allowing Dylan to flirt for so long, and for playing into it. After a few minutes you got lost in your thoughts and didn't hear your girlfriend enter your room. You were brought out of your focus by a hand slamming a piece of paper down on your desk from behind you. You jumped in shock and quickly looked up when you felt Melissa standing close against your back with her hand around your shoulder sitting firmly on the paper on the desk. She lent down close to your ear and you felt a shiver run through you. 

“You have multiple grading errors on this paper, are you trying to make me look like an idiot?” She whispered into your ear, her hot breath against your cheek. You quickly shook your head and turned to look at her, but she moved away and walked around you, causing you to turn back the other way and follow her with your eyes as she came to stand in front of you, her hands on your desk. 

“I'm sorry Melissa-- I can fix it.” you stuttered out softly and she didn't offer so much as a sympathetic smile. 

“Close the door.” she ordered in her deep voice, her eyes never leaving yours as her brow lifted. You quickly obeyed, getting up to shut it. As you walked back over to her you went to reach for her but she moved away, turning the paper on the desk to face away from your chair. You stood next to your desk watching her in confusion. She was acting so unusual. It wasn't like you weren't secretly enjoying this, but she hadn't behaved like this in school before. She walked over to your door and locked it, pulling the shade over the small window on it down. You felt your heart beat faster as she turned to face you again. 

“Melissa, I didn't know Dylan was going to ask me out or that he even liked me. I was just trying to tease you-” 

“Bend over and place your palms flat on the desk and look at the paper.” she interrupted with a monotone voice. You looked at her confused, looking around the classroom and then back at her. You and Melissa were into a lot of stuff when it came to kinks, so nothing was ever out of your comfort zone, you had just never done anything at school besides a mini makeout sesh. 

“What? But- Melissa, someone could walk by.” you stated and she just walked closer to you. Her eyes scanning you up and down and her hips swaying. Her sparkling green eyes were dark and lustful now and you couldn't seem to read her as easily as you normally could. 

“Y/n… Bend. Over.” She stated again and you obliged. She hardly used this tone on you and it sent a shiver up your spine. You felt like one of her students that was being scolded. Arousal and excitement was present but so was a slight sense of genuine fear. You walked to face your desk, placing your palms and elbows flat on either side of the paper, causing your ass to arch up so your back was more comfortable as you bent down fully. Looking at the paper you noticed her highlights on the errors you missed, or marked incorrectly. You soon felt her come up behind you and you forgot how to breathe. Your heart was racing, having nothing to look at but the paper before you. Your eyes darted across it, trying to use all your other senses to get an idea of what the woman was doing behind you. You heard her let out a shaky breath as her hand rested on your hip, squeezing ever so softly.

“You know how much I hate you flirting with other people, especially men like Dylan. Do you realize how much of a slut you look like when you do that at work?” Melissa scathed from behind, her grip on your hip tightening. Your breath hitched and you felt a warmth growing in your stomach.

“I wasn't flirting with him.” you quipped back, a false confidence laced in your words. Her other hand came to grip the other hip and you let your eyes shut for a brief moment.

“No man tells a joke that funny hon,” she laughed with a hidden aggression, the addition of the pet name causing you to press your ass back into her, but she stopped you with her grip, holding you into place. “And then, you do a half-ass job on my papers that I so graciously trusted you with even after the stunt you pulled at lunch.” she scoffed, one of her hands running up your back to grab ahold of your hair. She yanked it back slightly as she leaned forward to whisper in your ear earning a moan from you. “Read the paper, out loud.” she released your hair and you let out a small gasp as you looked back at the paper. You were definitely soaked and could feel the fire burning in your core, causing your vision to go blurry for a second. Before you could mutter another word, a knock came from your door and the handle jiggled. 

“Y/n? Are you in there?” Dylan called from the other side. Your eyes went wide as you turned your head to the direction of the door. Then turning your head back to look at Melissa who gazed down at you with a smirk full of pity. Your mouth dropped open as you tried to think of what to say, the lights were still on so you couldn't just pretend to be gone. You felt Melissa run a hand down your thigh and your eyes fluttered, she grabbed for the hem of your skirt and you swallowed. 

“I can't do lesson plans with you today Dylan! I'll see you tomorrow.” you yelled out and he muttered a response and then walked away. 

“Melissa- we can't do this here anyon-”

“Read the paper Y/n.” she ordered, her voice deep and demanding, her hand leaving the hem of your skirt to meet your hip again. Your whole body filled with chills and you looked back at the paper, not wanting to disappoint the woman. You began with the first sentence, a spelling error you missed was highlighted. 

“It can be hard to keep track of time when-” you were cut off by a harsh smack to your bottom. You let out a gasping breath you didn't realize you were holding in and slowly turned to look at her over your shoulder. When your eyes met with the redheads green ones they were filled with mischief and an envious lust. A small devilish smirk graced her face and she raised an eyebrow. 

“Keep reading.”

 You did as you were told and soon another smack was planted. She kept going as you read through the short paper. Speeding up her slaps and placing them across both sides of your ass. With every slap they grew harder and your body was pushing up against the desk. Moans escaping between sentences. You finished the paper and she moaned in disagreement breathing heavily as her own eyes threatened to shut. 

“Again.” 

You started again and she continued. Your ass was on fire and you loved it. Your hip bones in pain from hitting up against the desk, and your knees growing tired. You felt your arousal growing in your underwear and you began to lose your voice from your throat growing dry. Her slaps grew faster and harder and finally as you reached the end of the paper for a second time she delivered a final rough slap. She allowed herself to fall forward, her body pressed against yours and her hand coming to rest next to yours on the desk, her face inches from yours. You both breathed heavily and you allowed your eyes to shut for a moment. She moved her thumb to rub gently against your pinky in a gentle gesture to remind and reassure you of the true intentions behind her actions. As she stood back up she kissed the side of your head and straightened herself out. Fixing her hair as she used one hand to tap your hip a few times. You stood up, your back aching slightly, and your ass completely numb. You turned to face her with your cheeks red and your knees wobbling as you allowed yourself to lean back against your desk, still trying to catch your breath. She walked up to you and placed a hand to your jaw, pulling you in for a passionate kiss, her lips moving in sync with yours, slowly but deeply. She pulled away with a cocky grin, leaving your lips slightly red from her lipstick. 

“Don't think your punishment is over hon, straighten yourself out and meet me in the car.” she said in a hushed and sensual tone, with a wink before letting go of your jaw and leaving your classroom. 

You stood in shock for a moment before packing up your things quicker than you ever had before. Mentally preparing yourself for what is to come when you get home to Melissa’s. 

[interstellarsystem]

Experiences With Being Out as a System

So, our parents know we're a system. It's all good, they understand that when we suddenly speak like someone from London that it's just another guy taking the body for a spin real quick and that they don't need to question it too much.

The thing is... They don't know our names, or anything about us as individuals. We don't have enough open communication with them to actually discuss the inner-workings of the hundreds of little guys in our brain and who they are or what they like, but even if we did, it's not actually important to them. It almost seems like it's swept under the rug.

Our mother said that she doesn't get why she should have to know anyone else when we're all "us". We're all just a collective to her still, a bunch of bits that make up her child, even though she knows we're separate. Her child, the original, isn't here anymore. But the thing is.. some of us want to get to know her and the family individually. Even beyond just being seen as who we actually are, we want to be a part of it aside from being treated as someone who is gone. But it's not a thing they understand despite our explanations of what it means to us, even despite the fact they know the original is dormant and has been for years.

The most anyone in our family knows about us is our mother, and she only knows anyone with a voice similar to Sark as "the american one". She doesn't know that there's even multiple who sound similar to him.

Technically, we're out as a system. Effectively, though... We're still closeted. Though not really because we're staying in it, moreso that we left but it follows us around like a shield within our own household, but it's not shielding us. It's shielding them from us.

Our experience with talking to medical professionals has been hard because of this--sharing bits about ourselves has been scary. It's scarier to show them pictures of our nonhuman headmates and say "that one is me", but it's never actually been bad when we've mustered up the strength to do it. One of them looked at Mal and saw his horns and said he looks like a faun from Greek mythology. Even though he's not, a positive response like that was empowering. That same one said Filigree's hair was cool. Little acknowledgements about who you are when you've tried to be seen before is great.

With our IRL friends, we expected the situation to be similar to our parents. Swept under the rug like a taboo and given weird, uncomfortable looks when spoken about. But it's been completely different.

We get asked who is fronting, we get acknowledged as separate people, hell, we even felt comfortable telling them about our actual fictive identities and letting the ones who wanted to follow this blog (hey guys if you're reading this <3) get access to it. They acknowledge our nonhumanity and nonhuman parts, share things about our sources with us because it reminded them of us, etc. Sometimes, now, because we've been open about it, we get people actually ask "is x fronting" and we say yes and they say "I knew it".

That specific feeling of being recognised even when your outward appearance doesn't change is absolutely amazing. Little manerisms, little ways our voice sounds even when masking accents out in public, even the words we choose to use are tells toward who is actually controlling the body and they pick up on it--even things we might not recognise we even do. Sure, there's hundreds of people in here and people won't know every single one off by heart, but the ones who are out here often are being recognised and that, to me, is amazing and validating to all of us.

I guess the point here is me sharing our experiences, but also.... You will be able to find people who see you for you. You as a system, you as a nonhuman, you as a disabled person, you as a queer person--you'll be able to find your people. And you know, I hope you do soon--because the feeling of being known is great.

[austinsastrology8991]

> Mars in Houses < How you fight demons by becoming more demony ANd where others thirsty for yo Red-Bull-shit

Mars in First - Red bull gave you wings. your venom is oozing out yo teeth, but you still grinning at anything that moves. you act out a lot -and we let you - only because we don't wanna be the reason you lashed out - and you will justify your outbursts with any reason possible. because anything and everything makes you jump into a fist fight. and we don't wanna hear it was our fault later when we all know its your fault Mars in Second - Red bull made you sleep. you tired of fighting, but you will never surrender - so like what do you even want. your easily the most annoying person to get in a fight with because you never quit even if you lost the fight. passive in yo jabs but you a genius at pissing me off. and honestly the only reason i put up with it is because you so god damn sensual but your the definition of walking on egg shells Mars in Third - Red bull gave you intrusive thoughts. You are irrationally provocative and you don't even care that you just pissed everyone off with yo shit talking. you are able to have a conversation, but you must get the final word, and this final word, is why we all roll our eyes at you whenever you say yo 'piece.' notice how know one talks shit back to you? talk is cheap Mars in Fourth - Red bull gave you cancer - you hold in a lot, and we know your insides are boiling into a hot soup and thats why everyone so nice to you. we dont want to be the ones you vomit at. and we know its because yo mama made you bite yo tongue as a kid. and well we gotten used to it Mars in Fifth - Red bull gave you energy - get hyper - *dubstep**ksi appears** your dominant simply because your energy is overwhelming to others > you got the loudest laugh > the 'funniest' jokes > the biggest rawr xd > no one gonna step to you because you loud , and to extinguish yo flames we gotta call the fire brigade because you set the whole building on fire Mars in Sixth - Red bull gave you band aids/aids - you the most non combative person but can cut anyone so easily. you know exactly how to put someone down, and thats why you dont look for fights, because it feels like work at dis point. undercover freaks Mars in Seventh - Red bull gave you an erection - RED ROCKET RED ROCKET ummm do you really gotta show yo red rocket to everyone. seriously you working everyone as if you plan on sleeping with everyone. and the people you really wanna sleep with man, never seen a bigger simp, but keep pretending you a pimp, i mean i would too if i was as thirsty as you Mars in Eighth - Red bull gave you demon wings - scary. you can expose anyone by diggging into their psyche/secrets, and after you expose them, you console them, make them feel better about how you made them yo bitch. I mean its impressive how well you keep your secrets to yourself, but man do you exterminate everyone elses and its uncomfortable to be yo target Mars in Ninth - Red bull made you jump off something high - loud ambitions and a whole buncha energy. and well we know you have a grand plan to take over the world, but we done hearing about it we just waiting to see if you got the balls to do it. oh wow you actually jumped off the cliff and nearly died. was it as legendary as you thought it would be > i mean shit, imma talk about it so maybe? Mars in Tenth - Red bull made you put on a suit - Professionally a proffesional. a professional that proffeses they a profesional professionally like professionals who are proffesional. do you feel like i gave you the respect you deserved, or do you feeel im mocking you? they ask themselves this typa shit 24/7 because they dont wanna get spat on, but they so used to it - so they put themselves in only win win situations to avoid anything 'unprofessional'

Mars in Eleventh - Red bull gave you purpose - yall are kinda fearless but we all know its because you so afraid you wont get your way lol. but you masters at getting yo way, but that just means people dont wanna get in yo way... now ask yourself. how beneficial is this really. i mean at least nothing is an obstacle, but also no one helping you, becasue your attitude has convinced everyone you dont need help, and we also don't want to Mars in Twelfth - Red bull made you think he gave you wings - yall into infecting peoples minds; thats yo weapon. you know the exact right things to pull off to get people stuck in a thought loop of guessing what ifs of what is actually nothing at all. and this 'weapon' after a while, is completely useless after yo game is revealed, but yall are intriguing and are always shapeshifting into some new shit

[ckret2]

On chapter 30 of The Writer Uses Misleading Graphics To Trick You Into Looking At This Fic About Human Bill Being The Shack's Prisoner: Summerween part 2! Bill wheedles Mabel into helping him make a costume. Mabel wheedles Bill into spilling some of his preciously-guarded secret backstory. Ford is kind of in awe.

Also there's like 4.5 drawings in this chapter. They're all very silly drawings.

####

Bill wouldn't tell Mabel what his costume was—"I want to see who can guess it"—but all it needed was a brown bedsheet, a long red wig, cardboard (to be drawn upon), and flip-flop sandals.

The bedsheet was the easiest to acquire. Dipper's barely-worn brown sandals were just slightly too big for Bill but Mabel helped tie them on with yarn. the shack's cardboard supplies were still depleted from making Bill's triangle mask, but they could make do with paper and popsicle sticks. Mabel didn't have a red wig but she did have a blonde wig and red markers. Since Bill was, by his own reporting, terrible at drawing, Mabel offered to do the fancy artwork if Bill did the tedious task of recoloring the wig. He claimed he'd feel like a mortician putting makeup on a car wreck victim, but nevertheless accepted the deal, and they settled in around the living room table to get to work.

"So just a bunch of houses, right?" Mabel asked, starting on the first drawing.

"Ancient Greek-looking houses," Bill said. "So, marble and columns. Don't think too hard about the details—this is a 21st century American costume holiday, not a historical reenactment. You can slap columns on anything and call it 'Greek' and every human in town will buy it."

"Do ancient Greek houses have chimneys?"

"No," Bill said. "But adding one would be funny."

Mabel considered that, weighed up the value of historical accuracy against entertainment value, and decided giving one house a chimney would be funny. She gave the whole house a thick black outline in marker, and pulled out crayons in black, white, and whale blue to quickly add some light shading to the marble. 

Mabel didn't think she'd ever seen Bill focus so hard or so quietly on anything the way he did on coloring that old wig red. He was giving it more attention than he did his own hair: while his golden locks were a tangled, uncombed, soggy mass shoved dismissively over his shoulders, he was dying the cheap wig (and his fingertips) strand by plastic strand with the bright-eyed morbid fascination of a third grader studying a pack of ants as they disassembled a bird's corpse.

This was the longest she'd been around Bill without conversation—usually, you couldn't even walk into a room without him immediately chattering at you like the motion-activated animatronics at the Summerween store. It was hard to think around him. Bill didn't give you room to think.

What did Mabel think about Bill?

He was right, she was still mad about the mall. No—mad wasn't the right word—mad was his word—she was scared. She'd never really stopped being scared of him, if she was honest with herself. But everything he'd done that day, from tricking her into trapping herself to reminding her of almost dying, had just reinforced why she should fear him.

But. She thought he felt bad about it. And she didn't think she'd ever seen him feel bad about anything before.

Maybe that meant her experiment was working. Maybe he was changing. Yeah, he was still scary—but he was Bill Cipher, he had a lot of scariness to work through. He was moving in the right direction, and she wanted to encourage that.

He hadn't apologized for the mall; but, since he'd tried to make up for it at the time, and that was a sort of apologetic action, Mabel decided she could tentatively forgive him for that day—provided he continued to improve. Put him on forgiveness probation. And that meant they were on friendly speaking terms again.

Which was good, because the quiet was starting to get uncomfortable. She surveyed her art for something they could talk about.

After a couple of as-historically-accurate-as-she-could-imagine houses, Mabel had started varying up the designs by redesigning houses she could remember off the top of her head with columns and white marble. She'd made a stately marble Mystery Shack, and a columned-covered doppelgänger of the house with the terraced yard across the street at home, and then she'd decided to make a Greek-ish version of her own home. "Hey Bill. Have you ever seen my house?"

"In person? No. But it came up from time to time in you kids' dreams, so whether I've seen it depends on how accurate you think your dreams are," he said. "It has less plants and more windows in your brother's dreams than in yours."

Mildly disturbing answer, but not disturbing in the direction she'd expected. "What! You mean you haven't haunted our neighborhood or anything? I don't believe it."

"Do you think I spend all my time stalking random humans? Don't flatter yourself."

"Well, seeing it in dreams isn't good enough!" Mabel pulled over a blank paper. It was hours until trick-or-treaters showed up, they had a little time to waste. "I'll draw it!"

"Wow, really?" Bill looked up from his wig. "You're not worried about letting the big bad triangle see your house?"

"Come on! You already know where I live, right?"

Bill immediately rattled off, "1337 Fairview Drive, Piedmont, California, on the northeast side of the street where it's less hilly."

"Exactly—you creep. So who cares if you know what it looks like, too?"

A square, sky blue house with two stories and a triangular roof; a big living room window on the left, a covered door on the right, three windows on the second floor, and a chimney. Mabel had drawn her home plenty of times—but doing it for a friend (?) was different from doing it for a teacher or a librarian, and she put extra effort into the rose bushes under the living room window. She added her and Dipper's smiling faces in the upstairs windows and Waddles's face downstairs in the living room.

"Waddles sleeps in the kitchen, but he basically owns half the yard to wallow in. This is my room, and here's Dipper's—I get three windows, but Dipper has the biggest window and a bigger room, so it's fair, no matter what he says—"

"Oh, you two have separate rooms now?" Bill was leaning halfway around the table and craning his neck to see the image right side up.

"Uh, yeah? Since we were ten?"

Loftily, Bill said, "I don't know how you'd expect me to know that. You both still dream about sharing a room."

Mabel paused and tried to remember how often she dreamed about Dipper in his new room. Sometimes she woke and was still disoriented to find her bed in the middle of the room instead of against one wall with Dipper's on the other side. "Huh."

She added a few more details—the front steps, the gate, the shingles. (Bill watched nervously as she pulled out the gray crayon to color the driveway—but she didn't notice how it had been tampered with.) She talked about her home, and in turn Bill told her weird things, like that Dipper often dreamed of monsters coming out of the fridge. When she finished, she autographed her name with a star on the "i" in Pines, offered it over grandly, and said, "Here, you can keep this!"

Bill accepted it without the customary effusive gratitude with which one ought to accept a generously-gifted original artwork from a 13-year-old prodigy. "What am I gonna do with it?"

"That's your problem!"

"Fair enough!" He checked his leggings for pockets and, when he didn't find any, set the page on the table by his elbow. 

Offering accepted. As Bill resumed coloring his wig, Mabel picked up another piece of paper and got to work on the next columned house. "What does your house look like?"

Bill stopped dead, looked straight at her, and said, "My what?"

What was weird about the question? "Your house! Or whatever you lived in before you came here. You came from somewhere before you tried to invade Earth, right? You didn't just pop out of somebody's dream."

Bill laughed. "Yeah I did!"

"Bill."

"4500 years ago the construction workers of Egypt had a shared nightmare about the immense tombs they'd spent the last century building—"

"Biiiill."

"—and when they awoke they found the combined psychic energy of their terror had spawned a sleep paralysis demon more powerful than Ra! So then I ate their souls—"

"Seriously, Bill."

"I'm being so serious right now."

Mabel rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine! I get it. You're embarrassed." She shook her head and returned to coloring.

She felt the combined spiritual energy of hundreds of imaginary Egyptian construction workers beating down on her face from Bill's eye. Like a laser. "'Embarrassed'?"

"Because you don't have a house," Mabel said. "I think it's okay, you don't need to be embarrassed! I don't think you're a loser or anything. It's just kind of sad—"

Bill snatched up a blank piece of paper. "You want a house? Fine! I'll show you a house." He grabbed up an orange crayon, muttering, "It'll put your stupid overpriced shed in California to shame— Where's the ruler—?" Mabel tried not to grin.

For several minutes, he was perfectly silent. Mabel glanced over to see him coloring with three crayons at once, only for him to shove a hand in her face and snap, "No peeking."

Mabel got through two more drawings before Bill slapped down his paper over Mabel's. "There! How about that?!"

She looked at the drawing, which Bill had helpfully labeled "Party Central!" in red crayon. A great stone pyramid so dark brown it was nearly black, with bricks outlined in brilliant gold and molten orange and fiery red, and a sharp multicolored X hovering above it—

Mabel gave Bill a flat look. "This isn't your house, this is your Torture Temple."

"The what? Hey, is that really what people are calling it?! It's not the Torture Temple, it's the Fearamid!"

Despite herself, Mabel burst out laughing. "You named it the 'Fearamid'?!"

"It's a pyramid and humans fear it! It's genius. Portmanteaus make great names."

"What's a portmanteau."

"It's a word made from the unholy Frankensteinian fusion of two other words. Like getting 'electrocute' from 'electricity' and 'execute'!"

"Or 'romcom'?"

"Yeah, or that."

Mabel considered the drawing. "If you want to scare less people, you could call this your Bill-ding."

"HA! Oh, I'm saving that."

"Anyway, this isn't where you live," Mabel said. "You were there for like a week tops!"

"Yeah, before your great-uncle killed me. I'd still be living there if it weren't for you jerks." He stuck out his tongue.

"Come on, Bill. I showed you my house. Draw where you grew up or something!"

"What's wrong with the Fearamid?"

Mabel crossed her arms. "Why don't you want me to see your real house?" She raised her eyebrows at him.

Bill opened his mouth to protest, but then stopped, a thoughtful look on his face. "Eh, you know what? Why not. If you're gonna be so ridiculous about such a silly thing." He pulled over another piece of paper. "But if I don't have enough time to finish coloring this wig, you have to help me."

"Fiiine." She returned to her own drawings as Bill got back to work.

After a long silence—longer than he'd taken to draw and color the Fearamid—he said, "Okay, done. Here." And he pushed over the paper with one dismissive finger.

She eagerly accepted the drawing—and frowned. There was nothing on the page except for a straight flat black line, interrupted by three line segments of bright blue and a cluster of red and green dashes. "What is this?"

"Where I grew up," Bill said, innocently, already back to coloring the wig. Mabel could see his mischievous smirk. "As seen from the front. Just like your drawing of your house. So we're even now."

Mabel's brows furrowed as she stared at the page in confusion. "What...?"

"You do know I'm from the second dimension, right? A universe that's flat like a piece of paper. I figured Sixer would've told you all about it by now." Bill picked up the drawing and held it between his and Mabel's faces, so that, viewed from the edge, all Mabel could see of the paper was a thin flat line. "What do you think the second dimension looks like to somebody in the second dimension?"

Mabel took the paper back, looked at the underwhelming flat line representing the front of Bill's house, and said, "I hate you." 

"We had the prettiest roses in the park," Bill said, pointing at the red dashes. "Crayon really doesn't do them justice."

"Shut uppp."

Bill laughed at her; but then, to her surprise, he said, "Okay, all right, I guess a big fancy 3D creature like you can't understand the nuances of two-dimensional sight. So, here." He flipped over the page. "Top down view."

The back of the page had what looked like a floorplan. A narrow room on the left, a large L-shaped room, a tiny room nestled into the L's top right corner, and a medium room on the right. Little shapes filled the rooms—furniture of some kind?—but she didn't see anything immediately recognizable like a top-down bed or table and chairs. Green and red spirals dangled off the bottom of the floorplan.

"I'm no Edward Bishop Bishop, but it gets the idea across," Bill said.

She studied all the strange little figures in fascination, looking for anything familiar. She pointed at a few shallow bowls filled with blue sticking out of the wall between the L-shaped room and the tiny room. "Are these sinks?"

"Hey, you're pretty sharp. Sinks and the tub." 

"So the little room's the bathroom."

"Right again." Bill pointed out the rooms on the floor plan. "Master bed's on the right, kitchen and living room in the middle—and you found the bathroom—and second bed's on the left. That was my room! The one with a million books," he pointed at a wall with countless tiny multicolored lines coming off of it. "I was a big reader as a kid. I've always been an intellectual."

"Who was in the other bedroom?"

"I never really went in there, who cares." Bill made a dismissive gesture. "I think there were some desks and stuff in there too, but I didn't bother to draw them since I never used them." He picked up a yellow and a black crayon and added on to the drawing, dexterously turning the crayons in his hand to switch between colors without setting either one down. "I spent most of my time in my room." He'd drawn a little yellow triangle with an eye. He picked up a red crayon to point an arrow at the triangle and label it "Me!" "I didn't even have to leave the room to see the TV. The perks of psychic powers!"

Mabel wondered which of the weird shapes was the TV; but before she could come to a decision, she was distracted by the scale of Bill drawn in his room. Maybe he'd just drawn himself big, but he seemed cramped in that narrow space. And he'd hardly have room to turn around in the bathroom without his corner smacking something. "It looks pretty small. Is that normal on your home world?"

"Ah, I rarely spent time at home—it was just a place to sleep between speaking engagements," Bill said. "I was always on tour. Living the life of the rich and famous! Hotels, jet planes, and tour buses!"

Mabel shot him an irritated look. "You said this is where you grew up."

"This is where I grew up! I got an early start making my fortune. I was already famous by the time I was, uh..." he pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Developmentally, I think I would've been about equivalent to your age. Maybe a bit younger."

How much of all this was true? It didn't feel like a lie—and she couldn't see how he'd benefit from lying about any of it, except maybe claiming to be famous. So it probably had to be true. He'd actually made her a drawing of his house. Even after he'd complained about being so bad at art. She beamed at him. "Thanks, Bill. Your weird alien house is neat! I like the squiggly spiral flowers! Are they actually roses?"

"They were the flower that everyone mentions in poetry and that you have to bring home when your wife is mad, so, same basic function as roses," Bill said. "Fun fact, they grow in spirals so that they're pretty on the outside, but—"

####

"—but have more surface area to absorb sunlight on the inside," Mabel said, pointing at the flowers. "Alien biology! And the orange things are couches and the colorful box in front of them is his TV, and Bill says he could watch TV through the wall but he never really liked TV, he preferred live performances—maybe we should take him to a musical! And the little sideways cushions on the walls are their beds because gravity goes to the left because their house faces east—I have no idea why!—so, I guess that's their 'floor'? But if that's the 'floor,' Bill didn't explain why all his books were on the 'ceiling' without them falling off, and..." Mabel trailed off, giving Ford a concerned look. "Grunkle Ford? Are you okay?"

He was gaping at the drawing. "Wh—? Yes. Sorry. I'm just..." He shook his head in amazement. "I never even got that slippery eel to admit he has a calendar system, and you got the blueprints to his childhood home?"

Dipper said, "Yeah, this is amazing. How did you get this out of him?"

"Oh, I didn't do anything special," Mabel said casually. "Just drew our house and then suggested he was too scared to let me see his."

Dipper grimaced. "You showed him our house?"

"Don't worry about it! He already knows where we live."

"Of course," Ford said, taking a quick note in his journal. "Exploiting his ego. He's very proud; undermine that pride and he'll feel compelled to defend his honor." Ford had started goading Bill into giving away more than he meant to the same way. He wished he'd started doing it far earlier; but he'd spent so many years foolishly assuming Bill's pride was objective and justified that he sometimes forgot what an egomaniac Bill really was.

As Mabel had spoken, Ford had filled several pages with bullet-pointed half thoughts: dodges questions about the master bed—his parents' room?; no bed or bedroom for a sibling, he seems like an only child; "speaking engagements" is probably a euphemism, what was he doing to become a child celebrity; were his books his only childhood possessions or just the only thing he valued enough to draw; did he gain his "psychic powers" while amassing the power he needed to "liberate"/destroy his dimension? "Can I borrow this drawing to make a photocopy?"

"Sure! Don't forget the line on the back," Mabel said. "And you can copy the Fearamid, too! Did you know he named it the 'Fearamid'?"

"Oh yeah, I heard him call it that," Dipper said. "I think I recorded it in Journal 3?"

"I should've read that before we threw out all of Grunkle Ford's Bill stuff," Mabel sighed. She slid over the Fearamid drawing to Ford. "Bwop! He drew it tilting all weird to the left? He wasn't kidding when he said he's bad at drawing."

Ford studied the drawing and frowned. He lay his pen on the drawing to use like a makeshift ruler. "It's not 'skewed'—he drew the front face as a perfect equilateral triangle, and then extended a side on the right to turn it into a pyramid. It's poor perspective—there's no point of view from which one side would look like a perfect equilateral triangle and you could see another side, but..." He trailed off again as he made a note to himself about what this might mean about Bill's ability to perceive the third dimension and his artistic sensibilities.

"So he draws like Picasso!" Mabel concluded. "Oh! Bill mentioned a name when he gave me his house, he said he wasn't like Edward Bishop Bishop—and I remembered it because it sounds funny. Bishop-Bishop. Maybe he's another artist Bill likes? Or somebody who makes blueprints?"

"I'm sure I've heard that name. I think he was a mathematician?" Ford frowned. "I can't recall, though." He wrote down another note: Edward Bishop Bishop – mathematician/artist? Something to look up later.

Dipper glanced back and forth between Ford and Mabel as they talked, feeling his stomach sink at how excited they were and how easily they got along. First the mysterious disappearing crystal shop in Portland, now Mabel made this huge discovery about the guy Ford had spent years trying to learn about... Dipper swallowed hard and tried to tell himself he shouldn't feel jealous after he'd gotten Ford to himself for basically the past year. "I can't believe you found out all this."

Mabel immediately looked at him. "Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

Dipper winced. He'd realized a moment too late how he must have sounded. Quickly, he said, "I mean, it's great that you did! Finding out more information about him is great. But, like... investigating the paranormal is my thing. It's what I spent all last summer doing, and it's my dream job, and... and now, the biggest paranormal mystery in human history is in our house, and you're the one getting all the info out of him?"

"Well, yeah," Mabel said. "I'm our official Bill spy, remember? I'm the one who made friends with him."

"I know, I know." He shrugged jerkily. "I'm just... kind of disappointed that I'm not prying eons-old secrets out of an alien demon. You know?"

Ford had paused in his writing to listen to Dipper thoughtfully. "I understand. When you're exceptional at something, it can be... difficult to share the limelight," he said. "Not because you don't think anyone else deserves it. You just don't know if you'll ever get it back."

Dipper's face heated up—he didn't want Ford to think he was bad at sharing, of all things—but he mumbled, "Yeah, I guess." Ford patted his shoulder understandingly. 

"Aww," Mabel said. "Didn't you say that if we're running an experiment on being nice to Bill, you want to be in the control group?" She punched his arm. "Welcome to the control, bro!"

"Ow!" Dipper rubbed his arm and laughed weakly. "Yeah, okay, you're right. This is what I get."

Mabel said, "You should try talking to Bill! Maybe he'll tell you stuff too. He's really easy to talk to as long as you don't mind him sometimes saying creepy nightmare things."

"And as long as you're prepared for his mental tricks," Ford said.

"Yeah! Grunkle Ford's got a whole class for that," Mabel said. "He'll teach you about the BITE model! It's how cults sink their teeth into you!"

Dipper chuckled. "Sure. Maybe I will. We're gonna be at home handing out candy for a few hours, maybe I'll find an opportunity to interrogate him."

"You're not going trick-or-treating?" Ford asked.

"No," Mabel said, with an exaggerated sigh of disappointment.

Dipper elbowed her for her theatrics; they'd already agreed on what they'd do tonight. "We've got plans with friends. But we do get to wear matching costumes again."

"Creepy ghost children!"

"Ah," Ford said. "That explains your..." He gestured at them. They were wearing a suit and a dress, old-fashioned and gray, with tattered hems and dusty black dress shoes.

"Barty helped us put the outfits together," Dipper said.

"We still need to do our makeup," Mabel said. "What about you, Grunkle Ford? What are you doing for Summerween?"

"Ah." He glanced toward the ceiling ruefully, as though he could see The Enemy in the shack through the many layers of dirt above. Summerween had been one of the things he'd missed most about Gravity Falls; even during his years as a reclusive scientist in the woods, he'd usually taken off Summerween and Halloween to hand out candy to the children bold enough to visit his house.

But Bill's eagerness to participate had sucked the fun out of the day. The thought of celebrating Summerween in the same house as Bill felt too much like celebrating with him. "Nothing, I suppose. I was planning to stay down here." He gestured at his desk. "Continue my research."

"What are you working on right now?" Dipper asked.

Ford quickly said, "Nothing. Just—the same research," and was immediately hit with a pang of guilt. Remember what happened last summer when you tried to keep secrets about Bill out of embarrassment? Reluctantly, he said, "I've... split some research duties with Fiddleford. While I'm waiting to hear back from him, I'm looking into—some magical knowledge Bill revealed. To determine how much of it's true."

Dipper looked puzzled. "Revealed when?"

Mabel slammed her hands on Ford's desk. "Grunkle Ford, you can take a break from gathering intel on the enemy for one day! It's Summerween! Promise me you'll do something to celebrate before the day's over."

Ford let out a huff, but smiled. He wanted to do something. Surely he could come up with something that would let him avoid Bill? "All right, I promise. I won't invoke the Trickster's wrath tonight. Could you leave your costume makeup in the bathroom when you're finished? I'll find something to do with it."

"Perfect!" Mabel hugged him; then grabbed Dipper's hand. "C'mon, let's finish getting dressed. The trick-or-treaters will be here any minute!"

"Okay, okay." Dipper waved at Ford as Mabel dragged him to the elevator.

When they were gone, Ford turned back to the papers Mabel had given him. Bill's childhood home... Assuming he wasn't lying, at least. But an entire blueprint seemed like a complicated spur-of-the-moment fabrication even for him. If Bill was lying, it was a lie close to the truth.

It was strange to imagine Bill as a child with a bedroom full of books. Strange to imagine Bill as a child at all. What did a young triangle look like? He couldn't imagine anything different from how Bill always looked.

The floorplan did look small. Smaller even than the apartment over the pawn shop had been. Ford tried to remember what the homes he'd seen in Exwhylia had looked like...

He raised his head as something the kids had said registered. "Barty? Who's Barty?"

####

While Mabel was downstairs, Bill inspected her box of crayons.

The wrapper around the gray crayon was coming loose.

He took the glue stick they'd been using to reinforce the paper houses with popsicle sticks and carefully stuck the wrapper back on.

The house was too quiet without anyone around to talk to. He hated the quiet.

From the corner of the living room behind the table, when Bill leaned on the wall, shut his eyes, and listened closely, he could faintly hear the hidden elevator. He headed upstairs to stow the drawing of Mabel's house somewhere safe, and then went to the downstairs bathroom to finish dressing for Summerween.

####

(Y'all I worked hard on those fake crayon drawings. Anyway I know we're all collectively going insane today over the book news but if you took time out of your day to read this, I'd love to hear what y'all think!)

[kaonarvna]

Every now and again, I remember that my disability (EDS) isn't invisible, actually. People are just uncomfortable when they can see it. People don't want to see it. People like to ignore it. Other people just stare at it, and don't even look at me. All they see is a pile of bones and fascia and something to pity.

I've worn a shoulder brace the past week, because it subluxed horribly a week or so ago. Still healing. Visible.

I always have compression sleeves on my arms, full coverage. Bicep to wrist. Visible.

I have soft braces and compression kit for every joint imaginable. Visible.

I'm covered in KT tape. I've worn it on my goddamn face after a jaw sublux, for that little extra support and proprioception help. Tape. On the face. Very visible.

The people I've worked with for years are used to it by now, the good ones, at least. They don't remark when I take a minute to stretch. They know I'll say something if I'm not okay. They know I'm in a constant state of variable dysfunction. They've seen enough, they're used to it.

But then there's people who aren't used to it. People who see me stretch on the ground, watch in discomfort, then they ask someone else if I'm okay. I can hear them quietly mutter it to other staff. I hear them go, "oh, he does that". I can see their discomfort with me (just existing as I need to exist). I can see the discomfort in these new people who aren't accustomed to bodies with slightly different needs, and it's a visceral reminder of being "other". I wonder, how terrible and scary and different I must be, for them to not even have the fortitude to ask me themselves.

And then there are the new people who see it and ask too many questions. The ones who go "but you're so young!" as though my connective tissue has a concept of social expectations for people under (arbitrary age). They go "but you look great!" as though I'm not covered in bruises and held together by tape (nevermind the implication that the disabled must look "bad"). They go "but you never call in!" as though I'm not often two seconds away from doing so, before the fear of losing my job sets in.

...and these are the ones who seem to wish not to see it the most. The ones who ask questions like I should be on display, and as soon as the conversation ends, so does my disability. They'll ask the same questions the next time, and the next time, and the next. It always ends with statements of pity, or something pity-adjacent. If I'm "lucky", they might even make an inappropriate comment about how I shouldn't be working, or sex must be "interesting", or act like I'm some eldritch horror that shouldn't exist.

And I'm reminded of the training I was once made to sit though. A ninety minute training, where you sit and watch the PowerPoint for ninety minutes in a too-small plastic chair, while someone reads the PowerPoint. The presenter started with a cute little "haha I know it's long, feel free to get up and walk around, or stretch".

I did.

I got up, walked myself to the side well out of the way of the tight chair lines, and laid down to stretch (a good spinal twist, loosen things up).

And she stopped the presentation.

She asked if there were any first-aiders present.

She was going to keep going on and on, until I heard someone say, "oh, he's fine, he does that." and a few "that's just (name), he does that". She started apologising profusely, waffling about how she thought there must have been a medical emergency, how people don't usually get up. She seemed baffled by the mere concept that someone would actually need to get up, and couldn't sit for ages. Her statement was entirely performative and insincere.

Today, after the day was effectively done, I laid down on the clean, carpeted floor in my classroom to just...be horizontal for a moment. Find some way, any way, to get my lower back to move and function and not feel like it was being clawed apart from the inside. Relieve myself a little, so I could finish the day without abject misery. And this very-new member of staff sat on the other side of the room, presumably watching me. When I got up, she asked very quietly, "Is something wrong with you?" and all I had the energy to say was "I'm fine". I'm tired of explaining my body. I'm tired of explaining my needs. I'm tired of justifying taking care of myself.

Someone recently told me "You're very brave. I think I'd rather die than live like you."

I didn't respond. I didn't have the energy to break down that she'd effectively told me I should die. I didn't have the energy to tell her that it's not bravery to live "like this".

It's my only option.

I know nothing else.

And I'm just tired. And hurting.

I'm grateful for the few good ones, the ones that are used to it. The people who have stopped asking me if I'm okay when I stretch, or need a little break, or get out the tape and scissors.

They know I'm not okay. That's why I'm on the ground. That's why I'm checking my range of motion, or feeling a joint, or holding pressure on a digit that's come undone. I'm not okay, and I'm trying not to get even worse.

I'm not okay, actually. I'm never okay, and that's fine. I'll never be your version of "okay", and that's fine. I've no choice. Thank you for knowing that I'm not okay, but that that's normal, and that if something was seriously, horribly wrong, I'd do something. Thank you, for just going about your business and talking to me as normal when I'm taking care of myself, instead of sprinkling eggshells on the ground for your own personal crunching.

I'm just tired. I'm visibly disabled if you look for ten goddamn seconds. I'm a person if you look for twenty. I'm a fetish if you just keep staring and staring and asking about my body like you're entitled to my flesh. I just want to sleep for more than two hours without my body waking itself up to remind me it hurts. I'm so tired.

[genshin-obsessed]

When Someone Flirts with You | Haikyuu [Karasuno]

Ok, so I debated on this for a while because this has already ben posted. However, its on a blog I don't/can't go on anymore. Since this is my writing (idea and all), I'm gonna repost it here. I did debate on reblogging the fic here, but it's my works and I want them with me, on this blog. Basically, if you've seen this exact fic posted two years ago, it was me. That blog has my name and everything if you need proof. I just don't want to draw attention to it. I did reuse tags lol cuz I don't know them too well yet

Characters: Shoyo Hinata, Tobio Kageyama, Kei Tsukishima, Tadashi Yamaguchi, Ryunosuke Tanaka, Yu Nishinoya, Asahi Azumane, Koshi Sugawara, Daichi Sawamura

Extra: they're all aged up btw

COME ONE! COME ALL! See what happens when someone flirts with you in front of your mans!

➺ Shoyo Hinata

He’s kinda scared of PDA? Not scared, but he gets embarrassed easily. So there’s not much touching in public, aside from hand holding. This leads people to not know you’re taken and so you’re fair game.

This boy is NOT scary. He’s quite the opposite unless he has his MOMENT which is rare and fizzles out really fast. At first, he’ll let you handle the situation and ONLY jump in when he’s positive you require help. He’s not a helicopter boyfriend, you’re an adult. You can handle yourself. So, he’ll usually come up and tell the person that you’re uncomfortable and that they should go away.

That’s never worked before. Ever. Not one time. Hinata just looks CUTE and he’s not the tallest. Even as an adult, he’s still about 172cm (5’7). So there’s a chance the person is taller than him and if they are, they won’t take him seriously. The whole “under 6ft is not a man” bs. They’ll just shove him aside to get to you.

He hates that. There’s one thing to tease him and bully him but YOU? Oh that’s a whole nother ball game. Hinata doesn’t like seeing you upset/uncomfortable. He does everything in his power to keep you smiling so when he sees someone directly causing you discomfort… God help them.

The next method would depend on the situation. If he has a ball with him, he will throw it (this happened once at practice when you came to watch and someone wouldn’t leave you alone). But he can also jump to their height and punch/slap them. Hinata has gotten much stronger since his high school days. He will defend you at all costs.

His little jump attack? 10/10 it works EVERY SINGLE TIME and they’re GONE. Or you know… unconscious. Usually the area would go dead silent and all you can hear is Hinata huff. He’ll take your hand as gently as he can and lead you out of the establishment. Once you have fresh air, he’ll gently take your shoulders and ask if you’re ok. Reassurance is especially important here.

“They’ll never bother you again, (n/n). Are you ok?”

➺ Tobio Kageyama

Tobio isn’t one to flaunt your relationship because he’s a pretty private person. So not EVERYONE knows you’re together. Which is completely fine and acceptable, it’s just how he is. The thing is, this leads to situations where people think you’re single. If he walks away or you’re alone, people will take their chance.

 You get hit on when you’re alone, usually. So, you’ll always try to find Tobio when you’re in that situation. He’ll spot you in seconds. He’s always got an eye on you (cuz you’re hot and he can’t help it).   You’ll get the person to see Tobio and he’ll just GLARE. Usually, about 9 times outta 10, his death glare makes everyone go away. It’s pretty scary, especially if he’s like two feet away from them.

But there’s always one person it doesn’t work on. The one who decides to push it and try to physically touch you. This has only happened once, but the person rolled their eyes, pushed Tobio away, and pushed you against the wall.

Oh boy. Tobio doesn’t care if people bother HIM but someone who makes you uncomfortable tries to touch you? Their funeral. Especially this dirtbag. Your eyes widened in pure fear and panic when your back roughly hit the wall. The person’s face was inches away from your own and you couldn’t see Tobio anymore. You’d frozen up completely.

It only lasted a second before the person was on the floor. You’d barely had time to blink before Tobio DRAGGED them and roughly threw them to the side. The person glared and sat up, ready to curse him out when Tobio kicked him in the chest. This is usually how it would go. He takes them by surprise and throws them to the ground, all while barely breaking a sweat.

10/10 they’re probably unconscious or too terrified to move. He’ll just glare at them before slowly walking over to you. Tobio will give you a minute and will often try to hide you from the crowd that is undoubtedly staring at you. If your other friends are there, they'll hide you from view until you’re calm enough to where Tobio can take you away.

“Are you ok? It’s ok, take a deep breath. No one will ever do that to you again… I swear.”

➺ Kei Tsukishima

If you’re dating Tsukishima, you’ve gotta be tough on SOME LEVEL. There’s no way you can’t handle him but got close enough to start dating him. Then again… he doesn’t mind a cute, soft, shy partner. That just means he’ll need to be your shield more often than not. And let’s be honest, he likes protecting you. Tsuki’s not big on PDA. Like Kageyama, the entire world doesn’t need to know your business. So people can think you’re single. And you, lil pretty thang, you attract people.

You try to stick next to your boyfriend when you’re out in a public place or somewhere with lots of people. But if he does leave for a minute or you do, people will swoop in. Tsuki knows IMMEDIATELY. He just does, he’s psychic like that. He’ll see if you need help and if you do, he’ll come stand by. Tsuki’s height alone is enough to deter people, but of course, he’s pretty lanky (like… where’s the muscle?). So, most people wouldn’t be too deterred. 5/10.

See, Tsuki gets it, you’re hot. Of course people wanna flirt with you but they should learn to take a hint. Especially when you tell them you’re not interested. They usually kinda just ignore him or push him out of the way or even try to take you away. Like hell Tsuki’s gonna let that happen. Bitch please. Anyone who underestimates Tsuki is in for a treat. He can and will destroy someone’s self esteem through words. Who needs to fight? Not him. He will roast tf outta some until they’re no longer confident in themselves.

That’s the good thing about Tsuki, he doesn’t need muscle to chase people off. He’s not that weak either though, so worse comes to worse, he can defend you. But worry not, there’s no need for violence with that mouth of his. There is ONE more thing Tsuki will do that will ALWAYS get rid of people. He does this rarely because it scares you a little, but it's effective.

Tsuki will come up to you and then… he’ll punch the wall above your head and glared down at the person. No one stays after that! So 10/10! Would recommend. After that, Tsuki sighs and lets his hand fall on your head, breaking you out of your trance.

“Your face looks weird. Come on, it’s fine now. Let’s go somewhere else though.”

➺ Tadashi Yamaguchi

Oh boy… 

He HATES confrontation, but for you, he’ll step right in. Usually, Tadashi likes to get in between you and the offender. He’ll try to tell them to stop bothering you. He really crosses his fingers and hopes it’ll work.

2/10, sadly, he’s just too cute to be scary. So, usually, people just brush past him or even shove him away. This kinda does put a damper on his mood. He wishes every single time he was as scary as Tsukishima (who wouldn’t want to be?) so he could scare people off. When you see that though… ooh.

This usually causes you to get VERY upset! You don’t like it when people treat Tadashi like crap so you become quite aggressive. That works BUT sometimes you’ll get those creeps that like “feisty” people. So they’ll often just pin you to a wall. This usually sparks something in Tadashi. He just… loses it. Sorry, Tsukishima who?

Since their backs are turned to him, he’ll just come up behind them, grab their hair and pull so hard they fall to the ground. If they’re bald then he’ll do the same but with their shirt. You’ll take your chance to hide behind Tadashi, who’s just death glaring at the person on the floor.

69/10! Works EVERY SINGLE TIME! Tadashi doesn’t understand it, where the hell did that come from?! But it’s very effective because the person is always gone. He just hopes no one stands up to fight him because he’ll 100% lose. He’ll realize that he might’ve been really scary and slowly turns around to face you.

“A-are you ok? I-I’m sorry if I scared you.”

➺ Ryunosuke Tanaka

Everyone and their grandmothers have to know you two are together! He’s usually all over you but you don’t hate it. It’s nice when you’re in a place with creeps around. But sometimes one of the creeps doesn’t see him or does see him but doesn’t care. They’ll saunter over to you and just shamelessly start flirting.

He’ll join them! Literally. He’ll swing his arm around the person and just lean in and start complimenting you. “You’re right, they’re hot! Hey baby! You here by yourself?” It’s odd, but you always feel better when he’s nearby in situations like this.

Usually, the person gets weirded out. They don’t know Tanaka (unless they saw him) and so they’ll either claim you’re theirs or just ask Tanaka what he’s doing. Usually, it works. If they recognize him, they’ll just quickly leave but sometimes they don’t. They’ll shove him off and try to regain your attention.

Tanaka takes it as a compliment. He’s not one to just start getting aggressively possessive. No. You’re HOT. DROP DEAD GORGEOUS! He takes it as a compliment when people flirt with you BUT to an extent. If they make you uncomfortable he goes nuts. Yeah, you’re ridiculously attractive but that doesn’t mean you don’t have feelings.

His next method is usually shoving them back. He’ll make it clear that you’re his partner and you’re not comfortable. Sometimes this makes people go away but there’s always one. For that, Tanaka just punches them. It only takes one. They’re either knocked out or just too scared to stay.

10/10. Unconscious or gone. He’ll smirk proudly, then hug you immediately. If you’re super scared or just really anxious, he’ll take a second before touching you. He prefers to reassure first before getting too into your space.

“It’s ok, they’re gone. Come on, let’s go somewhere else.”

➺ Yu Nishinoya

He’s kind of like Tanaka. He loves to show off his gorgeous partner. Everyone has to know cuz he brags about you ALL THE TIME. Kiyoko who?

Like I said, he’s like Tanaka. He’ll join whoever’s flirting with you. “Hey sexy! Wanna get outta here?” This prompts the person to ask who tf he is. “Huh? Oh! I’m just flirting with my partner. They’re hot, right? I know.” 

3/10. That, unsurprisingly, fails. Why wouldn’t it? Unlike Tanaka… Nishinoya’s just kinda… cute. He’s not very intimidating. People just shove him away and turn their attention back to you.

Nishinoya’s really in tune with your emotions. Like… it’s kinda weird how well he knows you. He can just feel the second you panic. That really pisses him off. He even scares you sometimes.

He’ll usually grab the person’s arm and tug them back, silently with just fury in his eyes. “Don’t. Touch. Them.” This bumps the effectiveness to 8/10. People get scared and leave but there’s always one. Noya’s already in aggressive mode, so it’s not too difficult to handle this person. He’ll kick their knee. Hard. If it breaks, oh well. 10/10. They’re gone. Either taken away by friends or something, but they won’t ever bother you again. At this point, Noya takes your hand and leads you away.

“Sorry if I scared you, but we should leave. I’m sorry you had to go through that. Some people are just disgusting.”

➺ Asahi Azumane

He doesn't show you off like Tanaka or Noya, but he usually has his arm around you. This proves to everyone you're his, right? Well some people just don’t care. 

If he sees you getting uncomfy, he'll be by your side in a second!! He usually starts off by putting distance between you and the offender. 5/10; Asahi’s pretty intimidating looking, so 50% of the time, people get scared off. But there are some who don’t…

He’s not a fighter. He won’t just resort to kicking ass, so he’ll try to explain that you’re uncomfy. That kinda shows people he’s intimidating on the outside but soft on the inside, so they push him out of the way. That’s when you’ll scream for Asahi to help.

It’s on purpose, actually. Because it kinda sparks something in him. He just… changes. He doesn’t like it when you’re uncomfortable and he hates it when you’re scared. So, he’ll grab the person’s shoulder with a death grip. With one rough shove backwards and away from you usually does the trick. If it doesn’t… we’ll he’s pretty strong and he’s a big guy.

then people realize… yeah no, he’s just as scary on the inside. 10/10 they’re GONE.

“Hey are you ok? I’m so sorry you had to deal with that. Do you wanna go home? We can just watch movies and cuddle.”

➺ Koshi Sugawara

Koshi is attached to you at the hip. He’s always with you and your friends know you’re dating. But he’s not really one for super, crazy PDA. I mean, he doesn’t have an issue with it, he often just finds himself standing next to you. Not touching you. This kinda leads most people to think you’re just friends.

Koshi kinda lets you handle it, but if you’re starting to get really uncomfortable, just look at him. He’ll stand beside you and just ask what’s going on. To which most people tell him to “get lost”. He’ll just smile and explain that you’re not very comfortable and they should leave you alone. 

0/10. It’s never worked and it never will. They usually sigh, roll their eyes, grab your hand and try to tug you away from Koshi.

Usually, that’s what sends Koshi into like… defensive, scary Koshi. Flirting is one thing, being pushy is one thing, but forcefully taking you away…

The second someone pulls you away, he’ll grab their wrist with such a strong grip, it causes bruising. That causes the person to let go and you immediately run and hide behind Koshi.

69/10! The air around Koshi is just suffocating, he’s horrifically intimidating, and with just one look people go rigid. No one bothers him or you if you're still at the establishment. Chances are you’ll leave though.

“Sorry if I scared you, darling. Are you ok? Come on, let’s get you home.”

➺ Daichi Sawamura

Daichi’s kinda like Suga. He’s usually seen with his arm around your shoulders or you attached to his arm. Again, he’s not against PDA- he’ll kiss you in public, no problem- but does he need to? If not, there’s no reason. So again, people have a hard time telling you’re together.

Because of that, he doesn’t become aggressive when someone flirts with you. Maybe they didn’t know and they DID build up the courage to talk to you. So, he’ll just stand beside you and kindly explain you’re taken and you don’t appreciate the flirting.

It’s rare that this works out. Some people will genuinely apologize and leave, which is great. But the chances of that are like 2%. 98% of people scoff and just brush him off, turning back to you and explaining they’d be a better option.

Oh boy. Daichi does NOT appreciate that. He’s caring and sweet and often doesn’t seem like a scary guy BUT HE CAN BE. This lil “scary Daichi” thing depends on you. If you’re ok, just talk to the person, but if they’re really giving you anxiety just ask him for help. There’s just a way his name comes out of your mouth when you’re scared that irks him. He hates it when you’re so scared and vulnerable. So, scary Daichi is the result!

So, the next step is Daichi grabbing the person by the collar and glaring at them. “Maybe I’ll need to beat the respect into you which I really don’t mind doing.” Daichi is NOT bluffing. Anyone who dares challenge him WILL get their ass beat. He doesn’t negotiate when it comes to your safety/comfort.

10/10 NO ONE WANTS AN ANGRY DAICHI! 100% of people who go up against an angry Daichi run off with their tail between their legs. He’s just so goddamn scary. But he understands he can scare you too, so he’ll immediately get that under control. He’ll slowly approach you and try to touch you. Once you hug him, he’ll know everything’s ok.

“Let’s leave. I’ll buy you some ice cream on the way home, that sound good?”

[xiayannie]

𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫, 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐞, 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | scaramouche

synopsis : new years with scaramouche, who only enjoys it because he's spending it with you.

cw(s) : smut below cut! scaramouche x fem! reader, cumming inside, kinda fluffy, not super smutty

SCARAMOUCHE silently checked you out from behind as you were focused on doing some final touches on your makeup.

a small smile made its way up his lips as you stood and did a little twirl. SCARAMOUCHE caught you as you stumbled a bit, pulling you into his hold by the waist.

"how do I look?" you giggled, pushing yourself away a bit to allow him to see you whole. "...you look good." he murmured, but you could tell from his eyes that you he thought more highly of the way you dolled up.

"do you have to look that good though?" SCARAMOUCHE huffed, already feeling a bit jealous at the thought of other guys ogling at you.

"—not that I mind, of course... I just don't want you to feel uncomfortable." understanding his worry, you turned around and cupped his cheeks, sending him a big reassuring grin.

"I'll be alright. afterall, I have the scary dog privilege." you winked at SCARAMOUCHE before leaning to press a chaste kiss to his cheek.

"...c'mon, loverboy. you wouldn't want to be late to the new years party, hm?"

SCARAMOUCHE grumbled something under his breath, rolling his eyes a bit, but he obediently followed.

the party was alright, but SCARAMOUCHE refrained from expressing his thoughts, as he sported a polite smile. soon, your need to catch up with friends was far greater than your need to stay near him, and his eyes followed your figure attentively through the party.

any individual who would get too close to you would cower away at the intensity at which SCARAMOUCHE glared at them. unaware of what was causing your companions to cut the conversation short, you realized once you felt a pair of arms wrap around your figure protectively.

"...how about we leave after countdown?" SCARAMOUCHE sighed, his grip tightening slightly as he rested his head on your shoulder, his lips slightly pouty.

"what was the point of dressing up then, scara??"

"it's okay. I'll make sure to appreciate the effort you put into making yourself all pretty, once we get home." SCARAMOUCHE's thumb swiped at your lips, catching a bit of color from the product.

his own lips quirked into a small smile as he kissed his thumb gently. a loud announcement made its way to capturing the attention of the crowd, interrupting the small moment between the two of you.

before you knew it, the countdown started.

...3,

...2,

...1,

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

SCARAMOUCHE lifted you up, capturing your lips with his once the fireworks started, not giving you a chance to register what was happening.

dumbfounded, you pulled away breathless, looking at the sight before you. his lips were tintedly lightly red, and his expression had an air of playfulness to it.

cheeky bastard.

"w-wait, wait, waait...!" you cried out, feeling him slip inside from behind you. your eyes rolled back as you clenched around his cock. "...s' too d-deeep...~!" you whimpered, feeling his tip hit your womb.

SCARAMOUCHE carefully took a fistful of your hair, pulling you towards him, causing an arch in your back. he found it hot how pretty you still looked despite the smear of your lipstick and running of mascara. your dress pulled down to where your tits were exposed and bouncing with every thrust.

even though you insisted you couldn't take more, you kept clinging so tightly onto him, and crying every time his dick slipped out of your hole.

it was cute, really.

"should've seen the way those guys were eyeing you up like a pack of wolves... it's too bad they don't know who you belong to."

"isn't that right, pretty girl?"

"mhmmm... jus' yours, all yoursss..." you nodded and babbled mindlessly, too drunk on the way it hit and kissed your cervix, to care. SCARAMOUCHE hummed, feeling pleased as he gave you a kiss, nipping your lips gently near the end of it.

"I'm so glad to have you...and I can tell that you are too, from the way your pussy's squeezing me..." he let out a small chuckle, flipping you over. SCARAMOUCHE's gaze softened as he saw your teary eyes, brushing his hand gently up to wipe them away.

his pace certainly slowed down, but SCARAMOUCHE made sure that you still felt good as he languidly pumped his cock in and out of your cunt. your release came quickly due to the overstimulation from previous rounds as you came for the nth time, blanking out and seeing stars as you twitched and let out a loud moan. SCARAMOUCHE came soon after, with one last thrust, burying his face into your neck.

"y-you're here with me, and I'm here with you..." he murmured, grasping your hand. "it doesn't matter if you dress up or not, you'll always look pretty..."

"...we don't need to go to a party. if you want, we can just have a count down and kiss once it hits 12 o'clock..."

"so, i-i'm saying... let's just spend every year together." SCARAMOUCHE huffed, turning his face away from yours, bashfully.

you gave him a look of disbelief. not believing that he could still act bashful after saying the stating the simplest thing after SCARAMOUCHE spent hours bullying you with his cock.

"whatever, I love you too, scara... happy new year."

you rolled your eyes, pulling him in for a kiss with a big smile on your lips.

"w-what? sorry... are you upset I ruined your makeup??"

[thefiery-phoenix]

YANDERE FATGUM HEADCANONS

Have you SEEN how RIPPED this guy can be? One teensy little slip up, he will not hesitate to take severe and drastic measures for making you behave. Don't get fooled by his looks, and like people say, don't judge a book by its cover. Despite his innocent and harmless friendly side towards you, if you drive him over the edge, or if he's interacting with his rival, he WILL reveal his scary dark side 

This guy is delusional and possessive as a yandere. He has the image of you both happily married and you having his kids in his head and thinks you both were DESTINED to be with each other. Everytime you praise him for something or compliment him, it's just going to add up to MORE of his deluded fantasies 

He's also going to be very overprotective of you since he views you as a tiny defenseless kitten that needs to be protected. He won't do anything that'll make you uncomfortable, in fact, he is very well aware that his feelings for you weren't normal at all, but, he'll still kidnap you. He'll give you as much time as you want to adjust to your new lifestyle since he understands you'll be frightened and scared 

He won't force himself upon you but sometimes, once in a while, he WILL demand cuddles from you. That's IT. And maybe some light forehead kisses. Nothing more, nothing less, PERIODT. He won't keep you tied up and all that. He'll just place a quirk cancelling cuff on your ankle and he'll let you roam around the house whenever you want 

He's the 'I'm sadistic with others and not with you' type of yandere. At least, that's what I think. With you, he'll behave like an obsessed love-struck puppy that'll look like a KICKED puppy when you don't return his affections but with the others, he'll be the living entity of HELL himself and frankly, this man is scary when he's angry

He'll take his time torturing his rivals and his enemies. He just wants you to be safe and feel protected by him. And of course, like every other yandere, he's afraid of losing you and someone trying to steal you away 

Speaking of him cuddling you, you're so tiny compared to him that his entire hand almost covers your whole stomach as he clutches you to his chest in a bone crushing embrace. But, don't worry, he'll give you space to breathe. But you still can't help get the feeling of him snapping your neck in half like a twig if you do something wrong though he promised he won't lay even a finger on you. This guy drinks his respect women juice and even DROWNS in it. He's a very gentlemanly guy

If you act up, his face will quickly darken, but he'll just hold your wrists to his chest till he gets you to stop wriggling and behaving badly and THEN, he'll smother you in MORE affection because he feels the reason you're acting up was because he wasn't giving you enough attention

A request, don't talk about other people too frequently while you're with him unless you want hear about their 'accidental' deaths the next day on the news channel. He's the type of yandere who DESPISES and HATES it when you speak about other people and when you think of them. Why can't you just focus only on HIM? Those attention seeking rascals don't deserve to even LOOK at you. So. he'll just his connections and his influence as a pro hero and hire some people to kill that person to make it look like an accident 

Will never insult you. He'll just scold you gently like some naughty toddler. Overall, he's not that bad of a yandere to you but trust me, you don't want to see his dark side.....

''My sweet little dumpling, I wonder how we'll look together when we have a family of our own. It'll be splendid won't it?''