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littlenightma · 5 months

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Run, Rabbit, Run | Thomas Hewitt x Female!Reader (NSFW)

Author’s Note: *slams post button* Here you go, sluts *evil cackle*

Warning tags: Primal kink, chase kink, breeding kink, lots o’ smut.

The Texas sun kissed your sweat-soaked skin with a harsh pressure of a thousand blow torches. His heavy breathing and roaring of his chainsaw pushed you forward, to keep going no matter what stood before you, but the persistent throbbing between your legs teased the resilience of your rapidly depleting willpower.

Miles separated you from the farm house and separated you from the rest of civilization. Oceans upon oceans of rocky dirt, dying grass, and the occasional road kill were all that could be seen.

The radiating sun, which had been sitting proudly in the sky to the East, now sat lamely in the West beginning to hide beyond the horizon. The ivory moon would force away its suffocating heat, providing the barest of illumination, increasing your chances at escaping.

A small part of you wished the sun would stay out and light up the world just a little while longer.

“You’re so polite for someone your age. You remind me so much of my boy Thomas.”

“If he’s anything like you, ma’am, he has to be the sweetest boy around.”

He was a six foot tall mountain of muscle and power, running with the determination of a blood hound tracking the scent of a wounded animal. When you thought you had successfully outsmarted him by suddenly changing directions within the tall, golden thickets at the last second, he’d still be barreling after you, unphased, no further than he was before.

There were moments, fleeting as they were, but impressionable nonetheless, where he had been so close to getting a hold of you. So close, the slight breeze from his hand attempting to grab your hair raised your skin, sucking the breath from your chest as you narrowly dodge him.

And that made things even more thrilling.

His grunts of frustration were muffled by his mask and the tight curve of his bottom lip. The lip jutted out awkwardly and looked as if it had been stung by a bee the way it was swollen.

Deformed.

And this deformed man was coming after you.

To him you were an outsider. A pest that needed eradicating. Even though his Mama willingly invited you into their home, he made you feel as if you were trespassing anyway. He wanted to kill you then and you were sure as shit he wanted to now, probably more than ever seeing how you keep escaping him.

She’d had asked him to keep you alive so assuming that he’d follow through with her request, your life would be spared, but for what sick reason? Would death be more lenient than what they had planned for you?

Of all days for your tire to blow out…

“Here he comes now,” said the woman, smiling expectantly as the basement door opened and out from the darkened staircase came Thomas.

The boy, no man, stood protectively behind the older woman. He placed his hands on her shoulders, watching you with narrowed eyes that were partially covered by a curtain of black, curly hair. To you, they looked like snakes ready to strike, and so did he.

His nose and lower half of his face was covered by a worn, leather mask that wrapped around the base of his head with thick straps. It looked uncomfortable to wear as it was was to look at.

He was not pleased to see a stranger sitting in his living room and you wanted to sink deeper into the faded couch and disappear. Maybe if you pushed against the cushions hard enough.

A muffled scream came from the basement. Luda Mae glanced up at her son then back to you. Your back straightened.

“What was that?”

She smiled, yet it didn’t quite reach her eyes, “Nothing, dear.”

Again, the basement door opened, and out came a man in a Sheriff’s uniform. Fresh blood splattered across his chest and arms, trickling down as he sauntered his way into the room.

“Who in the hell is this pretty thing?”

Time slowed down and so did your breathing. All three had you pinned with various stares ranging from curiosity, understanding, and searing contempt. You weren’t going to risk it. You jumped from the couch and hauled ass out the door, leaving a trail of dust behind.

“Son of a bitch,” said Hoyt. “Boy, go get her before she causes us any trouble.”

Luda Mae grabbed Thomas’ hand. “Keep this one alive, baby. She’ll be good one to have around.”

Thomas wanted to argue his Mama’s odd request, but the sweet smile she gave him and the gentle way she held his hand made him reconsider. He didn’t want her, that’s for damn sure, but whatever his Mama wanted, she’d get.

In the midst of your recollection you realized it was ominously quiet behind you. Peering back, he was no longer running after you. I’m fact, he wasn’t there at all.

You spun around, eyes frantically searching the desolate landscape. He didn’t just vanish into thin air, not a man of his size, yet he had. The weeds danced and suddenly parted, revealing him on all fours as he pushed himself off the ground, propelling into you with a gut-wrenching force, knocking you onto your back.

His full body weight had you pinned, flattening the dry brush beneath you. His barrel-chest heaved and his hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing. As frightened as you were, a strange sense of relief washed over and the instinct to raise your hips overtook you.

He tried moving away, but your legs locked him in. You awkwardly shimmied your shorts down and he watched you. His anger dissipated, replaced by hunger the more of your thighs he saw.

You captured his curious gaze, “Look how wet you made me.”

Your hand reached down and massaged your aching pussy through your sodden underwear. You were a mess, physically and mentally, and if you didn’t get fucked soon you were going to go rabid.

“Thomas, please. Don’t make me beg for it. You know what I want.”

Hearing his name revved him up like an engine. He could practically smell you through his mask. Your pussy glistened beneath the moonlight and he was more than willing to comply. With one hand still around your throat, he used the other to hastily unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants.

He roughly pushed your soaked panties aside and thrusted roughly inside you with a loud grunt. It was swift and had you not been as wet as you were you knew it would have hurt more than it did. You gasped and cried out, pounding your fist to the ground. He fucked you like an animal. It was exactly what you’d been yearning for and if felt so fucking good to finally get it.

His hips bucked with a mighty strength, sending you backwards every time. It made it hard for him to keep himself inside you without having to adjust his position. He scooped you up like a rag doll and pinned you against a tree, folding you between it and his body. The change in position was too much as the angle allowed him to reach new depths inside you, hitting spots you never knew you had, sending you over the edge.

Your climax arrived so suddenly that it left you silently shaking and clinging to Thomas. Your pussy clamped down like the jaws of a lion and he growled, spilling his seed inside you from the tightness.

He laid you both down on the ground with your back to him. You took the time to catch your breath and settle down, but Thomas had other plans. He raised your top leg in the air, spreading you wide and began pumping again.

“Slow, Thomas. I’m really sore.”

Not thinking he’d actually do as you asked, you were surprised at the gradual way he eased his thick cock back into your pussy, keeping a close eye on your face. Although you were too spent to cum again, you nestled back against his chest and idly enjoyed his thrusts.

“Just like that, Thomas. Oh…”

His head was right there and the temptation to kiss him was too good to pass up. Soft lips met his through the mask and he jerked back, stopping his movements altogether.

“God, don’t you stop, Thomas. Your cock is too good. Come back here.”

You wrapped an arm around his head and he let you bring him back down. This time he kissed back, licking and sucking your lips like they were made of chocolate. You were in absolute bliss, not thinking clearly, lost in a haze of euphoria.

With his mouth full of you and you full of him, he groaned a guttural sound that didn’t sound quite human. Your pussy took his second load with open arms, milking every last bit of him he had left to offer. You broke the sloppy kiss to watch his cock pulse and his balls twitch, finding it super erotic.

His cock left you open and wide. You clenched your walls and streams of his fresh cum gushed out. You swiped some and brought it to your lips with Thomas watching in clear fascination. You then offered your finger to him.

He titled his head and inspected the leftover fluid. After some time of pondering his tongue tentatively flicked out, considering the taste, then placed your entire finger in his mouth. He sucked until there was nothing left to suck except the saltiness of your skin.

Using the tree as a support, you carefully maneuvered up. Everything was sore, from your head down to your hips and the simple task of bending down seemed impossible. In an oddly sweet gesture, Thomas gathered your shorts and helped you put them back on.

“You know,” you began, eyes twinkling mischievously, “It’s a long way back to the house. Who knows what could happen on the way there.”

Thomas made a sound caught between a chuckle and a scuff. He watched you strut away, eyes glued to your bouncing ass.

His Mama was right. You were worth keeping around.

#thomas hewitt #leatherface x reader #leatherface #thomas hewitt x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #slasher community #original writing #slasher x reader

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teddybeartoji · 2 months

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THE LITTLE LAMB AND THE BIG BAD WOLF

on a hunt for supplies, you stumble across someone's belongings. a little bit of theft is fine, right? the cold barrel of a gun at your temple says otherwise.

☆. contains: toji fushiguro x gn!reader; apocalypse au; horror, detailed descriptions of blood and death, slow burn, crack, reader is simultaneously a scaredy-cat and a baddie, toji looks scary oh nooo

☆. word count: 6k

☆. note: the world is based on tlou!!! i am soooo into this fucking concept like i'm officially sucking my own dick here. tagging my beloveds @staryukis & @awearywritersworld bc omfg apocalypse ideas!!!!!! and also @dollsuguru @venusiansilk @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat @mossmurdock i love you guys so so much thank you for all your support<3333333

+ here's the masterlist

in a world so fucked up – it's easy to get lost in the darkness.

when the infection took over, everything changed. everything. people aren't people anymore – they've become hosts for a type of fungus known as the cordyceps. it grows all over the brain and takes control of the body, turning the person into something they're not.

if anyone were to ask you how many have you killed, infected or not, you'd be devoid of an answer.

it's hard to find your way when just about everything is out to get you. infected or not – there's always something ready to tear you into pieces, to sink their teeth into your soft flesh – that's just the way things are now.

but you're used to it. used to the feeling of adrenaline pumping in your veins as you run from a horde, used to the feeling of a blade at your throat, used to the feeling of a punch, of a slap. used to the constant grumble in your stomach, used to the sore legs and shoulders, used to cleaning off blood from yourself and your clothes, from your weapons. you're used to the gurgling and clicking, the crying and sobbing, the begging and pleading.

but no matter how much you tell yourself that you've grown used to the horrors of the new world, you cannot escape the anxiety that hides under every inch of your skin. it's always with you – holding your clammy hand as it drags you into the depths, into the shadows. you try to fight it but it's hard.

it's hard forcing away the only thing that holds you so tight, the only thing that truly cares for you. it's is a suffocating blanket that hides you from the cruelty of the world, trying its best to shelter you from it all. it's better to stay inside. it's better to stay away. they're going to hurt you. something is here. just stay here with me, under the warm blanket. they're coming. it's going to hurt. let's stay here forever.

don't you want it to stop?

being torn apart by the cold crippling fear and the warm rotting hands – it's getting harder and harder to breathe. but you've learned how to keep them at bay over the years; always in the line of sight, always on your mind. there's no rest for the wicked.

moonlight leads the way as you make your way to a shopping mall. the wind howls in your ears and sends a shiver down your spine. moss and ivy cover the walls of the massive building, swallowing it bit by bit, making it a part of the nature as the time passes.

the axe in your hand feels heavy, but right nonetheless. the handle is stained with blood; it has seeped deep into the wood and now acts as an extra weight to the blade. a small 9mm handgun sits pretty in the holster around your thigh, a knife hides in its leather sheath on your belt, a bow rests on your shoulder and a few arrows peek from your bag.

despite the armory, your bag hasn't been this empty in a while. the blame falls on a group of men you ran into a week or so back. precious ammo and resources were spent on the bastards, and while the blood reward was good - the lack of food and meds is now becoming concerning. your shoulder still hurts from the fall, a big dark bruise transforming your skin into a painting of the midnight sky.

you shake the flashlight on the strap of your backpack and listen to the batteries bounce around inside it. you give it a stronger shake and it turns on. the broken glass shines as you carefully step inside the big atrium and take a look around. your little light forces back the creeping shadows, now showcasing you the infected bodies that lay dead on the ground before you.

pools of blood conflux together and paint the tiles a dark shade of maroon; the ichor flows in between the cracks and disappears under the soles of your boots when you step further inside. they're fresh. light reflects off the liquid as you squat down to take a closer look. none of the three bodies seem to have bullet wounds – one of the runner has a slit throat while the other leaks from a hole in the side of the head and the clicker... it's head has been completely bashed in, making it hard to even recognize it as one.

beating up a clicker is not easy by any means; though the fungus growing on their face and head blinds them, it also acts almost like armor. they can take a bullet to the head and still keep coming – the call of death rippling through their body as they run at you, hands reaching out to grab, to pull, to hold.

the fact that they did this, either with their bare hands or some other blunt object, just means that they're good. it also begs the question whether they didn't have the bullets to spare or they simply decided not to use them. you just hope you won't bump into them.

standing up, you take another look around. a trail of bloody footsteps leads right up the escalators and you decide that you won't be going there yet. there are a few more bodies, two runners, sitting limp against the crumbling walls as you step down one of the hallways. the broken tiles and the glass cracks below your feet and you cringe at the noise.

never letting go of the axe in your hand, you stroll past the first stores seeing as they're completely ran through. with a sigh, you make your way over to one of the clothing stores. it's almost pitch black in there and you almost jump out of your skin when a mannequin suddenly falls at your feet. muttering out a row of whispered curses, you lower your axe with a shaky breath and adjust your flashlight. the shelves are pretty empty but that was expected; still, when you open up a cupboard door under one of the mannequin stands, you find a stack of perfectly fine sweatshirts. you check the other side of the piece of furniture and find... nothing. scoffing to yourself, you just bag the a sweatshirt and a pair of pants from another shelf before moving to the next store.

glass breaks and you hear shuffling – head whipping towards the sounds, fingers tightly gripping the axe, you take a step back and bump right into the shelf behind you. pieces of clothing fall onto the floor and a cloud of dust rises from the impact; you pay it no mind as your eyes are still glued to the counter, to where the noise came from, but when after a few second absolutely nothing jumps at you, you let your shoulders relax a little.

a stalker, maybe? but they don't tend to live in open spaces like malls, or so you think at least. the majority of them you've ran into in places like office floors and a fucked up basements – meaning they like to lurk everywhere where it's extra dark and where there are places to hide behind. yeah, they do that. little shits, taking cover behind desks and walls, playing a game of hide and seek that you never agreed to. you're never forgiving yourself for taking that wretched route.

you peek over the counter and look all around it but find jack shit. it's the darkness – it's what it does to you, to everybody. the shadows start to speak and move, the floors creak and crumble, and the growths on the wall whisper your name, no matter, how much you tell yourself that they aren't actually doing any of that that.

it's just the old building crying out from loneliness, the haunted ghosts simply looking for company as people pass by, as the infected pass by. you have to keep your head straight. faint blood marks stain the floor but it's too hard to tell whether those've been there for years or less.

you hastily knock on your flashlight when it begins to flicker, leaving you in the dark for just a blink but it's enough to have your heart thumping loudly in your ribcage.

making your way out of the store, you scour for your next location and ah-ha!

a pharmacy.

two bottles of antibiotics rattle in your bag but those aren't enough. you'll always need more of those, you'll always need more of gauze, painkillers, of everything – going in there is a must.

a metal roll-up door closed mid way is going to make this harder, but as if that isn't ominous enough – the quiet cries coming from behind it only makes the situation worse. a runner. but luckily, it isn't making too much noise and you make an educated guess of it not moving around. they do that when there's nothing to catch and tear apart, when nothing has caught their attention. they stay in random spots and whimper and cry to themselves. it makes them an easy prey.

the thought of the metal door sliding shut just as you're trying to pass under it, is making your stomach churn. and so is the thought of you making too much noise by accident and attracting the runner when you're still down on the ground. stop being a pussy. there could be emergency kits in there, pills, there could be a feast of medications in there and you're holding back. it's unacceptable.

you slowly kneel down to the cold floor and inhale sharply before lowering yourself further down. the only light in the room is yours and it immediately finds the twitching runner.

it is cowering in the corner.

you're just fucking glad they don't react to light as much as they do to noise, otherwise you'd be fucked already.

you crawl in the dust as quietly as you can, careful to not touch any of the furniture beside you that seems to be holding up the door. the last thing you'd want is to get locked in here. or get cut in half. you clench your teeth and push yourself up and to your knees the second you can do so and take a second, as you wait for him to turn around and lunge at you. but he doesn't. his back is still turned to you as he waits for you, sobs for you; his body trembling, hands folded in front of his chest – almost like he's hugging himself.

quietly holstering the axe, you pull out your knife instead. it's quieter. you grip the handle, fingers molding into the dents that have formed over time. another step and the light goes out. it's complete darkness. you hear your own heartbeat in your ears and the miserable cries of the infected just a few feet away. your eyes widen as you try to focus on your surroundings. your hands grow clammy in a matter of a few seconds and panic seeps into your body.

you shake the flashlight a few times and it turns back on. your breath is still stuck in your throat as you try to compose yourself. stupid old thing. the light paints the runner's shadow onto the wall in front of him, making it look like he's a part of some shadow play.

one more step and you're with him, a breath away. your hand goes around his chest, holding his hands and body in place as you sink your blade into his neck. it sinks into skin and flesh like butter, soaking you in the dark red ichor that hides underneath as he gurgles something at you (a thank you perhaps).

yanking the knife back out, the splattering ichor coats your skin and you immediately wipe it off against your shirt. his body falls with a thud! and another big dust cloud rises from the contact and your nose itches— it's— it itches— achoo!

your eyes are an inch away from escaping your head as you spin around, making sure that nothing is jumping at you for making a noise that loud. but surely enough, nothing seems to be interested. exhaling deeply, you rub your nose and force down the embarrassment that's crawling on your skin before starting your hunt for supplies.

it doesn't go as well as you'd hoped – only bagging a few stitching kits and a bottle of painkillers. better than nothing.

ecstatic to get the fuck out of a closed, pitch black room, you crawl back out from under the metal door and dust off your clothes.

strolling through some more stores, you're met with more dead infected. two clickers and two runners, no bullet holes. ignoring the corpses, you manage to find yourself a few nice t-shirts, a pack of boxers and a box of 9mm handgun ammo from under the cash register.

when you've gone through most of the wrecked stores on the first floor, you finally decide to take a look upstairs. the bloody footprints haven't left your mind but the fact that it's been so quiet, makes you think that maybe they did really just pass through here.

the moon light your way as you drag yourself up the escalator. the stars in the sky are barely visible because of the dirt on the ceiling window and you frown.

in front of you there are two hallways with stores on the sides and in the middle. the prints lead to the left side and towards the a lonely door at the end of the coridor; the signs on the walls don't indicate what room it might be – a security one, maybe? shaking your head, you focus on the stores ahead of you. the shop in the center is a big sports one; most of the mannequins have fallen over and their limbs are scattered all over the floor, pairless sneakers rest on top of each other and the shelves are a push away from collapsing into tiny little pieces.

stepping over the bloody clothes, you view the baseball caps on the rack when your light goes out again. you feed on the faint moonlight that's coming from the hallways as you scramble to shake the thing again. steps, you swear you heard steps. the last standing mannequins stare at you from the shadows, laughing at your misfortune. a hand touches your hip and you can't hold back the yelp that slips from your lips. you turn and bump into another statue. the light flickers three times before it actually turns on and you find yourself inches from an eerie smile. intinctively, you give it a firm push as you take a step back, hands shaking as the panic settles down once more.

no one else is here. you can't see whoever could've made the noise and by now you're sure that if something or someone is really hiding in the dark – it would've already made a move if it wanted to. stalkers don't play for that long and neither do humans.

a row of protein bars hide in a drawer in the staff room of the store and you happily throw them in your bag, along with some weird looking granola bars.

the right side of the second floor only offers you a new lighter, three pairs of socks, a can of soda, a simple necklace and a broken watch. what's the point of it if you can't tell time? it looks cool. no other reason.

heading over to the left side of the building, you keep a keen eye on the door. the remaining shops are forgotten the closer you get to where the prints lead and you officially commit to checking out the place.

the blade of your axe shines in the moonlight, your steps extra light as you creep up on the door. readying your weapon, you press down on the handle and quietly push it open. it swings all the way and thumps against the wall. the room is lit up, the windows letting in the natural light. you're greeted with rows of computer and tv screens on the tables, three black duffel bags and some lockers and cabinets next to the walls.

you check the corners of the room and let out a relieved sigh when you don't find anything hiding. closing the door, you carefully step around the broken glass on the floor. it seems to be originating from what used to be a glass case showcasing various medals. awards for the best security guards. how silly that sounds now.

the lockers have been cleared out, the only things left behind being two lovely couple's phots with hand-drawn hearts above their heads. you leave them there. the cabinets don't have anything good either. you glance back at the door for good measure before kneeling down in front of one of the bags on the ground. you pull the zipper and are met with treasure – multiple bars of chocolate, the same sweatshirt you found from the floor below, various cans of canned food, two water bottles and a small knife.

your eyes glint and the corners of your lips twitch upward, your body has a mind of its own as it immediately reaches for the chocolate. glass breaks and your eyes flick to the now ajar door as you reach for the gun on your thigh but when you feel the cold metal of a gun barrel resting against your temple... you freeze.

"don't."

...

your stomach drops, eyes glued to the bag in front of you. the voice is deep and it's rasp, confident and sure of himself; the metal against you doesn't move, it doesn't shake.

you hold your trembling hands out, fingers spread to show that you don't have any intention of grabbing your weapons. a deep breath in and a deep one out. you try to turn your head towards him but he just presses the gun deeper into your skin, forcing your gaze right back down.

his big stature looms over your smaller one and you feel like an ant that's about to be stepped on. he lets you soak in the threatening silence, the only sound being your own racing heartbeat.

"s'rude to steal, y'know."

the man doesn't sound angry, he doesn't sound mad or upset. he sounds... annoyed, if anything.

"i asked you a question."

shit.

"i– i wasn't stealing." you stammer out.

he scoffs. "wasn't stealing? just fondling my shit for fun then?"

the teasing tone makes your eyebrows furrow and you try to turn to look at him again, your body slightly raising from your knees but the gun on your head keeps you down. funny, how heavy a piece of metal can suddenly feel.

"it was empty in here! i didn't know these belonged to anyone! i–i'm sorry! i'll leave, i'll leave!" it's a pathetic slur of words accompanied by a pleading tone and you hope that it'll do the trick.

there are strategies for dealing with people and this is simply one of them.

and it does work because the next thing you know, he's lowering the weapon. you let out a shaky breath before turning to him and fuck.

he's... terrifying.

towering over your kneeling body, he's massive. big chest and broad shoulders, he looks like he could snap your neck with his bare hands. the moonlight is only making him more menacing – his dark hair falls in front of his eyes as he stares down at you; there's a scar on his lips and streaks of blood cover his skin, from his cheek to his jaw and down his neck.

dark clothes and a dark jacket – he looks like he belongs in the shadows. the fact that you didn't hear him until it was already too late is making your skin crawl. he probably only let you hear him. for the fun of it.

the terrified look on other's faces can be addicting. the big eyes and the wobbling lips; how they shake and beg – you're no stranger to it, you've had your moments, too.

other than the gun in his hand, there's a second one holstered around his big thigh just like you do. a serrated knife sits his belt and it keeps winking at you, the flashlight reflecting from it as you pull in big breaths of air.

"you're saying i oughta just let you go?" he scoffs, yanking you from your thoughts.

"please..." your stomach grumbles on cue, helping you look meeker than you really are.

you're sure you just saw him wince as he squats down beside you but the thought is brushed away immediately when the man cocks his head to the side and scratches his temple with the barrel of the gun. his scarred lips stretch into a big wolfish grin, showing off his sharp canines and his eyes glint from behind the black strands of hair, making him even scarier now. the big bad wolf.

he's taking you apart with his eyes, dissecting you and your thoughts with a smug expression while you're fending off the waves of fear and try to look as composed as you can. though you feel like it isn't working at all.

"d'ya find anything good from the pharmacy?"

"why were you stalking me?" your bark comes out sharper than you intended and his eyebrows raise an inch, eyes shining with something teasing.

"kind of hard to miss ya when you're making so much noise, sweetheart. and yer in my spot, anyway." he sigh with an eye-roll.

your lips part in a small gasp. "i was not making that much noise! and– and what do you mean 'your spot'? it's a fucking mall, i need things, too!"

"clearly." he motions to the duffel bag resting at your feet and you swallow your next snarky comment.

"sorry."

"what was that?"

just glaring at him, you hate how amused he seems. the fear in you dissipating fast and something akin to annoyance is starting to grow in it's stead.

"i didn't even fucking take anything!"

body leaning forward, fists balled up and eyes on fire – he's thoroughly entertained by your barking and you immediately purse your lips.

"relax, little lamb, will ya? tell me... what'd you find in there?"

you scrunch your nose at the stupid nickname. despite how non-threatening he's being right now - you're still planning on running. you'll give him whatever he wants and you're getting the fuck out of here.

"nothing much. stitching kits and painkillers."

he's hums disappointedly and you can't help but wonder why. is he looking for something in particular? is he hurt? "what do you need?"

"forget it."

"i have antibiotics, if that's what you need."

at that, his ears perk up. "is that so?"

you nod at him.

"well, c'mon then, show me what ya got."

you stare at him for a moment before peeling off one backpack strap. you pull the bag onto your lap and feel his heavy gaze on you as you dig around the thing. it doesn't take you long to find the right bottle, pulling it out and handing it to him.

the floor creaks and it has you both turning towards the sound in an instant. he has the door in his sights but nothing is there. your heart is hammering in your chest again and you can taste the bitter anxiety in the back of your throat again.

you've never seen anyone hold their gun so steady as he does. no shake, no tremble; he's not even really squeezing the thing, he's just holding it. there's no pressure, no anxiety – it's simply an extension to his body. he's comfortable with it, and he looks good with it. a bead of sweat rolls from his temple and mixes with the drying blood on his skin before disappearing under his clothes.

his breathing is normal, he's calm as he lowers the gun back down and starts observing the bottle in his other hand. your eyes are still on the door, still wary of the ghosts that lurk around.

the man squints his eyes at the miniature text on the bottle in the dark and you hold back a laugh.

"need me to read it for you, old man?"

"watch your mouth." it's playful at best, no real sternness behind it whatsoever and it makes you roll your eyes. you're about to ask what he actually needs the pills for but something in the corner of your eye draws your attention.

a pair of dull, grey eyes. staring right back at you. dark veins run all over her face and neck, her shoulders and her hands and she peeks from behind the doorframe.

one second. no more, no less. your sharp intake of air gets his attention just as the stalker lunges from the dark hallway, but she is met with a hole in her forehead before she can even take a proper step inside.

small pieces of brain splatter onto the wall behind her and she falls limp to the ground just a few feet from you. he's waiting for another one to pop up, his eyes still glued to the door and you know that this is your moment. he has the meds, so he shouldn't chase you down anyway. you have to go now.

scrambling up from your knees, you try to speed past him but immediately choke when the collar of your own sweatshirt sharply cuts into your airways. his grip on the material is strong and he pulls you right back into him, back into his arms. he's mere inches from your face but before he can do anything else – he feels a blade against his throat.

you really aren't the little lamb he thought you were.

he's comparing you to a feral cub in his head – big wild eyes, snarling and showing your teeth, trying to act tougher than you are, but when the sharp edge of your blade sinks deeper into his skin, he realizes that maybe you're not actually in over your head.

he already expected you to run, he was waiting for that but he thought it'd end up with you you crying and begging or something. he didn't see this coming – you're definitely craftier than he thought, faster too.

"now... why would you do that-"

you don't let him finish. "are you gonna hurt me?"

"you're the one with the knife at my throat. i should be asking you that." he rolls his eyes as your knife grazes the soft skin below his adam's apple and you're thinking about actually cutting him just out of annoyance.

"you have the pills, why not let me go?" you bark back.

"you're hungry, aren't ya?" he questions calmly. his gun hand is lowered, he's not pointing it at you but his other hand stays on your back, fingers still digging into your sweatshirt. it's warm, his body is warm.

"so what? you gonna feed me like some stray cat?"

"y'don't want to eat?" he deadpans.

...

you bite into the soft flesh of your inner cheek. of fucking course, you want to eat.

"y'can take two cans from the bag. i mean, y'were eyeing them anyway."

"why?"

"for being my entertainment tonight."

the blade on his throat finally draws blood and a drop of it runs down his skin, disappearing under his shirt.

"i oughta kill you for putting a gun at my head."

"yeah?" he cocks his head closer to you, the blade moving with him, making a few more droplets dribble from the tiny wound. "go for it, sweetheart."

his eyes are green. they're green like the leaves that sprout from between the cracks in the asphalt on a sunny day, green like the moss that flourishes on the trees in the forest, green like the ivy that is trying to swallow the world. you feel his heart beat a; calm and steady while yours is amped from the sudden proximity. he sounds so arrogant, like he knows you're not going to hurt him.

(you aren't.)

when you lower the knife to push at his broad chest with a scoff instead, he lets you. his hand falls from you as you take a step back, your face now illuminated by the moonlight. scars litter your skin, bumps and cuts – just like him.

"are you done?"

you hum with a pouty lip and put away your knife, eyes following his figure as he holsters his gun before picking up the fallen pill bottle. when he steps by you, he plucks your flashlight from its place on the backpack strap with way too much ease and proceeds to head over to one of the duffel bags that sits on the table behind you, carefully stepping over the broken glass on the floor.

"hey!"

he shushes you and your fists tighten beside your body. you look at the dead body that lays next to the door with a perfectly centered hole in her forehead. the blood pools around it, soaking her clothes and the ground below her.

you used to think about the infected more, used to ponder about how long they've been like that and whether the person they used to be is still... in there.

it doesn't matter.

you've come across people, who talk about not wanting to kill them – what if they really are still in there? but isn't that exactly why one should kill them? you can't even begin to think about how it'd feel to be stuck inside your own body as the infection takes over, making you into something you're not. how it'd force you to tear your loved ones apart just for the sake of it, how you'd turn into a bigger monster with every passing day, every passing second. you just hope that if you were to get infected, you'd still have the mind to end it. or have somebody do it for you.

you don't want to end up like her.

"i didn't realize there were stalkers here." you mumble to yourself as you tear your eyes from her. "other than you, of course. fucking creep."

he starts digging around in one of the bags and you take the moment to really observe him. his back is almost twice your size and you're sure his one bicep is bigger than your whole head.

the man scoffs. "thought i got them all but... oh, well. should've let ya handle it – was your fault anyway."

"how the fuck was that my fault?" your voice raises at his claim and you regret it, knowing exactly what his response will be.

"you are fucking loud, sweetheart."

"fuck you."

he just hums out a mhmmm. he pulls a piece of paper out of his bag and uses your flashlight to examine the text on it. his eyes. he waves at you over his shoulder. "you know where the cans are."

simply scoffing as a reply, you kneel back down to the bag but his voice cuts in again.

"and don't you dare take that chocolate." he doesn't even turn around, completely focused on comparing the information on the paper to the info on the bottle of pills. you roll your eyes again and curse him under your breath. "i wasn't gonna take your stupid fucking chocolate..."

when you've bagged your goodies, you push yourself up again. the trees dancing in the wind outside catch your eye, they look so carefree. just living from the sun and the moon and the rain, they have nothing to fear. nobody will harm them, no infected, no people. you can't wait for nature to take back everything it deserves. the cities and the buildings; it'll swallow the corpses and the living alike and you're happy for her.

he rustles with the paper, twisting it around a few times and you're about to ask what he's looking for but he cuts you off.

"why not make a run for it earlier?"

you stare at his back with a confused look. "what do you mean?"

"you gave me the pills and then tried to run. antibiotics are hard to find, y'know." he sounds curious. or patronizing.

"i know that... i had to wait for the right moment." you admit, fiddling with your fingers. "i was going to give them to you anyway, old man."

"not a lot going on in that little head of yours, huh?"

...

you let his audacity waft over you before biting back. "oh, i'm sorry... for... being a... good person?"

he turns around and leans his ass against the table, folding his arms over his big chest as he mocks you with his annoying smug grin. "i pointed a gun at you and you still wanna share your little precious belongs with me? that's cute, i guess."

"yeah. you just look like you fucking need them, alright...."

"so, you agree that you're a fucking idiot?"

your lips part in shock. "hey! look– do you want anything else or can i go now?"

"can i have my flashlight back?"

"no."

"wha— " you take a step toward the man and he raises his brows. "but it's mine! how do you expect me to go outside without it?"

"no manners whatsoever."

huh?

your jaw drops again. "excuse me? wha– what's that supposed to mean?"

"first, i catch you stealing— "

"i already apologized for that— "

"—then you try to kill poor old little me, and now you're asking for things without the magic word... tsk-tsk-tsk." he closes his eyes and shakes his head in disappointment.

"i'm not gonna fucking beg for my own flashlight back, bitch."

...

he barks out a laugh.

a loud one, from deep within his stomach. his head falls back and a pout forms on your lips, heat crawls up your neck involuntarily and you avert your gaze. "you're terrible, just terrible, sweetheart."

he takes your prized light and tosses it to you before pulling out his own from behind his back. you flip him off. "funny though, i'll give ya that..."

you grumble a yeah, thanks under your breath as he blinks the light at you twice. "may i go now?"

he stares at you before answering. "yes, you're dismissed."

at that, you knock your heels together and sharply bring your right hand to your temple – imitating a military salutation. "yes, sir!"

something sweet.

he tastes something sweet on his tongue. he wipes the drying blood from his neck and his cheeks hurt.

you're some random feral cub and yet, you've peaked his interest like nothing else. no cries and no wails, no begging and no tears – scared but alive. ready to part with valuable meds just because he apparently looks like he needs them. tch! growling at him even though he's caught you red handed, cutting him even though you weren't in danger anymore.

he hasn't felt this alive in a long time, either.

"don't let me see you again, old man."

playful, at best. you're matching his tone and the corners of his lips are reaching back behind his ears. you bite your inner cheek; despite everything – he's the most normal person you've met since the end of the world. he's not mean nor is he aggressive; everybody points a gun at a stranger these days. he made jokes and he gave you supplies – it's more than anyone has done for you in a while.

you look at the wolf in the shadow and he looks at the lamb in the moonlight. the wolf that offers food and protection and the lamb that cuts and steals.

the wolf that bleeds and the lamb that holds the blade.

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ningauinerd · 5 months

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I've been doing a lot of volunteer fieldwork with these guys recently so I thought I might as well do an infodump about them here.

The pygmy bluetongue skink (Tiliqua adelaidensis) is one of the most unique and unusual members of the Tiliqua genus, which includes the true bluetongues as well as the sleepy lizard/shingleback. However, the pygmy bluetongue actually lacks the blue tongue the group is named after, having a pink tongue instead! As its scientific name suggests, it is quite a range restricted species, being found only in open grasslands north of Adelaide, South Australia, as far north as Peterborough. Historically they ranged more extensively across the Adelaide Plains, as far south as Marion, but due to the destruction of suitable habitat they now occur no further south than Kapunda.

While most bluetongues are notable for their large size amongst skinks, with several species regularly exceeding 30 cm in length, the pygmy bluey lives up to its name by measuring a measly average of 9 cm long from snout to vent. This is actually still a fair size compared to the average skink, but it's miniscule by bluetongue standards. Even more notable than their size however are their habits, for they are the only species of lizard that is specialised to live exclusively in old spider burrows! The burrows of both trapdoor and wolf spiders are used, but trapdoor burrows are preferred in most instances.

Pygmy bluetongues spend the majority of their lives within these spider burrows, leaving only to defecate, seek out mates and disperse. The average length of time a lizard spends in a particular burrow is highly dependant on the individual - some are sedentary and spend many years within a single burrow, while others will move around fairly frequently. As well as places to shelter and raise their young (they have parental care, it's very cute), pygmy bluetongues also use the burrows as ambush sites, waiting at the top for suitable prey, usually a mid-sized arthropod, to stray close enough for them to quickly dart out and drag them into the depths.

but here's the ambusher

The chief natural predators of pygmy bluetongues are raptors and brown snakes, and sheltering in the burrow is the main defence against both of these threats. Their burrows are often wide enough for a brown snake to enter, but not wide enough for them to open their mouths in - this means all the brown snake usually gets by pursuing a sheltering pygmy is an angry lizard attacking its face, forcing it to retreat.

The lazy lifestyle of the burrow-stealing pygmy bluetongues is certainly unique, and also explains why they have been such an elusive species since they were first discovered by Western scientists in the 1860s. Rarely seen or collected, their habit of inhabiting spider burrows remained undiscovered for the longest time, and by the 1960s they had become so hard to find that they were believed to be extinct. That was until, in 1992, a pygmy bluetongue was found inside the stomach of a roadkill brown snake by amateur herpetologist Graham Armstrong, confirming their status as a Lazarus of the lizard world.

The historic rediscovery of the pygmy bluetongue (Image credit: Graham Armstrong)

Our previous assumptions of extinction were fortunately premature, but the pygmy bluetongue skink is in serious trouble nonetheless. While they are able to live in a variety of different grassland types, both native and exotic, the extensive modification of their entire distribution through cereal cropping and urbanisation has led to their populations becoming very small and fragmented, giving them a ranking of Endangered on the IUCN Red List. Almost all of these populations are on private land (often grazed by sheep), which makes protecting and/or studying them particularly difficult and complex.

However, when it comes to future threats to the species, climate change is easily the most worrying. As Australia becomes ever hotter and drier, their small remaining distribution is likely to become largely unsuitable, threatening the existence of the entire species. To combat this, researchers are currently investigating the viability of translocating populations further south to areas with cooler climates, providing a safeguard if they do indeed disappear from their remaining natural distribution.

But how do you study a lizard that lives exclusively in small spider holes? Well, if you want to catch them, there's only one tool for the job - the humble fishing rod. Not any special fishing rod either, just a regular rod with a poor mealworm shoddily tied to the end. David Attenborough kindly demonstrates the technique in Life in Cold Blood, although in his case the lizard was steadfast in remaining in the burrow!

the sacred tool of the mighty lizard fishermen

returned to their abode

Two additional Fun Pygmy Facts: Fun Pygmy Fact #1 - The closest living relative of the pygmy bluetongue is the sleepy lizard!

cousins!

Fun Pygmy Fact #2 - Wooden artificial burrows purpose-made for pygmy blueys have proven effective, and the lizards inhabiting them even tend to be in better body condition than those in natural burrows!

#australian wildife #wildlife #reptile #lizard #skink #tiliqua #bluetongue #animal facts #herpetology #natural history #fieldwork #infodumps #my stuff

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call-sign-shark · 10 months

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After the Storm, the Sun || Tommy Shelby x Reader

➢ Prompt "Don't you Dare" requested by @runnning-outof-time

Words: 1K (no proofreading)

If there was one thing you had never seen since your wedding with the infamous Thomas Shelby it was his smile. As both his wife and new secretary, you knew every feature of his face and how they contorted at his emotions’ discretion. Slightly, almost imperceptible. But day after day you ultimately learned how to read through the lines and catch those glimpses of faint emotions. For instance, you could tell he was mad by the way his sky blue eyes became blank and his brows slightly furrowed. That was when you knew someone had cross the line.

When it came to sadness, the change in his traits was even more subtile but nonetheless heartbreaking for observant eyes. He would avoid looking at you, rather focusing his attention on paperwork or something else as if a sole glance at your iris could break the fortress he had spent years building around his heart. All of these held no secret anymore for you — But regarding joy, you could not tell.

You started to wonder if Thomas was even able to feel happiness, or if the war, responsibilities and Grace’s death had definitely faded colors away from his life and turned it into a dull black and white movie whose ending would be definitely woeful.

Sometimes you would caught sight of a light, almost imperceptible smirk at the sharp edge of his lips — especially when Arthur would stumble on his own feet. It also happened that one time John almost choked with his toothpick after laughing too much at Finn’s clumsiness. But these short moments of innocence usually disappeared as quickly as they had appeared as if they had never really existed. Thomas’ genuine smile was a mirage and you, the thirsty and exhausted wanderer lost in the desert of his heart. At first his lack of positive emotions was mere detail, an interrogation born out of curiosity. Yet, the idea of making him smile soon became a bit too obsessive to admit. That was how you came to the decision to do everything in your power to snatch a sincere smirk off your morose husband — a silly mission John, Arthur and his young wife Heaven agreed to join in.

He did not smile when John stole clothes from Polly and made his best imitation of their Aunt, even though it was hilarious when he fell on the floor because he did not know how to walk with heels.

He did not smile when Arthur, wasted with whiskey, cut half of his mustache when he was shaving. The unfortunate event led him to shave it off and wait for it to grow back. Half of Small Heath could not recognized him for days. Let’s not be afraid to state that he cried a little.

Nor did he smile when Heaven’s gargantuan watchdog, Kaiser, jumped on her small frame, happy to see her, and shoved her right in a puddle of mud, ruining both her white hair and her expensive new coat. The expression on her face had been priceless. As well as Arthur’s silly way to run to her.

You laughed each time, almost straining your ribs, but your husband did not even smirk.

As days passed your hopes crumbled bit by bit, until you gave up on the idea. A sigh escaped your lips as you watered the roses of the mansion’s garden, for when Tommy’s darkness started to infect your mood the only place you would find peace was that place in which hundreds of wonderful flowers blossomed. Lost in an ocean of colorful petals, you did not notice the threatening black clouds that were coming your way, with an urging desire to rain down on you. When the first lightning bolt striated the sky, its roaring thunder making you jump like a scared cat, it was already too late.

You ran to the mansion, shutting the door close behind you. It was at that same moment, when you were looking down at your soaked up body with a look of pure despair on your beautiful face, that Thomas came out of the living room. His piercing blue eyes, whose quiet oceans had been darkened with memories of war, fell upon your frame. And then it happened. A little sparkle lit up in his irises at the sight of you, his wife, caught in the rain. Your entangled wet hair, your new dress sticking to your skin, your runny make up…

“The fuck are you looking at Thomas Shelby?!!”

Tommy took off his little glasses and, all of sudden, burst into laughter. The melody of joy, long forgotten, washed away the dust of his tired soul and boomed in the hallway. Laughing was so unusual for him that the corner of his mouth felt numb after a few seconds, but Tommy got the giggles and could not stop. You wanted to yell at him, to tell him it was not fun, but the beautiful symphony of his laugh awoke the flame of your love. It was the very same laugh he had before the war. Before Kimber. Before Campbell and all the other bastards… Scared of moving by fear of disrupting such a rare vision, you remained still. It was Tommy who broke down the distance between you and wrapped your hips with his strong arms, not minding to ruin his own expensive suit.

“I love your laugh. I wish I’d hear it more often.” You said with a little smile, your fingers gently caressing one of his hollow cheeks. He has been so stressed out he had barely eaten in a week.

“Well, you should get caught in the rain more.” He replied, raising an eyebrow, “You look like a wet cat.”

“Fuck you.”

“Language, Mrs. Shelby.” He leaned forward to kiss you but you denied him. Surprised, Tommy frowned and looked at you in hope of getting a reason behind your refusal, "Come on, kiss me."

“No.” You taunted him, freeing yourself from his embrace and taking a few steps back toward the closed door of the mansion.

"Don't you dare, Y/N." He warned you, for the cunning gleam in your eyes foreshadowed what you were about to do.

"Catch me, Tom!" You suddenly said, before rushing outside and running under the batting but warm summer rain. In truth, you were convinced he would not follow you.

How wrong you were.

“You bet I will.” He muttered to himself, putting his glasses on the nearest furniture before joining you in the chase.

The rain was pouring in Arrow House, but for the first time in years, sun shone bright in Thomas’ heart.

Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivated me, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

Arthur's wife is Reader in the ongoing series Heaven in Your Eyes.

#Tommy Shelby #Tommy Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby imagine #Peaky blinders imagine #Peaky blinders x reader #Peaky blinders #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #Tommy Shelby smut #Thomas Shelby #Thomas Shelby x reader #Cillian Murphy #peaky blinders x y/n

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bloodandthestars · 1 year

Text

・✧ — 𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓

tags: NO SPOILERS!, antihero! reader? i guess?, mention of blood, takes place before across the spider-verse, will be edited, one mention of something sexual but nonetheless mdni anything else I’ll let you read to find out <3

author’s note: helllooooo everyone! this is the longest thing i’ve written for my blog yet. he’s been rotting my brain heavily and i needed it to spill out somewhere. do let me know if you enjoy what’s implied and if you’d like more. a lil vague incase there is a future series. I love this but at the same time……anyways- translations and taglist are at the bottom of the post. enjoy!

wc: 4.5k :: masterlist next

BZZT. BZZT.

“Miguel,” You purred. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“It’s Important.”

It always was. “…And what kind of call is this?”

“Work-related.”

You hum. “Pity.”

“You still have ways into Oscorp?”

“Always do.”

“Good, I got a job for you. Meet at the usual spot at 9.”

A chill runs down your spine from the light wind passing through the night. You awaited your contract atop the Alchemax building, looking down at the neon lit city below. It was bright with cybernetic blues and greens, every now and then you could hear a hover car or two whirl by, only to miss it blend into the rest of the blurs flying by. The sight could never bore you, not in how it could change every day. That was the nuance of Nueva York, after all. Nothing ever rests, not even the wicked.

Nor the man that lands behind you with a thud of his feet and a slight grunt. He walks to your side in silence, taking in the city as you do. The sharp points of his eyes narrow. “You’re sure you’ll be able to get in this time?”

You turn to send him a look. Your hand raises as a drive twirls around your finger. “If you thought I couldn’t, you wouldn’t have hired me.”

He lets out a dry huff you take as amusement. His head turns to look at you. “Alright, you got me there.”

You barely catch the way his hand flies out to grab the device from your hand. His reflexes were always quick, but in this rare moment, you were just a bit quicker. Your hand is mere centimeters away from his in the air, catching you both in surprise. Your shocked expression slowly turns to one of accomplishment. His mask shifts, but knowing him, he was deadpanning under it. You chuckle, placing the drive in a pouch among many holstered onto your thigh. His eyes drag up from it’s placement to your eyes. You place a hand to your hip. “You ready?”

He places a foot to the edge of the roof. “Will you be able to keep up?”

Now it was your turn to huff, placing a prepared foot out as well. “Always.”

He gives you a final look, a lingering one you can’t quite place your finger on. He takes off and you’re quick to follow. The route felt routine to you both at this point, jumping over small spaces between buildings that eventually begin to stretch in distance. Your feet rush in a dash, swiftly jumping over over air conditioners. Miguel takes to running on the side of the buildings before webbing back to the rooftops alongside you. The two of you move when a roof entrance divides you, the heroine using his webs to ease his momentum after jumping over another conditioner back to your side. You slide under piping, coming up to jump in unison to the final rooftop. He lands on his feet, while you need to roll to slow yourself down. Both of you rise at the same time, looking up to the greenly lit skyscraper with geometric lettering spelling ‘OSCORP’ on its side.

“Which floor?”

He responds with a nod to the higher top of the building. “84th.”

You tilt your head to think. “We’ll have to climb the back side of the building. There are enforced windows starting at level 80.”

You feel a hand on your waist, causing your head to whip in his direction. You had to crane your neck slightly to meet his eyes. “Thought you said this was work-related?”

“Hush, descarada. You know what I’m doing.”

You roll your eyes, discontent with him ruining your fun. You hook your leg at his waist and he moves his hand to lower back to keep you stable. With one arm he’s able to secure you at his hip. You hook your arms around his neck and you both look up at each other. Curse how close he is and the way his voice gets low to affirm to you. “You good?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

His free hand shoots out a web, not wasting time with flying through the air. No matter how many times you’ve swung with him during an operation, your grip still tightens around him in a sudden jolt once you’re flying through gravity. The rush used to take your bones in a wave of nausea, but now it’s all adrenaline that flows through your body. You hoped that was why your heart quickened just then.

Miguel goes by your instructions, swing to the back of the building. From there, he gets you both to the windows of the 80th floor. You let out a breath of relief at the emptiness of the lab. Pulling your gadget from your other thigh holster. It had a metal hook at its end and with one push of a button, it closes in its claws for something thinner with a green light atop it. Your thumb rolls back the dial on its side, clicking another button. In a green flash, the two of you are inside the lab floor, silent and desolate. Your gadget goes back to your thigh, turning over your shoulder for any signs of trouble.

“Are you ever gonna tell me where you got that thing?”

You turn to look at him, a playful shrug rolling off your shoulders. “You looking to buy one?”

He sets his hands in the air, immediately shaking his head. “Nevermind-”

“I mean if you really are looking to, I can get you set up-”

“No, no, I already know wherever you got it, I don’t need nor do I want to know.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “Miguel? Breaking one of his rules— what was it again?” You place a hand under your chin. “Oh yes, ‘don’t ask questions’?”

“And you’re all the more reason why the rule still applies.”

You both reach the emergency stairs however, a handprint was needed to unlock the door. You pull a small glowing blue rectangle that looks similar to glass. A press of your thumb and a hologram emits from it. You give it a swipe, the image shifting through dozens of handprints. You stop at a familiar bulky one. Facing the glass device to the lock, it takes the holographic limb into its code and clicks to unlock.

“How does it know it’s real?”

“You lurk around the underground long enough, and you’ll see that people are in the market for all kinds of things.” You place the glass back into your pocket. “Holographic or fake skin included.”

Miguel raises a brow— not to say it wasn’t possible. He’s sure that with the right elements, tools, it could be possible. But how people got ahold things like that weren’t out of the highly advanced labs he worked in, he didn’t know. The thought only made his stomach turn. Maybe he should stick to his own rules.

You both head up the steps, going from level 80 to level 84. From the window of the door, the two of you peer out to see an empty floor. It was safe to say that it seemed too easy. Only a few guards patrolling up and down in their routines. You look to Miguel, who looks right back at you. You shrug. “There’s always a patrol going on.”

He looks back to the glass. “Seems more than usual.”

“Maybe it’s because they’re starting to notice a few things going missing.”

“….Maybe.”

You tilt your head at him. “What? You can’t take them?”

His head turns to you, the red of his mask narrowing. “I can take them.”

You smile at his annoyed tone, patting his strong shoulder.

The hallway is silent for the six guards on duty tonight, say for the air conditioner buzzing in the background. Guns are held strong in their grip, pacing back and forth in their routine.

THWHIP!

Three lines of webs block the muzzles of three guns. The guards get tense, looking up to see where the webs came from. They didn’t have time to think, much less act— the lines steal their weapons from their hands, clanking to the ground along with a guard. The other three guards turn, only for their muzzles to be stuffed with webs as well. You slide past the first three, going for the second row. In your hands were clear cut batons, whacking at two guards’ knees. Your baton lets out a hard crack from an upper cut from below and dropping a guard in an instant. You use your hand to balance yourself as your calves lock around the other guard’s neck. You flip him down to the ground, landing you in a kneeled position to throw your baton into the nose of the final upcoming guard.

With a hard smack, he goes to the ground. You stand on your feet, walking over to grab the baton. You turn to Miguel, who’s got his three guards tied up. You look down to the baton, a red liquid causing your stomach to fall. Turning back, you see the guard’s nose as the source. Panic settles in your head, until you see his chest rise and fall. You let out a sigh of relief, quickly wiping the blood off of on the latex of your thigh. You look up to see Miguel, who finally turns to you after you it clean. You share a look to each other before you shrug. “Poor bastards.”

You both begin walking to down the hall to the entrance when he responds. “Never saw it coming.”

The steel doors greet you with shiny meshed reflections of your bodies. You use the holographic glass again, and the doors slide open with a cool hiss. The lab was vast, with a control center in the middle with scaled monitors larger than you both. They light the space in a light blue hue spreading to its very corners. You both approach the system after a cautious walk.

“Think it’s my turn to show off.” The spiderman pulls his wrist device into view, displaying a small gold hologram and pressing away at data.

You lean back with the computer behind you, arms crossed. “Oh really?”

“Mhm.”

“Was I showing off before?” You ask with a playful tone.

He huffs at your words, tapping away until his tech. After a moment, his hand goes out. You know he wants the drive, but making things easy for him was never something that entertained you. Your finger raises with the drive’s key ring around it, waving it. “Please?”

“Do you take anything seriously?”

“None of that sounded like please.”

You sense another deadpan across his face. You roll your eyes, throwing into his grasp. “Don’t act like you’re not familiar with the word, now.”

He starts a little, whipping his head back to the computer system. You hear him grumble under his breath, something along the lines of “-mierda, me llevarás a la tumba-”

It causes you to let out another laugh for the night, a sound that he’s gotten used to.

You watch as he plugs the drive into an insert in the computer’s system. Various windows of information pop up on the monitors, lines of words you don’t exactly understand in a quick scan from your eyes before it vanishes. It wasn’t your job to know anyhow. Whatever a client needed, whatever he hires you for, is a trade of information for his eyes only. That never stopped your curiosity however.

You look away, eyes set to the steel doors. A ponding in your chest for the unexpected, only soothed somewhat with his company next to you in the long moment of silence.

The look on your face soon narrows as he’s still at work. “Almost done?”

“Yeah, just waiting for it to give me access.”

“To?”

“A chip.” He states plainly.

You open your mouth to ask more questions, only for you to be stopped by his body tensing. You raise a brow to him and you follow his line of sight back to the steel doors. The two of you remain eerily still, awaiting what was the cause for his tension. It was quiet, but you knew better than to trust that over his enhanced senses. You both glance to each other with caution.

You start. “Is someone-”

He tenses much worse this time, on guard in a flash. “Yes, they’re outside the door with-!”

The doors open and from its crack is thrown a silver canister. As soon as it hits the ground, a clouded air is released. Your nerves feel like they’ve gone ablaze. A hiss cuts into your thoughts, causing you both to turn to the computer. A capsule releases from system, and you grab what you assume is the chip he needs. The smoke only grows larger in size. Before you can say a word, he gets close, a hand over your nose and mouth. He tells you in a low voice of urgency. “Behind the computer, now.”

You both move quickly, his hand still atop your face. Placing your backs to the monitors, you try and take a moment to regain your mind for a plan. It’s difficult when you feel your heart try to rip out of your chest. Your eyes glance up to him as his body remains close to yours, an ear out to the approaching sounds.

“We’re going to have to-”

A clank sound interrupts him as another canister lands right in front of you both. Smoke begins to seep out of it at a rapid pace. Your throat began to burn, eyes watering as you tried to force down a cough. It was no use, you erupt with the sound out of reflex. He looks to you. “Don’t-”

His spider senses take in the next one being thrown and shoves you to the other side of the lab. He kicks the second one far from either of you. When the third one flies in the air, a web grabs hold of it and throws it back over the computer, where grunts and yells could be heard. In the mists of getting control of your vision, you hear him yell to you. “Go! The stairs!”

You scrape up to your feet, and the last thing he sees of you is your fleeing backside.

Miguel was a natural in situations under pressure. He had been in labs with mixtures of chemicals that would have to be settled in seconds, fought against robots and maniacs. He could handle this.

His face remained focused, shooting out webs as soon as an idea flew through his head. The sticky components lands on a lab stool, and with a grunt, he swings it into the back of the computer monitor. It flickers in its blue light, cracking and falling in the way of the assailants. He turns, eyes darting around the environment. His eyes light up to the emergency exit, with no other choice but to push through it.

A climb of walls, a sling from webs up the steps, and the Spider-man busts the rooftop door. Whirls of technology snap his attention to what’s in front of him— light blaring in his face with a large amount of guards surrounding him.

Miguel was a natural in situations under pressure. He’s done plenty of operations, fought when the world was a blur around him hundreds of feet in the sky. A wave of guards what a slight to his determination, but his mind…was elsewhere. He removes most of their weapons out of the equation, taking them in clusters with his webs. He lands a punch here, and slam with his glowing webs there. He had yet to see you or hear you yell out to him. Hand to hand combat increased, blows getting harder in their impact, grunts slipping past his lips out of increasing frustration. It felt like there was no end in sight, not that it mattered anyhow. His mind felt as though it was sinking in the tangled ropes of his paranoia. The longer time went by, the more restless Miguel got and the more determined he was to get through his enemies with vigor.

“I GOT IT!”

You shout from across the rooftop, the chip in your clasped hand. A red and blue mask turns to in your direction, relief washing over him like a flood. Between you both were many henchmen flooding from the roof’s entrance, all set to standing in your way. He nods to you through the chaos, and you nod back. The two of you run on the sidelines until you hear Miguel faintly shout. “Get over here!”

“Working on it!” You shout back. Eyes dart through the growing group of goons to find a clear path. His eyes are set on you the whole time, watching your face as the cogs go to work.

Your eyes squint, heart beating out of your chest, but you have a plan— somewhat. You knee one person out of the way, moving through the space to shove through a few more. Two step right in front of you. Not losing your momentum, you sweep your leg under one of them and use that same leg to balance the other into a high kick. It creates somewhat of a clear path for you, trying to get closer and closer to the man you’ve been working with all night. You catch a glance of him pummeling through a few men, giving you a slight of relief and all the more determination to pull through.

You’re almost there, goons try to grasp at your suit, tools, or mask, and you’re barely able avoid their invasive touches. You waste no time pulling out your hooked tool, clicking a button to throw out a long thick wire. It wraps around the ankle of a man and you pull hard. He falls, knocking into others like pins as he’s dragged across the concrete. Your path has never been more clearer. You click your wire back into your tool, eyes catching Miguel’s.

He takes out one more enemy before jumping off of the roof. Your feet quicken, taking after him and taking your leap.

The skyscraper’s height furthered your velocity downward. Wind blew into your face, strong in its force. Your tool wouldn’t be far enough to reach the buildings surrounding you. Your body reacted, stomach twisting and turning in an effort to scream at you the very danger you were in. But you? You calmly shut your eyes.

In an instant, a strong arm catches you as intended. You open your eyes, hooking your arms around his neck to secure yourself to his body. You squeeze the device you both needed into your palm to confirm your grip. With one hand, he swings from building to building to ensure some distance between you and Oscorp. After a few more buildings, Miguel slows down to a roof with a large neon sign right at its front. The momentum fades, allowing you both to land behind the bright lettering.

You pull away from his side, hands going to your hips as you caught your breath. Your chest rises and falls with rough exhales while he was silent in gathering his own air. After a while, you catch his voice speaking to you. “You still have it?”

You swallow, nodding and throwing the device to him. He catches it with ease. His large fingers examine the data card. Gold lines so microscopic but filled with the intelligence needed for his work to protect others. He slips it away into an empty wrist capsule, eyes flickering back up to you.

You placed your back against the sign only a few steps away from him, chest slowing to normalcy. Your eyelids were low, lashes soft in their curl. He gains his focus back when your irises appear from them.

“How many times do I have to catch you staring for you to realize you’re terrible at being subtle?”

Your teasing words cause his mask to shift, knowing all too well he was displaying his usual frown. “I can be subtle. You, on the other hand, can’t turn on a filter if you had one.”

An amused smile appears on your face, causing another sudden wave of relief over him. You take a glance to the sky before looking back at him. “Yeah, but that hasn’t kept you away now has it?”

Miguel grunts, and you turn your head away with a laugh.

The back of the neon sign behind you illuminates strongly in the night, red light seeping through the crevasses of the letters to give your vision clarity. Your body regained air in your lungs but the bruising was beginning to ache from your complications from getting to the roof. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Miguel’s arm holding his side. Your brows scrunch together. Just what was so important to risk a hailstorm raised on them from Oscorp? You knew from your previous encounters, that he wasn’t just hitting the large corporation, but any place with the highest level of technology in the city.

You begin after a beat of silence. “I mean, I can’t have some idea of what you get from the jobs you-?“

“No, you don’t”

Your eyes turn to a glare. “Watch that tone.”

“You know, you being demanding isn’t exactly an ease to deal with-”

“Would you like to do something about that?” You take a step closer, looking up to his tall stature. Your gaze is set to where his eyes were, feeling his eyes look directly back at you.

“I..” His brows knit together. You know what you meant, he knew what you meant. It takes him a second to speak with a retort, locking his jaw. “…not here.”

You purposely look to his masked lips, then back to his eyes. “…Thought so.”

Miguel takes a hard and long swallow, shutting his eyes.

"So, what's the deal with that chip?" You ask.

Miguel opens his eyes when he clears the clouding in his mind. Not fully, but enough to attain what you asked. He hesitates for a moment before responding. "It's...complicated. Let's just say it's valuable and leave it at that."

You raise an eyebrow, sensing there's more to the story. "Valuable how?"

Miguel shakes his head. "I can't say. It's not safe."

You cross your arms. “What we did tonight, or what we do every other night for that matter, isn’t safe either.”

“I know that but-” He lets out a sigh of frustration, his mask fading off his face in squares of blue light. Words never were his strong suit and his paranoia didn’t help his case on which words to choose. Or for you to know what he has planned. You were different, he knew that. And yet, he still eyed you with caution. It was in his nature.

You look him the eye, knowing he was weighing his options in his head. His jaw relaxes, voice settling into a softer tone. “I’m doing what I’m doing to protect people. All the things I’ve had you get? They help with that. You know I’m not- building some criminal empire or making some kind of genetic super weapon-”

“Really? Because those were only two of my theories-”

“I’m not-” To others, they would take his tone as immediate annoyance. But you know it’s laced with a slight of amusement that immediately disappears.

He hopes it’s enough to satisfy you, to keep you out the possibilities of pulling into a growing web of complications. But he knew you just as much as you did him, both akin to an unshakable stubbornness.

“I think you can do better than that.” You step forward into his space again. His larger stature is unmoving, but he could feel warmth radiate from your body at the familiar closeness. His eyes go down to yours, crimson irises slowly loosing their sharp edge the longer your gazes are on each other.

“We said we don’t owe each other anything…no matter what we do with one other. And I get that.” You tilt your head at him. “But if more jobs end like tonight, and I can barely catch an escape-“

He’s quick to respond. “I won’t let that happen-“

“-But if,” You emphasize. “That starts to become an occurrence, I at least want to know exactly what I’m sticking my neck out for.”

He looks to your features, scanning over your unwavering expression. You can’t help but look at the way he presses his lips together. Miguel locks his jaw to think, perhaps he’d do so in order to keep the words from coming out. Eventually, he lets out a sigh. “A super computer.”

Your face scrunches, brow slowly going up. “A…super computer?”

He mutters, still looking down at you. “Yes.”

“To protect people?”

“To protect people.”

His voice was firm, supposedly closing the door as quickly as it opens. You study him, trying to go over your past jobs to try to piece an explanation together. Sadly, you couldn’t. The path you’ve gone down, your lives beginning to intertwine like a binding threads— you knew that finding out what he was up to would be wary road.

Eventually letting out a sigh, you’re disappointed but understanding. "That’ll do I suppose.”

He watches you take a step back from him, back leaning against the sign. Out of the corner of your eye, you see that he follows suit. You both look out to the vast city, lights greeting your wandering gaze once again. The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes before you speak up. "You know, for someone who's always so serious, your fleeting sense of humor is enjoyable.”

Miguel huffs, chuckling soon after. "Is that your way of saying I'm not as boring as you thought?"

You grin, a sight he appreciates after your tenacious standstill. "Oh I’ve never found you boring. In need of a good fuck to let loose? Definitely.”

Miguel rolls his eyes, but there's a hint of enjoyment in his tone. "I'm plenty loose when I need to be."

You laugh. "Sure you are. That's why you're always so tense."

Miguel smirks. "I'm not tense. I'm focused."

You give him a playful shove. "Whatever you say, Spider-man."

translations: descarada (minx), mierda, me llevarás a la tumba (fucking hell, you’ll be the death of me)

taglist: @manchuria @mezzke @rea-zxv @vvitcxen @pooiooi @jowtaro @coleseyebrows

#is it. is it obvious y’all fu-#or that he’s protective #im going off of trailers here guys I’m seeing the movie next week #writing #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara #fics #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse

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mamayan · 6 months

Text

★SWEET★

Yandere! Dabi x Fem! Darling

Secret Santa 2023 Event!

Word Count: 4k+

Welcome to the Secret Santa Event, hosted by @ectologia (thanks for throwing this together ♡)

My Secret Santa is… @wilderuby ♥️ I hope you enjoy your Christmas present even if it’s not really Christmas themed~

cw: NSFW • Obsessive/Possessive Themes • Fem! Reader • Yandere Themes • Stalking/BNE • Dubcon • Dabi • PIV • Fingering • Praise/Degradation • Kidnapping • Psychological • Dacryphilia

It keeps happening.

No matter how many times you’ve visited the local police station, or how often you knock on the door to your neighbor’s home, you keep finding them.

Innocently resting beside your head when you wake up, whether you sleep in your room, the living room, or even your bathroom, is a single red rose.

Never intact either, the delicate scarlet petals singed in one way or another, to the point now it seems to have become an art form. The dark veins running along inside the thin petals blackened until the rose takes on nearly a new color of ashen burgundy.

You went to the heroes, the police, your friends and family, and yet nothing has come about stopping it.

“It is odd but maybe it’s nothing?” Your friends had said, claiming it was seemingly harmless.

How could it truly be though? You locked your doors, all of them, from the front door to your bedroom door to putting padlocks on the windows. You’d awake to everything intact how you left it, not a single thing out of place… except the addition of a single burnt rose.

It was breaking you down mentally and emotionally at this point. Seemingly being haunted by a ghost, faceless and voiceless, no physical form to blame and scream at. You do scream though, after a year of it occurring despite all efforts—even moving to a new home in a different city. No matter what, when you wake up, there’s a rose. Whether you sleep in a hotel, your friend’s home, your parents, even on the damn subway.

There’s always a fucking rose. Every. single. morning.

It’s to the point where you stopped sleeping, staying up to see with your own eyes if you’re truly insane. You blink and it’s just there, even when you search, and search, and search. A rose, a little crispy, rests in front of you without fail.

It was possibly a new method of torture, but soon enough your nervous system no longer perceived it as a threat. You’d awake to the rose, roll over, and start your day. You stopped mentioning it to family and friends, and eventually it became as normal as breathing. You’d place the roses in a vase, comical at this point, and change them out weekly. A few you even preserved, out of sick humor more than actual appreciation. You’d be certain to mention you wanted no roses at your funeral, at least not red ones, and especially not scorched ones.

You became complacent, as you set your keys down upon entrance to your home, to see an entire bouquet of flowers resting on your kitchen counter. Singed red roses, and one singular black rose in the middle… this time there’s a card. A small folded note about the size of your palm, attached to a silken ribbon wrapped around the thin neck of the vase. Condensation slowly slid down the side of the intricate glass, and for some strange reason, your heart felt dread seeping into its core. Your blood felt icy and your farthest appendages chilled as you shakily lifted the delicate paper up. Several seconds ticked by as perspiration dotted your brow before you eventually sighed and unfolded the note.

Ready to come home, doll?

It was motionless in your home. Deathly silent and still but nonetheless your body shook as tears welled up in your eyes while the foreboding words registered with you. You were home, weren’t you? You knew that much. You also knew you’ve never been called the nickname doll a day in your life, at least by no person you knew.

Was it a joke? Your instincts screamed it wasn’t. You did a pathetic job of staying calm, dropping your keys noisily on the floor as you trembled and dropped to pick them up. You’d leave, stay somewhere else tonight and figure it out in the morning—

“Going somewhere?” You hadn’t head even a footstep. You could see in front of you now a pair a beat up leather boots. Dark jeans lazily bunched up around them with a few nicks and tears in the denim fabric. Your eyes continued up until you were staring at a man.

Bright blue eyes, framed by thick dark lashes, stared down at you. His skin was like patchwork, staples actually pierced through healthy looking flesh while connecting what looked like chard leather to it. His skin you realize after a moment. Some healthy, some burnt, while he stood casually over your crouched form with his hands shoved into the dark trench coat he wore over some ratty band t-shirt. You didn’t watch the news often, hardly ever since your stress was high enough dealing with your own issues, but you knew who this was.

What villain this was.

“Dabi…” you barely even breathed his name, almost inaudible despite your close proximity, but it seemed he heard just fine as a slow forming Cheshire grin spread his lips wide open, revealing his white teeth and sharp canines.

“What’s that doll? Y’look like you’ve seen a ghost, speak up, can’t hear ya down there.”

You were right to feel dread. This was likely the worst scenario possible, one you truly hadn’t even thought of. A notorious villain leaving roses for you? Who’d believe such a ridiculous thing? Even you were struggling to believe it.

“Th-the roses…?”

“Hn? Thought I said speak up.” The waning of his smile shouldn’t have your blood pressure spiking as it did, but you scrambled to speak louder as those violent blue irises blazed.

“Did you—uh, a-are the roses from you?” You slid back, nervous as he stepped forward, eye lids growing heavy as he settled for a smirk on his lips.

“Bingo.” He confirms, not a hint of shame or embarrassment in his laxidazical tone.

You heart hammered against your ribcage, eyes briefly leaving him to look at the bouquet on the counter, mind running faster than a hamster in a wheel. He seems fine just staring at you, expression unreadable besides shallow amusement. He’s giving you time to think, and something in your gut is telling you to tread with caution.

What does it mean to leave roses for over a year for you, every single day? No matter how difficult it was made to do?

Someone in love or someone with a grudge. He doesn’t look the part for either, but the bouquet and strange note having you leaning towards some kind of affection for you. However disturbingly he shows it.

Swallowing thickly, nails scraping on the tile floor, you give a wobbly smile.

“T-they’re very pretty… thank you.”

His eyes briefly widen, head tilting as he observes you with a keener interest than before.

“Yeah? Y’like ‘em, doll?” Doll, that nickname again, you wonder if that’s how he refers to you in his mind. You never likened your appearance to a doll.

You nod with a short jerk, smile still plastered even as your bottom lip wobbles minutely.

“I-I do,” it’s more nerve wracking to be staring up at him from the floor, so you make a show of moving incredibly slow, standing on fawn like legs as you reorient yourself with your own feet again. “You gave me a bouquet this time…” even standing you’re forced to tilt your head back to look at him.

“I did.” He confirms, and the sweat sliding down your spine begins to cool as you shiver. You keep wetting your dry lips, struggling to truly grasp how you’re supposed to get the hell out of this situation.

He seems to visibly enjoy your panic and nervous ticks, watching you pick at your nail bed while he makes you stew in confusion and unanswered questions.

What do you do when the country’s top villain stands in your kitchen? You don’t have a quirk that can compete with him and you sure as hell regret squandering the times your friend encouraged learning some self defense.

He’s not in a hurry it seemed either, leaning a hip against your counter while he continues to observe your every movement. His presence made the space around you appear smaller, like he was sucking the energy from the room.

“Are you…” you look down at your feet, “…going to kill me?”

He snickers, catching your gaze again as it flicks up briefly.

“Nope.” He pops the p with a smile.

You don’t feel relieved.

“Are you going to hurt me?” A better question in all honesty.

“Maybe, probably.” He admits casually, shrugging as if it can’t be helped.

Then the best question for the evening, one still festering in your mind, “Why me?”

The air shifts, the scent of smoke like a campfire, wafting over to you.

“Asked myself that question a lot,” he stands up straight, removing his hands from his pockets. He ignores your flinch, coming closer even as you backed up into the counter. “Asked what the fuck is so special ‘bout you,” he jabs a finger into your chest, eyes flaring as he immediately flattens his palm and lays it over your heart. “To make me like this.”

He smells like campfire and something with chemical undertones, his breath held traces of menthol and tobacoo.

“Y’know what conclusion I came to sweetheart?” The way he said sweetheart was laced with venom.

He’s so close you can feel the heat radiating off him.

“W-what?” You don’t really have an option but to ask. He looks manic, languid expression sharpening into something dark and terrifying as he smiles.

“That it doesn’t fuckin’ matter. That I can do whatever the fuck I want, when I want, how I want. Not you, the heroes, or the shitty cops can do a damn thing to stop me.” He leans back, face melting again into something akin to pure satisfaction.

“Why you? It’s your own fault, doll, should’ve tried harder not to catch my attention, don’t’cha think?” It’s like he’s mocking you, eager to get a rise from you as anger and humiliation burned in your soul.

You shook in rage. Fists clenched at your sides as you urged the tears in your eyes away. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry like this.

“You’re a fucking asshole.” He laughs as you bite out the insult, a deep belly laugh, nearly doubling over as if you’d told the funniest joke possible.

“Wrong move,” he fakes at wiping a tear, eyes crinkling at the corners before your scalp is suddenly on fire, a gasp yanked from your lips as you're hauled up and back to the floor. “Said I’d probably hurt ‘ya, didn’t think you’d sass me so early. That’s okay, I’m good at breaking people, fix that mouth real quick.” He murmurs, as if he’s not using your hair like a lead and making the tears you’d fought back so hard earlier fall.

“Hurts!” You grunt, now putting up a decent struggle as you fight back.

He ends that quick with a flick of his palm, blue flames lighting up your darkened kitchen and striking horror into your soul as he waves it around in your face.

“Think I won’t do it ‘cuz I won’t kill ‘ya?” He asks, his eyes matching the flames he produces, filled with a sick sort of glee.

“I’ll make your face look like mine if you keep acting up.” That shuts you down quickly, going limp even as he releases your hair to grip your arm, dragging you through your home with confidence to where everything is, going straight to your bedroom.

“W-wait—! Dabi please, I-I’m sorry,” he stops in your doorway, looking down at you with over-exaggerated sympathy.

“Poor thing,” he coos, no less gentle as he drags you to the bed and pushes you down. It’s a gentle landing, but your panic gives you energy as you try to quickly crawl away. He grips your ankle, his palm heating so quick you hardly realize you’d been burned until you screech, teeth clenched tight as you struggle to even breathe. It hurts so much.

Your will to fight ends as he climbs above you, shrugging off the trench coat and yanking his t-shirt over his head while grinning at you.

“Too early for cryin’ doll, that one won’t even scar.” He looks disappointed by that fact. “Now, I can be nice ‘n sweet if you’ll be good for me…or I can push your fucking face in the mattress and take you like a filthy whore. Pick or I’ll pick for you.” His shift in tone as he tells you to choose how he’s going to rape you instills a strange sort of hopelessness inside you.

He doesn’t care when the water works start up again, rolling his eyes as he watches you weep and tremble like he’s done anything worth crying over yet to you.

“Well babydoll? I’m so fuckin’ hard right now you won’t like the choice I make for you.”

“Sweet…” you’re all curled up like a kitten doused in water beneath him.

He’s unbuckling the belt around his hips, tugging the denim down and his boxers along with it as he grunts.

“C’mere” he all but growls, yanking you up again and pulling at your clothing, quick and efficient in stripping you despite your actions mimicking the nickname he’s given you. Acting like a doll in his embrace as he tosses each article of clothing you wore off to the floor until you were down to your bra and panties. He’s yanking at your bra first, eyes greedily drinking you in as he leaves your top bare finally.

You sniffle pathetically, any attempt at hiding yourself useless as he uses his knees to knock yours open, fitting himself in between as he messily licks two fingers and shoves aside your panties to rub at your folds.

“Hgn!” Your eyes open wide as he crassly works two fingers into your dry cunt, his saliva barely enough to grant him access to the tight confines. “D-Dabi—,” your nails are digging into his arms, tearing at a seam of staples and causing a few small trails of blood to stream, but he’s too focused on you to truly mind.

“Y’asked for sweet doll, means you need to relax and let me in,” he explains, like he’s not stretching you open and jabbing his thick digits inside you despite your weak protests and groans of pain.

Your body gives way to the intrusion after a few minutes, adrenaline fading and leaving you almost exhausted as your cunt lubricates itself to ease his passage.

“There ‘ya go,” he murmurs almost hoarsely, letting you go when he sees you’re being obedient enough and using that freed hand to grip his leaking cock.

Your eyes track his movement, watching him grasp the thick appendage hanging heavy between his legs.

You note before even his size the piercings, not just one or two but a multitude lined his cock like a weapon more than a sexual organ.

Dabi notes the hitch in your breath and where your eyes lay, proudly running his thumb over the ladder of piercings up the spine of his shaft to the tip where two small stainless steel balls rested.

“Scared?” He teases, relaxing himself as he jerks his cock and relieves a little of the ache which had been building in his balls. Curling his fingers up, you gasp in surprise at the pleasant feeling which accompanies the action.

“Nah, you ain’t scared, doll. Not a coward, y’would’ve run a long time ago but you stayed ‘cuz you like this. You like knowing someone is out there willing to do anything to have you,”

“I don’t—,” he cuts you off with a sharp thrust up, pressing into the rough textured spot along your gooey walls.

“Shh, y’should know I don’t like liars, especially not ones who get exposed by their cunt dripping all over the bed.” His smile is filthy, lecherous gaze running along your sweaty exposed skin as he just keeps hitting that spot inside which makes your toes curl.

“P-please stop, Dabi I can’t—,”

“Still lying?” He asks, more amused than angry as you try your best to twist away from the pleasure now wracking your body.

“How’s this doll? You drop the Dabi bullshit n’say Touya when you’re about to cum, okay? Y’listening?” He stops working himself over, freeing his hand again to tap your cheek and catch your clouded watery gaze.

“Try it out.” He orders softly, sweetly, like he’s trying to be gentle but the way his fingers fuck you is anything but sweet or kind. The loud lewd squelching exactly as he said earlier, a confession to how much your body at least enjoyed his careless attention.

You huff, mouth opening to choke on a moan as he adds another finger, fingers wrapping around his wrist where they attempt to halt the sudden oversensitivity inside you.

If anything he jams his fingers inside you harder.

“T-Touya!” You hope he’ll stop. Hope he ends this strange psychological torture as your stomach coils up tight.

He doesn’t, Dabi merely groans in delight and chuckles over you, leaning down to slot his lips over yours in a kiss as messy as he’s making you down below.

His soft top lip is contrasted by the rough feeling of his bottom, but his kiss is hot and you can taste the menthol now. His scent is strong, and you catch a hint of his natural odor beneath the smoke and tobacco. Your cries are silenced by his lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth when you open to complain. You shiver as you feel the drag of a piercing on his tongue, the light touch somehow more erotic. He parts sloppily, saliva connecting your lips for a moment before you flinch as he spits in your mouth.

“Open your fucking mouth.” The tone he uses and language are harsh, and you tearily do as instructed. “Stick out your tongue.” He murmurs a bit more nicely this time, humming in approval as you obey with shaky hesitation.

You won’t hesitate soon enough, if he has anything to do about it. He’ll make his words gospel in your cute brain and have you eager to listen to his every command.

Dabi lets his spit hit your tongue slowly, watching you pant like a dog with your tongue out as he brings you closer and closer to your release. The way your walls clamp around his fingers and constrict makes his cock weep to sink inside you already. “Touya—!”

You cum when he finally allows you to swallow, gushing and throwing your head back while he fucks you through it, laughing as you tense up and beg for mercy and try to escape the pleasure he’s delivering relentlessly.

“Good fuckin’ girl, say my name baby, let me hear it.” Dabi nearly loses it himself watching you shatter, eyes wide and wild as he keeps going. “Touya pl-please…hn!” You keen almost like you’re in pain, fingers digging into his shoulders now while your legs kick out.

“Y’asked for sweet, doll, means you get to cum as much as you want tonight.”

That wasn’t what you’d thought it meant, even as you choke and cum again, this time more softly as he slows his furious pace to something manageable now.

Dabi smiles at the fucked out expression you now wear, pliant in his hold as he maneuvers your body, hoisting your legs up and pressing them to your chest as you whimper in protest.

“You can stay nice ‘n pretty like this doll, doing so good f’me.” He’s not very assuring as he murmurs to you while positioning the weapon he’s armored on his cock at your dripping entrance, tapping his tip a few times on your puffy clit as you moan and twitch, view perfect to watch how he slicks himself up. “T-Touya…” he moans as he catches on your entrance only to slip up, eyes looking at your face as he licks his lips and tries again, enjoying the soft warm feeling of rubbing on your cunt.

“Yeah doll? Need somethin’?” He grins, his cock finally breaching that tight ring of muscle that lets him sink into your hot welcoming depths. “Fuck, been dreaming ‘bout this cunt for so long. Y’know how many times I’ve had to just cum on your sleeping face instead of fucking you? All the times I could’ve just woken you up and had you?” He moans, laughing at the horrified and almost strangled look you gave him, his chest vibrating with a laugh as you mewl like a cat in heat when the first row of piercings sinks into you. “Like ‘em baby? Fuckin’ looks like you do, they feel good in your little pussy?” He moans again when you accidentally bare down on him, the tightness increasing painfully as you whine when his piercings dig in too much.

“Easy doll, let me in,” he murmurs, dark hair falling into his face as he braces above you with one arm, lithe muscles taunt as he works his hips a little at a time into you, enthralled with how you fit around him enough not to slam himself inside all at once.

When the top balls of his piercings kiss up against your cervix, you’re ruined, face a mess as you struggle to adjust to the stretch and sensations.

“S’too much, Touya—” you can only cling to him, eyes drawn to where he’s sunk his entire fat cock into your depths, the way your body contorted giving you the best view.

Your words have the opposite effect though, his groan guttural as he drags himself out, drunk on the feeling of your pussy and lost to it.

“Keep sayin’ my fuckin’ name, lemme hear ‘ya scream babydoll,” you go to protest again, when he slams each inch back into you, the ribs along his cock now working in tandem with his thrusts, effectively shutting you up as you squeal and dig your nails into his shoulders for purchase.

Dabi fucks you hard and deep, speed unnecessarily to keep the air from your lungs as each thrust feels like it’s hitting up in your stomach, the pain and pleasure blending until you aren’t sure if it truly hurts or not.

He sets a steady rhythm, watching your body shake each time he lets his hips fall like a hammer, seeing his cock swallowed each time by your greedy cunt until he’s delirious at the sight.

“Pretty fucking slut, look how your pussy takes me.” He’s spewing filth at you, but when it should offend, it instead makes you burn hotter, his name falling from your swollen pouty lips like a chant.

“This cunt want me to breed it? Fill your pussy full until you can’t take anymore?” You shake your head in denial, unable to truly form words anymore as he picks up his pace, fucking you hard enough to make your headboard slam into the wall. Each thrust accompanied by a symphony of wet slapping, his balls tapping your ass each time his groin kisses your own. “Bet it does, huh doll? This greedy little cunt keeps begging for more.” He loves the dichotomy between your sloppy pussy and the way you shake your head. “No? Y’sure doll? Think it does. Don’t like lyin’ baby, remember? You want me to punish you?” You shake your head again, a bit frustrated when he slows, letting you feel all of him inside you like this, his weight keeping you pinned.

“Shakin’ your head ain’t an answer doll, I’ll be nice ‘n give you another chance, but I expect a fucking a verbal answer this time.” He’s like a light switch. Either on or off but much more terrifying when he flips it on, eyes and voice menacing as you cough and answer in a husky voice. You don’t want to test him on the punishment, truly you don’t, as your ankle still fully throbs in the back of your mind as a reminder of what he’s capable of and who he is.

“I-I like h-how you do it now…” he cocks a brow, sinking deep and then pressing even further so you whine and try to push back further into the bed.

“Y’like how I’m fuckin’ you now? That it, doll?” You go to nod before remembering his warning, swallowing thickly and voicing a soft agreement.

“Hmm… then y’oughta say it, right? Tell me how good I’m fuckin’ this pussy.” He growls, bright blue eyes lighting up as you moan, his pace increasing again as you blabber out whatever nonsense you can to satisfy him. Whatever would make him be sweet, because you have a feeling you don’t want him any other way.

“S-so good! Mhn, f-feels so good Touya, pl-please, ah,” he’s being too rough, your eyes watering and tears spilling as he drills into you, but even still you feel yourself close to coming again as those piercings rub perfectly inside you.

Dabi lifts up, letting your legs fall to either side of him as he grips both your hips tight and fucks you more aggressively. Jackhammering into your gummy walls like he’s eager to imprint the shape of his cock inside you, mouth open and brows furrowed while he groans feeling you tense up again, this time around his dick.

“T-Touya—! M’coming, oh fuck—!” You look painfully suprised when you realize how much it all becomes as you cum, the peircings becoming more prominent as you spasm and clamp down on him, eyes rolling back as your vision slightly blurs.

“Yeah y’are doll, fuck, that feel good? Looks like it did.” He chuckles, chest swelling with a deep satisfaction as he fucks you harder despite your weak whines, overstimulated cunt begging for a break despite how he bullies himself inside you.

“Tell me where you want it,” he’s close, panting and overheating even as he nears his end.

“N-not inside…” he laughs at the soft reply, thrusts only getting deeper as he resorts to simply humping into you for friction after you tighten up so much it hurts to go harder.

“Can’t pull out though doll, look how tight you’re gripping my cock.” You aren’t paying attention, mindlessly moaning as he finally gasps and cums, cock twitching deep inside you and filling you up despite your earlier request.

He nearly collapses on you, chest rising and falling quickly as he regains his breath and relaxes on your soft chest for a moment to recouperate.

When he’s caught his breath, he leans up, slowly pulling out and watching his heavy load immediately spill from your hole.

“Tsk,” he uses two fingers to scoop up what dribbled out, stuffing it back into you as you sleepily huff and press a hand against his chest.

You’re helpless to stop him, too exhausted to fight more and figuring it better to let him have his way than risk his wrath right now.

Once he’s satisfied he’d stuffed you back up well enough, Dabi is quick to leave the bed and begin redressing, speaking casually with you despite your lack of answering.

You watch the villain act as if nothing had occurred, face the same smug arrogant grin when you’d first spotted him.

It’s when he returns his attention to you that fear begins to trickle back into your blood stream.

He seems to notice too, smile growing with your apprehension.

“Now doll,” he crosses back to where you’ve sat up and covered yourself with a blanket, weary gaze locked with his.

“Ready to come home?”

Then it’s dark, your vision going out with your consciousness as Dabi catches you in his arms, dragging your limp figure from the bed and into his arms quickly.

He’s kind enough to wrap you in a sheet as he takes your house keys and phone, shoving them in his pocket as he leaves your place with you in his embrace.

He whistles on his way home, a bit eager to see your expression when you wake.

He figures you’ll learn to like your new home once you realize you’re never leaving it.

He even decorated for the season, the tree a little burnt but he’s sure you’ll appreciate the sentiment.

Dividers/@cafekistune

#Secret Santa 2023 #BNHA #MHA #Bnha Dabi #mha Dabi #touya todoroki #Touya todoroki x reader #Dabi x reader smut #dabi x fem! reader smut #dabi smut #bnha smut #mha smut #yandere #yandere dabi #yandere dabi smut #yandere x reader #bnha yandere #fem! darling

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d3adp00ls · 7 months

Note

Heyia lovely! Noticed you were taking or rather looking for requests to do with Vanessa from FNAF?

If there still open I was wondering if you were able to a fluffy one, maybe when the reader is related to Mike somehow and she knows he’s struggling with a job so it’s actually her that suggest to Mike to work as a night guard with her, and maybe Mike is overprotective of the reader so when Vanessa turns up he’s like ‘stay away from her’, but their actually a couple, and when Mike just finds out he’s shocked and if your comfortable with it maybe Vanessa giving the reader a kiss or a kiss on the cheek and he like ‘so I’ll see you for date night?’

Overprotective?

Vanessa (fnaf movie) x reader

Summary: basically the request

Contents: fluff, angst (you gotta squint really hard tbh), established relationship, protective Mike, secret relationship

W/c: how about you count for me bbg 😉 (I’m actually so sorry this is so fucking long and idek why)

side note: The only thing I really changed is the fact that you aren't related to Mike and that you're just a childhood friend, I hope that’s okay and enjoy the totally amazing writing that I love so much!! Also, I’m pretty sure this does not fit totally well with the movie's timeline but it does kind of take place during it.

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You started working as a security guard at Freddy’s about three months ago. Although it wasn’t the ideal job and the pay sucked ass, it had its perks. For instance, you enjoyed watching Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica perform for you, and you also found it amusing to watch Foxy try to beat your high score on one of the old arcade games. It was pretty funny to see him struggle with the machines using only one hand, but it was less funny when he got mad and hit the machine with his hook. However, the best thing about the job was Vanessa Shelly, the officer who came every other night. You met her on your third day working at Freddy’s when she came to introduce herself to you, and you both immediately clicked. Now, two months later, you’re together.

Recently, you’ve been feeling lonely at Freddy’s. Vanessa couldn’t visit you all the time due to her job, and as much as you love the animatronics, you can’t have real conversations with them. Half the time, you’re left in your own thoughts while waiting for your watch to read 6 a.m. Vanessa recently told you that they were trying to find another security guard to work at Freddy’s with you. You were excited about the idea until she told you that you both would only have one shift together. Nonetheless, you were still excited about the idea of not being alone every night on the weeks Vanessa couldn’t keep you company. You just wish they would find a person faster. You were becoming more and more impatient as the days passed. It got to the point where you even asked Vanessa if you could look for someone yourself, which you quickly realized was stupid because you didn’t even know anyone who could do night shifts. You had given up hope of having a coworker and accepted the fact that some weeks you would be stuck at the old restaurant alone. However, one of your nights off changed everything. You were babysitting for your best friend Mike Schmidt, who was apparently out trying to get a job because he beat up some kid’s father at his last one. You had been drawing in the living room on the floor with Abby when he came in holding and reading an orange paper. You furrowed your eyes as you stood up and walked to him. “What’s that?” Mike looked up at you as you nodded toward the paper. He looked back down at it before sighing and crumbling it up. “Nothing, don’t worry about it,” he said with a small huff before looking towards the kitchen and seeing a box of pizza with a half-eaten pie on the table. He looked back towards you with furrowed brows. “Did you order dinner?” he asked while walking towards the kitchen and picking up a slice, feeling that it was still warm.

“Nah, my girl….I mean uh… a friend of mine did,” you said with a shrug, clearing your throat when you realized you almost had a slip-up. It’s not like you didn’t trust Mike with knowing that you had a girlfriend. You knew you could trust him, seeing as you had come out to him when you both were 15, and he was more supportive than your own parents could ever be. However, it wasn’t about sexuality with Mike. It was his protectiveness over the one he loved. He has been going through a lot ever since Garret’s death, so you don’t blame him at all for becoming overprotective about you and Abby. But the fact that you don’t blame him doesn’t mean you won’t sometimes wish he would lay off on the protective big brother act. Sometimes it’s the only reason why you haven’t told him about Vanessa. You were scared of how he would react and that he wouldn’t approve. Mike looked at you with a raised brow, and your heart nearly sank at the thought of him hearing your slip-up. But then a smirk started to form on his lips, causing you to raise a brow before he started speaking. “Oh? I didn’t realize people actually liked you enough to consider you a friend.”

You sarcastically laughed at his words before punching him in the arm, causing him to laugh and move away from you with his arms raised in defense. “Very funny, Mike. Tons of people like me, alright?” you say with a roll of your eyes as you walk back to the living room where Abby is still finishing her drawing. “Anyways, how’d it go? Did you get the job?” You ask as you begin to pick up some of the crayons that Abby wasn’t using. You hear Mike groan, causing you to glance up at him. He’s sitting in a chair with a hand covering his face. “That bad, huh?” Mike shakes his head, moving his hand to tap against the arm of the chair. “I don’t even want to talk about it,” he says with another groan before leaning his head back to let out a huff. You hum in return as you finish picking up the rest of the crayons and placing them next to Abby’s drawings on a table with a smile before standing up fully and brushing your pants off. “Well, I should start heading out. I have work tomorrow, and I have to do a ton of other stuff before then, so I want to get some rest before all of that,” you begin walking around to grab your stuff as you speak. Mike seems to perk up at your words, and you notice it as you go to reach for your coat. The way he practically jumps out of his seat and looks at you almost stuns you with how fast he moves towards you. You notice Abby now looking at you both with a confused look, which you shrug at her before Mike stands right in front of you, causing you to take a step back. “Whoa, what’re-” “You have a job, right?” Mike says so quickly you won’t even think he’s speaking English. “Excuse me?” “You’ve got a job, right?” he says a little slower but still slightly fast. “Yeah? Did I not just say that?” “Are you hiring?” He asks, his face showing hope. You give a sad smile in return as you pull your coat on. “Yeah, we are…but you can’t do night shifts, remember?” Mike sighs, looking towards Abby, who is watching the interaction.

He looks at you returning the sad look.

“I don’t think I have much of a choice at this point.”

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You sat in the security office at Freddy’s, humming to yourself as you watched the security camera with a bored expression. It was Thursday, which meant you and Mike had a joint shift. This was the last day of the week for him and the first day of the week for you. You had arrived a little earlier than needed, so you continued to stare mindlessly at the cameras as you waited for him to arrive. Your eyes began to get heavy, and you were just about to dose off when you saw a car pull into the parking lot and park next to your car. You sat up, looking more closely, and saw Mike get out of the car. You smiled a little, but your smile dropped when you noticed him talking to someone. You tried to squint to get a closer look before the door opened, and Abby got out. “What the hell?” you mumbled under your breath before standing up and walking towards the entrance to meet them there.

“Y/n!” You smile when you hear Abby’s voice excitedly yell your name before she jumps into your arms and gives you a tight hug. “Hey, Ab’s!” you answer, hugging her back before putting her down. “What are you doing here?” you ask with an amused tone. When you look towards Mike, he’s already nervous, knowing you will be on his case about this later. “Mike lets me come sometimes!” she says happily, and you raise your eyebrow at her while looking back at Mike. “Sometimes? You’ve been here before?” Abby nods before running off towards the stage where Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica are all standing, seeming to be happy that she’s there. You watch the interaction between the three robots and the little girl before sighing and looking back at Mike. “She’s been here before, Mike?” Your tone now changes from the one you used with Abby to one more serious. “I know what this looks like, but I swear I have a good explanation,” he says. You raise a brow at him as he continues to speak. “You usually babysit for Abby, but today we both had work, so I tried to get someone else, but I couldn’t find anyone to fill in for you.” “What about that girl who would sometimes watch Abby? Max?” you ask while looking back at Abby to see her and Foxy watching the other three perform. “She hasn’t been answering my calls,” Mike states, causing you to look back at him with a confused look. “Since when?” “Since last Thursday when you took the day off because you were sick.” You nod at his answer before letting out a sigh. “Okay…I guess it’s fine that she’s here. Just please keep an eye on her. The animatronics are cool and all, but they can be a little rough sometimes.” He hums and nods, and you smile at him before playfully hitting his arm. “Now, come on, let’s go watch the show.”

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It was 4 am, You and Abby were playing in the arcade with animatronics watched you both and Mike was god knows where.

Abby had just beaten your high score, much to Foxy’s dismay, and she was excitedly jumping around as you watched her while laughing before you got a glimpse of Mike speed walking towards the entrance causing you to furrow your brows but you just shrugged it off and look back at Abby who is now trying to convince foxy he can beat the high scores.

You were about to start a new game for him but then you heard Mike's voice paired with another familiar one causing you to furrow your brows and move away from the arcade game telling the group that you would be right back before you jogged towards the voices.

when you got to the entrance you saw Mike talking to someone at the door causing you to walk closer to get a look but when you stepped closer you were met with Vanessa walking in with a smile on her face.

“Hey y/n,” she says with a smile and you all but jump into her arm and hug her tightly while she laughs.

“Vanessa!” you exclaimed, surprised to see her. “It’s been forever!” She chuckled at your words and hugged you back before pulling away, leaving her hand on your waist. “We literally saw each other on Sunday,” she said as you pulled your arms from her. “Yeah…but it still feels like forever,” you mumbled as she laughed again, causing you to smile and playfully hit her on the arm. You were so caught up in the fact that Vanessa was here that you almost forgot Mike was there until he cleared his throat, causing both of you to look back at him. “I didn’t know you two knew each other,” he said, throwing a very obvious glare at Vanessa when her hand stayed at your waist, but she pulled away while clearing her throat, seeming to notice the tension between them suddenly. “Uh, yeah, I met her on her third day here,” she said, glancing at you with a shy smile, which you returned before looking back at Mike, who still hadn’t taken his glare off of Vanessa. “Anyway, I’m gonna go say hi to Abby,” Vanessa clears her throat , giving you one more smile before walking towards the group to escape the awkward tension. “You two seem close…” he stated dryly, finally taking his eyes off of her and landing them on you. You hummed while looking down at your shoes, not wanting to look him in the eyes if you decided to lie about the relationship. “She kept me company during my first few weeks here. She’s a very nice person,” you said, trying to diffuse the tension. Mike hummed and nodded his head, his gaze going back to Vanessa, who was now playing the arcade game. “I bet she is nice to you,” he said, his tone a little harsh, making you glance up at him with furrowed eyebrows, but he was still looking at Vanessa, making you clear your throat. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked him when he looked back at you. Mike shrugged before beginning to walk away from you and towards the others. “Nothing…forget it. Let’s just go.”

As you watch him walk away, you groan and cover your face with your hands. You slide them down your face and glance over at the group. Vanessa is already looking back at you with a playful smile and motions her head towards the hallway that leads to the security room. You furrow your brows and look away from her towards Mike, who is being distracted by Abby. She’s trying to get him to give Freddy a hug, but he keeps telling her no with what almost looks like a scared expression on his face. The interaction makes you chuckle and shake your head. You look back at Vanessa, who is still staring at you, waiting for you to make a move.

You can't help but break into a smile as you playfully roll your eyes and make your way towards the office. Vanessa announces that she needs to put her coat away and her footsteps quickly jog down the hallway. She grabs your arms and pulls you into the office.

Your gasp is cut short when she kisses you, leaving you momentarily stunned. But you quickly reciprocate, feeling her smile against your lips. She moves her hands to your waist and pushes you into the security chair, closing the door with her foot.

As you try to catch your breath, you look up at her and see her licking her lips. She straddles your legs and you instinctively hold onto her waist. She leans in to kiss your ear, causing you to tilt your head for better access.

"I don't think your little boyfriend approves of me," Vanessa whispers in your ear. You groan and push her back slightly to look at her.

"Don't call him that, he's like a brother to me," you say. Vanessa just smiles and kisses your lips again before moving to your neck.

"Well, your 'brother' definitely looked like he wanted to kill me," she teases. You hum in agreement, closing your eyes as she kisses a sensitive spot on your neck.

"Don't worry about him, he'll come around. He can be a bit overprotective at times," you assure her, gently lifting her head and brushing your thumb against her cheek.

"Have you told him about us yet?" she asks, and you meet her gaze before reluctantly shaking your head.

"I haven't found the right time," you sigh, and she nods in understanding.

"Well, you should figure that out soon," she says, getting up from your lap with a laugh and taking off her police jacket.

"But I don't want to," you whine, standing up and grabbing her arm to turn her back towards you. She smirks at you and shakes her head.

"Babe, I'm not his best friend, you are. You have to handle this on your own. But I'm sure it'll be fine. If he truly cares about you, he'll be happy for us, right?" she reasons, gazing into your eyes. With a heavy sigh, you nod in agreement. Vanessa's soft smile reassures you, and you lean into her touch as she cups your cheek.

"So, are we still on for our date night on Sunday?" you ask, and she leans in closer, her forehead resting against yours.

"Why wouldn't we be?" she teases, a mischievous glint in her eyes. You can't help but look at her lips, and she notices, licking her own before leaning in to kiss you once more.

"We probably should get back to everyone," you mumble between kisses, but you don't make any move to leave her embrace. She hums in response, her lips still pressed against yours.

"We should, but I don't want to leave you," she murmurs, making you laugh softly. You meet her gaze again, and she licks her lips before capturing yours in another passionate kiss.

You were so deep into the kiss that you didnt hear the footsteps coming near the room nor did you hear when the door open.

“The fuck is going on?!”

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AHHH I FINALLY FINISHED THIS FOR MY GIRL 🤭😋 TOOK FOREVER BUT I THINK IT WAS WORTH IT!!

Anyways please reblog if you liked it 🙏🏾🙏🏾 and have a nice day/night/evening/wtv

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Tag list - 🌚 ion have one yet

#fnaf vanessa #vanessa shelly x reader #fnaf #vanessa shelly #vanessa afton x reader #vanessa monroe #mike schmidt #five nights at freddy's #fnaf movie #is it obvious that idk how to end these things 🌚#anon ask

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seventh-district · 8 months

Text

Midnight Hour

With the warm haze of sleep fading from you, your brow furrows as your right hand presses lightly against his lower abdomen, your thumb sweeping up and down in a small attempt at a comforting motion. You quietly call for his attention, voice still thick with sleep.

“Star? Is everything okay?”

You awake in the middle of the night to find your lover in tears.

Pairing: Astarion x Reader

Word Count: 3,139

Content Warnings: [crying (obviously)] [non-specific mentions of Astarion's past trauma] [this fic was written by someone who hasn't actually played the game and that might show in the details/the lack thereof]

Blinking your tired eyes open, you squint at the light of the crackling fire in front of you. Closing them again, you let out a soft sigh as you try to guess at the current time. Given that you woke on your own, you’re assuming it’s likely close to, but not quite, time for you to take over tonight’s watch shift.

Your group has fallen into a routine where you pair off into teams of two, and a different team keeps watch each night. Tonight’s turn belongs to you and Astarion, and he’s taken the first half of the shift as usual. You usually, ironically, sleep your best on the nights that he keeps watch, in spite of only getting half the amount of sleep as you do on the nights another team has the job.

You suppose you can credit the fact that, at the end of the day, Astarion is a creature of the night. Something about knowing he has the upper hand when it comes to any unwanted nighttime visitors your group may encounter is… reassuring. To you, as well as to the others in the group, loathe as some of them may be to admit it. That is, once they all felt confident in his promises to not make a surprise midnight snack of them, at least.

Tonight is a bit of an exception, though, and you’re not quite sure what woke you early this time. You typically sleep soundly until he gently coaxes you awake, nails combing through your hair, voice soft and apologetic in your ear. He’s always somewhat reluctant to wake you, but he does so nonetheless, having learned his lesson after the first time he made the executive decision to let you sleep the whole night through. His arguments of “You really looked like you could use the rest.” and “What’s one sleepless night? I can sleep when I’m dead.” didn’t hold much water in the face of the way he dragged ass through the entire next day.

In “the spirit of fairness” and “proving that he can stick to an agreement,” he never tried to take the whole shift by himself again. It definitely didn’t have anything to do with how guilty he felt when he heard the disappointment in your tone when you awoke that first morning and discovered he hadn’t stuck to the plan. Definitely.

Laying there in the quiet, you try and fail to pinpoint what feels different about tonight. You don’t hear any strange noises, nothing feels unusual, and blinking your eyes open again you raise your head a bit to look around the fire. The rest of the group are circled around the other sides of the heat source, sleeping soundly. You figure that you’re probably just getting used to this routine by now, and your body simply woke up around your usual shift change time on its own.

Still, that doesn’t explain the vague, unplaceable feeling that something is just… off.

You let out a sigh that turns into a yawn as you stretch and roll away from the fire onto your back. Letting your head roll further to the left, your eyes land on the familiar sight of your lover’s back as he sits in his usual position beside you, diligently watching your six.

He’s taken to placing his bedroll right next to yours, insisting that you lie between the fire and himself. You couldn’t really argue with his point that he can’t feel the cold anyways, so there’s no need for him to be the one next to the fire. Nor could you argue with the benefits of having him as a line of defense between you and whatever lurks beyond the reach of the firelight.

The feeling of security and protection that he provides you with is still relatively foreign to you, and a soft smile blooms on your face at the warm feeling it brings. Your smile then falls a bit as you remember the silent question you ask yourself on the regular, of whether or not you provide him with the same.

You roll the rest of the way to your left, and shuffle further toward him, closing what remains of the small gap he’d placed between the two of you. Lying halfway on your bedroll and halfway on his, you curl your body around his seated form, bringing your right arm up and gently placing a hand on the right side of his waist. He flinches slightly, and if this were earlier on in your relationship, you’d retract your hand. He’s long since informed you though that his reaction to unexpected touch is simply involuntary, and as long as it’s you, you’ve no need to pull away.

You recall the quiet, restrained desperation in his voice when he first explained it to you, all but begging you not to pull away. He can’t control the way his body reacts to touch, given that before you, he couldn’t recall the last time being touched meant anything other than pain. In spite of that though, he wants it. He wants you. That’s obvious in the way that he, without fail, immediately relaxes under your gentle touch once his mind and body process that it’s coming from you. The way he’s come to not only relax, but to lean into it. Lean into you.

You’d never push past his boundaries, never in a million years, but he’s made it quite clear after about a thousand of your quiet requests for consent at every minor touch, that he’s entirely welcoming of your non-sexual physical affections. Getting the man to verbally admit that he actually enjoys cuddling with you, without the truth being concealed beneath a heavy layer of playful banter and practiced, honeyed words didn’t come easy, but he came around to it in his own time.

So, you don’t pull back, instead following through with the motion and slowly snaking your arm around his waist. You press your front against his lower back and curl around to rest your left cheek atop his left thigh. You can’t help but notice that he doesn’t relax into you in the way he usually does, and your head turns to the right a bit, struggling to get a half-decent look at his face as you’re both turned away from the fire light.

He remains tense, still, and unresponsive to your movements, gaze seemingly locked dead ahead of him, staring out into the dark forest.

“Star? Is everything okay?”

His typically silent breath suddenly hitches, and his head angles down to face you. Now that he’s turned toward the light, you catch the way his eyes shine, and the way the light reflects off of what you quickly realize are tear tracks, running down his cheeks. He’s actively crying, tears dripping from his chin, and now with his head tilted down at you they take a different path, running down to converge and fall from the tip of his nose.

You nearly bolt upright in your shock, quickly unwrapping yourself from him and clambering around on all fours until you’re sat down in front of him, your hands gripping tightly to your upper thighs in worry. His wide-eyed gaze followed your every movement, and even now that you’re sat still in front of him, his eyes still dart around, frantically scanning you, for what, you don’t know.

“What- what’s going on?”

You keep your voice as quiet as you reasonably can in spite of your shock and concern, not eager to wake your companions and have everyone witness… whatever this is.

He doesn’t respond, looking just about as lost as you feel, shaking his head in silence as more tears fall. It’s one hell of a sight, and it suddenly hits you that this is the first time you’ve ever seen him cry.

Unsure of what to do and what even caused this, you resist the urge to wrap him in a hug, not wanting to overstep in this unfamiliar territory. Instead, you glance back over your shoulder and once again see and hear nothing of note before trying another question.

“Is there a threat? Did you see something that scared you, honey?”

He takes a long moment to answer, seeming unsure, before eventually settling on another shake of his head. His lack of confidence in his answer isn’t the most reassuring thing at the moment, but given that you aren’t detecting any danger either, you decide to believe that he really didn’t see any threat. At least, not here. Not right now, in the present moment, in front of him. He seems about halfway here and halfway gone, and if your growing suspicions are correct, he’s probably been sat here lost in the dark corners of his mind for a while now, given the state he’s in.

You catch movement to Astarion’s right side and watch as Karlach raises up from her prior position sprawled out face-down on her bedroll, propping herself up with her forearms beneath her. Her expression of concern is too aware and her eyes are too awake for her to have just now woken up, and you quickly gather that she’s probably been awake and laying there long enough to have heard your questions and Astarion’s lack of any verbal response. She doesn’t say anything though, and doesn’t move, just letting the situation unfold and keeping a watchful eye on the darkness behind you.

Relaxing slightly at the knowledge that someone else is awake and helping to keep watch now, your focus shifts back to Astarion, who’s gaze has moved to his lap, tears still falling fast. It’s almost unsettling, the way he cries. There’s no sound, no movement, his breathing is hardly even affected, nothing more than the occasional shaky breath to give away any sign of struggle at all. You don’t have to guess why it’s like this, given what he’s told you about his past. You’re sadly certain that he learned to cry like this ages ago. Silent and still, sat alone in the dark so no one would notice.

You don’t want to think about the sorts of punishments he’s endured as a result of showing such pain and emotion, but your mind pulls from what experiences he’s shared and offers up a few anyways, making you begin to feel sick.

Leaning down and trying to catch his gaze, you ask another question.

“Astarion, are you with me right now?”

He blinks, more tears spill, and his lips finally part as he responds to you with a strained whisper.

“I’m trying to be…”

You smile in spite of your current emotions and the general mood of the situation, doing your best to be something positive, something gentle, something safe for him to focus on.

“There you are…”

You say it to yourself as much as to him, relieved to finally hear his voice, as laced with pain as it sounds. You hold out your hand near where his lie balled into fists in his lap, offering him contact without forcing it on him.

“I want you to keep trying, okay? Do your best to come back into the present with me. You can take my hand, if you’d like?”

He stares down at your offered hand for a long moment before shakily unballing one of his fists. He hesitates, fingers trembling, before reaching out and placing his hand in yours. His skin is even colder than usual and slightly damp to the touch, and you couldn’t be less put off, or give less of a fuck about the messy state of him right now, or ever, if you’re being honest. You just want to help him, however you can.

You curl your warm fingers around his palm, wanting to pull him into a hug so badly but restraining yourself, letting him call the shots.

“You’re okay now, Star. You’re safe right now, here with me. We’re safe.”

He’s quiet for another long moment as he shuts his eyes tight, taking in your words. His other fist unfurls, and his body trembles almost imperceptibly.

“I… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

Your heart breaks.

“Honey, you have nothing to apologize for. Nothing at all, I promise you.”

He shakes his head in disagreement, his voice an insistent whisper.

“I shouldn’t be doing this.”

Your shoulders drop from where they’d been tensely held up, body slumping with a silent sigh as you watch him still try to hold this wall up between the two of you. You’d made it past a number of his walls already, but this one… this one you’ve yet to be granted access behind.

“It’s okay to cry, you know?”

Another shake of his head, this time with far more force behind it, almost vehement.

“No.”

You soften your voice, insisting.

“Yes. It is. You can cry now, Astarion. No one’s gonna hurt you. No one’s gonna judge you. I swear on my life, that’s the truth.”

His breaths become more labored, uneven and shaking.

“You aren’t his anymore. The old rules don’t apply. You can let it out, now. No one, and I mean no one, is going to punish you for it.”

His eyes pinch closed and his head shakes hard side to side, like he’s fighting his own mind, and his hand opens and closes like it wants to grab onto something. He then moves, wrapping his free hand around your arm and suddenly you’re being pulled toward him, desperately, insistently.

You follow the motion as he continues to tug at you, first leaning forward and propping yourself up with your other hand on the ground as he continues to pull you closer. You quickly gather what he wants as he lets go of your hand in favor of latching onto your other arm, pulling you upward, choking back tears all the while.

You raise up on your knees and his hands move once again to hook beneath your arms as you allow yourself to be pulled up onto his lap with physical strength you keep forgetting he possesses. Hooking your legs around his waist, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him into you. His arms wrap tightly around your waist and he buries his face into the fabric of your shirt at the collar, muffling the soft sound of his crying which has now turned to full-blown sobs.

He’s still shockingly quiet in spite of it all, and you imagine it’s a mixture of being unable to let go of what’s ingrained into him, and not wanting to alert the entire camp to his current breakdown.

Your thumbs stroke up and down in place on his back, not wanting to let go of your hold on him but still wanting to give him some sort of comforting motion to focus on. Besides, you figure petting across the entire expanse of his scarred back might do the opposite of calming him down, so you refrain and keep your arms wrapped firmly around him. Turning your head down toward his, you whisper to him in between soft kisses to his temple.

“That’s it, love. Let it out.”

“You’re safe now, Astarion, I swear.”

“There’s nothing wrong with this.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“You have every right to cry. No one ever should’ve taken that away from you.”

He grips you even tighter as you shower him with painfully unfamiliar affection and acceptance, comfort unlike anything he’s ever felt before in his horribly long life. His forehead presses against your right shoulder as his crying slows, trying to ground himself and catch his breath. You make a point of holding him securely against you, breathing slow and deep to give him an example to follow.

You catch movement in your periphery and glance over at Karlach as she quietly sits up and makes a series of silent lip movements and hand gestures that you don’t entirely grasp. You work them out to mean that she’s gonna take over watch for the rest of the night, and you can rest with Astarion. You send her a grateful look and mouth a “thank you,” to which she waves you off with what you think you read as a silent “don’t mention it” on her lips.

After a short while spent focused on slowing down his breath and bringing him fully out of his memories and back here with you, you whisper quiet words in his ear.

“Your work is done, Astarion. You can rest now.”

You mean it in both possible interpretations of the words, and he seems to understand that, his body finally relaxing against yours for the first time tonight.

“You wanna lie down with me, love?”

He seems like he almost nods, but stops himself, whispering back in an exhausted voice, scratchy and thick from crying.

“Someone has to keep watch.”

You hesitate to inform him that Karlach has already taken over that role for tonight, sure that he’d get no sleep at all if he knew she’d witnessed this. You know you’re gonna be awake watching over him for the rest of the night anyways, so instead, you offer a compromise.

“I can hold you and keep watch at the same time, love. Just… let me sit and you can lay against me.”

He gives the suggestion a moment of thought before nodding his head, reluctantly loosening his hold on you. You maneuver the both of you carefully so as to avoid allowing his tired eyes to catch sight of your obviously awake companion sitting behind him.

It isn’t much of a task considering his eyes are halfway closed already, his only remaining focus locked on you. You settle down at the head of his bedroll, guiding him to lie down and bringing his head to rest in the center of your lap.

Your hands take turns gently combing fingers through his white curls, and you feel his tense shoulders begin to relax at the feeling. You bring a thumb down and gently stroke over the lines creasing his brow, quietly encouraging him to release the tension he likely doesn’t realize he’s holding. You watch him pull in a deep, albeit still slightly unsteady breath, and you can practically feel the relief that washes over him when he exhales.

Words aren’t necessary between the two of you at this point, not in this moment, but you offer him a few anyways, hoping they’ll resonate in his tired mind as he slips into sleep.

“You’re safe here, Star. Rest easy.”

A/N: Like I said in the CWs, I haven't played the game for myself (yet!) so I only know what I've seen in the hours of (mostly Astarion-focused) scenes I've watched on YT. As a result, this might have read a bit funny if I've gotten certain details wrong. For instance- I have no idea how resting at the camp actually goes, whether or not someone keeps watch all night, etc. Also I'm not sure if Astarion even needs to actually sleep or if he meditates/falls into a trance and just calls it sleep, but for the sake of simplicity, (and me being clueless,) when I say he falls into sleep just assume he's doing whatever he'd normally do to rest. On a different note- this little fic was inspired by a combination of two things. The lovely art and additional commentary on this post, by @velnna , and also by me listening to Midnight Hour by Sierra Eagleson on loop for like, an hour, and daydreaming up this specific scene before proceeding to write it out. It is a beautiful song that is now the title and theme-song for this fic, and I encourage you to go give it a listen if you haven't heard it already. Header Image Source: x

#astarion x reader #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #my writing #man. this may be the quickest turnover/turnaround whateverthewordis on a fic that i've ever made happen #i usually sit on an idea and then a draft for ages before posting smthn. so given that it's only been a couple days #between the initial idea and the finished posted fic. wow. groundbreaking speeds for me #the power of hyperfixation (and love)#y'know. i've noticed a trend #why is it that nearly every time i write for a new character the first scenario i place them in involves crying #and having Reader hold/comfort them #i did it with Eddie i did it with Venti i'm doing it with Astarion. who's next. who's next in the Reverse Comfort lineup huh #idk why that's my go-to scenario it just is. maybe i do have a type. (characters that need to have a good cry in their beloved's arms)#or maybe perhaps it is i that needs the good cry and i am projecting. who knows. 'tis a mystery (it's both)#anyways i know this fic is a bit short but i just. had one little specific scene i wanted to write and that's it!#i do plan on making more for him though. i've already got another idea brewing in my brain #also sorry if 'honey' and 'love' aren't your go-to pet names. or if you wouldn't call him Star #my own style of speech heavily influences what i have Reader say in my fics and i can't help itttttt. everything i write is self-insert lma #*lmao (i’m on mobile rn i’m not retyping all of that just to add the last letter)#(yes i’m posting this from mobile cause i took a nap and overslept and missed the time i wanted to post this at. so now i am In A Rush #smthn smthn self imposed deadlines smthn smthn ‘i know the guy that made the rules and he’s a total pushover’ anyways it’s fine. post draft

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simp4wom3n · 1 year

Text

The Quiet One Pt.I

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x fem!Reader

Requested: Yes/No ~ request @perfectartisanwerewolf

Summary: Ghost face's dramatic return causes many to point the finger at 'the loner' of Woodsboro High, Y/n, a horror loving, lonesome girl who appears to have an obsession with ghost face's first victim, Tara. ~ Word Count: 5.272k ~ Warnings: descriptions of being stabbed and blood, a lot of swearing

A/N: Hi!! first Tara fic and omg I fkn LOVED writing this although it got looooooong which is why i'm making this is 2 (maybe 3) part series. Hopefully you guys enjoy the first part and want more because, maybe its just me, but writing about horror is incredibly enjoyable. I love you all and enjoy <3

Pt1 ~ Pt2 ~ Pt3 ~ Pt4 ~ Pt5

"I dunno that y/n kid is weird. She seriously creeps me out." Amber spoke with a grimace, briefly glancing in your direction. Like every other day, you were sitting alone on your chosen bench, only a few metres away from the others, with nothing but the sound of your music playing softly through your headphones and the words of the book you had chosen to read accompanying you.

You used to try and be sociable, consistently putting yourself out there despite your introverted nature. You tried you really did. After many failed attempts and being met with nothing but resentment, you eventually just gave up, deciding that you were destined for solitude.

The only person who even acknowledged your existence these days was Tara Carpenter, the very girl you happened to have a massive crush on. Before you had shut yourself off from society, she was the one person who showed you any bit of kindness. You would often exchange small talk when walking between shared classes, or even on occasion try to sit with her at lunch, although that didn't last long - you learnt pretty quickly that her friends didn't enjoy your company.

Tara absolutely captivated you. It blew your mind that someone even looked at you without judgement, let alone have their eyes brighten at the sight of you. She was the one person who you felt safe around at school, the one person you knew wasn't just talking to you for a dare or some stupid prank. Perhaps that's why you fell for her as quickly as you did.

Whenever her eyes met yours, butterflies would erupt in your stomach and your heartbeat would increase tenfold. Whilst your time with her was very limited, every conversation you had, every laugh you shared, your feelings for the girl only grew.

Along with your cowardice, there was always something stopping you from telling Tara how you felt. Her 'best friend' Amber. You would have to be legally blind to not see that Amber hated you with her whole heart - you were clueless as to why though. Whenever you and Tara had been talking for 'too long', she would always swoop in and pull her away, leaving you once again alone.

It was one particular occasion that had changed you.

Pulling your headphones out of your bag on your way towards you bike, you were about to put them on before you heard a voice that instantly made your lips quirk into a smile. "Y/n hey wait up" Tara called after you, causing you to turn around and watch her run towards you. "Hi" you laughed as she finally reached you, slightly out of breath but with a warm smile nonetheless. "You seriously thought you could just go home for the holidays without saying goodbye?" she laughed in feign offence, causing you to chuckle awkwardly.

You hadn't necessarily been 'avoiding' her, you were just taking the easy route, knowing that if you kept talking to her, you were inevitably going to confess your feelings for her - something that you definitely wanted to avoid. She was the only friend you had. Sure, your heart longed for you two being more than friends, but to you, nothing was worth losing what you already had.

"Sorry..." you gave her a tight lipped smile as you fidgeted with your hands, all of a sudden feeling very awkward as your thoughts started getting the better of you. "No need to apologise" she smiled, "I just wanted to see you before you went home so... yeah... I'll see you next year I guess". She went to turn around and head back to her friends, but without realising it, before she could walk away, you had swiftly grabbed ahold of her arm.

Her questioning eyes met yours as she turned back towards you, your words caught in your throat as you try to comprehend what the fuck you were doing. "Sorry I... I just need to tell you something." 'Y/n stop it what the fuck are you doing', Your heart and your brain were at war with each other as you stared at Tara, who was patiently waiting for you to find your words.

"Ok... ok I'm just going to say it... Tara, I really, really li-" "Hey Tara! what the hell are you doing talking to this weirdo" Your face dropped as you caught a glimpse of who had interrupted you. Unsurprisingly, you watched as Amber walked past you and wrapped her arm around Tara shoulders.

You stood frozen. Your heartbeat ringing in your ears as you felt tears begin to well in your eyes. 'This cannot be fucking happening' is what was replaying in your mind as you turned away from the two girls, trying your best to hold back your cries. Tara remained silent, half annoyed at Amber for interrupting your conversation, but also confused as to what you were going to tell her.

She watched as you swiftly grabbed your things and unlocked your bike, obviously trying to get away from the situation as fast as you physically could. "Y/n wait-" she finally spoke before you cut her off, "See you next year Tara" she could hear a slight break in your voice as you hopped on your bike and quickly rode off.

You hadn't been the same since.

Ever since you returned for the new year, you had been avoiding Tara like the plague, knowing full well that if you talked to her she would ask you what you were going to say.

Your interactions diminished into short-lived glances. You were often so caught up in your own world that you wouldn't even notice Tara's presence anymore, despite her many attempts to interact with you. She was now left with only being able to watch you as you walk through the halls, and risk a quick glance to the back of the classroom where you now sat alone.

"Don't be mean, Tara seems to like her so she can't be that bad." Wes defends you, evidently having some sympathy. Amber looks back at him with eyebrows raised. "Yeah, and look where that got her." "Amber!" "Dude what the hell!". A myriad of complaints came from the group's mouthes at the comment. It had been less than a day since Tara had been attacked by the new ghost face, sending waves of fear throughout the small town and sparking the so-called blame game to erupt.

When the news of her attack broke, you felt numb. You blended further into the background as you did your best to ignore the news. You wanted to visit her, make sure she was ok, talk to her, but you knew that even if her friends weren't protecting her like hawks, you would never build up the courage to go.

"What?! Have you not seen the creepy stares she gives her? And from what I've heard, she's obsessed with horror movies... most likely including Stab" She wasn't wrong, you did love horror movies, it was even one of the things that bonded you and Tara together, but you were more into the classics, choosing to stay away from new franchises such as stab - not that they knew that because, well, why would they.

"She has a point" Chad answers after a moment of contemplation, earning him a slap on the arm from his girlfriend. "What?! I'm just saying it would make sense" he pauses as he looks around the group, everyone giving him either a neutral expression or nodding along. "She doesn't talk to anyone, instead she just watches them, she is nowhere to be found when anything happens, and I can guarantee you she doesn't have an alibi for when Tara was attacked... It make's total sense"

"Look, I just don't think we should point fingers just yet. Everyone is a suspect so we can't trust anyone" Wes argues, earning another glare from Amber who rolls her eyes and grunts, "Sure, but don't expect me to help you when she's slitting your throat", before walking off.

You lived alone, residing in a sad little trailer in a small trailer park on the outskirts of Woodsboro. Months ago, your parents had packed up all of their things and left to an undisclosed location, for an undisclosed amount of time, leaving you alone and without any income, struggling to stay afloat in an ocean of bills and debt. Despite this, you rather enjoyed your life alone and away from the busy-ish streets of the small town - not to mention that the eerie location added to your horror movie viewing experience.

The only thing that connected your little 'community' of four people to the centre of town, was your neighbour, Dewey. The oh-so famous ex-sheriff Dewey. As much as you admittedly hated the fact that people knew this place existed because of him, you truly did love the guy. He was like a father to you. To the best of his ability, he tried to fill in the massive void left in your life after your parent's disappearance.

He was basically the only person you actually talked to anymore.

Everyday after school, when you would ride your rusted bike down the secluded and winding streets that surrounded your home, your first stop was always his trailer. Most days he would be waiting expectedly on his doorstep, greeting you with a smile as you ranted to him about your day.

He even knew about Tara.

He was the only person holding you afloat, and for that, you would do absolutely anything for the man.

That being said, your bike screeched to a halt as you pulled into the trailer park, instantly noticing an unfamiliar car parked outside of his home. 'Odd' you thought to yourself as you hopped off your bike, letting it fall to the ground before taking small and almost hesitant steps towards his door.

As you reached Dewey's truck, you heard the door open as two strangers practically fell out of it. You immediately ducked behind the truck as the door slammed shut behind them, attempting to peer around the side of the vehicle to catch a glimpse of who they were.

"Jesus" the man starts, "Yeah, he's way more fun in the movies". Your brows furrowed at the statement. 'What the fuck is happening' was your immediate thought as you saw them head to their car. "Ok... So what's next?" "The friends". You stayed hidden as they hopped in their car and drove away, still incredibly confused about the whole situation.

No one ever came out here.

Waiting until the car disappeared down the road, you reappeared from behind the truck and began walking towards his door. Just as you were about to knock, the door swung open and you were met with an obviously somewhat distressed Dewey. He looks at you, surprised before he sighs and moves past you, heading for his truck.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on or are you just gonna leave?" you call out to him, noticing the gun holstered on his hip as his steps didn't even falter as he walked hurriedly to the driver-side door. "Hello?!". Again no response. Deciding to run after him, you quickly jump off of his small porch and bolt towards his truck, managing to grab ahold of his door handle before he could reach it.

"Really? so we are ignoring each other now" He looks far from amused as he looks at you, a hint of fear in his eyes, causing your gaze to soften. "What going on?". He stays silent for a moment, contemplating whether or not to tell you. "It's about Tara." He starts, looking at you cautiously. "Her sister and her boyfriend came and asked for my help... with ghost face" "Ok... and your helping them? I thought you said you never wanted to go through that again" "Yeah well I don't, but I don't really have much of a choice" he finishes, pulling your hand off of the handle and opening the door.

You could see the mix of concern and fear in his eyes, whether it was for himself or for someone else you didn't know, but what you did know, was that if he was in danger, so were you - after all you basically depended on him.

"Well in that case... I'm coming with you" You stated firmly as you rounded the truck and quickly hopped into the passenger seat. "What! No you are not, get out and go back inside." "Not happening" you mumble as you fasten your seatbelt, choosing to ignore his words as you wait for him to start the car. "Y/n I swear to g-" "I said no!" You yelled, causing Dewey's eyes to widen slightly.

There was a moment of silence in the car when neither of you dared to speak. You sighed in relief when you finally heard him start the engine, fastening his own seatbelt. Just before he started backing out, he glanced at you, signalling that this was your last chance to get out.

You didn't budge.

As Dewey's truck groaned to a stop, you watched as Tara's sister and her boyfriend got out of their car and headed towards the door of a suburban home. You both stepped out of the truck before slamming the doors behind you, the noise of which caused their two heads to turn.

The sister looked at Dewey in a mix of confusion and relief as he spoke, "I have decided to temporarily assist you in your investigation". "Thank you" she replied, the ghost of a smile appearing on her face. Her eyes briefly shifted to you, stood behind Dewey as if he were a barricade, your face blank as you chewed on your lip in slight panic. She didn't question you though, she was just thankful that Dewey had offered to help, and if you were with him, she was all the more thankful.

As the four of you walked towards the door, you heard the boyfriend ask who you were, her reply being "I don't know". You understood their hesitation, I mean you were some random kid they had never met before who decided to tag along for a murder investigation so it wasn't necessarily 'normal'.

After the sister rang the door bell, you froze slightly as you watched Mindy answer the door. You suppose it was obvious that when Tara's sister said 'the friends' you should have caught on, but here you are looking like you had seen a ghost.

Sure, Mindy was always one of the nicer ones, or at least she had never openly threatened you or looked at you like you had committed some heinous crime, but that didn't make you any less terrified as to what was awaiting you inside the house you now knew belonged to the twins.

Hesitantly following the others, your head began to pound with the sound of your own heartbeat. As you entered the living room, you begged whatever was out there to let you disappear, turn into useless particles and drift away, because sat in front of you, was Tara's whole friend group.

The tension in the room sky-rocketed as all eyes landed on you. You felt like you were about to implode. Thankfully their resentful glares only lasted seconds before Tara's sister pulled their attention away from you, talking bout why she had brought everyone together.

Following Dewey, you reluctantly walked further into the room, slowly taking a seat next to him on the couch. With your hearing almost completely overcome by the sound of your own pounding heart, the words of Tara's sister, who you now know is called Sam, went in one ear and out the other.

You only blink back into reality when you hear Wes mention Dewey, "What about Deputy Dewey here? maybe he's the killer... no offence" "None taken, but what's my motive?" "You got stabbed a billion times, got dumped by your famous wife and crawled into a bottle. I think it's safe to say you're on the suspect list."

You don't think you had ever looked at someone so intensely, your eyes burning holes into his skull as he accused the only person you could ever trust. "That's bullshit" you couldn't help but call him out - sure his explanation made sense but it still pissed you off.

"Well what about you then". Your head whipped towards Amber's smug words, shock painting your features at her accusation. Your mouth hung open as she continued with a smirk. "I mean come on!" she laughs, "Your a horror fan right? So you love horror AND your a lonely freak who creepily stares at people for a hobby... Classic ghost face I'm telling you."

Speechless. You are absolutely speechless. Everyone's expected looks burn you as you attempt to find some kind of rebuttal, to say something. Anything. "I-I don't" "Where were you when Tara was attacked?" Amber interrupted.

You sucked in a harsh breath knowing you were home alone at the time, no one to back you up - not that anyone would've. "At home" you mumbled, Amber scoffing at you. "Alone I presume". You bit your tongue to stop yourself from cursing her out, eventually nodding hesitantly as your eyes began to burn with unshed tears.

"That's what I thought"

After the whole 'interrogation' process had left you on the verge of a breakdown, you had grown evermore attached to Dewey, following him around like a lost puppy. So, naturally, when the news of Wes' murder broke, you were right beside him as he approached the fresh crime scene.

It was safe to say that he was concerned about your insistence of sticking with him, that added pressure of keeping you safe weighing on him as he inevitably brought you into something that you should never have had to worry about.

You felt cowardly as you became Dewey's extra limb, following him around as if he was the only thing that could protect you - and the sad truth was that he was. You were his own personal fly on the wall, rather unfortunately overhearing his conversation that he had with Gale.

Your face was blank as you had remained zoned out ever since you had heard the details of Wes and his mother's murders, even the thought made you sick to your stomach. You didn't know much about ghost face and their history, but one thing was for sure.

This one was a fucking psycho.

You were broken from your gruesome thoughts when you heard rushed footsteps approach from behind you. Your eyes were quick to notice Sam's figure approaching, coming to a halt in front of Dewey and the deputy he was talking to, a panicked look covering her face.

"Who's at the hospital?"

Your heart sinks. Everyone’s eyes stare at the deputy, awaiting an answer that never came.

"Who's watching my sister?!"

Images of Tara being attacked whilst helpless and unprotected in her hospital bed flash through your mind, sending a paralysing shiver down your spine.

"I-I just heard about the sheriff" You hear Sam scoff in a mixture of disbelief and fear, turning around and running to her car. You muttered ‘Fuck’ before you quickly followed suit. For once Dewey was on your tail as you make a desperate dash towards Sam’s car, needing nothing more than to get there already.

You swing the car door open as you scramble into the back seat. Sam, still unsure as to who you are, gives you a puzzled glance before Dewey enters the passenger seat next to her. She just stares at him for a second, almost as if she’s in a daze, until Dewey snaps her out of it.

"What are you waiting for? Drive! Come on let's go!"

The drive to the hospital dragged on for what felt like hours. You had pushed Sam's call with ghost face back to a more-or-less distant thought, only tuning in when they mentioned Tara - the only thing you cared about.

The whole drive, you had been anxiously waiting on the edge of your seat, so as you finally parked outside the hospital, you rushed out the car door and ran towards the elevator.

Watching the floor levels tick by, the sound of Tara's whimpers echoing through the call filling your ears, you swallowed down your tears as you inhaled shakily, attempting to compose yourself for what you knew you were about to face.

As you approached Tara's floor, Dewey pulled his gun out of his holster and glanced back at you. "You ok kid?" he asked softly, his brows slightly creased as he noticed your seemingly panicked appearance. "I'm fine... let's just save Tara and get the hell out of here". Despite still being on the phone, Sam offered you a small, warm smile, clearly realising how much you must care for her sister.

"Or maybe I'm stalling for time, fuckhead"

The elevator dings and you watch as the doors begin to open. Through the growing crack you notice ghost face looming over Tara's helpless figure, your jaw immediately clenching at the sight. You flinch slightly as Dewey is quick to fire a shot at the masked figure. His aim clearly having deteriorated since he retired, he missed multiple shots as the figure dashed into a room for cover.

As ghost face disappeared into the room, you were quick to follow Dewey out of the elevator, immediately heading towards Tara. Just the sight of her tormented figure made you want to cry. Falling to the ground next to her, you were quick to cradle her head as you scanned her body for any new injuries.

Despite her bandaged hand having turned a bright shade of red, relief washed through you when you couldn't see any new wounds. If you thought the sound of her whimpers through a phone call was bad, this was utter torture. You attempted to compose yourself - although you would be lying if you said you weren't freaking the fuck out. Sam was quick to help Tara off the floor and towards the elevator as you comforted her the best you could.

"Tara... your ok... your ok come on" you whisper hurriedly, glancing over your shoulder to see Dewey helping Richie off the floor. You return your focus on getting Tara to the elevator, not noticing her glossy eyes looking at you dazed. "Y-Y/n... w-what are y-you d-doing here?" she brokenly asks, your eyes finally meeting hers.

You are unable to respond before you hear a large crash from behind you. The three of you quickly turn around, your face dropping in horror as you witness ghost face jumping towards Dewey. "Dewey no!" you scream as you let go of Tara and run towards him, the protests of the sisters falling on deaf ears.

Dewey's gun fires off a stray bullet as your hands grip onto ghost face's costume, successfully pulling them to the ground. You collapse next to the masked individual, only now realising you were completely unarmed and didn't really have a plan past this point.

'Oh fuck'

Your eyes widened in fear as ghost face jumps on top of you attempting to stab you in the chest as you push against them with all your strength. Dewey attempts to pull them off of you as you struggle to hold the approaching knife from impaling your chest. Not appreciating his attempts at heroics, Ghost face quickly elbowed Dewey in the face, causing him to collapse onto his back and his gun to fly out of his grip.

"No no no no" you whimper as the mask looks back at you, its rich black eyes staring through your soul. You wrestle in their grip as they wind their knife back before thrusting it into your torso. You scream as you feel your abdomen burn, the knife piercing your skin and lodging itself deep within your gut. Your shirt quickly turned a bright shade of red as the blood began to flow from your new wound.

You cry out in pain as the knife is viciously ripped out, your vision beginning to blur with tears as your body erupts in pain. You hear Tara screaming your name as the knife pierces your skin for a second time, your body simultaneously burning and freezing as you feel yourself slowly sinking into the floor.

And they keep stabbing you. Again, and again, and again.

Stab wounds litter your body as you continue to scream, each one becoming quieter as you quickly lose energy, the sound of blood gargling in the back of your throat now accompanying your helpless screams.

You could almost sense their smile from behind the mask. The anger behind each of their strokes increasing as they went to town on you, blood now beginning to slowly seep from the corner of your mouth.

Your energy was seeping from your body as fast as the blood that continued to pour from your eight stab wounds. You curl in on yourself as ghost face is finally tackled off of you, coughing violently as blood splatters into the pool of your own blood that had seeped across the floor.

You were barely conscious when you heard numerous shots ring out through the hallway, instantly waking you from your looming coma. Turning your head as far as you could in your dazed state, you saw Dewey rushing over to you with what appears to be an unconscious ghost face behind him.

"Y/n" he breathes, scanning your weak and bloodied figure. Sucking in a hesitant breath, he carefully picks you up, his hands already covered in your warm blood. You grunt in pain as you feel your wounds stretch and pull. Your head falls onto his shoulder, your entire body aching as he limps towards the elevator, passing a concerned Sam and Tara. Tara watches as your blood leaves a trail behind Dewey, already seeping through both of your clothes.

Even when on deaths door, the sound of Tara's sobs cause you to look in her direction, worry filling your glassy eyes. To your surprise she is already looking at you with a similar expression. You try your best to put a smile on your bloodied face, but at this point any kind of movement sends shocks of pain down your crippled frame.

You clench your eyes shut in pain as you feel Dewey put you down on the cold elevator floor- why was he putting you down?

"The head" he says as he stands back up. Fading in and out of consciousness, you struggle to comprehend what he is saying, looking at him through your drooping eyes. "What?", "You have to shoot'em in the head, or they always come back.". You watch as he slowly steps backwards out of the elevator. Your mouth falls open as it finally starts sinking in.

This wasn't happening. This couldn't be fucking happening.

"Dewey! Who gives a fuck?!"

"I do"

"Dewey! No!" you let out a blood curdling scream, using all of your remaining energy to try and keep the door open, only for it to close in front of you. "No!" you screamed again, you voice shattering as you slam your fist continuously into the door. "No no Dewey come back! Come back please! I need you please!" you begged, knowing all eyes were on you but not caring how broken you looked.

"Please Dewey... please..." you cried, eventually collapsing of pure exhaustion, a metallic taste overtook your senses as your adrenaline finally ran out, the world around you turning black.

As the world falls in around you, you catch a glimpse of Tara's distraught expression watching you from behind Sam who attempts to keep you awake, inevitably failing.

Bright lights sting your tired eyes as you slowly blink away your exhaustion. 'What the fuck' is your first thought, your mind blank as to how you ended up in... a hospital? You try to sit up in an attempt to look around, stopped when you feel a sharp pain shoot through your torso, causing you to grimace.

You exhale shakily as you collapse back onto the bed. Hesitantly, you reach your shaking hand down to pull up your hospital gown, revealing what can only be described as 'a shit ton' of bandages. "What the..."

"No...", it hits you like a truck. "No... no no no, this can't be happening". The steady sound of your heart monitor starts to beep rapidly. You begin to panic as you breath erratically, trying to disconnect all the useless wires that were connected to you in an attempt to escape this all to realistic nightmare.

Apparently hearing your struggle, Sam walks into the room with a worried look on her face. "Hey! y/n calm down... calm down it's ok... it's ok." She rushes over to the bed and takes your hands in hers. You were a stuttering mess, your eyes unable to focus on anything in particular as you tried to wrestle out of the bed, her firm grip stopping you from going anywhere.

Eventually her gentle touch grounded you, her hands stroking yours gently as she looked at you sympathetically - a look you appreciated but knew couldn't be good. "Wheres Dewey?" Was the first thing that came out of your mouth once you had calmed down. You noticed how her posture slump slightly as her eyes fall to the ground - that can't be good.

"He's fine right? tell me he's ok... please" you brokenly begged her, tears rolling down your cheeks as you knuckles turned white from the strength in which you were gripping her hands. When she finally lifted her head back up, her eyes brimming with her own tears, a whole new wave of pain erupted through you.

"No no no no no!" you sobbed, Sam instantly pulling you into a tight embrace whilst remaining careful of your stitches. "He was all I had" you cried into her chest, her own heart breaking at your words.

She allowed you to cry into her chest as she gently stroked your hair. It had been a very long time since you had experienced such affection, not sharing a proper hug since before your parents had decided you were a lost cause. It was a feeling you missed.

Despite never wanting to leave her warm embrace, you eventually pulled back, wiping your nose as you sniffled away the remnants of your tears. You slumped back into your bed, feeling nothing but numbness overcome your body. Sam just sat there with you for a while, offering you whatever comfort she could whilst you let everything sink in.

You had nothing left. Absolutely nothing.

Just as that thought crossed your mind, you heard something approaching from the doorway, causing you to raise your head slowly, expecting a nurse or something to be coming to check on you. Instead, you watched as Richie rolled Tara in on a wheelchair, the injured girl flashing you a small smile.

If you hadn't been paralysed by your overbearing emotions you would've returned the gesture, instead your eyes looked back towards Sam whose lips similarly showed a small smile. "We're getting the fuck out of Woodsboro... wanna come?"

You looked back over towards Tara, her sweet features still offering you a warm smile. Your heart swelled as something inside you told you that it was her idea for you to accompany them. Your eyes welled with tears at the thought, finally offering her a wet smile, chuckling despite your tears as you nod enthusiastically.

"I would fucking love to"

Tag-list:@nitchxhdc @emeraldevan @looseheartedlady @the-night-owl-blr @badassjaguar @txmxav @oh-thats-cute @blckrwidow @cacciatricediartemide @flaiire1805 @rainbow-love4ever @fall-08 @simp4nat @natashadeservedmore @livingforwaddams @alexkolax @ssinfulprayers @wifeyjennaortega

#jenna ortega angst #jenna ortega x fem reader #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x fem reader #scream #scream 2022 #scream 6

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17020 · 15 days

Text

RECONSIDER.

Rin Itoshi has to reconsider his usual answer which he gives his interviewers, which is a hard "No." 0.9k a lil hurt to fluff?? a hint of crack. Rin being an idiot in love like always, Rin's ansgty feelings for Sae are here for a bit lol. gn! yn. not proofread i am sleepy and have like three lectures tmr.

"Will you support Re Al against Bastard Munchen?"

"Rin! Will you support your brother against Bastard?"

His inability to talk, frustrated expression, as well as his massive eye roll should've been enough indicators towards the interviewers that Paris X Gen's shining number 9 was in no mood to answer such questions. Nonetheless, their mouths were left agape as the youngest Itoshi sibling stormed off into Paris X Gen's locker room, unwilling to honor the interviewers' questions with verbal, coherent answers.

Because RIN ITOSHI did not even know the answer to that himself.

He had found himself conflicted, his mind constantly buzzing with the thought of potentially reuniting with his brother. The last time he had seen him was during the match against Japan's U-20, which had strained their relationship even further. Rin's previous priority was to avoid his brother at all costs. At least, until he had accomplished his current goal: to devour Yoichi Isagi, and rid himself of anyone who could steal his spot as the apple of his brother's eye.

If things had been left up to him, he would have yelled a loud, echoing 'No', shooing off every interviewer in sight. His bravado could have lasted him until his brother's match culminated the next day, and he could peacefully sulk as Paris X Gen had been officially been disqualified at semifinals from the Champions League.

It did not hurt as bad as he had imagined. Loss was a concept that was shown to the youngest Itoshi before, as he and his team struggled against the World 5 during Blue Lock's third selection. Furthermore, he had experienced bigger losses, such as the company that his brother provided, which had left a bigger impact on Rin than any trophy could.

As he neared the stadium's exit, his phone ringtone went off, a small smile creeping its way onto his face as he slid his finger across the screen to answer.

"Turn around!"

Without hesitation, Rin turned around, only to stumble upon you, the person who he labeled as 'his home', standing a few feet away from him. You sprinted, beelining towards his arms, with him engulfing you into his warm (not to mention sweaty), tight embrace.

"I am so, so proud of you, Rinnie. Know that I'll always love you."

No words were able to leave his mouth, as he was too caught up with your embrace to even function. Though it had been some time since Rin's love for solitude and his disgust when it came to company had dissipated, he still had some getting used to encouragement, especially from someone who he considered to be his whole world.

"...I love you too. So much."

So much, in fact, that you became his new source of inspiration. His muse, if you will. Every play, every action of his day—it was all for you, because Rin Itoshi had fallen hard.

Your love had touched him, making the Itoshi strive harder to change, and do his absolute best to not shun you away whenever his conflicting personality arises from time to time. Unknowingly, you had changed him to the point where...

Rin Itoshi had spent the car ride home pondering about the interviewers' questions.

He knew that if he got asked if he was to go, and he was totally single, he would have denied in a heartbeat. Having you stick by his side through good, bad, and ugly, though, meant he had to reconsider.

That was how deep Rin Itoshi loved you.

You had him so smitten, he was seriously considering attending a match where his brother, and his mortal enemy (who was number one on his kill list), were to face each other off in Madrid.

Sitting on your couch, you noticed your boyfriend approaching you with a troubled expression, his eyebrows furrowed while his gaze was fixated on his phone.

"Hey, Yn?"

"What's up?"

You patted the spot to your right on the couch, inviting him to sit down. As he sat down, he shifted his gaze from his phone, his eyes now meeting yours.

"I got us something."

Quickly, he turned his phone so you could see the screen, and the contents of it had made you burst out into laughter. Confused, Rin's eyebrows furrowed even more.

"What's so damn funny?"

Laughing, you unlocked your phone and opened a file, turning the phone and allowing your boyfriend to read it. He took the phone from your hand as he inspected it, his face now having a blank expression.

"You mean to tell me..."

"I know you, Rin. I knew you would like another chance to see your brother, so I went ahead and..."

"You mean to tell me we both bought two tickets to Re Al and Bastard Munchen."

You nodded, giggling as you took the phone from his hands. His face was flushed from embarrassment. He hated how predictable he was to you, as if he were an open book to you, which you have read and analyzed in minute detail.

"My seats are regular, though. Yours are VIP."

"Did you plan to buy plane tickets as well?"

Your smile fell.

He softly smiled, "I'll get the plane tickets. I'll pay you back for your tickets, we can give them to your parents if you'd like."

"My parents would need to be flown out to Spain for that, Rinnie!"

"So?" he shrugged, "tell them to pack right now."

Your expression resembled that of shock, playfully smacking your boyfriend's arm. "Rin, you know plane tickets get more expensive the later you buy them—"

"And who said they're paying?"

"What will we buy the tickets with?"

"My money???"

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #rin itoshi x reader #rin x reader #rin itoshi x you #blue lock x you #bllk x you #rin itoshi x y/n #bllk x y/n #bllk imagines

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forever-rogue · 8 months

Note

hello ❤️ i hope you're doing okay!

i have an idea that i'm not sure if you've written it before but here goes

reader has low self-esteem and self-confidence due to parents holding her on a tight leash (literally would isolate in a cave before wearing a dress, will always concede in an argument just to avoid being shouted at, maybe even obsessing over a skincare routine simply because her parents told her she'd never be pretty otherwise) and perhaps our lovely eddie or stevie could help her see her self-worth? 🥺

thank you for taking the time to read, and apologies if you've already written something similar 🙏

AN | Eddie would absolutely show you just how wonderful and loved you are! Enjoy 🥰

Warnings | Language

Pairing | Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 3.7k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You were meticulous.

Always polished and nicely put together. Never too loud but not completely shy either. Knew when to chime into conversation and what to add. You always seemed to be perfectly happy, despite the situation.

These were all things Eddie knew about you. And in a lot of ways those were all things he loved about you. But what he wanted even more was to see everything that you weren’t showing people. He wanted to know all of you, the real you. He knew you had to be in there somewhere - you wouldn’t have started dating him if you weren’t. He doubted someone truly so straight-laced would even cast a second glance at him.

But here you were, Eddie Munson’s girlfriend. To be fair, you didn’t go out and proclaim to the world that the two of you were dating…your family and co-workers and maybe even some so called friends probably wouldn’t have liked that. But nonetheless, you spent almost all of your time with Eddie.

And you loved him - you really did. There wasn’t anything that you could think of that you didn’t like about him. You might have appeared to be the polar opposite of him, but you were so much more alike than what appearances might suggest. And you knew that things were going to have to change at some point if you wanted this relationship to blossom and bloom to its full potential. Eddie would have to see the real you at some point.

You just hoped he would like what he saw.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hey sugar,” you could hear Eddie sweetly calling out to you from the bedroom as you tried to keep yourself together in the bathroom. You’d been in there longer than what would be considered normal for simply brushing your teeth and washing your face. You’d started with those intentions but things quickly turned south when you realized you hadn’t brought several of the items you used for your skincare every night, “everything alright?”

The last ten minutes had been spent staring at your face in the mirror, trying to calm yourself. Surely one night of an incomplete skincare routine wouldn't completely destroy your skin, right?

“‘m alright,” you called back, voice small and broken. You knew that Eddie definitely wouldn’t buy that; you hoped he was distracted and wouldn’t notice. You swiped at your eyes and tried to stop the tears from spilling over, “be out in a moment.”

Before you could say anything else, there came a soft knock on the bathroom door. You inhaled sharply, mind going into a panic almost immediately, “can I come in, sweetheart?”

You wanted to say no, wanted to be harsh back so he might leave you alone and give you some space, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to do so. Not to Eddie - the sweet, loving, gentle soul that he was. You sniffled, using the sleeve of your (his) sweater to wipe away the tears that had run down your face before slowly opening the door.

When you faced Eddie, his face turned into a huge frown immediately. The worst part was that for a moment you thought that frown might have been directed at you. After opening and closing your mouth a few times and finding it impossible to say anything, you resorted to the only thing you could think of - throwing yourself into his arms and clinging onto him tightly.

“Shh,” he responded in kind, wrapping his arms around and pulling you into his body. He pressed kisses the side of your head, rubbing your back in gentle, soothing circles, “it’s okay - I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

You mumbled out a response, mixed in with your tears, that he didn’t quite catch - but that was okay. Right now all that mattered was that you were okay and that you knew that he was there for you.

After a few minutes of gently letting you cry into his shoulder, he pulled back and pressed a kiss to your forehead, “c’mon - let’s get you outta the bathroom.”

“Okay,” you let him scoop you up as he carried you the short distance to his bedroom. You set you down gently on the warm blanket, reaching up to rest his hand on your cheek before brushing aways your tears. He crouched down in front of you so he could look up at you, a small smile on his face, “sorry for being such a baby.”

“You’re my baby, but you’re not being a baby,” he rested his hands on your thighs, giving them a gentle and reassuring squeeze, “do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” you admitted softly, dropping your face as your voice almost cracked, “but I do at the same time. I just don’t want you to think I’m stupid or hate me.”

“I would never think you’re stupid or hate you,” he let out an incredulous chuckle, shocked that you would even think it would be possible for him to feel anything but love towards you. He reached up and put a finger under your chin, tilting your face up so he could look into your eyes, “that’s not possible. I love you, yeah? You can tell me anything, so long as you’re comfortable with it.”

“Yeah,” you wrapped your fingers around his wrist and pulled his hand to your lips so you could press a gentle kiss to his knuckles, “I know that. It’s just…hard. I’ve never had anyone like you in my life and I guess it’s taking longer to open up.”

“I’m not surprised you haven’t met someone like me,” he gestured to himself, causing you to giggle softly, “you can have all the time in the world. It’s not always easy for me either.”

“I just meant…someone like you - caring and loving and so open,” you slid off the bed so you could sit next to him, your knees gently knocking into his, “my life has never been like that. And I guess I just always hold everything in and then as soon as one thing goes wrong, I crack.”

“What happened? That caused you to-”

“Have a stupid meltdown?” you interrupted him but he just clicked his tongue to show that he didn’t agree with your assessment, “it’s so silly. Promise not to laugh?”

“Pinky promise,” he held out his hand and extended his pinky towards you. You couldn’t help but laugh at how silly he was being, but gently hooked your pinky around his.

“I forgot some of the stuff I use for my skincare every night,” you admitted softly, avoiding his big, brown eyes. You cleared your throat at his silence, before offering him a small smile, “and that just caused me to spiral and worry that I’ve somehow ruined my entire face and life. See, it sounds so stupid just saying that out loud.”

“Hey,” he gently nudged your knee with this, “it’s okay to feel that way, your feelings are valid.”

“Even if they’re ridiculous?” you felt another wave of emotion wash over you, but this time a small laugh bubbled up as well. Only Eddie could be so reassuring as you felt like the biggest fool in the world, “because they feel ridiculous.”

“They’re valid,” he insisted softly, “why do you think that happened? Your reaction.”

“Oh my love,” you let out a long breath as Eddie’s cheeks turned bubblegum pink from your endearment, “it’s a long story. I don’t want to bore you with it.”

“I’ve got all night,” he shrugged causally, a cheeky little wink thrown your way, “well, I’ve got all the time in the world for you.”

“Okay,” you whispered softly, “okay. Let’s just start with the beginning then, shall we?”

“Lay it all on me. I’m ready for it all,” you could have melted at his kindness and the love you felt flowing from him, “just remember one thing.”

“Which is…”

“I’ll love you always. Regardless of what you tell me.”

“Eddie,” you chewed on your lip as your shoulders shook with silent laughter, “what if I told you I was like a murderer or something?”

“I’d be shocked,” he pulled his hair into a bun at the top of his head, a few curls managing to escape as he hummed thoughtfully, “but also kind of here for it. Kinda sexy in a way.”

“Eddie!”

“But I know that’s not true,” he reached for your hands and gently pulled you forward so you’d crawl into his lap. You took the hint and eagerly crawled onto him, relaxing when you felt his arms wrap around your waist, “so tell me everything.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Eddie had meant it when he’d said he had all the time in the world for you. The two of you stayed up until the early hours of the morning talking about everything that had been on your mind for so long, everything that weighed so heavily on you for years.

It all came out so easily and felt so good to finally tell someone. And, thank the stars, Eddie was the right person to listen and offer the right words that you needed to hear. It felt like he was one of the only people that understood you. You had been so worried that once he saw what you were really like, how your mind worked, that he would somehow not like you anymore.

But it was just the opposite - he fell even more in love with you. Which was a feat that he hadn’t thought was possible. But seeing more of your personality come out over the following days and weeks made him an absolute sucker for you.

And yet there was still more hanging on that you needed to change. And you knew that this was something that was going to either make or break some things, but you knew what needed to be done.

“Eddie?” you let yourself into the trailer, finding him in the small dining area, scribbling away in his notebook. He looked up at the sound of your voice, a smile tugging up the corners of his mouth.

“Hello sweetheart,” he set down his pen and closed the notebook before making his way over to you. He didn’t hesitate before taking your face in his hands and kissing you softly, but with so much meaning.

“Hi,” you were beaming up at him, already feeling yourself melting. He looked you up and down and couldn’t contain his smile; ever since your little heart to heart, he’d noticed that you’d started to dress a little differently - more yourself. You finally felt more free to be yourself, to let your imperfections shine through. You had never imagined that it would feel so good and liberating, “I have a favor to ask.”

“Anything.”

“I want you to meet my parents,” his eyes widened as he opened and closed his mouth a few times. He was definitely not expecting you to ask that of him. Not that he didn’t want or wouldn’t do it - he would of course. Eddie was just sure that you’d never even want him to meet them, or vice versa. His silent response caused you to swallow thickly as you shook your head, “never mind - it’s silly.”

“No, sweetheart, stop,” he gently put his hands on your shoulders with a gentle squeeze to try and get you to relax, “I’m just shocked is all. I didn’t think you’d ever want me to meet them. Are you sure you want to do that?”

“I know it seems a bit…odd,” your lips pulled into a sheepish grin that Eddie really wanted to kiss. He refrained and decided that he would do it soon enough, “but I’ve been thinking a lot about it and it seems like the perfect time to do it. If not now, then when?”

“That’s a big step,” he couldn’t put into words how proud he was of you. The steps you had been making lately were leaps and bounds above where you had been. He might have fallen just a little more in love with you then and there, “I like it. Look at you go, sweetheart. Nothing can stop you now.”

“Well, I do have you to thank for that too,” you put your hand on his chest and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “couldn’t have done it without you, love. So, what do you think? Will you consider it?”

“I will more than consider it,” he wrapped his arms around your waist before picking you up and spinning you around until you were breathless from giggles. When he set you back down, you almost stumbled into him. You really loved him, “I’ll do it. Just name the time and place.”

“How about Friday night at seven?” you looked at him expectantly, hoping he wouldn’t back out simply from the fact that you had already set a date. He leaned in and pressed his forehead to yours before nodding gently and brushing his nose against yours, “I love you.”

“I love you,” shivers ran up and down his spine as goosebumps erupted all over his skin. He would never get tired from hearing you say that, “I’ll be there and be on my best behavior.”

“Don’t put on any airs, Eddie,” you whispered, “just be yourself.”

“As long as you’re yourself too,” you closed your eyes and exhaled slowly, knowing it would be difficult. It was going to be hard to break a lifetime of being a certain way around your parents and allowing them to see the real you. But you wanted this, you had to do this.

“I will,” you promised, “I will.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“It’s going to be okay,” you had rung the bell at your parents house, waiting for them to answer and tightly clutching onto Eddie’s hand. You made a small sound in the back of your throat that sounded somewhere between a groan and cry, “I’ve got you. And if you want to leave whenever, we will. We don’t have to stay.”

“I know,” you agreed. After a few moments of tense silence, you heard footsteps coming towards the door. It slowly opened and you suddenly felt like your heart was going to explode. Suddenly your mother was there, staring down at the two of you. Fuck. You cleared your throat, "h-hi mom."

"Darling," she looked you over before shifting her gaze to your boyfriend. You could see her face falling as she studied him, clearly horrified that this was your choice was of partner. She tried to tone down her sneer but it was no use, "and just who is this?"

"This is Eddie. My boyfriend," you had no hesitation and you could practically see the gears turning in her head, "we've been together for a whole so I wanted you to meet him."

"Edward," she didn't bother to extend her hand or give him a hug (not that you expected that in the slightest). You almost laughed at her, "a pleasure…I'm sure."

"It's just Eddie, ma'am," he offered her a charming smile that she didn't return, "thank you for having me."

She remained silent as she turned to head inside. It was typical behavior and you shouldn't have been surprised. Eddie squeezed your hand as you stepped inside. He stole a few glimpses of the house, trying to see if there were any traces of you. But all he could see were tidy spaces that felt cold and impersonal. He had a feeling that this was what he would find.

"Dinner is just ready," your mother stepped into the kitchen to finish things up as the two of you went into the dining room. Your father was already sitting at the table, the paper held up in front of him as he skimmed the day's news.

"Hello," you held up your hand awkwardly, trying to get his attention. With a grumble he set the paper down and looked up to find you standing there awkwardly, "hello father."

"Who is this?" So much for the formalities, right? You didn't bother to hide your eye roll this time.

"This is my boyfriend Eddie," you gestured between the two of them, "Eddie, this is my father."

"Hello sir," he offered a cheery wave.

"Do you have a job, young man? Do you find it hard to get a job looking like that?" At least he didn't bother to hide his disdain. You opened your mouth to argue back but Eddie gently shook his head.

"I don't sir," Eddie answered confidently, "considering I own my own business - a mechanic shop. And before then it was never an issue either."

Your father's face paled as he kept his gaze turned away. Eddie shot you a quick wink as he pulled out your chair for you. You sat down and tried to keep your expression as neutral as possible.

A tense silence fell over the room, the only sounds to be heard were from your mother finishing up in the kitchen. Luckily, you and Eddie had managed to perfect silent communication and you both had plenty to say to each other. You almost couldn’t control your laughter. You would have never felt this bold or confident without having Eddie by your side. He was able to bring out the very best of you. You could only hope that you did the same for him.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the time the food was on the table and everyone had a plate, conversation still didn’t really flow. There were stunted comments here and there from your parents, but that was the extent of it. You hoped that Eddie could see what you had meant when you’d told him about your childhood and life; these people were as straightlaced as possible.

“So,” and you knew it - something - was coming. You swallowed the bite in your mouth and looked at her with a hard expression, “you’re dressing…interestingly.”

“What do you mean?” you knew exactly what she meant. You’d been expecting her to ask something of the sort. You looked down at your outfit, which to be fair was still nothing shocking. It was a short black slip dress under which you had a white t-shirt on and a pair of docs on your feet. Hardly edgy but different than what they’d come to expect of you.

“It’s just so…garish,” she raised an eyebrow as Eddie choked on his bite as he tried not to laugh. You barely managed to hide your own laughter as you patted his back, “what kind of impression are you trying to give off?”

“This is hardly garish,” you snapped back, “I’m covered and this is just…so average. What is the problem? Because it’s black and different from what you’re used to?”

“Honey-”

“Don’t honey me,” you hissed at her, as your father slammed down his fist on the table.

“Do not speak to your mother like that!” you cringed slightly at the sound of his voice but kept yourself mostly in check.

“I’m not doing or anything rude or wrong,” you said softly, “my entire life you both have been this way. You’ve never let me have any freedom or anything, and I’m finally getting to be who I really am. And that’s okay - what is so wrong with me dressing slightly differently or expressing who I am?”

“You’re going to ruin your life like that - giving people the wrong impression by those clothes and this- this boy!” you groaned as Eddie’s eyes widened. He wasn’t quite sure if he should do or say anything.

“My clothes or how I act isn’t going to do anything or ‘attract the wrong people’ as you seem to think. The right people wouldn’t judge me on something like that," you sat back in your chair and shifted your gaze between your parents, "and just so we're very clear, this is who I've always been. I'm just not hiding it anymore. And you know who helped me with that? Eddie. I love him so much - and I'm going to spend the rest of my life with him. So if you want me to be any part of your lives you'll accept me as I am, and him."

The entire room fell into silence; your parents were clearly horrified and Eddie was looking at you with pure adoration. You blinked a few times; you hadn't planned any of that and weren't quite sure what to say or do next. You swallowed the lump in your throat.

"Well," you hated the tone of her voice. She picked up her napkin and dabbed at the corner of her mouth before practically glaring at you and Eddie. He reached for your hand under the table and laced your fingers together, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze, "I don't know where my little girl went but it's certainly not you. You can see yourself out the door."

"Mom-"

"Get out."

Tears started pricking at the back of your eyes as you stood up, practically pulling Eddie with you. It was silent between the two of you as you grabbed your purse and walked out the door. You didn't even have it in you to try and slam the door. You just left.

Eddie gently took the car keys from you, opening the passenger side for you to get in. He quickly slipped into the driver's side and before he could turn on the car, both of you started to giggle loudly.

"Jesus Christ," he let out a long sigh as he leaned against the headrest, "that was brutal."

"Yup…and that's not even the worst they've ever been," you looked at him with dreamy eyes before grabbing his hand and pressing a kiss to his palm, "thanks for coming and dealing with that."

"Nothing to thank me for sweetheart," he whispered, "you gonna be okay?"

"Of course," you promised, knowing the memories would sting for a while before they got better, "why wouldn't I be? I've got you, haven't I? You're my family, Eddie. Not them."

"Did you mean it?" He asked so softly that you almost didn't hear his simple question, "when you said we'd be together forever?"

"Duh," you teased and his cheeks turned pink as he bit his lip, "unless that's a problem for you?"

"Not at all," he leaned over the center console and kissed you sweetly, "that's all I've ever wanted."

"Me too, Eddie," you stole a few more kisses from your favorite boy, "I love you so much."

"I love you, brave girl. So much."

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson one shot #joseph quinn #st

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