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norrizzandpia · 10 months

Note

I JUST READ You Were Never What I Wanted AND NOW I DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH MY LIFE

IT WAS SO GOOD

IM SO EXCITED FOR THE NEXT PART (if u decide to post it)

YOURE WRITING IS AMAZING <333

Yall ask and yall shall receive! Part 1 link if you need it <3

But I Need You Now (You Were Never What I Wanted, Part 2) (LN4)

Summary: In the aftermath of Lando and Y/n, Lando makes it his personal mission to show Y/n that it wasn’t fake. Their PR stunt might’ve started out as a lie, but it was love for him and he knows it was for her too.

Warnings: language, angsty, FLUFF AT THE END BITCHES AS AN APOLOGY FOR THE HELL I PUT YOU THROUGH WITH THESE TWO-PARTERS, sexual conversations

Note: see what I did with the title… 😏 You were never what I wanted, but I need you now 🤭 also i made this less angsty as an apology again 👹

Y/n goes home for a few days.

The news spreads throughout the paddock like a virus, being whispered in every person’s ear. When it gets back to Lando, he stands in the midst of the chaos in McLaren’s garage.

Jon leaves his hand on Lando’s shoulder in a comforting manner, knowing something happened between them, but not knowing the specific details.

“She left?” He says lowly, voice wavering as he tries to gain control of it.

Jon nods, “I’m afraid so.”

“What about the race?” He asks, hands clenching at his sides.

“She’s having the reserve driver take her place. You know that.” Jon gives him a confused look.

Lando shakes his head, “No, I get that, but how could she just give up on it?”

Jon sighs and Lando can tell his trainer doesn’t want to tell him the next bit of information. He does anyway, “I heard she was pretty distraught after that gala a week ago. Apparently, she was sobbing and the valet had to help her call a cab. She was a mess, I gather, no one knows why.”

I do, he thinks. I know why, Lando thinks.

Lando abandons the conversation, not wanting to hear anymore about the girl he loves.

She plagues his dreams, his nightmares, his delusions, his thoughts, he doesn’t need her to infiltrate his life anymore.

🏎️

“What’s the problem?” He asks an hour later when Jon treats him like he’s about to have a mental breakdown at any moment.

His trainer eyes him suspiciously, gently, “Nothing,”

Lando groans, arms flying out beside him before smacking down back at his sides, “Jon, cut the bullshit. You’ve been treating me like I’m a fucking baby all day. Why?”

Jon sighs, turning to look at him before grabbing his arm and pulling them out of the garage. Jon forces them into a random hallway always away from the commotion and publicity, looking at Lando softly, “What happened between you and Y/n?”

Suddenly, Lando’s defensive. The mention of her name makes his skin crawl and his heart clench, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You two were dating.”

Lando rolls his eyes, “We were not dating. We were a PR stunt. You know that, Jon.”

Jon stares him down, “You two were dating.”

The meaning of his words hits Lando, what Jon truly is trying to address. He’s drowning in the mistakes of his own actions and the love he developed for her, no way to explain his way out of the situation with Jon looking at him knowingly.

He folds his arms over his chest, “Maybe in the end.”

Jon’s face scrunches up in confusion, “In the end? Of course, you were. Did you sleep together?”

“Fuck, no!” Lando yelps, astonishment at Jon’s bluntness, a trait the man has never had when it came to his romantic relationships.

Jon shakes his head, confusion deepening, “Then how the fuck did you two end up where you are? How did you end up in this mess? Which you still have not told me about.”

He sighs, head falling to stare at his shoes, “I fell in love with her. She fell in love with me. Well, at least I think.”

Jon, the man so incredibly lost, looks blankly at Lando, “You fell in love. With Y/n. Y/l/n. The woman you used to absolutely detest. The woman who used to hate your guts. You two fell in love with each other?”

Lando nods, “I know how it sounds, but it happened.”

Jon’s head tilts to the side, “Okay, and what happened the night of the gala?”

Jon sees the shift of Lando’s demeanor, his entire body running cold with images of her walking out on him. The boy’s body running cold, he tries to get through the night that ruined it all, “Everything was fine in the beginning. We were just talking to a bunch of donors. You know, we got so many that night. Anyways, we were at the bar and being stupid as always, getting drunk, when Lu showed up.”

“Lu as is your ex?” Jon clarifies.

Lando nods, “Yeah, so she came up to us and we just got to talking. She mentioned the fact that we still talk.”

Jon’s mouth falls open, “You and Lu still talk?!”

“Not anymore, not after the gala. She basically cut off contact with me because she ‘hated the way it made her feel when she saw the look on Y/n’s face’. But, at that time, we had been. I should’ve told Y/n when we started getting serious, but I didn’t and that came back to bite me in the ass because she was so betrayed, Jon.”

“So, she walked out of the gala because she was angry about you and Lu?”

“Yeah, she basically told me I didn’t care about her in the way she thought I had, which wasn’t true. I told her I loved her and then shit just went completely downhill after that.”

Jon’s hand squeezes Lando’s arm, “You told her you loved her?”

There’s a flash of sadness in Lando’s eyes and Jon knows it’s because of the painful rejection. He’s learning that Y/n might’ve started out as one of the people Lando cared about the least, but she had quickly become the center of his entire world.

“Of course, I did. But, she didn’t believe me. I don’t blame her too! The start of our relationship was built specifically on hatred. We never wanted anything to do with each other and then, all of a sudden, we were kissing and it was feeling like something more.”

A silence passes before Lando whispers, “Sometimes I wish I never would’ve met her.”

Jon chuckles, “You’ve said that before.”

Lando scoffs, “Yeah, but that was because I hated her. This is because I can’t deal with the fact that she left me.”

“Have you tried to talk to her?” Jon inquires, eyes roaming Lando’s face in search of an answer.

“No,” Lando responds, grief and remorse soaking his tone.

“Well, maybe that’s where you need to start.” Jon smiles.

“In order to do what?” Lando’s lost on the insinuation.

“In order to get her back.”

It’s heartbreaking the way Lando stares up at Jon as if he’d just single-handedly restored all senses of hope and happiness into his body, “You think I can do that?”

“I think that you and her loved each other too much to let it go to waste this way.”

Maybe you’re right, he thinks. Maybe I need to find out for myself, he thinks.

—

Y/n, the girl he hated so much for the love she made him feel, was locked up in her room of her childhood home, information Lando gained from her mother who he had called quietly. It was the first time they had spoken, but it wasn’t the first time she had heard of him. Her daughter had shown up in the middle of the night, sobbing to her over a boy and berating herself for allowing a man to hurt her in the way he had.

However, with the undying kindness Y/n shared, she had patiently heard Lando out as he explained to her the feelings he harbored for her daughter. Strong words of love had persuaded her into giving Lando their address and giving him permission to come. After all, she saw the way her daughter’s Lock Screen lit up with a loving picture of them every time Y/n got a notification. She clocked the picture as the room where Y/n had been hospitalized after her crash, Lando laying on the bed beside her with his arm wrapped safely around her shoulders, a kiss to her cheek as she smiled at the camera.

Bags packed and in hand, Lando stands in front of her house, hood pulled over his head with sunglasses shoved over his eyes. He takes two steps at a time, bypassing multiple steps in the process as he reaches the front door in no time.

Knocking on the wood, Lando waits patiently before the lock is turning and her mother is appearing before him. Dressed in jeans and a sweater, she smiles softly at him, a smile resembling the one Y/n had adorned him with before he made her feel less than the most important person in his life.

“Hi, Ms. Y/l/n. Thank you for this.” He says quietly, not wanting Y/n to hear him and get scared.

She nods at him, opening the door and letting him step in, “As much as you hurt my daughter, I think this space is effecting her worse.”

He lingers in the doorway, nerves getting to him as he stares at the steps in front of him, steps he assumes would lead him to her.

Her mother notices his eyes, “She’s up there if you want to go.”

He takes a step toward them, but takes on back and looks at her with tension in his face, “Do you think she’ll want to see me?”

Her mother’s head moves side to side, “I think, at first, she’ll be mad, but she’ll warm up. I know she still loves you, that’s still there.”

He nods, “What should I say?”

His words relay quietly and her mother lays a hesitant hand on his arm, “Why are you here? Why are you fighting for her?”

His answer comes easily, “Because I love her. Because, after years of hating each other, I realize that I never truly, fully hated her. I hated that she was better than me and the fact that she was winning races more than I was, but I never hated her. I never gave her a chance to show me who she was and it took someone forcing us to be together for me to see how amazing she is. I’m remorseful for that, of course, but I’m happy it happened. If it hadn’t, I wouldn’t have realized the happiness that was standing in front of me all along.”

Her mother smiles brightly at him, “Tell her that.”

🏎️

The door creaks as Lando pushes it open, head poking in to see her laying with her back to him.

“Mom, can I just have some time alone right now?” Her broken voice whispers, curling further into herself as Lando steps in and closes the door.

He doesn’t say anything, opting to walk over to her bed and sit down. The mattress is larger, putting space between them so he’s not touching her.

“I can hear you breathing. Please leave.” She says again, this time pleading desperately.

Lando exhales before lifting his hand and laying it on her hip, his thumb rubbing soft circles lovingly. He feels her body tense, her head looking down to inspect the fingers wrapped around her skin.

She pulls away quickly, sitting up and whipping her head around to meet his eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing here?! You should be at the race!” She yells at him, shifting farther away from him.

He hates how tired she looks, how puffy her eye bags are from a mixture of exhaustion and tears. His body turns to completely face hers, his leg being pulled onto the bed, “Your mom gave me the address and I got the reserve driver to cover for me.”

Y/n scoffs, “Okay, why would my mother do that?”

“Because she knows I love you.”

Y/n’s eyes glaze over, iciness translating in her every move, “How would she know that?”

“I called her.” He states simply, watching her eyebrows stitch together.

Her head tilts, “How did you get her number?”

“From Nick.”

Y/n body rears back, “My trainer?! You coerced my trainer into giving you my mother’s phone number?! Are you fucking crazy?!”

“For you, yes.” He smiles softly. His comment earns an eye roll.

“Y/n, just listen to me.” He begins, but Y/n raises her hands in objection.

“No, Lando. Leave me alone. I appreciate the effort, but leave.” Her hands push his arms, doing nothing to move him.

He gently takes her hands in his and shifts closer to her, “No. I’m not leaving until you hear what I have to say.”

Knowing how stubborn he is, Y/n sits back and gestures for him to continue.

“When I first met you, I hated the success you had.” He starts.

Y/n laughs, “What a great start!”

“Let me finish.” He states, “I hated the success you had and I was dumb enough, young enough to think that meant I hated you too. So, I spent years resenting everything that had to do with you. I never gave myself one moment to reflect on the reasoning for my dislike of you. If I had, we wouldn’t be here right now. Part of me hates that, hates that I spent so much time treating you in a way you never deserved, but another part of me, the part that has fallen so hard for you, is happy it didn’t. If I had realized that I was just jealous of the race wins you were claiming, I would’ve been cordial with you, never getting close enough to get to know who you are out of the envy I held against you. If it had gone down that way, I would’ve never gotten to meet you. And I mean the person you really are, underneath all the PR trained, guarded skin. I would’ve never fallen in love with you, never experienced you and the happiness you have provided me with. It took us so long to get here, through hurtful insults and screaming matches, I can’t let you slip through my fingers, your love with it, because of my stupid mistakes. I won’t let that happen.”

Y/n stays quiet after he completes his last sentence, staring at him as she decides what she wants to do next.

Softly, she says, “Why didn’t you tell me about Lu?”

He sighs disappointedly, “I don’t know. Truthfully, I didn’t think it meant that much. In my head, I didn’t love her. I was just ending a relationship on good terms. I didn’t think far enough to get to you. I’m sorry for that. If I could go back and sit you down, explain to you what Lu and I were doing, the fact that it meant nothing compared to what I feel towards you, I would. You deserve that conversation. I don’t know if that means anything to you, but I hope it does. She was never going to mean the same thing to me as she had before after I first kissed you. Truthfully, she never did mean the same thing to me as you do. I’ve never felt this way for anyone before.”

Y/n nods slowly, gathering her thoughts, “When did you start loving me? When did it stop being hate? Because that night at the gala, at the end of our conversation, you hated me again.”

Lando shakes his head, “First of all, I didn’t hate you that night. I was just hurt and it translated to something ugly, which I can’t apologize enough for. Second of all, I don’t know when I genuinely started loving you, but I know I realized it when you crashed. When I was running throughout the paddock, I could not get away from the heavy pit in my stomach that only pointed toward one thing, I knew that. I tried to push it away, tried to forget about it, but when I saw you laying there, bandaged and alive, it just hit me. I loved that you were still there, I loved the relief that spread through me, I loved the happiness I felt when I saw you breathing, and, then, I just loved you. It built exactly like that. I was just listing the things, in my head, I adored about the moment in order to get away from the severity of it, and then it was just you. You, you, you, you.”

Y/n’s small smile graces his eyes and he moves closer to her, sitting with his legs folded on the bed and his hands over her thighs. The two of them breathe each other in before Y/n is shuffling closer to him. His arms immediately move from her legs to snake around her torso, folding open his legs and pulling her into him. She lays her shoulder against his chest, her head falling to the side to nuzzle in his neck as her legs spread in front of her, lying over his thigh. She plays with the hem of his hoodie as he kisses her temple, laying his head on top of hers.

“You know, I love you too.” She says into his neck. A warmth spreads through Lando, happiness buzzing all the way down to his toes at her confession.

It’s all he’s ever wanted to hear, “I had an inkling.”

She lightly smacks his stomach, giggling, “Don’t be a smart ass.”

Just as he’s about to rebuttal, his phone begins vibrating harshly in his back pocket. His arm reaches around to pull it out, Jon’s face illuminating the screen.

Y/n laughs, “Can I answer it?”

The idea makes him shine with pride, knowing Jon will be proud to hear Lando’s gotten his girl back. So, he plops the phone in her lap with a smile.

Clicking the green button, Y/n puts it on speaker.

“Lando? Did you get there okay? Have you spoken to her yet?” Jon’s rushed voice says quickly.

Y/n gives Lando a playful look before answering, “He got here okay.”

There’s a silence before Jon is cackling, “AHA! IS HE THERE?! LANDO, I TOLD YOU!”

The couple laughs at his antics, Lando moving closer to the speaker to say, “I’m here and I’m starting to think I should listen to you more.”

There’s shuffling on the other end of the phone before they hear Jon screaming to, what they assume is, the entire McLaren garage, “LANDO AND Y/N, GUYS!”

Again, silence, murmuring even, before the entire room erupts in cheers. Lando can hear it’s just his crew, the group of men knowing how much it stressed Lando out to have her mad at him, the reason she was, they didn’t know.

Y/n and Lando break into tears over their laughter at the men on the other end of the phone. It’s therapeutic to see her laughing in his arms again, a sight Lando didn’t think he would see again.

She’s leaning into him as the men continue to cheer, holding him as her body racks with laughter and all he can do is hold her closer, tighter.

He holds her like she’ll leave him again if he lets go, a thought he knows is so preposterous. Because she’s got her eyes closed, blissed out in his presence and he can see the lines of tension wither away.

She’s safe with him, she shows that through the way she hugs him and softly kisses the side of his neck when he ends the call.

When the noise stops and quietness envelopes them, the couple is left with just each other. He lays them down, her body relaxing into him as she murmurs how much sleep she’s lost over their dispute.

He whispers back, “Go to sleep, then, love. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He watches her eyes flutter close, her head falling further into the crook of his neck when she crosses the line between consciousness and unconsciousness.

Lando’s not tired, however, only laying down with her because he’s not ready to let her go yet. His eyes wander around her childhood room, pictures of a toddler Y/n winning karting races and different championships. Her toothy grin is a charming sight, a look she hasn’t lost in the years of her growth since then.

After inspecting and finding nothing, but more things to love about her, Lando’s eyes avert back to her sleeping form. He brushes the hair out of her face lightly, pressing a kiss to her forehead before whispering against it, “At first, you weren’t what I wanted, but I absolutely need you now.”

Tags (i forgot to put these lol): @toasttt11 @megumilovesme @the-untamed-soul @evieepepi08 @igotnorrrizz @im-an-overthinker @cxrlha @ssrcsm @landoslover @minkyungseokie @luvrrish @louvpdf @weasleyreidstyles @ushygushybaby @theycallmeahugger @sainzluvrr @itsjustaninchident @gavisuntiedboot @gracielukey @formula1mount @cjjydes282clo @ssararuffoni @aexitizen

#mclaren #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagines #mclaren formula 1 #lando norris fanfiction #lando norris fic #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando norris #lando norris x you #lando norris edit

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girlboypersonthingy · 5 months

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Could you maybe write a Sally Face One Shot, where Sal developed a huge crush on reader. But he thinks she doesn’t feel the same way. So he writes a love letter in which he puts no hope in, but then she actually tells him she does feel the same.

Does that even make any sense?😭

Yes…it makes sense and I’m weeping over this omggggg 😭😭😭 bruh this had me screaming and kicking in bed as I wrote it omfgggggg. Sal is pretty smart so I know this mf would write some pretty, thought out, poetic type shit

Notes: gn!reader, established friendship, friends to lovers trope

TW: none, just so fucking sappy and fluffy

Sal x reader- Sincerely Sally 💌

Dear (Y/N),

I want to start by telling you that you’re an amazing friend. I’m beyond grateful we’ve met. You’ve always made me feel so comfortable, so wanted, so important. No words could ever truly explain my feelings for you or the thoughts behind them, but I’m going to try.

Since we met, I’ve seen nothing but good in you and I think you’ve made me good, too. You make me feel good. You make me a better person. I don’t know who I’d be without you, but I know who I want to be now.

I want to be the one on your arm when we walk into a room.

I want to be the one you wake up to every morning and fall asleep next to every night.

I want to kiss you every time we say ‘good bye’ and every time we say ‘hello’ again.

I want to be the one you point to with a smile and say ‘him’ when talking to others.

I want to be the one to hold you when you cry.

I want to be the one to hug you when you’re excited.

I want to go every where you go.

I want to slow dance with you.

I want to head bang with you.

I want to paint with you.

I want to sing to you.

I want to hold you.

I want you.

I love you.

I’m in love with you.

And I’m sorry.

Sincerely,

Sally <3

Sal felt like a total loser while sneaking over to your place, which was just down the street from Todd’s house, and slipping the letter in your mailbox. He felt like he could puke just from writing the letter, there’s no way he could ever say these things to your face. He couldn’t help but hesitate, staring at the mailbox as his heart beat rapidly in his chest. ‘They’re going to hate me. I’m gonna ruin everything. What the hell am I doing?’ Sal thinks to himself, staying frozen in place for a good few minutes as thousands of thoughts race through his mind, shaky hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets.

He jumps a bit when he notices the light in your bedroom flick on through your window. He ducks his head and turns to leave, not wanting to get caught lurking around your house in the middle of the night. As he rushes back home, the panic begins to set in because now he realizes he left it…he left the letter behind. It was done. No turning back. He felt sick to his stomach and like he was already grieving the loss of your friendship.

Sal tip toes back in the house, praying neither Neil nor Todd would catch him sneaking in so late and ask questions. He trudges to his room, shedding his clothes before flopping onto his bed. Sal lays on his side and after taking his prosthetic off, stares at the wall for hours thinking about all the ways this could go wrong, all the ways you could reject him, every excuse and lie he could use later to act like it wasn’t even serious, like it was a dumb joke or something. Finally, after his brain had tortured him enough, he drifts off to sleep just before the sun begins to rise.

~next morning~

‘Holy shit…’ You think as you hold the piece of lined note book paper in your shaky hands. “No way…no way!” A giddy smile grows on your face as you clumsily drop all the other mail you had in your hands, besides Sal’s letter, on the ground and take off running for him. It was early in the morning and you were in pajamas still but nothing could stop you now. His house was not far at all and you were too excited not to immediately run to him and profess your love for him.

You and Sal had been friends almost as long as he has with Larry and Todd. You’ve slowly fallen in love with him just as hard as he has with you- the issue is that you are both dummies and think the other person sees you as a friend and a friend only. You’d find yourself dreaming of Sal, not knowing he was dreaming of you too. You’d absentmindedly doodle his name on piece of paper and blush, he’d find a strand of your hair on his shirt and smile so big under his mask. You two have been pining for so long but both so afraid to wreck the relationship you already have. Eventually, Sal felt like he couldn’t get anything done, couldn’t focus on his studies or the ghosts or even eating throughout the day. His brain was full, flooded even, with thoughts of you. He just had to get it out, he had to say it to you now or he would be haunted by it forever. Unbeknownst to Sal…you felt the exact same way.

Bouncing up to his doorstep with an uncontrollable smile on your face, cheeks aching and turning red, you knock on the door and ball your fists up out of excitement. Finally, Todd answers the door, smiling at you before greeting you. “(Y/N)! What are you doing here so early? We-“ “Sal! I-I’m sorry. I need to talk to Sal.” You interrupt, your crazy smile making Todd chuckle softly just as Neil comes up behind him. “Morning, (Y/N)! Sal isn’t up yet. He’s still-“

You weren’t trying to be rude, you adored Todd and Neil but you were currently completely 100% hyperfixated on the sleeping blue haired poet behind the door at the end of the hall way and you just had to see him immediately. “I-I’m sorry…” You laugh softly as you push past them, sprinting for his door, gripping the knob excitedly before swinging the door open. The sound of the door swinging back against the door frame stirs Sally from his sleep, making him groan and glance over at the doorway. Before he can react to you being in his bedroom, in your pajamas still with bed head and an adorable love sick smile on your face, you’re jumping into his blankets with arms wide open. As you practically belly flop on top of him, he huffs softly then chuckles, groggily blinking at you.

“Uh…morning…” He mumbles just before you place the folded love letter on his chest, giving him a small smirk. His eyes open wider now, his prosthetic eye not in its usual socket. Sal scrambles nervously to sit up more, his breath hitching in his throat. He was so half asleep for a moment there, he had forgotten all about the letter he planted in your mailbox last night. “Oh I uh….yeah uh-uhm-“ Sal can’t seem to move his mouth correctly, can’t focus his brain on the words he wants to say. And he just breaks down even more when he realizes you’re in his bed, still in pajamas with the cutest messiest bed head. He can’t deal with the cuteness and his gnawing anxiety…So you speak up instead.

“I love you too.” You smile sweetly before pulling yourself up closer to his scarred face and rubbing your nose against his. Sal lets out a whiny little hum as he lets his nervous hands very slowly move up to rest on your back, smiling like a sappy dork as he hugs you softly. He’s not sure what exactly he was expecting to happen after giving you that letter but this is most definitely the best case scenario. “Let’s just…fucking kiss already.” You say with a cheeky smile, eyes half lidded as you lean in closer. Sal sucks in a breath before letting his eyes close along with yours, pursing his lips out as his hands move up your arms and to your cheeks. His big palms caress your face so perfectly, his thumbs sliding back and forth over your skin as you lock lips, gently moving your mouths together as soft sighs leave both of you.

As his hands pull your face closer, your hands wander up and down his bare arms, legs tangled up in his blankets along with him now, you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh against his lips. “I’m glad you finally told me…that letter was so beautiful.” You whisper, lips gently ghosting against his now. Sal keeps his eyes closed but smiles brightly. “I wrote 153 of those letters.” He confesses, face burning bright red. “No you didn’t.” You scoff, looking down at him, finding this fact hilarious and also adorable and flattering.

“Oh yes he did!” Todd and Neil are leaning in the open doorway. Oops…you got so excited you didn’t shut the door behind you when you ran in. “Proof!” Neil laughs out loudly as he points to Sal’s trash can in the corner of the room, overflowing with balled up pieces of paper. You laugh as you look over, Neil and Todd laughing along with you. Sal drapes an arm over his face, trying to hold back his flustered smile and embarrassed expression. “Stoopppp.” He complains before you’re standing and playfully glaring at the two boys in the doorway. “That’s enough teasing. Shoo!” You grin at Todd before shutting the door on them and turning back to Sal.

“153, huh? Wow. That’s some dedication, lover boy.” You climb back into his bed, sitting cross legged beside him. “Why didn’t you just tell me in person, Sal? Would’ve been way easier.” You scoot closer to him and run your fingers through his tangled hair. “Uh, I totally disagree. I nearly had a panic attack just putting that letter in your mailbox and then having to walk away from it.” A laugh rings out from you as you toss your head back. “Ha! So, What? You’re afraid to say you love me but not afraid of ghosts or demons or cults?” You taunt him before leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes for a second. “You’re strange. And I love that about you.” You rest there with him for a moment before a fantastic idea hits you, making you sit up and gasp excitedly.

“Can I read the other ones too?!” Before Sal can answer, you’ve jumped up and ran to the rejected pile of love letters in the corner. “No! (Y/N)! No no nononononono!” Sal jumps up and runs to tackle you, his face blushing so red from his ears and down his neck. You laugh loudly as he wraps his arms around your waist and tries to pull you away from all the other embarrassing things he wrote and considered saying to you. “They’re…in the trash…for a reason!” He laughs and huffs as you you push forward, trying to reach even just one crumpled up piece of paper. “Pleeaaassseeeee?” You plead but your strength leaves you as Sal tickles you and has you cackling on the ground instantly.

And the next 10 minutes are spent wrestling with him on the floor of his bedroom while laughing like drunk idiots and occasionally pressing a kiss to the other’s lips. Eventually, you do get ahold of a few of the discarded love letter drafts and they are either like Shakespeare poetry type shit, or so fucking dorky and corny, full of puns and shit. Larry probably tried to help him with that one lol

#sally face x reader #sally face fanfic #sally face fanfiction #sal sally face #sally face sal #sally x reader #sal x reader #sal fisher #sally fisher #sally face #sal fisher x you #sal fisher x reader #sf sal #sally face fluff #sal fisher x y/n

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munsonslove · 2 years

Note

Your smut is top tier, truly.

Would you consider writing something along the lines of a secret admirer situation - Sub reader develops a crush on Eddie after she's been buying weed from him for a while and begins secretly leaving suggestive notes in Eddie's locker detailing some of her fantasies about him until one day he finally manages to connect the dots during their latest drug deal in the woods. Maybe the reader, although had planned to eventually confess her identity, didn't expect him to figure it out at that moment and is initially pretty embarrassed until it all leads to some very sloppy/kinky sex in the middle of the woods. Degradation, spanking, little bit of daddy kink and whatever else you think might make it more saucy, please. Go nuts :)

Mystery Girl

(18+ only)

a/n: sorry i haven't posted in a bit, my life is in shambles. the good news is i think i'm over being sad and have moved on to apathy, so enjoy the filth!

summary: A stupid mistake leads Eddie to figuring out you were the one leaving dirty love notes in his locker for months.

wordcount: 5.9k

tags/warnings: fem!sub!reader, dom!Eddie, smut, praise kink, degradation, daddy kink, fingering (f receiving), p in v penetration, dacryphilia, spanking, choking, hair pulling, light bondage (hands tied behind back), light drug use, discussions of safe words, no use of y/n

It had been too many months to count since you started leaving the love letters. While you didn’t personally attend Hawkins High anymore, you still find yourself there fairly often thanks to licenseless friends that haven’t yet graduated. They’re all in school clubs, which sometimes leads to them running late when you’ve promised to pick them up. It would be rather annoying if it didn’t grant you the opportunity to sneak into the school and leave your notes to Eddie in his locker. Eddie was your dealer- introduced through a cousin of a friend- and after many late nights of smoking together he eventually became something akin to a friend in his own right. Maybe if you didn’t have such a pathetic crush on him you’d be able to more confidently accept his companionship, but for the meantime you only see him when you’re buying drugs (or doing drugs with him).

“Got another one,” he says, sprawled out in the back of his van while sparking up a joint he rolled for the both of you. “This one was pretty raunchy.”

He passes you the joint once it’s lit, too much of a gentleman to abide by the bad luck rule of the roller being the first to take a hit. “Oh really?” you ask, holding the end up to your mouth and feigning interest. “Raunchy how?”

He told you about it, but you of course already knew how. From the very first letter you left for him, Eddie’s been bragging to you all about his secret admirer. In the beginning, it was all very innocent. You would write about how you’d seen him around, how you found him funny and cute, stuff of that nature. But after a smoke sesh accidentally resulted in over indulging, he confided in you exactly what he’d like to do to this ‘Mystery Girl’ if he ever learned her identity. He would describe sexual acts you’d never heard of before, and was very blasé about it all despite the sensitive nature. The way he explained his fantasies about you (even though he didn’t know it was you he was talking about) brought warmth to your cheeks- and between your legs. It encouraged you to go further with your letters. You started detailing how you’d imagine him late at night, how you thought about his lips on you when you had your fingers circling your clit, how you’d wish your soft fingers were his calloused ones. Eddie seemed eager to share this development with someone, and to your rotten luck that someone was you.

He continued showing you what you wrote, unaware that he was just reading you back your own dirty secrets. Before you knew it, everything had snowballed out of control. The letters were filled with your wildest perversions and the subject of them was none the wiser. The possibility of him finding out and being so uncomfortable that he no longer wished to be kind-of-friends scared the living shit out of you, but no matter how many times you swore you were done with this bad habit you found yourself crawling back to that notebook with so many pages torn out. You really did try to stop it, but the next day Eddie would excitedly pull out a folded up piece of paper and the lovestruck look on his face as he talked about someone who actually wanted him was too much reward to not go through with the risk.

“Well,” he started as he watched the orange glow from your inhale fade away as you blew out the smoke, “she started it off by saying she wants to feel my rings on her neck while I choked her from behind.”

He laughed as he said this, so you laughed along with him. The memory of putting pen to paper and writing this came to you, but you hardly felt embarrassed anymore. You had written much, much worse. The anonymity allowed you to freely express yourself, and he seemed happy enough to hear it. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a little guilty to be keeping a secret like this, especially when you weren’t even sure he would feel the same if he ever learned the truth.

“That’s a little much,” you reply, passing the joint to him. He takes it happily, but shakes his head no.

“It’s sexy as hell, is what it is.” There’s a far off, dreamy look in his eyes as he takes his own short puff. “I’m telling you, whoever this is is my dream girl. If only I could catch her in the act, I’d drag her from my locker straight to this spot without even saying anything and eat her out in the school parking lot.” As he says this, he pays down on the blanket under you both.

“You’re not any closer in this mission?” you ask, squeezing your thighs together and storing that mental image away for later. He’s been obsessed with trying to figure out who was leaving these gifts in his locker, but thankfully he’s never been too hot on your tail.

“I just can’t find a pattern,” he grumbles. “It’s too random! All I got is the notes never show up during classes, so she has to either be coming way early in the morning or leaving them after school.” It was the latter, but you weren’t going to say that. “I’m going to find out who she is though, mark my words.”

“Well, good luck with that,” you laugh, crossing your fingers in the pocket of your hoodie.

A few days pass, and the weight on your shoulders doesn’t lighten. You’ve come to the conclusion that you have to fess up. It was the right thing to do, and Eddie wasn’t the type to judge unless being judged first. So hopefully in the unfortunate circumstance that he doesn’t return your feelings your acquaintanceship would still remain intact.

The woods behind the school were dim. The sun was just setting and dusk was falling over Hawkins. You were overdue for a re-up, and after a phone call to the Munson residence you were instructed to wait where the two of you usually do deals. You already weren’t overly fond of Eddie’s unsettling choice of a meeting spot, and now that the sun was starting to set earlier in the day that chill in your spine was especially present. The one thing distracting you from your paranoia was the fact that he’d surely bring up the note you’d left for him yesterday, and you were dreading having to play pretend again. You were going to come clean- you promised yourself- but today was not the day. Deep in your thoughts about how and when you were eventually going to do it, you nearly jump out of your skin when a twig snaps behind you.

“Just me,” Eddie calls out from the opening in the trees, “don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you respond with a shaky laugh as he saunters toward you with total ease, completely unaffected by the eerie creepiness of the darkening forest.

“I cannot tell a lie,” he says back once he’s within arms reach of you. He looks you up and down with an unfamiliar expression, but your growing anxiety forces you to hold back the questions that you’re tempted to ask him.

“Here,” you say, holding up a ten and a five. He takes it from you wordlessly and tucks it into his back pocket before slipping his hand into his leather jacket and fishing out a small ziplock baggie. You catch it midair when he tosses it to you, and the prickling sensation of his eyes never leaving your face has you itching to lessen the tension.

“Why do we have to meet here?” you ask, hoping that making light conversation will break Eddie from whatever weird mood he’s in. “You know I hate it.”

He finally takes his eyes off of you so that he can roll them, his teeth glinting in the small amount of light when he smiles wide. “I’ve told you time and time again, no one comes out here. We’re safe, we’re alone.”

His emphasis on the word ‘alone’ strikes you as rather strange, but you elect to ignore it.

“Besides,” he continues with a nonchalant shrug, “it’s not like you ever showed me where you live.”

“Oh,” you murmur, taken aback. You could have sworn you’ve seen him driving past your house before, and you could have sworn he waved back when you did. Maybe he didn’t realize it was you? Maybe he only waved to be polite? “Well, uh… I can tell you now, I guess? Unless you want me to, like, write it down somewhere. Do you have a pen or something?”

Eddie reaches back into his jacket pocket and pulls out a black sharpie before shrugging off the leather and denim vest combo to lay it on the picnic table. “Ink me up,” he says, handing the marker to you and presenting his forearm.

Uncapping the marker, you take his arm in your hands. Your fingers brush his bat tattoos as you angle his arm toward you, and you have to fight to keep your face neutral as you write out your address. Your skin tingles yet again with the feeling of Eddie’s gaze on you as you drag the felt tip over his skin, and you don’t even realize you were holding your breath until you recap the marker and give it back to him. He takes it without breaking eye contact and tossing it next to his discarded jacket. Finally, he looks away to read his arm, and his face breaks out into a toothy grin. He barks out a short laugh, throwing his head back with glee as you watch him with a curious expression.

“What is it?” you ask. You can’t find any reason he would find where you live to be funny, so his uncalled for reaction was very puzzling.

He lowers his head to look at you once more, his smile never faltering. “Your handwriting,” is all he offers as an explanation, and with a start you realize your mistake.

Your eyes go wide as you drop the plastic baggie and it lands at your feet. Your stomach flips, your hands shake, you don’t know what to do. “Uh, i-it’s not… I don’t- um,” you stutter out, desperately searching for some kind of excuse or alibi. From the way you’re scrambling, the truth is crystal clear.

“You left me a note yesterday,” he says, cutting you off and placing his hands on your shoulder to help calm your panicking. “You wrote something that reminded me of the other day, when we were smoking in the back of my van. Do you remember?” You simply shake your head in response, your tongue feels too heavy in your mouth to form words. “I said that thing about wanting to find out who ‘Mystery Girl’ is and eat her out in the parking lot.”

The memory floods back to you, his voice reverberating in your mind. ‘If only I could catch her in the act, I’d drag her from my locker straight to this spot without even saying anything and eat her out in the school parking lot.’ Now that he’s mentioned it, you can’t believe what a foolish blunder you’ve made. His description weaseled its way into your subconscious, and without thinking through your actions you had accidentally echoed his fantasy back to him in your most recent letter. That, combined with the proof of your handwriting, was too much evidence to talk your way out of this situation. The only thing left to do was hope that he felt the same.

“You’re not upset?” you ask, something foreign swirling in your stomach and rising to your chest.

“… Upset?” he scoffs, like the mere suggestion was absurd. “I hoped it was you from the very first note.”

That leaves you speechless. All those long nights of tossing and turning over whether or not he’d ever look at you the way you looked at him suddenly feel silly. You’re so taken aback that you forget to respond, and you stand there unmoving with his hands on you. Time moves slowly as you watch him bridge the gap between the both of you.

His lips meet yours hungrily. You can tell from the determination behind the kiss that he’s done holding back, which works out greatly in your favor considering that you are too. Fingernails scratch your scalp as he tangles his fingers into your hair and tugs, eliciting a high pitched gasp from you. With your mouth now opened, he wastes no time and licks his way in. He tastes sweet, like he had a cola before coming here, but also like he had a smoke or two. It doesn’t bother you, in fact it only turns you on more. Your hands grasp at his shirt, and the fabric is softer than you figured it would be. It’s slightly worn out and obviously well loved, and the thought of you wearing it around his trailer after spending the night in his bed has you almost purring. Without warning, Eddie snakes his arm around your waist and manhandles you to be sitting on the edge of the table. He’s standing over you, staring you down with a wild look in his eyes.

“You’ve been a very bad girl,” he growls as he strokes your cheekbone with his thumb. His other hand rests on the front of your throat, applying light pressure. His grip tightens when you swallow, and his thumb on your cheek moves down to swipe across your lips, threatening to enter. “Acting like a naughty fucking slut. Driving me crazy with your filthy little love letters. I think it’s about time we act out a few of them, don’t you?”

“H- here?” you ask. Warmth trickles throughout your body at the insinuation, and though you know you should be opposed, the suggestion of him taking you right here in the woods sounds like heaven.

His eyes soften briefly, and his hold on your throat loosens. “I promise we’re alone, don’t worry. But we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” you quickly proclaim as you wrap both of your hands around the wrist by your neck and keep him there firmly, making sure he doesn’t let go. “I want this, Eddie. I want you.”

He smiles sweetly and tightens his grip on your neck once more. “I want you too, sweetheart,” he whispers before wetting his lips and speaking up, “Okay. If I do something you don’t like, say ‘red light’. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” you confirm, nodding your head as best as you can with his hand in the way.

“I won’t stop unless you say ‘red light’, that’s very important. Not even if you say ‘no’, or ‘stop’, or if you start crying. You get what I’m telling you?” His expression is deadly serious, but his tone is slightly patronizing. For some reason, the manner in which he’s talking like he knows more than you is extremely arousing, and you want nothing more than to give in to him and let him take control.

He won’t continue until he knows you’re well versed with the arrangement, so you force down any nervousness in your voice as you respond. “Yes, Eddie. I understand what you’re telling me,” you say, eagerness thinly veiled. You sound desperate, even to yourself, but you can’t find it in you to care.

He lets go of you, causing your hands to slip off of his arm, and he pushes you harshly so that your back meets the wood. Your feet leave the ground as he raises your legs and scoots you back on the table until you’re fully laying on it lengthwise. Both of your wrists are pinned above your head before you even realize what’s happening, and he’s climbing on top of you and crashing his lips to yours yet again. You’re completely trapped, unable to move or even squirm with his full weight weighing you down, but you love it. Your head feels dizzy, as if you had already smoked the contents of the baggie that lays forgotten on the forest floor. Teeth sink into your bottom lip- not hard enough to draw blood, but surely enough to leave an indent. The subtle sting has you moaning into him, and he smiles against you.

“You have no idea what you’ve been doing to me this year,” he says as he props himself up on his elbows. His hair and necklace dangle down, swaying in the wind close to your face. “All the times I’ve fucked my fist to what you wrote me. We have a lot to make up for, but I think you need to be taught a little lesson first.”

Your eyebrows furrowed together. “I do?” you ask, wondering what he had in mind. There was a world of possibilities, many of which you’d outlined in your letters.

“I’d say so,” he says as he hooks his hand behind your neck and pulls you up. “So you’re going to do exactly as I say, okay sweetheart?”

You nod dumbly, already in a headspace that’ll have you agreeing to anything he requested.

He smirks, face full of smug authority. “Good girl.”

Those words of praise fill you with pride. He takes your hips and stands you up before maneuvering you around him and jumping onto the table himself. “Come here,” he says, motioning to his legs, “lay across my lap.”

Immediately, his intention is clear. You had written to him about wanting to feel the sharp sting of him spanking you on the soft flesh of your ass as you were bent over his knee. You quickly crawl over him and rest your stomach on top of his thighs, and the light touch of his fingertips ghosts over your lower back. The sensation makes you noticeably shiver, and you swear you feel him shake with silent amusement. Your knees hit the table- they would surely not survive this exchange without getting scraped up, but the uncomfortable rubbing of wood against your skin feels uncharacteristically pleasant.

“Rings on or off?” he asks. It’ll hurt more with the metal adorning his fingers, but you want it to hurt.

“On.”

His palm flattens against your backside, rubbing at it up and down in deceivingly comforting motions, before briefly breaking contact and smacking down hard right in the center of your left butt cheek. A loud moan involuntarily comes from deep within you. The blow wasn’t too painful considering the thick fabric of your sweatpants were able to cushion it, but you craved skin on skin impact.

“Eddie, oh my god,” you whine out, arching your back. Eddie’s other hand moves back to the front of your neck and holds it just loose enough that you can still breathe.

“Now, now. That’s not what you called me in your letters,” he says, punctuating the end of his sentence with another slap to your rear, this time on the opposite cheek.

You know exactly what he’s hinting at. “Daddy,” you correct yourself, “Daddy, please!”

“Atta girl,” he whispers, soothing the area he just struck with a rub. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your sweats and tugs them down to your thighs, and after you lift your hips he pulls off your sneakers then removes your pants the rest of the way. With them gone, the cold air of the evening has goosebumps littering the skin of your legs. “Skimpy panties,” he says, louder this time. “You wear these for me?”

“All my underwear is like this,” you tell him with a shy shrug. They were cotton, dark gray- almost black- and offered barely more coverage than a thong would.

“Oh?” he hums. “So you really are a whore, huh?”

He snaps the elastic without warning and you yelp in surprise. Then, he strikes down again, and his palm slapping your bare skin makes you instinctively attempt to muffle your moans in your elbow. His hold on your throat disappears when he harshly grabs your hand and pins it behind your back, then takes the other and does the same. You feel shuffling, and suddenly there’s fabric being looped around your wrists. When you look behind you, the bandana from his back pocket is tying your hands together.

“I don’t think so,” he says as he finishes tightening the knot, “I wanna hear all the pretty little noises you make for me. We can be as loud as we want, baby. No one’s gonna hear us. You trust me, right?”

“Yes daddy,” you answer. “I trust you.”

“Good girl.”

His hand returned to your throat and squeezed. The sounds of cursing and moaning fill the air as he brutally spanks you over and over and over. The rings you told him to keep on feel like electricity zaps every time they meet your ass, and each time he raises his arm your muscles tense up with anticipation. One tear streaks down your cheek, then two, and they tickle as they fall but you’re unable to wipe them away due to your restraints. They pass your jaw and wet Eddie’s hand, and it’s only then that he stops his attacks.

“Are you crying?” he asks, though there’s no remorse in his tone. “You remember what I told you to say if it got to be too much?” You nod your head, but don’t verbally answer. “Tell me now, as a test. This is the only time it won’t count.”

“Y- you told me to say ‘red light’,” you say with a shaky voice. There was pain present, for sure, but the pleasure was overwhelming.

“Good girl,” he replies while massaging the soreness away from your ass. “And don’t be afraid of disappointing me. I want you to use that if you’re even a little bit unsure. Promise me.”

He’s not asking, he’s demanding. “Yes daddy,” you say, “I promise.”

The crotch of your panties are pushed to the side as he dips the tip of his finger into your folds, then runs it up and down along your slit. A deep guttural groan escapes you and your forehead hits the table with a light thud. He must have let go of your throat at some point when you were distracted by his thumb brushing against your clit, and his newly free hand makes a fist in your hair. He tugs at it- mostly gentle, but the bite is still there. His thumb continues to circle your clit as one of his fingers prods at your seeping hole, pushing up against the outside without entering.

“Please, daddy, I need it,” you beg, trying to force him inside by backing into it as much as you can. “Please fuck me with your fingers, need it so bad.”

“Listen to you. You sound like such a dirty fucking slut,” he laughs, still teasing your entrance. “But that’s what you are right? Say it.”

“I’m a slut,” you say. “I’m a dirty fucking slut, okay?”

He hums his approval as his grip on your hair tightens, pulling it even more. “And whose slut are you?”

“Yours!” you exclaim. “I’m your slut, daddy. I belong to you.”

“That’s right.”

His finger plunges into you, deep and fast, and his thumb keeps its relentless pace as what feels like his middle finger pumps in and out. He reaches a spot in you that you’ve never explored before, and with his finger crooked he hits it so perfectly with every thrust. Something in your belly starts to tighten, and it’s getting dangerously close to snapping.

“I’m gonna cum, daddy!” you cry out, tears still falling down your cheeks. Eddie suddenly releases your hair and pulls his finger out of you, laughing at your whines of protest.

“Calm down,” he says as you start kicking your legs out, “I’m gonna let you cum, I just think you’ll like cumming on daddy’s cock even more.”

He slides his hand under your sweater, takes a hold of the back strap of your bra, and uses it as leverage to hoist you up onto your knees. Then, he wraps his arms around your waist and moves you onto his lap. Hardness pokes your center and the thin cotton of your panties do little to protect you from the harsh denim of his jeans rubbing against you. Now sitting astride on top of him, you can finally kiss him again. He happily obliges, and you feel his smile against your pouted lips when your arms start to struggle. You wanted to run your hands through his hair so bad that you completely forgot about the bandana binding your wrists together. Eddie deepens the kiss, his tongue parting your lips as he holds you so tight you’re half-worried your sides will be bruised. When he pulls away, a string of saliva follows and hits your chin when it breaks. Loose threads of your sweater tickle your nose as it gets lifted over your head and falls behind your back, still connected by your arms. The cups of your bra are pushed up to reveal your breasts, and Eddie’s mouth is on them in an instant. Small whimpers go ignored as he nips at the sensitive skin there and licks over your erect nipples.

After showing love to your bare chest for a couple minutes, he raises you off of him. He’s careful to cradle your head as he gently lays you down on the picnic table again, this time horizontally so that your feet rest on the connected seat. Your weight is crushing your hands that are still tied behind you, so you have no choice but to arch your back. Once you’re situated, he stands back and practically trips over his own feet as he rips his shirt from his body and kicks his shoes off. When they’re out of the way, he pulls off his jeans. Your neck strains to look at him, and the hilarity of him standing there, nude except for socks and boxers, with a very obvious boner in the openness of the woods behind the high school almost made you burst out laughing. The laugh dies in your throat when his thumbs dip into the waistband of his underwear and push them down. His cock springs up to his naval, slightly curving and leaking from the tip. The sight of what you’ve been dreaming of for all these months had your mouth watering and your cunt clenching around nothing.

Eddie shakes the boxers from his ankles and stares at you lustfully as he takes the sides of your panties. You raise your hips to help, and he must be growing restless as well because he yanks them down your thighs and off your legs in a matter of milliseconds. When your feet meet the wood of the seat again, he’s already lifting one of his legs onto it, so your heel touches his. He places both his hands on your knees and spreads them apart as wide as they’ll go. The air feels cold on your soaked center, and there’s definitely some of your arousal that’s dripping onto the table beneath you. It occurs to you that he’ll remember fucking you here everytime he does a deal with someone else, and that thought fills you with pride.

He closes the space between you two and his shaft presses along your slit- evoking a choked groan from the both of you- and his hands begin kneading at your naked breasts. Your clit is still sensitive from the edging you endured just minutes earlier, and the pressure sends shocks throughout your body. You desperately start gyrating your hips, hoping to alleviate at least some of the want inside of you. Eddie gets the message and starts grinding as well, and from his advantage point he’s able to do so with much more force. The head of his dick rubs your clit up and down with each thrust, and it becomes too much to bear.

“Please fuck me already,” you beg. “Need it, need it so bad.”

“Such a fucking whore, begging for my dick,” he says through clenched teeth, still rocking against you roughly. “You want me that bad, sweetheart? You’re that needy?”

You close your eyes and nod yes frantically, so hard that the back of your head bangs the table. The grinding stops, and you cry out in exasperation. When you look back up, Eddie is leaning over and combing through the pockets of his jacket that laid beside you. A noise of triumph tells you that he’s found what he was searching for, and he pulls out a little foil packet that was buried in the leather. He bites down on the jagged edge and tears it open with his teeth before turning his head and spitting out the trash. Once the condom is free and the rest of the packaging is also littered on the ground, he backs away slightly to roll it down his shaft. The rubber tip is placed on his head and you watch on mesmerized as he wraps his fist around his cock and strokes down until the latex is fully in place. Then, finally, he closes the distance again and teases your hole for only a moment before slowly sliding into you. Moans escape from you both. Having him inside after all this time had you cursing yourself for playing games for so long.

“You okay?” he asks, breathy and low. You can tell he wants to let go, but he’s holding back to ensure you’re ready.

“Yes,” you respond in a similar voice. “Please fuck me, daddy. Waited so long.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he says as he leans down and kisses you softly on the lips, then again on your cheek and lastly on your neck. “Me too.”

He starts moving then, still slow, determined to open you up and get you properly prepared for the oncoming onslaught. Your legs wrap around his waist and you use this hold to force him deeper, but he’s stronger than you. His pelvis kept its steady pace, and now you were crying out of impatience.

“Look so fucking pretty crying for me,” he grunts, one word for each achingly slow thrust. “So fucking desperate to be fucked like a whore. Be used like a slut. Is that what you want? For me to use you for what I need?”

“Yes!” you scream, “Yes, please. Please daddy, fuck me harder. Use me like a slut.”

“Okay, pretty girl, you asked for it,” he warns.

His rhythm picks up, and now he’s slamming into you with abandon. The sounds uncontrollably coming out of you are lewd and disgusting, but you don’t feel any shame anymore. All you care about is the feeling of him so deep inside, hitting that perfect spot over and over like he was made for you. It’s never been this perfect the first time, and you never want to have a first time ever again. The vigorous pounding drives you toward your climax at top speed, and you cling to your resolve as much as you can. You don’t want it to be over so soon, but it’s just so, so good. You can’t imagine a world where sex is always this good, but you have a suspicion that Eddie’s going to show you that world many times over.

Your legs tighten around his waist and your nails dig into your palms as his hips snap against your pelvis hard and rough repeatedly. When one of his hands leaves your chest to rub circles on your clit, you know you won’t be able to fight off your orgasm any longer. It washes over you like a tsunami, and the experience is full-body. Eddie falls onto you and mouths at your jaw lazily. He keeping fucking you through it, but the twitching of his cock inside you and the faltering of his tempo lets you know that he’s cumming too.

“F- fuck, Eddie!” you yell with your head thrown back. “Oh god, so good. Daddy!”

“You’re so good, baby. Such a sweet little pussy. So fucking tight, feels so right.” He’s slurring his compliments, head somewhere else as he rambles aimlessly into your heated skin.

The next thirty seconds consists of you switching between crying out ‘Eddie’ and ‘daddy’ as he rocks in and out, his pace slowing with each passing second. Eventually, the overstimulation is too much for the both of you and he stops, still fully sheathed inside. He relaxes on top of you and rests there, catching his breath while you try to do the same. Everything is fuzzy, like you’re trapped in a haze, and you don’t know how best to describe it other than the world feels blurry. You’re brought back to reality when he starts kissing your neck again, mouth open, warm and wet and perfect. His teeth scrape against your throat as his lips make their way to the other side of your neck, and once he’s satisfied with the trail of spit left behind he lifts his head and weakly pulls out of you.

He stumbles back and briefly takes the time to find his bearings before helping you to sit up. Once you’re upright, he wraps his arms around you as if he were going for a hug, and kisses you as he unties the bandana around your wrists. Newly free from your restraints, you wind your hands around his shoulders and hold him close so that you can deepen the kiss. He returns the favor just as passionately. You stay like that for an excessive amount of time until a particularly strong wind reminds you both that you were still outside in the woods, and it was starting to get pretty dark. Reluctantly, he breaks the embrace with a gentle caress to your cheek then collects your pants and underwear from their place on the ground, handing them back to you.

After you both finish getting dressed, you feel Eddie’s hand on your shoulder as he brushes past you to walk a couple paces to the left. He picks up the bag of weed you dropped earlier then reaches into his back pocket and pulls something else out.

“Here,” he says, handing you the baggie as well as the fifteen dollars you had paid him.

“You’re giving me the money back?” you say, confusion and fear creeping into your gut. “I hope you’re not used to getting sex as payment for drugs, cause that’s not what’s happening here.”

“Of course not,” he scoffs as he steps closer and stuffs the weed and dollar bills in the pockets of your sweats, “But being my girl comes with free merchandise privileges. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I had you paying?”

“Is that what I am?” you respond, a smile betraying your faux casual attitude. “Your girlfriend?”

“How many times have I told you that the girl leaving those letters was the girl of my dreams?” he laughs, throwing his arm around your shoulder as he begins to guide you toward the opening in the trees. “You’re mine now. That is- if you want to be?”

The worry behind that question is clear, and you squash it down instantly. “I want to be,” you answer.

“Good,” he says, pulling you into him and kissing your hairline, “Cause there’s no way in hell I’m letting you get away that easily.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things smut #stranger things fanfic

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zkaus · 3 months

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At the back of my copy of The Vampire Armand, there's an old interview with Anne Rice talking about creating that novel. I've never forgotten her answer to one of the questions... It haunted me for years.

It gives incredible insight into how and why she wrote such beautiful, brutal and broken characters, and what she endured in the creation process.

BUT before you read this, I'm going to STRONGLY warn you, it goes to very very DARK places

Q: What are your work habits for a novel?

A: Once I truly begin to write, I work obsessively, in twelve-hour days, punctuated by days of long sleep and vivid dreaming. Starting time and ending time are no longer important. I might begin at 9 A.M., or after noon or at eight in the evening. I go from there. I turn on the computer and write, write, write.

My room is a mess. Notes are scribbled on the walls so that I can look up at them at the appropriate moments and insert the date, the name, whatever, when I need it. Books are stacked so high that people have to search for me when they come into the room. Opened books with marked-up pages are stacked on top of one another.

I become suicidal. I go through a horrid despair some time or other before the final page, during which everything seems meaningless—from the dawn of history to the very hour in which I am writing.

I’m intolerable to live with. But I spread myself thin over a number of loved ones and staff members so that no one person has to put up with how intense, hysterical, and miserable I am.

When I get elated and talk fast and furiously about wonderful aspects of history or the characters, or good developments in the story, people run away from me. I don’t blame them.

While the novel is being written, I try to avoid dressing for outdoors. No one can make you go out if you don’t have shoes on. Not even in the south. I wear long velvet robes and soft velvet slippers. I refuse to go out. All food is brought in. I eat hamburgers because they are easy to hold with one hand while reading and holding the book with the other hand.

In the middle of the night I read, sometimes on the carpeted floor of the bathroom, just because it’s warm. I am wretched. I don’t care anymore about being abnormal. Writing is everything. Everything. It seems impossible to write the book. It seems impossible to lift a hairbrush to brush my hair. But I do it. I put on mascara every day that I write.

This period of intense work lasts about six weeks. It’s best that way. My imagination is overheated, and my memory clogged with data of varying importance. If I go over six weeks, I begin to forget things; I feel the loss of intensity and information and I become all the more self-destructive and obsessed.

The end of the book is a big event for me. A big event. I start screaming. I put the hour and the date at the end of the last page. I expect everybody to understand, at least a little. It’s a triumph! The darkness of destiny has been driven back for a brief while. I celebrate. I scream, eat chocolate, and sleep.

Right near the end of writing The Vampire Armand, I realized I had to return to Italy, especially to Florence, and at once I began to make preparations for the trip. As soon as the novel was finished and off to the publisher’s, as soon as it could be accomplished, I flew to Italy. That gave me hope, a way out of a life threatening darkness that often follows the climax of a book. But I still ate chocolate and screamed.

While writing, I don’t want to rest. I don’t want to sleep. Why sleep? It seems stupid, except when weariness overcomes me like a giant cloud of poisonous vapor. Then I sleep fifteen to twenty hours. I tell people to go in and out of the bedroom and ignore me lying there, as if I were dead. I won’t talk on the phone. I won’t open my eyes if I don’t have to. I dream terrible, upsetting dreams.

I want to kill myself. But I can’t. I can’t do it to other people, and I have work that must be done, novels that must be written. So I don’t kill myself. Besides, I don’t think it’s good to kill oneself. It’s a horrible idea. It has a horrible effect even on acquaintances.

I think a lot about people I loved who are dead. I think of how dead they are, year after year, ever more dead.

#interview with the vampire #anne rice #the vampire armand #the vampire chronicles #iwtv #the vampire lestat #louis de pointe du lac #interview #tw: sucidal thoughts #mental health #writing

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uno-san · 28 days

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Can i request a continuation of your first fic? Stan eventually admitting the Mr. Mystery who sent the flowers wasn’t a secret admirer but infact Mr. Mystery himself?

First of all, I am so honored to have a request for a continuation! Truly one of the highest compliments. And reading back on comments before, I should have made a second part long ago! I had so much fun writing this and thanks to all who have read my work. Part 1 can be found here. There's a small recap written in this part though so reading it isn't required :) Enjoy! Mr. Pines, Part 2 (Stanley Pines x Reader)

Nearing the end of summer was always a melancholic event. In which the busiest season of the year would descend back down to hell and allow the workload to dwindle off to a manageable amount at the Mystery Shack yet leave you with a sense of grief at another amazing summer gone. It wasn’t like that before.

Ever since becoming a full-fledged adult with a life and responsibilities, the seasons and months had a way of blending together as one week after the next you were simply looking forward to the next paycheck. It was torture. Arguably not a way of living at all.

Keyword being before.

Sure, you could do without the new occupational hazard of being killed by a mecha-suit made out of feral gnomes, mind-wiping cultists, and God knows what else. Yet despite all the life-threatening danger, you’ve never been more alive! Everyday holds the potential for a new adventure and memories to make with the friends that you never thought you had.

That was the sadness about summer ending, however. Soos would remain at the shack but your other dependable co-worker, Wendy, would be off focusing on school. The same for Dipper and Mabel, who would leave Gravity Falls and Mr. Pines- Ah.

Stanley.

You were in the middle of sweeping the trampled wood floors of the Mystery Shack when the name made you stop in your tracks. It always did. Worse yet, it’d have you chew the inside of your cheek to stop them from heating up. It made you feel juvenile. Quickly your eyes swept across the shop and back as if you chanted his name three times. When there was no puff of smoke you let out a sigh of relief.

It was the start of summer where your more challenging trails began. That being Stanley Pines, the older man who was the owner of the Mystery Shack and your boss, who had given you permission to call him by his first name. Having done so, naturally, on a day where a secret admirer, or, ‘Mr. Mystery’ (Whom Stanley says he’ll sue for stealing his title) sent you a beautiful arrangement of flowers. God, you can still remember what a pain it was to lug the large vase back home. It was a wonder how Wendy was able to do it all herself without having a car to help.

To add to the confusion already surrounding that day when Stan hadn’t confessed to being the culprit, you were disappointed. Your shoulders slumped when Wendy had reasoned it had to be someone else. Instead of wanting to know who this secret admirer was you were instead interested in knowing when in the hell you developed a crush on the graying con man that was your boss. Not that there were tons of eligible bachelors in Gravity Falls but then they’d be in your age range! Or ones with no criminal record, strong arms, jokes, a handsome face that could draw you in at any moment to share a sweet kiss with-

Fingers snap in front of your face. The sharp sound caused you to jump in response and fumble with the broom to prevent it from falling.

“Hey, kid!”

Stanley’s hoarse voice rang out from beside you; your shoulders tensed while your newfound grip on the broom handle could have splintered it. He must have noticed the panic in your face as he quickly raised his hands as if to show he wasn’t armed.

“Oh, Mr. Stans, I-”

“Huh? I…don’t know if, what-” The perplexed expression he made killed you in a thousand ways before his head shook out the unnecessary thoughts, “NEVERMIND ALL THAT. Forget it. I just wanted to ask ya to get started on restocking the bumper sticker display, alright? Last time to peddle the stuff out while we have the most out-of-town folk. Can ya do that?”

You nod, “Of course! I’ll get started on it straight away, S-Stan.”

The smile you offered didn’t appear to reassure him any as he lingered a moment. His hands were firmly planted on his hips while he actually leaned down to inspect you. Drawing close enough into your space that you had to nearly arch your spine not to bump into the man. Under his gaze all you could do was swallow the thick lump of nervousness that always choked you when Stanley was near.

Suddenly he blinked. As if Stan had just realized how the distance between your two had closed without his notice. Awkwardly Stanley stepped back and coughed into his hand. Your overactive imagination could have sworn his cheeks were tinged pink, “Just, ah…checking to see ya didn’t have a heat stroke or nothing. You don’t, so, start drinking water before you start freaking out the tourists. Got it, kid?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead stomping off to wrangle some poor soul into buying poorly-produced and expensive merchandise. You watched him from where you stood still, now overcome with a flurry of emotions from that blundered interaction. If a Gnome Mech wasn’t going to kill you then Stanley Pines sure as hell was.

With a shake of your head you did your best to gain control of yourself once more while the day threatened to drag on. On the way to the storage room you passed by Wendy. Who, as always, was laid back. She nodded towards you. You returned it without reveling in the silent approval of a teenager before you disappeared in the backroom to grab the needed box. Luckily it was light and allowed you to grab another heftier box full of other items that were in need of refilling and maintenance. It didn’t hurt to put a bit more effort into your job, after all.

Returning to the main room in front of the counter you could finally begin your work. It was almost therapeutic. Nobody bothering you. No immediate death threats or wild twins to wrangle in. Just you and a box of bumper stickers being neatly tucked away into different stacks.

You would have started humming to yourself if something hadn’t felt…off.

Something behind you had begun to radiate heat. Breathing down your neck and causing a nervous drop of sweat to run down your forehead. Slowly you began to turn around until a hot breath suddenly blew across your face, your eyes meeting with another pair with barely a head turn.

“OH, JESUS!”

The shock of it had you bring your arm back to slap the stack of bumper stickers across the cheek of someone not all too unfamiliar. Who you now recognized as Thompson yelped at the contact and went to quickly shield his face with a previously unnoticed bouquet of roses, “Dude, duuuuuuude, stop!” He cried out while his eyes were skewered shut with pain, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“I- What-” You dropped the merchandise in your hand as if they alone had somehow enticed you to assault a poor teenager, “No, I mean…Shit. I’m sorry, I guess?” In the midst of your guilt it was hard to pin the blame on anyone, “What in the actual hell were you doing-”

“What in the actual hell- HECK is going on over here?” Stanley’s voice cut through the confusion. His heavy footsteps nearly rattled the walls of the Mystery Shack as he came to inspect the commotion. Stanley’s eyes fell onto the scattered merchandise that caused his frown to be deeper set, eyebrows furrowed in a conflicting mix of emotions.

“Alright, there better be a good explanation for all this racket. You’re distracting the customers- WHAT IS THAT?” His eyes grew impossibly wide as he gestured wildly to the bouquet.

You opened your mouth to reply before the bell attached to the front door rang to grab your attention. Stepping through was Lee, the taller blonde teen that you’ve seen attached to Wendy’s friend group, miraculously holding a bundle of roses in hand.

“He’s lying to you!” Lee shouted and clutched at his heart in either a romantic gesture or a heart attack, “I’m the one who bought it for you, not HE!”

“Lee,” Thompson began to what you could only describe as stage-whisper in his friend’s direction, “I didn’t get to my part yet, I got frickin hit!” His hand moved to reveal the slightly pink mark on his cheek.

Lee lost his composure, “Aw, really? Bro, that’s fucking hilarious. But like…c’mon, bro, you gotta do your part before Nate gets here.”

“Wait, Nate?” Your confusion deepened as they ignored you in favor of having a whispered back and forth, with Lee pushing Thompson forward who nearly collided into you with the shove. The look you gave him was of someone afraid of a bomb about to go off.

Thompson wiped the sweat off his brow before offering his flowers with the same hand, “I like, fricken LIKE you, dude! Just love your whole deal,” He confessed with cheeks as hot as the son while he practically had to spit the words out. His heavy breathing began to pick up. Opening his palm you noticed that there was smudged ink on it that he was now trying to read, “T-That’s why I bought you the flowers-”

“WHAAAAAAAT???” Stanley suddenly roared to life while his hands tightened into fists. In a tantrum similar to a child he marched up, glowing down at poor Thompson who’d gone stark white.

“He’s lying to you! I’m the one who bought it for you, not HE!” Lee repeated. Stepping forward he cast a concerned glance towards the statue that was once his friend to present his own bundle of flowers to you.

The pollen made you want to sneeze. Impressively Lee managed to ignore Stanley to continue addressing you, “It’s true, I’m Mr. Mystery. And it’s even truer that I’m into older, uh…” He looked you up and down, “Into older individuals.”

Your brows drew closer together in concern, “How old do you think I am?”

Lee bit his lip and raised his brows in what he must have thought was a seductive look, “Old enough, bro.”

Thankfully you didn’t have to respond to that as Stanley’s hand shot forward to grab at Lee’s flowers, tossing them to the ground as if he was spiking a football and causing petals to fly everywhere. Lee stared at his hand in shock before having his attention drawn to Stanley who had the both of them in his sights and looking ready to strike.

“I’m not going to take any kinda lying in my house! Neither you or dweebus here bought ‘em any flowers. You two dorks don’t have the kind of cash for that sorta gesture anyway!”

“Uh, we totally could,” Lee said in an offended tone, “Flowers are like, 8 bucks at the grocery store.”

“The ones delivered weren’t from no grocery store, it was a specialized boutique!” “How’d you know that? Huh?”

“Gardening. Is. My. HOBBY.” Stanley passionately replied through gritted teeth.

“No, it’s not.” Wendy answered, bored.

This was starting to give you a headache in more ways than one. Especially in the sense that the few customers in the shop were beginning to stare you down, no doubt finding this whole spectacle the biggest mystery of the day. It made you want to shrink away and disappear into nothing! Sure, you were just lamenting the end to an exciting summer but this wasn’t the type of bang you wanted it to go out on!

Turning towards Wendy you had prayed she would be of help to wrangle in her friends while Stanley and Lee argued in the background. To your disappointment Wendy was hardly paying attention. To both you and her actual job while she busily texted on her phone. You waved your hand out in front of her.

“Please, a little help?” You were nearly begging, “Think maybe all your friends hit their heads at the same time or something. I don’t even know how they knew about the whole flower thing- WHAT, THOMPSON?”

The nervous teen had managed to shuffle past his friend and your boss. Apparently he had given up reading his hand to instead have his phone pulled out. His eyes would flicker between you and the screen before he tried shoving his remaining flowers back into your face again as opposed to your conveniently open hands.

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May-”

“NO. No. No, no, no, noooo!” Like a sheep being surrounded by wolves you staggered back. Your growing panic is now drawing the attention of Stan and Lee who managed to stop arguing long enough to see you turn tail and run, “I’m going home until whatever this is blows over!”

What you expected to be an awkward exit quickly turned to a horror show as Lee and Thompson actually pursued you.

“W-Wait! We didn’t get to the part about how there’s soooo many other bachelors after you!” One of them yelled.

“Yeah, and that waiting too long to snatch you up will result in losing your love fooooreeevveeer,” The other, for whatever reason, said this more towards Stan. “WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?” You shouted off behind you while carefully dodging between both aisles and customers alike.

Seeing as you had two stalkers on your tale Stanley raised a fist, “Hey! No harassing my, uh- favorite employee! Wendy, get my crossbow!”

“No.”

If they started arguing or not after that was none of your concern as you were apparently in a struggle for your life. If your heart wasn’t going to give out on you yet then the embarrassment would definitely get you by the time you get home. God, this was all starting to feel like a fever dream. Or maybe you DID die this summer and now you were in some sick limbo?

Whatever this was, it was clearly because of one thing. The incident with the flowers you received a couple months back, to be exact. After that day there had been no further gifts. How was it connected? Especially to Wendy’s friends of all people who you had the pleasure of not interacting with much at all this summer.

Perhaps they had been the ones to send the flowers in the first place? Attempting to draw you in further with a date to pull a prank on you. Trying to film your reaction for a video that they’d laugh about for ages to come and torment you with.

But no. That couldn’t be it.

Humiliation was certainly what they were achieving right now but if that had been the goal they would have pushed for it when the flowers had first been delivered. Give you a way to contact this ‘Mr. Mystery’. But they hadn’t. So what was the point of now?

You supposed this could haunt you later instead seeing as you had two hot pursuers on your tail. Both Lee and Thompson were still flinging compliments your way while Stanley struggled to catch up between having to clean up any spills along the way as well. Whenever you were able to catch a glance of him you’d shoot an apologetic look that he’d wave off.

It was another minute of dodging the two before you were able to loop your way back around to the front of the Mystery Shack, towards the parking lot and where your car was. To safety. A part of you was even willing to mow down a rowdy teen if you had too! But fate had other plans. The door swung open and you skidded to a halt; nearly crashing into the poor unsuspecting soul who-

It was Nate.

He saw you and grinned, slowly raising a damn bouquet of roses, “Heeeeey, just who I wanted to see! Wanna take a guess at who your secret admirer is? Hint, it’s me!”

Oh, come the fuck on.

Nate must have noticed a deranged look in your eye seeing as he took an awkward step back he clearly hadn’t planned on. From behind you could hear the heavy thudding of feet as Lee and Thompson had finally caught up. Great. You looked both ways. They had an expectant expression on their faces that you couldn’t make sense of.

“Alright, alright, break it up you hormonal goblins. Get BACK, I say!”

Stanley’s voice was like the calm in the storm. It gave you something to focus and center yourself on. You hadn’t even noticed him stepping closer to you before it was too late. Two strong hands clamped around the delicate curve of your waist while thick fingers tickled into your skin. The grasp had a shiver run up your spine. Then what started as a tender embrace quickly became a vice when you were lifted off of your feet.

You actually squeaked. In a display of strength you thought only adrenaline could achieve Stanley had hoisted you above his head and out of reach from your ‘admirers’. Like the tallest kid playing ‘keep away’ in the schoolyard. From below you could see the three teen’s jaws drop at the display while a nearby customer asked if this was part of the tour.

Stan must have heard it since a blush came to his cheeks a moment after yet he refused to release you, “We’ll, uh…just go for now. Break time and whatnot…WENDY, MAN THE STORE!” He shouted while beginning to push his way back towards the employee area of the shack. It wasn't until he was passing staring customers he coughed out a reluctant, “Stop watching and we’ll have a ‘buy two, get one full price’ sale.”

That disappeared the crowd quickly who were now buzzing with excitement at the prospect of a deal. Stanley began to walk you back. With no eyes on the two of you, Stan cautiously began to lower you down. Not to your feet, however. Instead you were brought back into his chest where you had more cushion to lay against. Despite the summer heat his body warmth only drew you in. Not to even get started on how hot your face already was from blushing for the last few minutes!

Stanley meanwhile had his eyes glued to the path ahead. Afraid that taking one glance in your direction would make him regret coming to your rescue at all and depriving himself the chance of seeing you blush longer. Though it was certainly a motivator to have a couple of guys flinging compliments your way so freely as well. God. Wasn’t he too old to be getting into a pissing contest with teens at this point?

Too old in general. Both with having a silly school crush on his employee and also trying to lug you around as if he was twenty years younger. Stan made it look easy but his back pain would be coming back with a vengeance tomorrow!

With your hand resting against his chest though it was hard to deny it was worth it.

Having led you towards the back office Stanley stepped in and used his back foot to kick the door shut behind you two, blocking the light from the shop to leave you in near darkness if it wasn’t for the rare ray of light peering from behind the closed blinds. Without the stark lighting the office was almost calming in contrast. That, or you loved hearing Stanley’s steady breathing more than you realized or the soft beating of his heart if you concentrated on your hand long enough.

Stan moved for the desk. It was crowded with various papers and trinkets he’d keep around to distract himself. At first you had thought he had been in search of something in particular until his hands shifted, with one suddenly slipping just under your butt to keep you hoisted up while the now free one began to clear a space for you.

Your entire posture stiffened once consumed with the realization that your boss was, to put it crudely, grabbing your ass. In spite of how rough they looked, his hands were tender. Mindful. Which judging from his expression you doubted he noticed where he placed his hand at all while tidying up his desk. You were grateful for the distraction. That way he couldn’t see the conflict in your eyes on whether you liked the contact or not after the day you had.

“Here we go…” His rumbling voice brought you back from the brink of a new meltdown as he settled you down onto the hard surface of the desk with your legs dangling over the edge. Yet his hands didn’t leave. Instead they attached back to around your waist with a feather light touch, as if the first hint of disapproval at the contact would knock them back. You showed no such sign, so they stayed.

“You, ah…all good, then?” Stanley seemed to have trouble meeting your eye, “From the dorks. I mean, they hang around Wendy all the time and get into shit, yeah, but they’re not dangerous or nothing. But if they had hurt ya-”

“I’m fine, Stanley,” You said with a soft and assuring tone, “Traumatized, maybe, but…Thank you for saving me.”

He nearly buckled at the ice-melting smile you gave him. For just a moment his fingers tapped against your skin as if they had been tempted to clasp around you tighter. They didn’t. Instead Stanley appeared to realize how close the two of you had gotten and shuffled out of the way, taking his body heat with him as he turned his back towards you to instead fixate his attention elsewhere in the room. Anywhere but you.

Stanley nodded after what seemed an eternity, “No problem. Besides, it’d be bad for the brand to have so many ‘Mr. Mystery’ running around! It’s protected IP!”

At that you found yourself chuckling, “Is this your way of saying you’re tired of hearing about the flowers?” Not that you’d blame him considering what a hot topic it was when it had first happened.

First, Mabel couldn't ignore any degree of romantic gesture without her wanting to be involved with it. Second, this was a small town with nothing to do on the good days. Toby Determined even tried to get an interview (How word got out was beyond you) and Stanley again had to come to your rescue by chasing him off with a broom. With today’s incident you began to worry that this would be a monthly chore for Stanley.

At the suggestion of Stanley getting irritated about anything involving you nearly made him jump to correct that assumption, “NO, I could listen to it aaaall day! Just not going to just stand around and let a couple of liars waltz in to take credit for it.” He said, “I mean, c’mon, they really think those flowers were from the grocery store? Please, I- whoever has way more class than that!”

You giggled at that, which was nice considering how embarrassed you were earlier. But Stan always did put you at ease with all the jokes or lax attitude he’d have to offer no matter the situation. What others found frustrating you found endearing.

“For all the class that he has, you’d think he’d have come forward by now, don’t you think?”

He gave you a look, “What do you mean?”

“Just that it’s been all summer since it’s happened. Not a word since,” You shrug and take your turn to stare somewhere else, “Sorry. I don’t mean to sound demanding or anything. But you gotta admit it’s rude to leave someone on edge like that, you know? Just makes me think they lost interest or something.”

Stanley didn’t reply. After seemingly going out of his way to avoid looking at you, you were all he could stare at now. His lips were drawn in a tight frown that settled unnaturally on his face. You were so used to his smiles. Now your boss had an odd expression of contemplation. The way his darkened eyes bore into you made you squirm where you sat, anxiously squeezing your legs together to try and keep your blush at bay.

It was an achievement that you were able to hold a normal conversation with him at all. After the shocking realization that you were disappointed that Stanley never took credit for the original gift, your time at the Mystery Shack had gotten far more difficult outside of the daily threat to your life. Especially when Mabel was like a bloodhound when it came to romance. And when there wasn’t any to be found you could be damn sure that she’d create your own, one way or the other. She was a menace.

“Kid, listen, I-”

“I guess I should-”

Your words quickly amalgamated until the two of you stopped to give the other an apologetic glance. Then silence again. Each prompting the other to continue their dialogue with a vague hand gesture. Both of your hesitancy grew with conflicted gazes.

“I-”

“I-” Stanley slapped his hand over his face to muffle his groan, “Oh, goddammit.”

You flinched at the frustration in his words, “Sorry, sorry! I was just trying to say I should go back to work if they’re all gone.”

Preparing to hop off of the desk you were instead met with Stanley’s large hands suddenly pinning yours to the desk before you could push off. His fingers nearly interlaced with yours. They were trembling. He was towering over you again to the point you had to arch your back to make room for him. Seeing this he released one of your hands to instead place his on the small of your back, supporting your posture.

Stanley’s face was now inches from yours. What little light that came into the room reflected off of his glasses and obscured his eyes. Could he have been taking in your flushed face and wide eyes? Or perhaps he was taking notice of your parted lips. You hoped it was that.

“I…I wasn’t swearing at ya. Just frustrated that I’m not being as smooth as I wanna be,” Stanley spoke in a tone far softer than you’ve ever experienced. With his voice rumbling in his chest it was like a soothing purr. He then swallowed what must have been a lump in his throat, “Listen, it was…It was me who-”

You captured him in a kiss. It was neither passionate or loving, but something new. It was potential. In this instance it was the best kiss you’ve ever had with chapped lips. Intended to be a quick peck you could still feel Stanley’s hands grasp you tighter as his entire posture grew stiff.

A second passes and you pull back, “I’m sorry, I should have let you finish,” You laughed, both at your overexcitement and his stunned expression, “I’ve been waiting to hear you say it. Keep going, please.”

Stanley didn’t respond right away as he instead simply stared at you. It was blatantly obvious when the reality of the situation began to hit him as his signature grin stretched across his face. How could an old man be so cute?

“So, uh-” He cleared his throat, “Guess I was saying that I’m the Mr. Mystery. Both at work and as your secret admirer, though I guess not that secret if you knew…Anyways I really like ya! You’ve got spunk, looks, smarts. I mean, how was I not supposed to send any sorta flowers- You get the point!”

This time he drew you in for a kiss. His was more brash and needy as if you’d change your mind at the last second. Using his grip on you he brought you closer until your bodies were pressed against each other and he slotted between your legs to fit. So intimately close yet born from the innocent need of wanting to be near you. This kiss lasted as long as you had air in your lungs.

The both of you parted from the kiss with a dopey smile.

“I didn’t necessarily know, by the way…” You mention after catching your breath, “Just realized how much I wanted it to be you after Wendy suggested it had been sent by someone else.”

Stan hummed in amusement while his hand began to rub up and down the curve of your back, “That so? Guess all that was just your way of getting to confess, eh? Gotta admit, that’s unexpected. But sneaky. I like it!”

“What?” You tilted your head in question, “You mean what happened with all of her friends? I was just starting to think that was you.”

He shook his head. The sweet mood was paused as the both of you had a confused look while playing the strange events over in your head. Stanley snapped you out of it by giving you a squeeze; with it a reminder of your new flourishing relationship with your boss Stanley Pines. You looked back up to see his grin return and a new twinkle in his eye.

“Ehh, we can figure that out some other time, toots,” He said with a wave of his hand to push the thoughts away, “Besides, we probably have a few minutes to uh, make up for lost time, if you get what I mean.” Stanley wiggled his eyebrows at you and made you giggle.

“Depends. Does this count as my break, Stanley?”

“It absolutely does.”

“What? C’mooooon, man.”

__ Outside of the Mystery Shack, hidden amongst the trees and brush, was the sharp glare of the sun reflecting off of glass. Binoculars, to be exact. Behind them being a young girl who wore a thick sweater in spite of the heat. She was biting down on her tongue in concentration as she scanned the building from one window to the next. Where could they be?

From beside her the bushes began to rustle. The noise attracted her attention and she turned in time to capture the magnified image of Wendy’s growing teen pimples as she stepped out from the woods. Mabel chose not to comment on this.

“Status report!” Mabel said in a tone far too commanding for a young girl like her to have. Regardless of this Wendy saluted.

“Mission happened, I guess,” Wendy gave a half-assed thumbs up, “The boys kind of went crazy in there so we didn’t get the romantic confession you dreamed of exactly. But they’re alone, at least?”

“Why, they went crazy under my order, lieutenant! Their goal was to be crazy in love,” She emphasized her words with a dramatic close of her first brought close to her chest, “And nooooow I’m trying to see the romantic confession but they have the blinds closed! Could you imagine trying to hide your love?! It’s inconvenient!!”

As if paranoid something would happen without her watchful eye Mabel returned to her vigilant duty of watching a closed window. Wendy meanwhile had her gaze darted away a moment as if struggling to find what to say. Eventually she rubbed the back of her neck and coughed to get her young friend’s attention,

“You know, it’s…probably a good thing the window is closed if your plan did work, Mabel. I don’t think you’d want to see what you think you’d be seeing.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re prooobably swapping spit right now, Mabel.”

Instantly the binoculars clattered against the hard ground as Mabel nearly convulsed, “Eew, ew, EW! And that’s too much of a picture for Mabel!” Quickly she climbed out of her hiding spot in the bushes to begin following Wendy who was laughing, “I gotta go wash out my mind’s eye now!” "That's probably for the best. Let's just trust them to move that last step themselves, alright, cupid?"

Both girls were laughing now as they returned to the Mystery Shack while patting each other on the back for a job well-done.

#Gravity Falls #Stanley Pines #Gravity Falls fanfic #Gravity Falls x Reader #Stanley Pines x Reader #Reader Insert #hunkle stan #requests #my story #gf stanley pines #mabel pines #wendy corduroy

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forgeofthenine · 10 months

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Can I request headcanons for Dammon, and Zevlor unconsciously wrapped his tail around their waist or leg (I can't decide because I love both of it too much XD) when his human gn crush is about to leave? They're surprised because they thought he was being too nice to tell them to leave so they asked with hopeful eyes if they could talk to him a bit more.

I had a great time writing this, I love tiefling tails! I hope you don't mind Anon, I added Rolan into the headcanons too :)

I'd also like to point people over to @underdark-dreams again as their recent tail headcanons have been my latest brainrot and these definitely take some inspiration from them <3

Tiefling bachelors stopping you from leaving with their tails

Dammon

Dammon finds it so hard to control his natural instincts around you

His tail swishes and curls towards you near constantly

It's something any other tiefling can recognise as him showing interest, but to you it's just 'how he is'

This time, you're both talking at his forge, discussing inconsequential things despite the fact it's already falling dark

As Dammons tail starts to sway faster you think it might be that you've overstayed your welcome

Dammons lovely after all and might not want to send you home

Your attempt at saying good night is interrupted however, as a firm tail wraps over your back and holds you in place

As your voice fades, Dammons face bursts into a blush, finally realising what he's done

The tail leaves you almost as fast as it appeared, a disappointing development

Dammon clears his throat, eyes not knowing where to settle, and finally he looks at you again

"Well, would you like to stay for dinner?"

Zevlor

This man has great self-control

Years of military work in the hellriders has perfected how he acts

What threatens to undo that is your very presence

You're with him in his makeshift office again, having a good go over the maps before lunch

Standing with a short yawn, you mention not wanting to take too much of the leaders precious time

It's then that a small panic runs through Zevlor, the man not quite ready for his company to leave, so what does he do?

Wraps his tail gently around your calf

He near hangs his head in shame over how forward the gesture was, even for a non tiefling like you

What reassures him is hearing your laugh ring through the room, surprised eyes looking back up at you

"I'm- I am so sorry, I didn't mean to."

"Zevlor, if you want me to stay, I'd love to."

This man never wants to let you go

Rolan

I can very vividly see how exactly this would happen with Rolan

We all know this man is so, so stubborn and he hates doing what others tell him to

He's the master of Ramaziths tower, it's been a long day of lectures, he's still grading papers despite the raging cramp in his hand

So you creep into his study to try and ease him away and off to his bed

Rolans shoulders tense under your touch before relaxing again, the only response you'll get from him other than a small hum

After what feels like ages, you decide he's much too stubborn even for you

Nothing works, soft words, rubbing his shoulders gently, whispered threats-

It's only once you turn away that a sneaky tail wraps around you waist and pulls

In no time, you find yourself sitting across the wizards lap, his face pressing into your neck

His breath is warm over your skin, his tail even more so as it curls comfortably around you

Rolan sounds truly exhausted when he finally speaks

"I'll go to bed, but only if you come with me."

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 x reader #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 dammon #baldurs gate 3 zevlor #baldurs gate 3 rolan #dammon x reader #zevlor x reader #rolan x reader #bri answers

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vigilskeep · 2 months

Note

now that you finished inquisition, what did you think of it? like favorite things, least favorite, etc?

oh man okay

things i love about dragon age inquisition:

capturing the specific feeling of bonding with a group of people you have absolutely nothing in common with because u all had to go through something long and specific together

the maps can be so pretty and in places really calming and lovely to spend time in. it does make me want to explore and i have no explorer’s instinct

i love the war table and judgements i think those are really fun features

i like that approval for many major decisions applies to everyone regardless of who you bring to specific events/quests. it feels a lot less like you have to manage that really hard, as you sometimes do in the other games and also really noticeably to me in something like baldur’s gate 3. it’s irritating when i have to plan ahead and can’t take who i want to hear from

i like how attached you can get to little npcs who wander around

i loveeeee fighting dragons and how beautiful they all are

little puzzles <3

the collectibles are also mostly fine by me i am a magpie by nature. as long as i can find them, obviously, bc if i can’t they suck and this whole game sucks

the templar specialisation is fun and i enjoyed that part of combat a lot. wrath of heaven/spell purge combo is a power trip

i thought my character was pretty :) i defeated u in the end dai character creator. may you be as merciful when we meet in battle once more

i’m not a huge crafter but being able to tint things is rlly nice

blackwall’s romance is good

vivienne is there

they let me briefly tame a dragon at the end there

things i don’t love about dragon age inquisition:

some genuine cruelty in writing the dalish in a way that feels shockingly callous to the real world cultures the writers took inspiration from

never giving the dalish or the rebel mages any kind of voice of their own and making the player do all that work if they care, which i also feel limits my roleplaying creativity

refusing to let you challenge any of the often overwhelmingly conservative views expressed by other characters without receiving only derision and disapproval. inquisition is a game that punishes you at every turn for having your own opinions, in a way that could be interesting if it was willing to truly let you develop complex or antagonistic relationships with those characters, but ends up mostly just feeling mocking when nobody ever even tries to see your side, while simply agreeing with these people always rewards you with content. origins was capable of letting you engage in discussion, and da2 let you form rivalries that mattered; inquisition, despite starring some of the most intentionally controversial characters, does neither

the game engineering conflicts against groups like the freemen of the dales or the avvar that mean nothing to the player and range from vaguely to seriously upsetting in their assumptions about who it’s normal to just start killing en masse. it’s both boring and distressing

odd, for lack of a better word “casting choices”, like having the fantasy impoverished racial minority all be white within the party while the wealthiest and most privileged are characters of colour, or for a more in-world example having the elves express the most distaste towards elves and the mages express the most caution about mages. i don’t know that i quite have the vocabulary to fully discuss why these weird me out, but it all feels... disingenuous? and chosen to forestall criticism based on real world comparisons in a game series that i wish had the nerve to openly confront what it’s talking about if it’s going to try to make any of its conflicts feel relevant

most of the companions, and indeed most of the quests and time spent playing the game, feel disconnected from the main plot. it’s hard to feel any pressure when the game tells you we need to deal with the main plot “right now!” and “get there before corypheus!” when the bulk of the game is doing other things while you’re supposed to be doing that. the majority of companions could be cut without changing anything. and when you finally want to deal with the main plot you just click to start it. it’s not engaging

the game fails to fully expand dialogue for the player character options it provided, particularly notable with its confusing chantry focus when you’ve said for the dozenth time you’re not andrastian

the 2-handed weapon whirlwind ability sound effect is an exercise in creating the worst and most grating sound effect for someone to constantly hear

they didn’t let me romance vivienne

they killed my dragon :(

#sorry the dislikes are bulky it just takes more words to explain when u dislike something #long post #these r messy sorry if the criticisms are not worded well its late :(

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lanadelnegan · 1 year

Note

Hey, I love your writing it’s so good you truly are a phenomenal writer. Anyways, I was wondering if you could do a gym teacher negan x female reader. (She’s a senior about to graduate and she’s been flirting with her teacher and they both feel the same way for each other and one day he decides to break the tension and things just get steamy. Btw I literally adore that you use a daddy kink (you are so real for that). Thank you so much :)

omg thank you so so much!!! and god this sounds insanely hot. i'm such a whore for teacher negan.

Crush - Part 1

Gym Teacher Negan x Female Reader

read part two here

Warnings: 18+, nsfw, *reader is 18*, you catch Coach Negan masturbating, angst, teasing, flirting, sexual tension, teacher x student, part 2 will be 99% smut

Song inspo: Crush by Ethel Cain

"Ya gonna miss me when I graduate?" You ask, reaching for a piece of candy from the bowl on Negan's desk. Class started five minutes ago, but both of you have a tendency to be late.

Negan has been your gym teacher since junior year and the two of you have grown closer over the past two years than any teacher and student should. It's hard to fight the crush you've developed for him, considering his charming sense of humor, ridiculously good looks, and most importantly - how much attention he gives you.

His eyes trail away from his computer screen as he stands, coming around the desk beside you. "Is there a reason you're not in your gym clothes, miss y/l/n?"

"What? You don't like this?" You tease, looking down at your outfit. Your usual attire consists of some jeans and a t-shirt, but this is your last week of high school, so you decided to spice it up and wear a short blue sundress today.

Negan glances down at your body, letting his gaze linger on your breasts for a moment too long as he stands tall in front of you.

"It's a little inappropriate, wouldn't you say so? .... You tryna get some high school boy's attention?" His head tilts waiting for your answer.

"I wouldn't say boy." You take a bite of the unwrapped mini snickers bar in your hand before smirking at him.

"Oh?" His brows raise playfully. "A girl then?"

"No.. gym teacher." You say barely above a whisper as you smoothly lick some of the chocolate off your bottom lip. Your cheeks turn a light shade of pink at your own words.

You've become much bolder since you turned 18 last month, and you aren't missing the opportunity to spend every second flirting with Coach Negan before school is out.

The corner of his mouth raises into a knowing smirk as he stands closer to you, intoxicating you with the scent of his musky, sporty cologne.

"You want my attention, doll? Ya gotta try harder than that." He snatches the candy bar from your hand before popping it into his own mouth and leaving you standing alone in his office.

His loud voice from the gym echoes through the hallway as you make your way to the locker room, replaying his words in your head and changing into your tiniest pair of shorts.

You want my attention? Ya gotta try harder than that.

You tie your hair up in a high ponytail in the mirror, noting the way your oversized shirt and shorts barely cover your ass before giving yourself a pep talk.

"Y/l/n, nice of you to finally join us." He yells as you enter the gym.

You roll your eyes nonchalantly before finding your spot on the court and beginning your stretches.

Negan walks up and down the rows of students as you all stretch and music flows through the speakers of the gym. There's no denying he's the coolest P.E. teacher you've ever had. Not even counting his looks.

When he reaches your space, he makes a point to roam his eyes up and down your body as you stretch. You stare back at him, grinning at the effect you seem to have on him. You can't help but notice the way his dick bounces behind his gym shorts as he walks and you mentally thank the gods that he chose not to wear underwear today.

Your body bends side to side as you stretch, not taking your eyes off of him as he gets closer to you.

"You can do better than that." He whispers lowly.

You're not sure if he's referring to your stretching or his comment from earlier... Ya gotta try harder than that.

Either way, you take it as a challenge and bend over right as he's passing you, touching the tips of your fingers to your toes. Your head turns slightly behind you to see his reaction but he's not looking which only makes you groan with frustration.

"Lucky for you kids I happen to be in a fuckin' good mood today, so rest of class is free time. Just don't get too loud and make me regret it." Negan announces to the class and everyone spreads out, immediately finding their friend groups and beginning various activities.

Unfortunately for you, your only friends in that class are a small group of girls on the volleyball team, and they always play together during free time, leaving you to fend for yourself. You don't mind though because your favorite teacher always keeps you busy.

"Heads up." Negan tosses a basketball in your direction and you catch it easily. "Shoot with me?" He asks.

"Around the world or horse?" You ask, letting him choose which game to play.

"Horse, duh." He answers without hesitation.

"Okay, but let's make it interesting." You suggest and his head tilts curiously. "Every letter you get, I get to ask you a personal question. Like truth.. but with basketball." I explain and he nods his head in agreement.

"You mean.. I get to ask you the questions, since I'll be the one winning." He grins, taking the ball from your hand and shooting smoothly from the free throw line. The ball swishes the net with ease and you roll your eyes at his cocky smile.

"Anyone can make a free throw." You shoot the ball, hitting the rim as it bounces off.

"Apparently not anyone." He laughs and you give him the evil eye. "Oh, right! Question. Let's see, I'll start easy. Got any crushes at school?" He teases.

You giggle, watching him shoot from the next spot and miss.

"Yes." You answer simply.

He catches his rebound, passing you the ball. "Well, who is it?"

"Nope. That's two questions." You dismiss him, shooting and making it in the basket.

He nods his head sarcastically at your response. "That's how it's gonna be, huh?"

He lobs the ball in the air towards the basket, missing clearly on purpose and you look at him confused. "What the hell was that?"

He shrugs, widening his eyes playfully. "I missed. Ready for my question."

You giggle as you think of a question. "Do you have any crushes at school?"

"That would be highly inappropriate miss y/l/n."

"That's not an answer."

He chuckles before shooting and making it again. "...Yeah, I do."

Your cheeks burn at his answer, but you don't get your hopes up too much knowing it could be anyone, even another teacher.

The game continues back and forth as you and Negan ask each other questions. He shoots the final shot, missing and purposely letting you win.

"So, what's my final question, kid? Make it a good one."

"Do you ever.. think of me.. in that way?" You ask bravely, knowing you might not get another chance like this one.

"In what way?" He asks innocently, resting his hands on his hips.

You blush, not wanting to say it, so you don't. "Nothing, forget it."

He looks down at you with a more serious than playful expression now and you wish you could read his mind.

"Okay. If you say so." He shrugs, throwing the ball down and walking away towards the hall to his office. "I let you win by the way." He calls out before disappearing.

You mentally curse yourself for not asking him but it's too late, so you make your way back to the locker room, wanting to get dressed before everyone comes back in.

You change out of your sweaty clothes before slipping your dress on with nothing underneath since your sweat soaked through your panties and bra. You feel even more exposed than earlier considering your dress barely reaches three inches below your ass cheeks.

You study yourself in the mirror as his words echo in your mind again like a broken record.

You want my attention? Ya gotta try harder than that.

You don't want to miss out on another opportunity with him, knowing your time with him is running out, so you grab your things and saunter down the hall to his open office, stopping at the doorway before entering.

Negan's attention is focused on his computer screen as he speaks. "Can I help you, doll?"

You ignore his question, bravely walking over to him before shutting the door behind you and leaning your backpack against the wall. You join him on the other side of the room, standing before him as he sits in his chair looking up at you. Chills cover your body when your bare ass touches the surface of his cold wooden desk.

His brows scrunch at your sudden boldness as he moves his chair back slightly, allowing space between the two of you. "What are you doing, y/n?" He asks but it comes out as more of a warning.

"Getting your attention" You place your bare feet on each side of his thighs in the chair, spreading your legs in front of him and shuttering as the cool breeze brushes your exposed pussy. "Do you ever think about me... like this?" You ask, finishing your question from earlier.

The look on his face is unreadable as his eyes drop to your center.

"You wanna know what I think about, y/n?" His voice turns to a raspy whisper. "I think about how tight that little pussy must be...how those pretty lips would look wrapped around my cock." His dark, heavy eyes lift to meet yours and you've never seen them so blown with lust before. "What you'd sound like begging for me to fuck you. How sweet you probably taste.." His eyes drop to your pussy again as his top teeth cover his bottom lip. "And then.. I come to my damn senses and realize I can't fuckin' risk my whole career for some pussy."

Ouch. Your eyes water at his sudden change of words.

Your heart stings at the rejection as you cover yourself quickly and climb off his desk. The end of day bell rings just in time to dismiss you as you head for the door.

"Y/n, wait." He sighs.

But you keep walking, leaving him behind like he did to you earlier. That's the last time he's going to make you feel like a fucking idiot. You tell yourself, frustrated that you let his mixed signals get to you.

"Goddamn it. Some pussy? The hells wrong with me." Negan whispers to himself, sliding a frustrated hand down his face as he leans back in his chair.

He feels terrible for making you feel that way, but he reminds himself it was for your own good. He knows you're about to go off to college, and the last thing he wants is for you to go catching feelings for your someone you can't have.

As a consequence of his good intentions, his cock aches painfully in his shorts while he stares blankly at the empty desk you sat on only minutes ago.

The sounds of students dismissing for the day are long gone as he realizes he's finally alone.

Fuck it. He says to himself before opening his desk drawer and pumping some lotion in his hand. He pulls his heavy cock out of his shorts, immediately gripping it in his hand and stroking it desperately.

His head falls back against his chair as he groans out, imagining your legs spread open in front of him once again.

His hand works his cock up and down, focusing on the sensitive tip as his eyes shut tight. He gathers his leaking precum with his thumb, working circles around the tip, wishing it was your lips instead.

A deep groan escapes his throat as he reaches his climax, spraying his load all over his white t-shirt. "Fuuuck, y/n." His eyes drift open when he moans your name, instantly connecting with yours as you stand from the doorway, watching him get off to the thought of you.

"I forgot my backpack."

Part 2 here

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chososluv · 9 months

Text

P L U G ! Y U K I

✎₊˚⊹♡ summary & note: a continuation of my plug series and my interpretation of what plug!yuki would be like. i really enjoyed writing this one might've been my favorite thus far. . .sortve proofread and subject to edit! it i just got rlly excited to share this ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

🏷 tags & warnings: smut 18+, black!fem reader, black coded, weed smoking, oral sex, fingering, creaming, squirting, yuki got da strap, petnames (ma,mamas, pretty girl) top!yuki but mentions of you returning the favor

✎₊˚ word count: 3.9k

minors do not interact

Plug!Yuki is a girl's girl.

Unlike plug!toji and plug!choso, Plug!Yuki and you developed a relationship as really good friends before she became your plug. You confided in her one evening in passing that you hadn’t smoked in so long and missed the cannabis high from your undergraduate years. She decided to let you in on a secret at your proclamation.

"You know I'm a plug.... right, mama?"

Plug!Yuki had took that time to casually drop on you that she was a lucrative supplier and that's how she was paying her student loans off. It was quite a surprise to you if you were honest. You knew she smoked, but you didn’t know she was one of the most popular dealers on campus.

Plug!Yuki would start slipping you nugs for you to try out from the new strains she would cop from a new drops. It was from the first quarter ounce she gave you for free it became unspoken that she was your plug going forward and you loved it. She wasn’t a shady nigga who only spoke to you through snapchat, but instead a gorgeous, stunning, and trustworthy woman.

Plug!Yuki's looks aside, she's a legit business woman with her craft. She packages up all her drops in pretty pink bags and sometimes throws in medicinal paper wraps fused with lavender and fancy shit. All of these things at your disposal for free because Yuki Tsukumo liked you that much. You almost had it all.

Almost because you had a sweltering crush on Plug!Yuki.

Smoking in close quarters with Plug!Yuki was truly a test of your discipline. Whether it was in the car, at her place, or at yours, the background melted away and she had your undivided attention. A gravitational pull seems to always occur because you always ended up so close to her. So close you can always see the way her soft lips pucker against the blunt and always you yearn to taste them directly and not from the blunt you share.

Plug!Yuki is a goddess when she smokes. Everything about the way she inhales, exhales, and giggles when she's under the influence of cannabis makes you feel deeply enticed by her even more. The way her eyes sink low and go red made her face fall into a seductive gleam and whenever she looks at you with it you feel so weak.

You can’t recall when you started crushing on Plug!Yuki, but you remember one night you awoke with an ache between your thighs, breath raging as you recovered from a wet dream of your best friend and plug going down on you. From that moment forward you felt different towards her, but you never entertained telling her. You didn't want to ruin the beautiful and close relationship you two have. So, you pushed yourself into thinking you would grow out of it or maybe someone would distract you from her.

But Plug!Yuki would never let that happen.

Contrarily to you, Plug!Yuki was confronted with her feelings for you when one of her best friends, Suguru, asked about you.

"Whats up with y/n? You think I got a chance with mama, Yuki?" Yuki turned her head a bit too fast at her friend, arching an eyebrow as jealousy and possessiveness began to spread through her veins like a nasty virus.

"Fallback, if you wanna keep this friendship, Suguru." Plug!Yuki answered honestly and Shoko bursted into boisterous laughter.

"You owe me!" She said before puffing off her lit cigarette. Satoru could be heard groaning, fishing money out of his pocket to slap into the woman's hand.

"Wait so is y/n completely off limits or is just Suguru because mama got a fat-" Satoru couldn't finish his sentence because Yuki promptly picked up a nearby object and hurled it at Satoru's direction. He giggled, ducking before running out the room before Yuki decided throwing shit wasn't enough and needed to shoot him. Everyone present to that moment sees Plug!Yuki has feelings for you and knew it was only a matter a time before she finally acted on them. But they saw that look in Yuki's eyes whenever you were around and knew the mental blockade she was at war with. That internal battle of fear and rejection was holding Yuki back from making a move on you.

Women weren't hard for Yuki. If she wanted a girl she always got her, but you were different. Yuki didn't want to fumble you and she knew if she did she would be devastated.

So here the both of you were, crushing on one another yet no one made a move.

Until tonight. . .

Plug!Yuki and you currently sat smoking in her bedroom. You were laying down as the woman sat up, sharing a blunt between the two of you. It is a break between semesters and you two unwind the best way you two know how. Giggles fill the air along with the fragrance of cannabis and aroma from the takeout you two ordered earlier. The evening is languid and lazy just how you two wanted after a stressful semester.

“I missed you, mamas.” Plug Yuki coons, her voice raspy from smoking but the deeper voice is sexy on her. The husky tone made you shiver yet you feel heat flush to your cheeks at the pet name. Coupled with that and how intense Yuki looks at you tonight something felt different. Her stares seem to be lingering longer and the touches seem to be far more intimate than usual. Or maybe it was the strain you guys were smoking this evening?

"I missed you more," you pout, hand coming to her thigh and you stroke it delicately, "seeing Satoru and Suguru made me realize how bad I was deprived of you." Plug!Yuki wants to focus on your sweet words but she raises a brow.

"When were you with them?" The sudden question should throw you off, but the cannabis makes you miss the slight agitation in her voice.

"Couple days ago, they offered to take me to lunch for finishing the semester." You say to her and she rolls her eyes. You only laugh, playfully smacking her thigh from where your hand rested.

“They didn’t make you feel weird or anything right?” You shook your head.

“They were respectful,” you look up at Yuki from your position from the bed, “calm down. No one is gonna take me from you, baby.” You’re teasing her and don’t realize the affect your words have on her. The pink lighting in her room hides the light blush that dusts along her cheeks and she shakes her head, trying to shake that stupid grin that wants to stretch across her lips.

“They can be weird ass muthafuckas. Just making sure they didn’t try anything.” Yuki grumbles, taking a hit from the blunt to calm her nerves and you only peer at her. You have a smile on your face as you stretch out a hand to take the blunt.

“You mean they some ho ass niggas and you making sure they didn’t holla at me.” Still wearing that lazy grin, you inhale the blunt as you see the look that flashes over her face. You realize you were right.

“Yes that exactly, mama.” Yuki said, not bothering to fix up a lie because she knows you would see right through it. You look adoringly at her and offer the blunt back. She takes a generous drag, your expression sending butterflies to her stomach before you speak.

"Don't worry. They aren't my type, babes." You softly giggle, continuing to look up at Yuki and she smiles at the pet name. She has to take another hit from the blunt, more butterflies setting lose but with those butterflies came courage sprouting within. She takes this feeling and runs with it before she let cowardice return.

"What exactly is your type, beautiful?" The pet name comes out of Yuki's mouth before she can stop herself. She just wanted to come off casual and curious but now she feels like she's revealed her angle. Her crush on you felt obvious now and time seemed to slow as she awaited your response. Yuki sees you smile wide, peering up at her through your lashes before you spoke.

"Not Geto Suguru." You soothe her, that hand that you had on her thigh earlier creeped back. Your sneaky fingers began drawing circles and you bit back a cheeky smile as you felt goosebumps erect on her strong thighs. Yuki stares at you, wondering how you caught on to her disdain towards him lately. Ever since his comment about you she felt so sensitive regarding any topic pertaining to you. It got to the point where even just his name rolling off your tongue began to make her feel jealous.

So, when you had lunch with Suguru and Satoru you just had to ask.

"Something happen between you and Yuki?" You ask, taking a sip of your drink and Satoru looks at Suguru. Suguru only furrows his thick eyebrows, confused just as much as Satoru.

"No. Why did she say something?" Suguru asks and you shook your head.

"No, but she acts funny when I mention you." Lightbulbs seem to have went off in Satoru's head because a grin spreads across his face.

"Oh she's got it bad." The comment seemed to jolt something in Suguru's head too because then he laughed, making a noise of recollection and slapping the table in excitement.

"Oh fuck yeah, you're right!," Suguru looks at you, seeing the confused expression before explaining, "Yuki got mad cause I asked to holla at you. I think ole girl crushing on you, mama." Suguru finishes and you look at Satoru to see him nodding in confirmation. You look back at Suguru, not only shocked because 1) yuki did have a crush on you 2) suguru also had a crush on you but 3) not only did suguru have a crush on you but Yuki too?

You felt like your world was a giant paradox. You felt like time was slowed down, yet it was fast. You felt like the world was spinning, yet it was at a standstill. That feeling of your crush liking you back? You felt jubilant and delirious.

"Oh and don't tell Yuki we told you, ma. She'll kill us."

"Yeah please y/n."

You fall back to present time to watch the pretty woman lick her lips, eyes falling to the bed before she spoke.

"He's got a crush on you." Yuki says.

"I know." You answer, looking at Yuki as you waited for her to spill her own feelings.

"He wants you." Yuki sneers and you rub gentle circles to attempt to soothe her. You sit up from the bed, realizing this conversation was taking a serious turn. Upon sitting up, you didn't realize how close you were to Yuki until your noses were inches apart.

None of you dare to move though.

"I don't want him." You say, fingers skating up her thighs but Yuki doesn't notice. Or at least, she pretends not to.

"Who do you want, y/n?" Yuki finally has the courage to ask. You hold a stare with the woman, heat spreading along your cheeks as the question hangs heavy. You already had the answer though, you rehearsed it a million times since lunch with Suguru and Satoru.

"You, baby." You say. You barely can get a breath in before her soft lips you've been dreaming about are finally on yours. Elated can't even begin to describe the feeling resonating through your entire beings.

Plug!Yuki is the best kisser. She's precise, romantic, yet so salacious and seductive you kept chasing after her lips for more. Her sweet taste of mango gloss mixed with her natural sweetness was destined to become one of your favorite flavor. She takes a second to pause but you only try to dive back in for more. Her thumb comes to your bottom lip to stop you, giggling as she drinks in your needy expression.

"Been wantin' you for sometime, pretty girl." She confesses. You smile against her thumb, kissing the pad before speaking.

"I'm yours, baby."

Plug!Yuki makes you wish you confess sooner with the way her tongue skates along your swollen clit. She flickers her muscle skillfully, stimulating the beating nub in explicit and lewd circles that left you mewling and panting. Her blonde locks tickle your inner thighs as she feasts on your pussy.

No amount of vivid wet dreams could prepare you for the actual experience of Yuki eating you out.

"You taste so good, mama." Plug!Yuki moans shamelessly, she's squeezing her thighs together, knowing she has her own mess in her panties but she can't care. Not with the way you smell so delightful and writhe against her tongue. She looks up, seeing your nipples pebble through the thin cami you wore.

"Aaah—Yuki!" You're whimpering as she takes your clit in her mouth. She suckles, her soft finger slipping in curiously to feel the warmth of your cunt. She moans against your clit, vibrations sending you wailing as well as the sudden pressure from her finger. Yuki slips a second finger inside, loving the way your cunt squeezes so tightly around her fingers. The soft squelching your gummy walls made whenever she curved them up was an addicting melody to her ears. She was becoming pissed at herself for not acting on her desires for you sooner.

"You're so wet, baby." Yuki comments, looking down to see her fingers drenched with your arousal and cream and she's licking her lips. She pulls her tongue off your clit, sticking her fingers in her mouth to savor the taste. She's moaning lewdly and you only whimper from the loss of her ministrations. She smiles, looking up at you before crawling up your body.

Plug!Yuki is dying to have your nipples in her mouth. Ever since she saw them peek out for the first time due to a tanktop you wore she’s been wondering what they felt like against her tongue. What they tasted like and how sensitive they were crossed her mind too and now finally she would get her questions answered. She pulls down your top, freeing your breast and her tongue is aching to be back on your body. She licks her lips before speaking.

"Been dying to have these pretty brown nipples in my mouth so bad you don't even understand, pretty girl."

Plug!Yuki sucks on your nipples, her hot tongue swirling along your areola and the sensation drives you wild. Your back arches off the bed, fingers carding in her golden strands before pushing her face deeper into your chest. You let out out whimpers as she sloppily kisses and sucks on your nipples.

"Aahaaa—Yuki!—feels so good!" You praise when she sneaks her fingers back in. That warmth and wetness around her fingers again has her wondering if you needed her to dick you down.

"So wet and tight," Yuki releases your nipple, her lips wet and shiny from her salvia, "think you can take my strap, pretty girl?"

You didn't need her to ask you twice.

Plug!Yuki fucks you from behind like you never been fucked before.

The blonde woman has you face down in a nasty ass arch as she pistons her pretty pink dildo through your tight folds. You're whimpering, pleading even for her to not stop as she continues to give you the best dick of your life. You can't recall the last time someone made you feel this good during sex and you knew damn well no man could ever slang like she could.

"Yu—ki! Fucknnnggg!" She's fucking you dumb and you go stupid hearing your own ass recoil against her harness and the soft squelching of your cunt against her silicone piece. You want to bite on your lip to keep from screaming but she felt so good bullying herself between your folds.

"Feel good? Huh, my pretty girl?" Plug!Yuki cooes, still fucking you and a strong hand strikes down on your ass. You whimper, crying out and let out a hiss when her domineering fingers find themselves in your hair. She's pulling the dense curls, forcing you to lift your head from the pillow.

"I can't fucking hear you, y/n." With a growl she strikes your ass one more time. Tears are coming from your eyes at the pain, but when your cunt twitches and lets out a soft leak, you know you're in love with the feeling of Yuki being rough with you.

"Yuki! You fuck me so goooood!" You praise, crying out as you felt a soft and tense sensation begin to form in the walls of your cunt. You knew the feeling, but knew of only yourself being able to do it. No one was able to hit those parts of you and yet . . .

You squirt all over Plug!Yuki.

"Creamy as fuck and you squirt? Fuck, I'm never letting this pussy go."

Plug!Yuki has to pull herself out to slurp up your folds. You cry, enjoying how her tongue dances from your clit to your soaking hole. Her tongue collects your arousal, slurping noisily and the sounds — along with her tongue — have you rolling your eyes back. You're huffing, moaning as her tongue continues to skate along your soaked labia. When she felt satisfied she slips herself back in you with no warning.

Plug!Yuki continues drilling into you. Your wet pussy, Yuki's groans, and your pathetic whines were the only sounds to fill the room. Yuki savored each and every moan that fell from your lips. Her ego swelled as her pussy drooled. Her cockiness resonating in her brutal strokes and a grin on her face, knowing Suguru — or any other man — couldn’t make you feel the way she was right now.

"You're so good for me, pretty girl." She hears your moans increase an octave, pants becoming more frequent as you struggle to even swear at this point. You whimper, sobbing into her pillow as she never let up her relentless thrusts. Her stamina was that of a godly one and you were loving every second of it.

"Yuki — i'm so close—” You manage to warn and Yuki grins. She leans down, her skin touching yours and her skin sets ablaze. She lets out ragged breaths in your ear that send jolts down your spine, adding more to your sensory pleasure and she kisses your cheek.

"Want you to cum all over me." Plug!Yuki coaches, throwing her hips harder against your ass. The pink tip kisses deeply in your cervix, causing you to choke out. Your body begins to tremble as you felt that familiar tingle build in the walls of your cunt. You nod, screwing your eyes shut as her strokes became more animalistic.

"I'm gonna cum—Yuki!" You scream her name when she sneaks a finger on your clit. She rubs fast, causing you to choke and clamp down on her as you prepare yourself to tumble into bliss. The white hot sensational building in your clit and she presses harder and rubs even faster. She lifts her lips to your ears before speaking, her gentle words sending you over the edge.

"I gotchu, pretty girl go ahead and cum for me."

Plug!Yuki gives you the best orgasm of your life.

Plug!Yuki peppers kisses along your spine as you came down from your orgasm high. Your thighs are shaking from the intensity of it all, goosebumps all over your body and Yuki trails affectionate and gentle caresses up and down your body to coax you through your orgasm. She finishes up her trail of kisses and you eventually make it back to Earth. You roll onto your back to look at the caring woman above you. Concern is over her eyes, but all that drifts away when you shoot her a sensual grin.

"What?" Plug!Yuki would say and you only bring a hand back to her thigh.

"You think this is over? Park that pretty pussy on my face I been dying for a taste." You say obscenely.

You don't need to tell Plug!Yuki twice and she mounts your face.

Plug!Yuki's moans were just as beautiful as herself.

Your tongue savors every last drop, her cunt was completely soaked between going down on you then her dicking you down. A buffet awaited you and you were moaning as you licked up every last drop. Yuki moans, hissing and even whimpering your name when you suckled on her clit. Her cream is all over your nose but you didn't care with the way she moaned your name.

"Fuck, y/n." Plug!Yuki sighs out, her hips starting to move back and forth on your tongue. You immediately caught on and stuck it out, letting her ride it and she moans louder. Yuki starts to ruts faster and her tits bounce, the scene making you horny yet again. You try to ignore that tingling that starts to awaken in your belly once more.

"Taste so good, baby." You praise her and she sighs, eyebrows scrunching as another moan fell from her mouth. You move your tongue back to focus on her clit, taking the swollen nub and sneaking a hand between her soaked folds. She lets a sensual croon when you shove two fingers inside her hungry cunt. The sound only makes you place a third finger in. She gasps, her cunt beating around your fingers as you stretch her with your digits.

"Tongue feels so good." Plug!Yuki praises you and you moan, curving your fingers into Yuki harder. More arousal seeps out of her, oozing onto your chin and chest.

"Oh yeah? What about my fingers?" You tease Plug!Yuki. A smile comes onto her face but she answers.

"Fucking fantastic, mama." Plug!Yuki tells you. You giggle, kitten licking her clit with the tip of your tongue causing her to shudder above you.

"Good." You tell her before kissing on her clit and going back to enjoying your meal. You curve your fingers faster, earning louder moans from Yuki above you as you continue suckling on her clit.

"Y/n, fuck—i might—” You find the strength to fuck her even faster, feeling the way Yuki's cunt sucks around you greedily. You suck harder on her clit and flicker your tongue faster. Yuki shrieks, letting out an erotic scream as a soft geyser pours out of her folds. Your mouth catches it, and what it doesn't spills along your chin and drips along your chest, soaking you completely. You're moaning at her squirting all over your face and you take your fingers out of her cunt. You place both hands on her hips, sliding yourself from under her before pushing Yuki down on her back.

Plug!Yuki watches as you take the very same strap she used earlier on you and secure it on yourself. You look down at the blonde woman who has her hair wild, legs spread, cunt glistening in the pink light. You smile as you realize you wouldn't have it any other way.

"My turn."

And Plug!Yuki knows she's in for a long ass night. . .

©𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐯 ╰┈┈➤ MASTERLIST!

#my first wlw piece and wont be my last this was sooo fun #𝐑𝐈𝐕.𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 #𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄: 💗 𝐘𝐮𝐤𝐢 #yuki tsukumo #yuki tsukumo x reader #yuki tsukumo smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #plug!yuki #yuki tsukumo x black!reader #jjk x black reader #jjk x black!reader

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thewriteadviceforwriters · 2 months

Note

Hey! I was reading on your character arcs and was wondering how you would write character regression over the course of the story :)

Hey there, fellow writer! Thanks so much for your message. Sorry, this response took so long. But, I'm thrilled that you found my posts on character arcs helpful, and I'm excited to dive into the topic of character regression with you. It's a fascinating and complex aspect of storytelling that can add so much depth to our narratives when done well.

What is Character Regression?

Before we dive into the nitty-gritty, let's define what we mean by character regression. In essence, character regression is the opposite of character growth or development. It's when a character moves backwards in terms of their personal growth, beliefs, or behavior. They might lose skills they once had, revert to old, harmful patterns, or abandon positive traits they've developed.

This doesn't mean your character simply becomes "worse" or "evil." Regression is a nuanced process that can happen for various reasons and manifest in different ways. It's about your character losing ground on their personal journey, facing setbacks, or struggling with challenges that push them back towards old habits or mindsets.

Why Use Character Regression?

Now, you might be wondering, "Why would I want my character to regress? Isn't that the opposite of what we usually aim for in storytelling?" Great question! While it's true that we often focus on character growth, regression can be an incredibly powerful tool in your storytelling toolkit. Here's why:

Realism: Let's face it, real life isn't a straight line of constant improvement. We all face setbacks, make mistakes, and sometimes fall back into old patterns. Including regression in your character's journey can make them feel more authentic and relatable.

Conflict and Tension: Regression can create internal conflict for your character and tension in your story. It gives your character something to struggle against, adding depth to their arc.

Emotional Impact: Watching a character we care about struggle or backslide can be incredibly emotional for readers, creating a strong connection to the story.

Set-up for Greater Growth: Sometimes, a character needs to hit rock bottom before they can truly grow. Regression can set the stage for even more significant character development later in the story.

Exploring Complex Themes: Character regression allows you to delve into themes like addiction, trauma, fear of change, or the difficulty of personal growth.

How to Write Character Regression

Alright, now that we've covered the what and why, let's get into the how. Writing character regression requires a delicate touch and careful planning. Here are some steps and tips to help you navigate this tricky terrain:

(Beware Very Long Post!)

Establish a Baseline

Before you can show regression, you need to establish where your character starts. What skills do they have? What are their core beliefs and values? What positive traits define them? This baseline will be crucial for showing how the character changes over time.

For example, let's say we have a character named Alex who starts the story as a confident, outgoing person with a strong sense of right and wrong. This is our baseline. (I will be using "Alex" as an example character for the remainder of the post)

Identify the Catalyst

Regression doesn't happen in a vacuum. There's usually a triggering event or series of events that start the process. This could be a traumatic experience, a significant loss, a series of failures, or even a gradual wearing down of the character's resolve.

In Alex's case, maybe they witness a horrific crime that shakes their faith in humanity and the justice system.

Show Gradual Changes

Regression, like growth, usually happens gradually. Start with small changes in behavior, thought patterns, or reactions to situations. These should be subtle at first, things that the character (and maybe even the reader) might not immediately notice.

Alex might start being a little less friendly to strangers, or hesitate before helping someone in need – small shifts that hint at bigger changes to come.

Internal Conflict

As the character begins to regress, show their internal struggle. They likely won't be happy about these changes and might fight against them. This internal conflict can be a great source of tension and character depth.

Alex might berate themselves for their newfound hesitation, trying to force themselves to be the person they used to be.

External Consequences

The character's regression should have real consequences in their world. How does it affect their relationships? Their job? Their role in the main plot of your story?

Maybe Alex's friends start to notice their withdrawal and become concerned. Or perhaps their hesitation in a crucial moment leads to negative consequences in the main plot.

Escalation

As the story progresses, the regression should become more pronounced. The character might start to rationalize their behavior, or fully embrace their new, regressed self.

Alex might start actively avoiding social situations, or develop a cynical worldview that contrasts sharply with their former optimism.

Rock Bottom

In many stories with character regression, there's a "rock bottom" moment – a point where the regression reaches its peak. This is often a powerful, emotional scene that fully illustrates how far the character has fallen.

For Alex, this might be a moment where they refuse to help someone in danger, fully betraying their former values.

Potential for Redemption

Even if your story ends with the character in a regressed state, it can be powerful to show a glimmer of their former self. This hints at the potential for future growth and can leave the reader with a sense of hope (or tragedy, if that potential is never realized).

Maybe in Alex's darkest moment, they have a flicker of doubt about their new worldview, or a memory of who they used to be.

Tips for Writing Effective Character Regression

Now that we've covered the general process, here are some additional tips to help you write compelling character regression:

Keep it Believable: The reasons for the regression should make sense for the character and the story. Don't have a character completely change overnight without good reason.

Show, Don't Tell: Instead of simply stating that a character has regressed, show it through their actions, thoughts, and dialogue.

Use Supporting Characters: Other characters can serve as mirrors, reflecting the changes in your regressing character and providing commentary on those changes.

Maintain Sympathy: Even as your character regresses, try to maintain reader sympathy. Help the reader understand why the character is making these choices, even if they don't agree with them.

Consider the Pacing: Regression can happen at different speeds. It might be a slow burn throughout the story, or a rapid descent following a major event. Choose the pacing that works best for your narrative.

Don't Forget the Positives: Regression doesn't mean a character loses all their positive traits. They might still show flashes of their old self, adding complexity to their portrayal.

Use Metaphors and Symbolism: Visual cues, recurring motifs, or symbolic elements can help underscore the character's regression in subtle ways.

Explore Different Types of Regression: Regression can be moral, emotional, professional, or related to specific skills or relationships. Mix and match for a nuanced portrayal.

Common Pitfalls to Avoid

As with any writing technique, there are some common pitfalls to watch out for when writing character regression:

Making it Too Sudden: Unless there's a massively traumatic event, regression usually doesn't happen overnight. Be careful not to have your character change too quickly without proper buildup.

Losing Reader Sympathy: If your character's regression makes them completely unlikeable, you risk losing reader investment. Always strive to keep them understandable, even if not always sympathetic.

Inconsistent Motivation: Make sure the reasons for your character's regression remain consistent and logical within the context of your story.

Ignoring the Impact on Plot: Remember that character regression should impact your main story. Don't let it become a subplot that doesn't connect to the main narrative.

Overdoing It: Regression doesn't mean your character has to become a completely different person. Maintain some core aspects of their personality to keep them recognizable.

Examples from Literature and Media

Sometimes, it helps to see how other writers have handled character regression. Here are a few examples you might find inspiring:

Walter White from "Breaking Bad": His transformation from mild-mannered teacher to drug kingpin is a masterclass in character regression.

Daenerys Targaryen from "Game of Thrones": Her descent into ruthlessness in the final season is a controversial but noteworthy example of character regression.

Oscar Wilde's Dorian Gray: His moral decay over the course of the novel is a classic example of character regression in literature.

Michael Corleone in "The Godfather": His transformation from war hero to ruthless mafia boss is a powerful portrayal of moral regression.

Studying these and other examples can give you ideas on how to handle regression in your own writing.

Final Thoughts

Writing character regression can be challenging, but it's also an incredibly rewarding aspect of storytelling. It allows us to explore the complexities of human nature, the fragility of personal growth, and the myriad ways that life can shape and reshape us. When done well, it can create some of the most memorable and impactful characters in literature.

Remember, there's no one "right" way to write character regression. The key is to make it authentic to your character and your story. Let it grow organically from the events of your plot and the unique personality of your character. And most importantly, don't be afraid to dig deep into the messy, complicated aspects of human nature.

As writers, we have the privilege and responsibility of reflecting the full spectrum of human experience in our work. Character regression is a part of that spectrum, and embracing it can lead to richer, more nuanced storytelling.

Balancing Regression and Reader Expectations

One thing to keep in mind as you write character regression is the balance between realistic portrayal and reader expectations. Readers often come to stories expecting character growth, so a character who regresses can be jarring or even frustrating if not handled carefully.

Here are a few strategies to help manage this:

Foreshadowing: Hint at the potential for regression early in the story. This can help prepare readers for what's to come.

Clear Motivation: Make sure the reasons for the regression are clear and understandable, even if not agreeable.

Moments of Hope: Intersperse moments where the character shows glimmers of their former self or potential for growth. This can help maintain reader investment.

Character Self-Awareness: Having the character acknowledge their regression can help readers process it.

Narrative Purpose: Ensure the regression serves a clear purpose in your overall story. If readers can see why it's necessary, they're more likely to accept it.

Character Regression in Different Genres

The way you approach character regression might vary depending on the genre you're writing in. Here's how it might look in different contexts:

In Literary Fiction: Character regression often serves as a deep exploration of human nature and societal influences. It might be subtle and psychological, focusing on internal changes rather than external actions.

In Fantasy or Science Fiction: Regression might be tied to magical or technological elements. Perhaps a character loses special abilities, or technology they relied on fails them, forcing them to regress to a more primitive state.

In Romance: Regression could manifest as a character retreating from emotional vulnerability, perhaps due to heartbreak or fear. The challenge becomes learning to open up again.

In Thrillers or Crime Fiction: A character might regress morally, crossing lines they never thought they would. This can create intense internal conflict and external tension.

In Horror: Regression might take on a more visceral or psychological form, with characters losing their grip on reality or reverting to primal states in the face of terror.

Character Regression and Story Structure

Consider how character regression fits into your overall story structure. It can be a powerful tool at different points in your narrative:

As an Inciting Incident: A character's sudden regression could be the event that kicks off your main plot.

During the Rising Action: Regression can add complications and raise the stakes as your story progresses.

At the Midpoint: A significant regression at the midpoint can dramatically shift the direction of your story.

During the Dark Night of the Soul: This low point in many story structures is a perfect place for a character to experience severe regression.

In the Resolution: Sometimes, a story might end with a character's regression, leaving readers with a sense of tragedy or unresolved tension.

The Role of Regression in Character Ensembles

If you're writing a story with multiple main characters, character regression can play an interesting role in group dynamics. Here are a few ways to use it:

Contrast: Have one character regress while others grow, highlighting the different paths people can take when faced with similar challenges.

Domino Effect: One character's regression might trigger changes in others, either pushing them to grow in response or causing them to regress as well.

Support Systems: Show how a group responds to one member's regression. Do they try to help? Enable the behavior? Distance themselves?

Power Dynamics: Regression can shift the balance of power within a group, creating new conflicts and alliances.

Regression and Theme

Character regression can be a powerful way to explore and reinforce your story's themes. For example:

If your theme is about the corrupting influence of power, showing a character regress morally as they gain more influence can underscore this idea.

For a theme about the importance of human connection, you might show a character regressing into isolation and the negative effects this has.

If you're exploring ideas about identity, having a character regress to an earlier version of themselves can raise interesting questions about who we really are.

A Word of Encouragement

As I wrap up this deep dive into character regression, I want to offer a word of encouragement. Writing regression can be emotionally taxing. It often requires us to delve into dark places, to imagine our characters at their worst, to confront difficult truths about human nature. This can be challenging, even distressing at times.

Remember to take care of yourself as you write. It's okay to step back if things get too intense. Talk to fellow writers about what you're working on. Engage in self-care practices that help you process and separate from the darker elements of your work.

And most importantly, don't lose sight of why you're including regression in your story. Whether it's to create a more realistic character journey, to explore complex themes, or to set up a powerful redemption arc, keep that purpose in mind. Let it guide you through the difficult moments of writing.

Remember, every character's journey is unique. There's no one-size-fits-all approach to writing regression. Trust your instincts, stay true to your character and your story, and don't be afraid to push boundaries and explore uncomfortable truths. That's where the most powerful writing often emerges.

I hope this deep dive into character regression has been helpful! Keep writing, keep exploring, and never stop pushing yourself to grow as a storyteller. Your voices and your stories matter.

Happy writing, - Rin T

Sources:

K.M. Weiland's blog post: "How to Write Character Arcs: The Flat Arc"

K.M. Weiland's "Helping Writers Become Authors" blog: "5 Ways to Write a Negative Character Arc"

TV Tropes: "Fallen Hero"

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lilacxquartz · 3 months

Text

under the bed, where midnight slept

oc male!demon x human female!reader

plot: haunted by a strange presence every night before you go to sleep, you decide to get to the bottom of it.

w.c: 2.4k

tags/themes: one shot, oc, maybe light yandere, kissing mentioned, incubus, demons, reader insert, first person pov, light horror, unrequited feelings

side notes: developed a incubus demon oc a couple of days ago :) his name is midnight & i’m basically gonna try writing for him on and off to flesh out his character (but i can’t draw more of him just yet due to the arm situation).

***

I always went to sleep alone.

Or at least, that’s what I kept telling myself—that’s what I wanted to believe. I lived by myself, after all, so it would have been silly to assume otherwise.

Yet, every single night, I felt it. A presence that lurked within the shadows, watching my every move.

At first, I chalked it up to simple exhaustion, convinced that my job was finally getting to me in the worst possible way. I worked long and heavy hours throughout the week, sometimes even during weekends. My unfortunate reality meant that I was often very tired, leading me to usually be on the brink of dozing off by the end of my shift.

But then my mind began to wander, especially as the recurring experiences became more and more commonplace. My secondary suspicion was that I must have been dreaming or I must have been hallucinating, however, why were the happenings then so linear? I had been under stress before and I have had many nightmares in my life—yet those always manifested in a chaotic manner instead.

And that’s exactly what started to bother me, because dreams, while recurring, couldn’t have been so perfectly refined.

It was always the same experience, in fact.

I would lie down in bed and just as I was on the verge of sleep, I’d hear it—a whisper of some sort, faint and scratchy, like an out of tune radio. Then the floorboards would softly creak and I would feel the second thing; the unmistakable presence of something, maybe even someone else entering my personal space.

For just a split second, right at the cusp of entering the unconscious world; I would feel a strange warmth fill out my otherwise vacant hand. Something unseen that would latch onto my palm, weaving what felt like fingers through mine and squeezing tight.

Yet if I awoke during the night for whatever reason at all, it would immediately vanish from my grasp.

I even checked under the bed with a flashlight once, never finding a single shred of evidence.

And in the mornings, the presence wasn’t felt at all.

Although sometimes, a trace of it did remain; a hint of something that was left behind. It was during the nights when I would get up to drink some water from the kitchen or to go use the bathroom, that I didn’t feel entirely alone. It was an unsettling feeling but it was there—lurking in my peripheral vision, just barely staying hidden.

It was the presence of something uninvited.

Whenever I’d flick the lights on however, there would be absolutely nothing. Not a single trace of evidence remained. Lost overnight, like a distant dream.

It would either happen just as I was about to fall asleep or not at all.

Despite this, it never truly felt like it was a problem.

For one, it wasn’t as if it was actually disrupting my sleep. In fact, I would always wake up feeling well rested with each fresh day no matter how overworked I would be. Yet, I couldn’t quite shake the feeling that there must have been more to all of this. Something that lurked in the back of my mind that refused to let it go as an unsolved mystery.

It made sense given my stubborn personality, I supposed. I knew that there had to be a reason for it all, no matter how insane it all seemed.

So when my unrelenting curiosity finally caved in, I could no longer ignore the unanswered question, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to let it go until I finally found an answer.

Whether it was all in my head or not—I had the right to know.

So, on one particular night, I chose to catch whatever it actually was that lurked away in the shadows. My plan was simple enough; choosing to fool it into showing itself by pretending to sleep. I slipped two wireless earbuds into my ears, tuning them into a podcast to hold my attention before laying off to my side, just like usual.

To ensure that I would actually stay awake however, I would on occasion stretch out my legs or clench my fists to ward off any hints of exhaustion along with deep, slowly measured breaths that casted the illusion of feigned slumber.

I continued with that sort of ritual in mind, just barely hanging onto my remaining consciousness, just about to fall asleep from what I believed to be a failed effort, but that’s also right about when I finally heard it; a subtle creaking, perfectly timed with each drawn out breath to mask its approach.

A shiver of unease crept into my body as I felt a lurking presence loom behind me, confirming to every sense I had that I was no longer alone.

In an attempt of bravery, I continued to feign sleep for as long as I possibly could, staying tucked away into my assigned position, having my hand right where it always was, hoping to successfully delude whatever it was waiting for me that I was actually on the verge of dreaming.

However, the moment that something slipped into my waiting hand, my composure began to crumble away. It was definitely a hand that I felt. I could feel it with every fibre of my being, in fact; so warm and soft, yet with an unsettling firmness, like marbled flesh. It clasped my palm tightly, interlocking its digits between my fingers in what felt like a suffocating grip.

My breath then caught in the back of my throat as the momentum faltered despite my efforts to keep my act running as smooth as possible. Towards the surface of my back, I felt something dangerous settle right behind me. Raw skin, hot against my own, pressed up right against my exposed flesh. A wave of panic coursed through my body, anchoring in the pit of my stomach as I then soon felt something attempt to embrace me.

I gasped in retaliation, unintentionally giving away that I was in fact awake.

Without even waiting for its reaction, my body involuntarily tensed, prompting for it to withdraw slightly and with a surge of adrenaline, I then tore away from the unknown presence—lurching to the other side of the bed and pressing my back right up against the wall.

I knew for a fact that it disliked bright lights, so my next course of action was to seize the opportunity of the moonlight that shone right outside to reveal its identity to me instead. With a swift pinch, I flung the blinds open, bathing my bedroom in a cold glow that revealed a monstrous figure to me, basking it in the soft blue light.

At first when I saw it, I didn’t really have a reaction.

I was left feeling stunned… speechless, even.

It was so beyond anything I could comprehend from this world, that I was left rendered unable to form a single coherent thought.

I mean, who could do anything different in my shoes?

Just over the bed sat a kneeling figure; its form shrouded entirely in wisping shadows—its body flickering like black fire with tendrils of darkness whipping from its void-like core. The creature’s eyes glowed a pale grey with lacking pupils, yet I knew that its gaze was pointed right at me.

My eyes continued to widen as I studied it—a rushed slurry of internal scolding flooding my mind, telling me off for daring to be so curious.

Back then, I didn’t know what to expect.

But it certainly wasn’t a monster.

Still, in spite of my fear, I couldn’t pass on the opportunity to learn more about the entity I shared a living space with.

With trembling courage and an insecure tone, I managed to utter, “What… are you?”

The creature’s initial reaction in response to me was to remain stationary, as if showing hesitation within its otherwise threatening demeanour. It then tilted its head to the side, emitting a low static-like hum that only continued to feed further into my unease.

Finally, however, it spoke.

“Don’t be afraid,” were its first words ever to me; it had a deep and almost melodic voice, almost human-like but tainted with something deceptive below the surface. I felt like a deluded sailor talking to a siren lost at sea, yet I was right at home.

I choked back any possible response I had brewing in the back of my mind though, paralysed by my own panic that locked my words somewhere far away. My heart thundered deep within my chest, drowning out all remaining rational thought and sent waves of fear coursing through my entire body.

I was trapped.

A tense moment passed us both by as nothing was said for a while, but then it started to back away from the bed and slowly arose to reveal its true height. Its features became clearer in the moonlight, revealing protruding horns from its head with long wavy locks of black hair.

I gulped hard as I watched it straighten its back and tower over me, its height just barely contained by the confines of my own bedroom—its horns almost scraping against the ceiling. I could just hardly, if at all, comprehend just how tall this creature truly was.

“I only wish to comfort you,” it insisted, taking a calculated step back. Whether it was to lull me into a false sense of security or not, I couldn’t be too certain and despite its words, I couldn’t shake the feeling of impending dread of it being an actual monster, at least at first.

Such a bizarre and surreal display left me wondering if I was in fact dreaming; my mind desperately grasping at anything that could have explained the impossible sight before me, but upon pinching my own skin, only the sharp sting of reality remained.

“Y-you’re real?” I could only ask, a hint of dismay colouring my voice.

“Yes,” it nodded, confirming my fears.

Another strained silence brewed between us for another minute. I stared at the monster and it looked directly back at me. I did my best in the meantime to express my visual discomfort, hoping that it would continue to leave me alone, however, it instead misinterpreted my stunned silence as an invitation to move forward and close the distance between us.

As it leaned in, I pressed myself harder against the wall in a last attempt to convey my reluctance, hoping—praying, that it would take it as a hint to finally back off, but it persisted, ignoring my silent protest and leaving me frozen from fear instead.

With continued building terror, I watched as the creature reached out, extending its hand towards me with what appeared to be sharp fingernails—brushing against my face before cupping my cheeks. I felt its fingers curl around the base of my skull, pulling me closer than what I was comfortable with, daring to press its face against my own, planting a kiss upon my lips.

I shuddered in relief as it slowly withdrew, leaving me once again separated away from it by a short distance. I still couldn’t make out a single feature on its form despite such closeness and yet the memory of its lips on mine lingered with the taste of its ashen breath.

I couldn’t help but feel violated after, yet some familiarity brewed, prompting a disturbing revelation to consider; has this thing done something similar to me before—perhaps when I was fast asleep?

My mind stirred at the thought either way, leaving behind a chill of unrelenting unease that rolled down my spine.

The monster continued to back away until it stood a comfortable distance away from me, leaving me feeling somehow confused. It was a strange situation no matter how I looked at it; it didn’t seem to want to harm nor consume me, rather only offering its touch and comfort.

It was almost as if it sought companionship from me instead.

I watched warily as it drifted just a little closer once more, as if struggling with its own inability to stay away.

“Please,” it pleaded, its tone bordering on desperate, “I only wish for you to sleep well.”

Perhaps it was the lingering aftermath of the kiss that was clouding my judgement, or maybe it was the lack of sleep after a long day, but something within me urged for me to finally surrender to its will, to let my guard down at long last.

Even if it didn’t feel like it was my own decision, at the time.

Swayed by a force unseen, relaxing my senses like some type of sedative.

So against my better judgement, I reluctantly gave in with a reassuring nod, allowing for it to move closer again all the while I did the same.

It wasn’t that I was suddenly unafraid of the monster that was on my bed, rather that I wanted for the peaceful nights to continue.

They were all I had left going for me in this otherwise unforgiving world, my only remaining comfort at the end of a long day.

I proceeded to lay back down on the bed, turning my body off to the side as usual, feeling its presence press against me once more. Its form seemed to envelop me; the shadows that spilled from its core encasing me in a suffocating shroud that pulled me into the darkness along with it. I felt as my own body gradually stiffened, slowly losing the ability to move a single inch at all, yet oddly enough, I didn’t feel a single hint of dread at all anymore.

All I felt was its comfort and warmth instead.

My eyelids drooped heavily as I finally surrendered to my own exhaustion, feeling them weld shut.

I then felt as the monster tightened its grip around me, pulling me even deeper into its personal space. Its breath felt fiery against my flesh as it dug its face into the crook of my neck, displaying an almost protective and maybe even wanting embrace.

As I drifted off into sleep and as its hold continued to tighten, it whispered something into my ear just as I was about to truly go under.

With a body that could have been sculpted from fire alone, its words felt somehow chilling and devoid of any remaining warmth. Its voice was no longer laced with a friendly tone, instead spiked with something much more sinister in its place.

“I’m never letting you go.”

And in that moment, everything changed.

My life was never the same again.

follow up story>>>

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akutasoda · 6 months

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do you think you'd kill for me?

synopsis - it was every basic troupe in a story for an officer to fall in love with the criminal but now gallagher knew why

includes - gallagher

warnings - gn!reader, reader is a criminal/stowaway, reader is cocky + flirtatious, slight mentions of hurting others + alcohol, written before gallagher comes out so maybe ooc, wc - 1.6k

a/n: had to write this for the best bloodhound, he's just being consuming my thoughts lately and i can't wait to pull for him

taglist - @teddirika, @frankiesteinn

a long drawn out sigh sounded throughout the empty office, overshadowed by the visitors steps as they turned heel and left. a faint squeak and drag of a chair soon accompanied as the remaining man stood up from his chair, he tousled and pulled at the magenta tie before his scarred hands hovered over the new report. the file lifted as he opened it unceremoniously and his eyes glossed over the details - another stowaway would be nothing new but this was the third report about the same stowaway in penacony.

gallagher really couldn't believe the nerve of some people, first they slip into the dream world unnoticed and now they dared mess with the dream world - if he wasn't so dedicated to his job he'd probably quit and become a full time bartender. low footsteps as he crossed the room after he reasoned with himself that it'd be better for everyone if he solved the issue sooner rather than later. the only outstanding issue was that nobody had ever seen the stowaway so he didn't exactly know who he was looking for but maybe that was the reason he was assigned the case.

~~~

the streets were bustling as always, it was always golden hour afterall. the skyline was rather beautiful and the chimes of the clock on the grand hotel held absolute power over the noise of the streets. pepeshi's, couples, workers, singers, and all other kinds of people walked past you completely unaware of who you were - you were even cocky enough to smile at the young bloodhounds that looked you're way.

to you breaking into penacony's oh so famous dreamscape was a challenge you set yourself. they said all you dreams could come true here and maybe you twisted that a little to see truly how much you could get away with, surely you weren't the only person wanting to act on some intrusive thoughts and test the limits of what dreams could come true. it was petty crimes to begin with really, you meant no harm. originally you just wanted to steal from a few places but unfortunately bystanders sometimes got in the way - they weren't hurt too badly, you didn't want that.

eventually you started realising how dark this dream could be, especially when you first accidentally slipped into a deeper level of the dream after trying to run from the bloodhounds. quickly, you realised that this could happen to any unsuspecting guest of penacony. a part of you thought that naybe you could put your skills to use and redeem the harm you did to someone by saving unsuspecting penacony visitors, but for the most part you kept to yourself and your slightly warped ideas.

throughout you're entire time as a stowaway you'd become quite acquainted with various bloodhounds, even though they had no clue who you were. cockiness had also developed inside you when you realised that they genuinely held no leads towards yourself and your biggest risk was when you joined some bloodhounds in a small bar and talked to them like you'd known them for years. although at that bar you're attention was dragged towards the older bloodhound behind the counter, you could tell by the little broach on his grey suit - you turned to your new 'friends' and asked them who he was, they had no idea apparently.

gallagher could catch your keen gaze staring at him for most of the night, especially because you were sat right at the bar with two bloodhounds. he'd never seen you before and maybe it was the alcohol, from his own personal flask, talking but he felt more inclined to amuse your curiosity. he served the newer customers before walking back over to you and started witha gruff 'you fetching for a new drink? or you got a question for me?' you simply smiled at his question before the corners of your lips quirked up slightly as you responded along the lines of 'can a paying patron not appreciate the bartender in his glory?'

if the bloodhound was being honest, your curiousty and outright flirtatious remarks only spurred him to entertain you more. 'how about i mix you up a new drink there, running a bit low aren't we?' he looked you straught in the eyes when you glanced back up from your drink and watched as you slid the empty, ornate glass toward him with a simple 'surprise me'. you watched attentively while he turned to grab a few bottles before grabbing the silver cocktail shaker and pouring in a mix, perfectly measured without needing to even measure numerically. gallagher had mixed drinks for patrons plenty of times but with your inquisitive gaze fixed upon his every moment made him gulp a couple more times as he became very conscious about each move he made.

eventually he finished his show by spinning the shaker in his hand before graciously pouring it out into your glass. placing a small decorative cocktail stick inside and sliding it back with a weary smirk 'a special drink for a special patron then'. you took the glass in your hands and raised it in a toasting motion before taking a swig.

gallagher would tend to the rest of the bar's patrons for the rest of the night but could always feel your gaze on him and perhaps he put on more of a show because of this, but who knows? his eyes trailed you when you finally left and he looked back over to where you had been sat to notice a small pile. a very generous tip layed neatly on rhe bar but what caught his attention the most was the note left on top:

'a tip befitting the handsome bartender who served me tonight'

beneath was signed your initials. he quickly pocketed the note before picking up the tip but not before doubling a look at the money itself.

~~~

they probably assigned him this case because they knew he knew something the rest of the bloodhound's didn't. he knew exactly who the stowaway was and where to find them. you seemed to always know when gallagher had a shift at the local bar because he knew you only showed up on those nights. each time went the same, he'd entertain your antics, you'd both pass equally flirtatious remarks, he'd make you a new drink and then you'd leave - always leaving a generous tip.

the first time you left a tip he stared at it for too long not to notice the serial number. it had become all too convenient for his encounters with you to be after a robbery in penacony and it was even more convenient that you'd left a tip each time with that places serial number on the money. admittedly, it took him a while to piece it together but maybe that was because he didn't want to believe it. the final nail in the coffin, so to speak, was when you left a note at your most recent encounter reading -

'i think you and me both know this cat and mouse game will end eventually right?'

to anyone, they might of assumed it was a weird way of asking the other out but he knew what it meant and that's why he went to the location you detailed on the other side. you knew exactly what you were doing from day one, both of you knew that. he stayed stationed at the spot you named akd he waited on guard for any signs of you, while doing so he felt a weird sense of excitement bubble inside of him. the area was rather secluded so if you showed up he'd know right whe-

'my my, the handsome bloodhound has taken up my offer. i feel rather flattered', your smug voice rang through his ears and he immediately turned around. he was greeted by the sight of you sat upon the roof of the building with that all too familiar smug face. 'are we finally cutting to the chase?' your face tilted slightly to the side before you continued 'or do you not have the confidence to be able to catch me bartender?'

oh how he hated that smug grin of yours, but oh how he loved it all the same. a small, deep chuckle left his lips before retorting 'i only gave you a headstart stowaway, don't go wasting it' he watched you stand up as you added 'don't lie to yourself gal, we both know you wouldn't catch me, because i've already made a special place for myself in your heart and you couldn't dream of putting me behind bars'

you were right. it was against the law and so so corny for the law to fall in love with the criminal. but here he was, and you both knew all too well.

#—stellaronhvnters.#x reader #x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x you #hsr x reader #honkai star rail gallagher #hsr gallagher #gallagher x reader

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2soulscollide · 1 year

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tips to level up your writing skills

1. read, read, read

okay, I know, everyone keeps saying it... but it's true, and I truly believe the more you read, the better you write, because you come across different writing styles, different voices, new characters, and worlds. This applies to every writer, from amateur to professional.

2. practice makes perfect

another cliché, right.

but hear me out: I feel so much more confident about my writing skills when I write daily, rather than when I write a bit occasionally. you get lots of work done, see your book coming to life, and get better at it.

3. create an outline before you start writing

guysss, I know many people like to go with the flow, but I would recommend planning your novel before writing it, especially if it is one of your first projects.

when I started, I refused to plot my novel because I thought it was a waste of time, and I couldn't plan it all ahead. turns out that I could never finish my novels, because I started to get lost in the plot. as most of you may know, I LOVEEE to plot now!

4. use active voice instead of passive voice

passive voice is alright sometimes. I like to use it, too. but to create an immersive experience for the reader, you should go for the active voice since it creates more impact.

see something like this:

"the letter was written by Marcus who had tears in his eyes." VS "Marcus wrote the letter with tears in his eyes."

such a basic example (don't judge me!!)... but can you notice the difference? it seems so much more expressive.

5. avoid using overly complex language

repeat it after me: short. sentences. are. valid.

don't overcomplicate it! I know it's tempting to write huge sentences sometimes and make your book seem more complex and professional, but sometimes it just doesn't come out as expected, and we end up exhausting our readers.

6. don't just for yourself

this can be a polemic topic. it's quite common to see people saying you should write for yourself, but let's be honest here: if you're trying to get your book published, you should have your target public in mind while developing your book. knowing your audience to know what works and what doesn't work is extremely important. but hey, you must also enjoy what you're writing!

7. use dialogue!!!

I find dialogue so important, and I love it so much! ensure you develop a distinctive voice for your characters to make them seem real to the reader. also, if possible, read the dialogue out loud and imagine if it would work out in real life.

8. don't be afraid to use metaphors

metaphors will turn a "basic" work into something more sophisticated when applied in the right places. you might want to avoid overusing it because it can ruin the experience, but it's something up to you, and what feels better to you.

9. research your topic before writing

okay, this is pretty self-explanatory. if you're writing about a topic or a location you don't know much about, avoid making assumptions or clichés. instead, do some research, take notes, or even ask chatgpt questions to help you.

10. don't be afraid to experiment and try new things

I was a fanfiction writer for a long time and was so scared to try original fiction because it seemed so much different from what I was accustomed to doing. however, once I decided to try something new, I discovered I liked to do it more than fanfiction. you'll never know until you try it!

11. never give up on your writing, keep practicing and learning to improve your skills

it takes time to acquire new skills, so if you're new to writing, please don't give up! It's fun and a long path, and I promise you'll love it, even more, the more you write!

I hope this was helpful! <3 have a nice day

also, i just released a new freebie!!! it's a free workbook for writers with over 90 pages to guide you through the process of plotting a novel. you might be interested in checking it out!! :D click here

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janeyseymour · 6 months

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Landslide

Summary: Melissa's doing a lot of self-reflection while she ponders about what the future might hold for the two of you.

Feel free to listen to my cover of the song too!

WC: 1.95k

Melissa Schemmenti has been through a lot- there’s no two ways about that statement. She’s had plenty of rough seasons, and they’ve shaped who she is today. And then you came crashing into her life the day that you quite literally tripped and fell walking into her during the first day of development at Abbott your first year. Your mere existence threw her into an existential crisis, and that was before the two of you started dating. And now? She’s contemplating asking you to marry her (how you managed to get her to rethink her entire outlook on life, love, and marriage without your realizing it is beyond her). With this revelation of hers that she might want to get married again, she’s doing a lot of reflection of the course of her life.

I took my love, I took it down. I climbed a mountain and I turned around. And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills, til the landslide brought me down.

She used to wear her heart on her sleeve. That’s actually how she fell in love with Joe. It was a typical school girl crush in the eighties when she met him in an entry level writing course during college that everybody was required to take in order to graduate. They fell in what she thought was love and got married far quicker than she had ever expected herself to do. She had climbed that mountain, and she almost made it to the top. But then, their marriage had turned into the situation that she had promised herself she would never be in. She turned around, and as she began her trek down, she saw her reflection in what was now a snow covered hill. She saw the way that this experience changed her, and she knew that she would never be the same again- not after what Joe had done. And then the landslide brought her down, and she had fallen from what felt like the highest peak, and she found herself in one of the lowest valleys.

Oh, mirror in the sky: what is love? Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life?

Building herself back up to be as much of the Melissa Schemmenti that she knew and missed was a process, and the redhead knew that it was always going to a little different than it once was.

Melissa found herself looking up at the sky quite often, feeling a sense of serenity when the sun in the sky shone on her face or when the droplets of water that fell from the clouds trailed down her face and she couldn’t quite tell what was rain and what was tears. It was freeing and made her feel as though everything might just be okay.

The redheaded woman was looking up at the sky on a rather cloudy and dismal day as she wandered through the city aimlessly when she finally decided to ask herself what love really is.

Melissa came to the realization that day that she had no idea what love was. Her mother and father certainly didn’t have the love story everyone yearned for- no, they ended up divorced by the time the redhead was ten. She remembers hearing their fights, the cursing and tears, while she lay in bed trying to fall asleep. A part of her had died in those years, and she truly wondered in that moment if the inner child within her heart could ever rise above and find love- true, real, and natural love that wasn’t forced or expected of her.

The woman walked through the city without a destination, wondering if she could handle the changing ocean tide of being in a marriage to being single again. Could she handle the different seasons of her life that were yet to come? She supposed she made it this far, so she can’t give up now- if anything to spite whatever God was trying to make her life a living hell.

Well I’ve been afraid of changing, cause I built my life around you. But time makes you bolder, even children get older. And I’m getting older too.

That night, Melissa went back to the small apartment in the middle of Center City Philadelphia that she couldn’t quite yet call a home. She stood out on her balcony, eyes focused down on the streets below her. Somewhere, Joe was roaming those streets looking for his next booty call. And in that moment, she realizes that she needs to change her ways- it’s been two months that she’s been moping around since the divorce was filed.

But she was terrified of change. She had built this whole life around Joe and his friends and family, and she lost it all in an instance when she caught him in their bed with another woman.

With time, Melissa’s heart healed and mended itself- the only true remedy for heartache and heartbreak. And in that time, she grew to love where she worked at Abbott Elementary. She grew bigger and bolder, back into the woman that didn’t put up with shit and marched to the beat of her own drum.

Years passed, and the redhead found herself watching her first class graduate from Abbott. Only then did she realize that even children grow and get older- onto their new chapter, and then in a few short years she would find herself at their high school graduations cheering and clapping for them among their families.

But Melissa Schemmenti was like family to some of those kids- like a second mother, or even a first mother in certain cases. And she would continue to be there for them.

Only after she enters the door to her townhouse that at least somewhat feels like a home to her now does the second grade teacher realize that she too is getting older.

And then you came around. You started working at Abbott when Melissa was finally settled into her own being and she was happy with where she was in life. And you came and shook that all up in your flowery sundresses and bright smile. You turned her world upside down with your infectious positivity and sunny disposition. The redhead who wore mostly muted colors with her pleather pants and leather jacket started to wear brighter colors again, because you unintentionally made her see the world like she was living in technicolor.

And after a few months of you working there, the two of you began to see each other romantically. You brought out parts of the hardheaded second grade teacher that she thought she would never see again, yet she was still Melissa. She was still the woman who knew a guy and wasn’t afraid to back down from a bare knuckle fist fight or to bring out her bat to destroy someone’s car who wronged her. You found yourself loving that. You also found yourself loving the way that Melissa would turn soft for you in an instant if you needed it. You knew she was the woman of your dreams, and the redhead felt that too oddly enough.

And so, here she is in her classroom as she waits for you to finish up a meeting with Malik’s parents and doing some self-reflection again as she wonders if maybe you are the miracle that she’s been waiting for her entire life- if you are the one true, real, natural love that she’s been looking for. If you’re the one that she’s going to throw caution to the wind for and get married to.

Well I’ve been afraid of changing, cause I built my life around you. But time makes you bolder, even children get older. And I’m getting older too.

She’s been afraid of change her entire life. Melissa Schemmenti thrives off of routine and the things that she knows to be true in the world. But you came and shook everything up, and she’s built her new life around you now. Is she willing to change everything if a second marriage of hers goes south again?

But… time has made her bolder. Time has shown the redhead that no matter what happens, she’s resilient- she’ll make it through. And genuinely, she isn’t so sure that she would hate the change of being married again, as long as it was to you.

Time passes around her slowly as she looks around her classroom and realizes just how much has truly changed since she started teaching you and even just in the past few years that you’ve been in her life.

The kids that she started out with are onto the real world, they’ve grown up. They’re off creating their lives, creating families and raising beautiful children that are now wandering through the halls of Abbott themselves.

The practice of teaching has changed and evolved as Melissa’s been here, and while she’s always been afraid of change, the redhead realizes that she’s always been changing and growing to fit the standards of the time in order to give her students the best education she can.

And you? You’ve brought a new sense of life and passion into her world… she’s getting older, she’s aware of this. Maybe you’re worth the potential landslide that could take her out again. She doubts you will- you’re nothing like her ex-husband in the slightest. And that gives her hope. The lingering fears though stay with her, because much like you’ve shaped her, so have her past experiences.

Oh, take my love, take it down. Oh, climb a mountain and you turn around. And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills, well the landslide brought me down. And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills, well the landslide bring it down.

Melissa’s worn her heart on her sleeve when it comes to you. And so far, she hasn’t had to take it down. You’ve both climbed the mountain, but neither of you have turned around. She saw her reflection as she climbed up, and she’ll be quite frank: she still glances down at the snow-covered hills occasionally when a moment of self-doubt and self-worth takes over. But she doesn’t think that the landslide will ever bring the two of you down.

And so, she opens her phone and pulls up the number of one of her guys.

“Jack? I think I need a ring,” she says into the phone lowly, praying to God you aren’t coming around the corner.

“For?”

“I think I found the future Mrs. Schemmenti,” Melissa reveals with a soft smile on her face. “I’m done letting the landslide bring me down.”

“Meet me tomorrow after work, and I’ll have a few things picked out for you.”

She hangs up the phone with a smile.

You walk into her classroom a few moments later, bags slung over your shoulder.

“Hey, babe,” you sigh. “You ready to go home? I’m beat, and I need some relaxation and Desperate Housewives.”

Melissa chuckles softly as she stands from her desk chair and grabs her own bag. She stretches to peck your cheek before taking your left hand in her own. Subconsciously, she rubs her thumb on your ring finger as she thinks about the meeting that she has tomorrow with her guy.

Melissa Schemmenti has always been afraid of change… always wanted to heal that inner child of hers that used to look up into the night sky and wonder what love was. And here she was, changing for you and knowing what love truly felt like.

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