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love-bitesx · 11 months

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: ̗̀➛ PROTECTOR. hobie brown x reader

summary: spider-man makes a point of walking y/n home every night, but after befriending them as hobie brown as well, his feelings get complicated. words: 3.5k REQUESTS OPEN ! warnings: non-explicit sexual harassment (a man is very creepy to reader), reader isn't gendered! but be aware, author is female, so possible afab bias, i tried my hardest i swear. all characters are adults :) author is british so this is my interpretation of his silly little slang from what ive experienced hehe also divider credit: cafekitsune a/n: may feel a little ooc, but in my headcanon, when he's pining the way he is for reader, he's so soft. also, spider-man and hobie r completely different personalities u cant tell me otherwise. first time writing hobie so pls give me opinions ty. enjoy!!!!!

“is it home-time already, darlin’?”

there he was. the familiarity of routine washing over you, turning your head to see him propped up against the brick, spikes on display and guitar pick flipping in between his clothed fingers.

“spider-man, my hero,” you sighed and clutched your non-existent pearls, a smirk on your lips.

“you know i hate that,” kicking off from the wall of the pub you just clocked out of, he stuffed his hands into his patched up jacket, his bouncy stride meeting yours on the pavement.

“i know,” you smiled, allowing your bag to fall from your shoulders and into his outstretched hand, as always.

it had become a routine, over the course of a few months, that the one-and-only spider-man would escort you home from work in the late hours. at first, it didn’t seem real. why would he decide to spend valuable time most days walking you home, when he could be out fighting whatever darkness lurks in the shadows? you’ve asked him, almost every time, but he always gives the same, vague answer;

“who else is gonna keep you safe, love?”

his legs were longer than yours, by a mile. so he had to slow his usual pace for you. naturally bouncy, his booted feet tapped against the pavement like a kick drum, and you wondered whether that was the radioactive blood in his veins, or his natural energy.

laughter flittered through the dark streets as you caught up, it had only been a day since you last saw him, but being a crime-fighting, fascist-killing superhero, there was quite a lot to pack into a 24 hour day.

he bounced off the walls of passing buildings, recreating his fights with the air that hung between you both, throwing in some exaggerated punches here and there, to elicit an extra giggle or two from you. you almost got lost following his animated recreations, but he kept an eye out for the roads ahead. he’d memorised all the paths leading to your apartment.

it had all started a few months prior, after a particularly long shift at work. constantly over the span of a few hours, this guy would not leave you alone. no matter how many times you refused his advances, a smile on your face, masking the unsettling pit in your stomach at the sight of his grin. drink, after drink, after drink, he ordered just to stare at you the whole night, crude gestures and words thrown your way.

you’d gotten used to it, working at a pub in the depths of london, it wasn’t ever unusual to get unwanted advances. but something about this guy, you couldn’t shake it. ~

“what time do you finish, ay?” his accent was thick, you placed him somewhere up north.

“i’m not sure,” you muttered back, forcing a smile.

“oi, come on! ‘course you know what time you finish,” his words were slurred, and his eyes hadn’t left yours once, “was thinking we could ‘ave some drinks together, tha’s’all.”

“sorry, i can’t tonight, i have to be up early tomorrow,” you giggled, and if he wasn’t so drunk, he’d definitely have picked up on the nerves lacing your words.

“come on,” vowels drawn out, he made an attempt to stand up to meet your height, the proximity of him sending a shock of fear to your heart, until a strong hand clapped against his chest, the force almost sending him backwards.

“pack it in, dickhead, they said ‘no’,” a deep, almost calming voice spoke, contrasted completely with the stern, threatening tone of his words.

you looked to meet your protectors gaze, and it almost stunned you. he was tall, taller than you, for sure. dark, smooth skin with an aura of pure mayhem, silver piercings protruding from his face. adorned with a ripped, skin-tight plain top and denim vest, littered with badges, patches and just about any accessory known to man.

his eyes were what really held you. a heavy look, dark brown with the most unique feeling of strength and power that you’d ever seen. you could’ve easily gotten lost.

deciding you’d stared at him long enough, though, you broke the eye contact, diverting it back to the man who looked a humorous combination of terrified and offended at the same time.

“‘s alright mate, we were just talking, back off, yeah?” his liquid courage built up, ignorant of the taller man’s hand still pushing against his chest, ring-clad hands seeming to leave an imprint.

“think it’s time for you to leave, mate,” he spat back, mimicking his slang.

a moment of silence followed. you’d fully expected the drunken creep to swing a punch, or at least bite back, but under the weight of the taller man’s stare, he seemed to lose all fight he had in him. with a final murmer of something you couldn’t quite hear, and unsure you really wanted to, he stumbled backwards, slipping into the crowd.

“thank you,” you broke the silence, to which the man shrugged.

“he was a pig,” he brushed it off like nothing, and you couldn’t help but smile at his attitude. raising his newly free hand, he stretched it towards you, tight in a fist.

“hobie, hobie brown,” he greeted, and his accent completely erased the ‘h’ from his name.

“y/n l/n,” you smiled, accepting his offer and spudding him, the cold metal of his rings against your knuckles. you couldn’t help but grin at the oddity of his presence.

hobie kept you company for the rest of the night, ranting about his thoughts and opinions of various important subjects, ranging widely from drinks of choice to the existence of capitalist propaganda in modern media, all of which you hung onto every word of.

it wasn’t long until he’d managed to book him and his band into a few slots on the pub’s makeshift stage that stood empty on the other side of the room, smiling to himself at how authentically excited you seemed to hear his music.

when he left, his vacancy was immediately obvious. the booming pub feeling oddly silent without him.

after closing up for the night, you grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder, switching the lights off with one hand and fiddling with the keys in the other, shaking the door to double check you locked it well enough. body aching from being on your feet all day, you yawned, stepping autopilot into the darkness. the night air was chilling, causing you to wrap your jacket tight around your body. cursing at yourself for not bringing another layer, or pre-ordering a taxi home.

“oi,” you heard from your right, turning quickly to the familiar call.

stumbling on the pavement, the drunken creep from earlier pointed towards you.

shit.

you hadn’t expected him to actually wait for you. it’d been hours since he left, he was insane. what was he thinking?

grabbing the keys from your pocket, you gripped them in your freezing hands in defense.

“where’s your little friend, huh?” he spat, clearly enraged by hobie’s interruption earlier. he stepped closer, and you stepped back, trembling as you tripped slightly on the pavement.

“ay, is this twat bothering you?” a voice called from above.

wait, above?

craning your neck up, you made eye contact with possibly the last person you expected.

“spider-man?”

and from that night, he’d met you every time. waiting outside the pub doors, no exception, to walk you home.

“hey!” spider-man’s upbeat calling snapped you instantly back to him, jumping slightly as you finally noticed he was directly in front of your face, white eyes narrowed on your demeanor, “where’d you go, huh?”

“sorry,” paying him an apologetic smile, “just thinking.”

“wanna clue me in, darlin’?” his tone was playful, but the soften of his masks expression felt genuine.

“just thinking about the day i’ve had,” you lied, unsure whether his spidey senses could tell. not that it was rare for you to think about how you met, but you didn’t want to bring it up again. if he could tell, he didn’t let on.

“whataboutit?” he sped up, slipping back to your pace and slinging his lanky arm over your shoulders, basically hanging onto you as you walked. he liked walking with you like this. it made him feel powerful, like he was keeping you extra safe.

“hobie’s band played again!” you exclaimed, and if he’d been paying attention, he would’ve seen the way your face lit up at the memory. unfortunately for him, his eyes were trained on webbing a chocolate bar from a passing vendor. god knows why it was still open, but he was glad it was.

“hobie, again, huh?” taunted spider-man, punching your arm playfully with the fist that gripped the newly stolen snickers bar, “starting to think you’re replacing me, love.”

“never,” you teased back, elbowing his side, hearing the jingle of his badged vest, “hobie’s just…”

ears pricking, he clung onto the words you were speaking, anticipating possibly hearing something he didn’t want to.

“he’s just so cool,” you breathed with a smile, and he almost verbally sighed in relief, stopping himself in order not to rouse suspicion. he smirked under his mask, “just got this feel about him, so easy to talk to, and he’s so talented! you know, i’ve almost learnt all the lyrics to his songs.”

his heart just about exploded. in fact, he thinks he could pinpoint the exact moment it did.

he played off his burning cheeks, clearing his throat and incredibly glad his mask hid his flustered expression.

“you should come see him, you know,” you looked up at him, and though you knew his answer was ‘no’, it was worth a try, “i can hide you in the back if you don’t wanna be seen.”

“come off it, love,” he dismissed, avoiding your gaze, but his back was tingling like pins and needles under the warmth of it, “i’m not keen to meet the man stealing you from me.”

“fuck sake,” you laughed and pushed his arm off you, brushing off his playful flirting.

his confidence was excelling. the friendship you had formed over the prior months had stemmed from his childish charm, and it hadn’t faltered once.

“well, here i am,” you brought your pace to a halt, hovering in front of the door to your apartment building.

“i’ll miss you tonight,” he fell against the wall, eyes stuck on you. you couldn’t see it, but you could feel his smirk.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, i finish at 11,” you stepped towards him.

“i’ll be waiting,” he kicked off from the bricks, raising his hand to ruffle your hair, much to your protest, before practically disappearing in front of your eyes.

you were left grinning to yourself, much like every night.

“what’s up, bruv?” hobie’s friend elbowed him harshly in the ribs, causing him to rip his eyes from you.

“nothing,” he huffed, but by the lack of sustenance and playfulness in his reply, his friend was less than satisfied. hobie was a carefree, reckless guy with a constant spurt of irony, and seeing him with a sullen expression and no bite back, was worrying.

“come off it, hobie,” another one piped up, sitting across from him with an empty pint in one hand and cigarette in the other, pointing the latter in his face. he huffed, “you’ve been slumping for like 3 months now, and you’ve only been writing sappy love songs.”

the table snickered, and even hobie’s lips curled into a smirk. his friend was right, he wasn’t even nearly like his usual self. he blames you for that.

“who is it then, huh?” his friend pushed, cigarette still hanging in front of hobie’s face, ash crumbling off the end, “has our ol’ hobie brown got himself a partner?”

“oi, you know i hate labels,” he smirked again, knowing he was lying. not that he didn’t usually hate them, but he couldn’t avoid the fact that every time you made your way to the front of his mind, he was urged to call you his. his partner. his person. his love. just his.

he always did hate consistency, anyway.

“another round, guys?” your voice ripped him from his thoughts, your scent somehow drifting above the sticky smell of beer and cigarettes, he pinned that down to his spider abilities, but he’d be a fool to ignore that he had simply just memorised the aroma.

“please, darlin’,” hobie’s friends chirped up, grinning at you thankfully. he cursed the burning feeling in his chest.

“i could do you guys a deal,” you smirked playfully, and he looked up to meet your eyes. you looked beautiful tonight, like usual. he was fucked.

“if you lot give us a song, it’ll be on the house,” you smiled hopefully, taking note of their usual orders just incase they agree.

“sounds like a plan,” hobie reached his hand out to you, open for a handshake, to which you took. soft hands falling into his calloused ones, he couldn’t help but notice how nice it felt.

turning away, you left to get their usual set up sorted, feeling him still watching you, to which you threw him a smile over your shoulder.

it wasn’t unusual at all. his eyes would always find you. at the table with his mates, his gaze would swim through the crowd to yours. even on stage, lost in the moment with himself and his guitar, it was you he always found his eyes trailing back to. it wasn’t like the other men in the bar, it wasn’t predatory desire or lust, but it was warm. it was safe.

he had three options, really; confess himself to you as hobie brown, coming clean about the way he felt about you, the warmth in his heart that spread across his spine whenever you smiled at him, eventually having to come clean about his alter-ego. he could confess as spider-man, to which he’d have to come clean about his actual identity. or option three. stay silent and suffer in his own pity. bite his lip and pretend his heart wasn’t yearning for you.

but, he prided himself in being able to speak his mind without hesitation. confident in his word, suffocated in his silence. he would always say: if he ever bit his tongue, to kill him there and then. well, here he is; begging for mercy at the barrel, his tongue bleeding from keeping his heart locked in his chest.

he was fucked. well and truly.

“anything special happen today?” spider-man nudged you, taking a worried note of your unusual quietness recently. it was the same night, he’d picked you up like normal, and hopped along beside you.

“the band played again,” a swelling smile bloomed on your lips, “other than that, not really.”

your voice was hollow tonight. easily mistakable with your naturally soft tone, but to his trained ears, it didn’t feel right.

stopping immediately in his path, his bouncy steps ceasing, you quickly copied him. confusion slipping behind your eyes.

“what’s up?” you questioned.

“you know you wanna tell me,” he stepped around you, arms falling over your shoulders from behind, heavy with his full weight. something about the mask, it gave him a confidence with you that he’d quenched as hobie.

you sighed and rested your head back against his chest, taking him by surprise. there was something intimate about the way your eyes were closed, body resting against him. your brain was hectic, he didn’t need his spidey senses to see that.

“there’s just…” you spoke, eyelids feeling heavy as you opened them, looking up to see him. head split in two, you were unsure if you even wanted to say it out loud, “there’s this guy.”

it was almost cruel how fast his heart dropped, plummeting like a boulder into the pit of his stomach. body stiffening, his head was spinning so fast he didn’t even have the conscience to mask it.

“i just can’t get him out of my head, it’s so stupid,” if your wistful look wasn’t answer enough, the outpour of dissonance he could feel from your body told him it was serious.

“not another fella tryna steal you from me,” he chuckled, but his voice was weak, vulnerable. you hadn’t heard it like that before.

untangling yourself from his weighted grip, you leant against the wall of the building you were stood in front of, staring up into the night sky. there was something so embarrassing about admitting a silly little crush.

“not another one, technically,” you spoke softly, a hint of a smile tickling your lips at the thought of him, he stepped closer, “i’ve already told you about him.”

and he stopped dead in his tracks. mind racing a million miles an hour, picking apart every word you said. was he stupid? was he reaching? seeing something that wasn’t there? he was the only one you’d spoken about, but surely not, right?

shifting closer again, his body begun to feel the heat radiating off you, barely an inch between you both. he towered you, as always, the spikes on his jacket and mask hitting the streetlights perfectly, giving him an orange glow. you bought yourself to look at him, and though you couldn’t see the eyes beneath, you felt his gaze.

insufferably close, closer than you’ve ever been, you could feel your heart in your chest. a tension that you hadn’t quite felt before, bubbling in the air between you.

“say his name, love,” his voice was low, lower than normal, and a twinge of familiarity hit your chest hearing the deeper tone, one you couldn’t quite pinpoint. chills dripped down your spine at the new found feeling.

gulping, you could feel his name in your throat, struggling it’s way out.

“hobie.” your voice was barely above a whisper, but considering he almost had you pressed against the brick, he heard every syllable. and god, did it sound good.

“again?” he croaked, just wanting to confirm, needing to hear it again, needing to hear you say it, relish in every beat.

“hobie,” you repeated, louder this time, more conviction in your chest, “i like him, like a lot.”

he went silent. dead silent, barely moving. heat radiated from him, and you could’ve sworn in the vacancy of sound that you could hear his heart pounding against his chest. reaching up, your hand trembling slightly, you placed it there. on his chest, feeling the material of his suit, the humanity of his heartbeat. he melted into it.

“are you o—“

“i need to tell you something.” he interrupted you.

it was your turn to be silent, eyes heavy with intrigue, begging him to continue.

without a word, his ring-clad hand ghosted your skin, drifting past the air between you and to the base of his mask, sliding along his neckline for the seam, and dragging it up over his face, revealing the man within.

your heart stopped, a thousand things flashing through your head, through your heart, surging in your bloodstream. you didn’t even know what to say, what to think, how to comprehend it.

“hobie?” your voice was small again, shrunk beneath the look in his eyes, the desire.

embarrassment waved through you for a moment, a sudden panic of the earlier confession, your chest pounding at the possible rejection.

he didn’t even leave the thoughts enough time to fester, however, because his hand that was holding his mask was suddenly flush against your jaw, the material falling softly onto your neck. thumb trailing the comfort of your cheek, revelling in the feel of your skin, warm against his hands, he leaned forward.

his lips were on yours, without a word. gentle, but rough. the tension escaping through the feeling of him pressed into you, desire leaping out of every shared breath. his other hand fell to your waist, and yours stayed firm on his chest, bunching the fabric in your hand to bring him closer. he obliged, of course, and the kiss deepened. his head spun.

pulling away for breath, you kept your eyes on his lips, disbelief swimming around your brain, colliding with the need to kiss him again.

“y/n,” his hand brought your eyeline to his, “i like you, too.”

you couldn’t help but smile, relief washing your body out.

“like, a lot.”

he kissed you again. and again.

a/n: hope u enjoyed!! pls let me kno if ur did, this is my first time writing for him <3 thanku!!!

#hobie brown #hobie spiderverse #hobie #atsv hobie #hobie my beloved #hobie x reader #spiderman atsv #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #spiderpunk #spiderverse #spiderverse x reader #spiderman #spiderman x reader

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lust444men · 2 months

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hiiiii i love your blog so much😭😭😭💕💕💕 I absolutely love this mechanic of sending requests🤭🤭

🌶 ex!hobie like an enemies to lover to enemies to lovers again omg does that make sense?😭

anyways have a gorgeous day/night <33 love u!💋

a/n finally starting this. I hope I do it justice for you, doll! I tried my best. I luv this idea sm! I fr and lowk did the plot of 10 things I hate ab you...warnings: praise, small degrading? mocking, p n v, slightly cunty hobie ngl, fem!reader, manhandling, slight dumbification? tad bit angsty, language obvi, angry/make-up sex

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

you and hobie had a very difficult relationship. you hated each other all through secondary school, despised each other when you chose the same college, but by second year, you guys were dating. And in love. Or, so you thought. You had been dating each other for a little over eight months, and it was great. until you overheard his mates talking amongst themselves in the halls a few weeks ago.

"ya' owe Spike £50! he made 'er fall in love."

"But i' lasted more than a month! Tha' means I get £70." and other chatter, but by then your ears were ringing so loud you couldn't hear them.

you've never felt your heart drop deeper than that. since then, you had been avoiding Hobie like the damn plague. Every text, call, ignoring him in the halls, lessons. He didn't exist to you no more. you should've known, really. it was hobie. he didn't care about others' feelings. you thought he was in love with you...even though he never said those words, you thought the way he looked at you..spoke to you..touched you, held all his feelings. Guess you were fucking wrong.

you were walking home from college, your heart still heavy weeks later. you felt betrayed. but who were you to think Hobie could be a genuine, nice, committed person?

he's the same guy who threw a dictionary at your head in year 10.

you got dragged out your thoughts by someone following behind you, and you immediately recognised the thumping boots on the pavement.

"Oi! Wai' up." Hobie barked, his lanky stature making him next to you in no time. "The fuck is going on wit' you? Ya've been ignoring me fo' weeks!" He said, his hands shoved into his pockets.

"You noticed? Colour me surprised." You scoffed, not even looking at him, despite feeling his eyes bore into you. his face scrunched, eyes narrowing.

"A'ight, the fuck 'as gotten you into such a foul mood?" He asked curtly. You ignored him, letting out an incredulous huff. He really doesn't know what he did? What a dick.

You walked up the steps of your house, hearing him quickly follow you as you unlocked the door. Nobody was home, that'd be good if you get into a screaming match with hobie. You left the door open for him, knowing he'd just let himself in either way.

"Ya gonna fuckin' speak to me, or what?" He scoffed, slamming the door shut with his foot before approaching you. You couldn't help yourself.

"How much money did you get?" you spun round, throwing your bag to the armchair, along with your keys as you stared at him. You saw his face twitch, anger leaving, confusion and...worry replacing it.

"Wha'? What're you talkin' 'bout?" He asked, brows pinching together. "How much money did you get when you bet that you could get me to date you?" You reiterated, extending it so his simple brain could click. You watch his face fall, and it almost made you laugh at his dumbfounded face.

"W-wait — baby, it's not wha' you think." He panicked, reaching out for you and winced when you slapped his hands away.

"Oh, fuck off with that. I don't wanna hear it. I was just a bet to you, all this time? Everything we ever did, every kiss, every touch, every fuck, every date — a lie." You rambled, your emotions getting the better of you, eyes filling with tears as you stared at him, gesturing wildly.

"Shh shh, ay — calm down -"

"Don't tell me to calm down!"

"Calm down then." You glared at him. "You're a fucking joke. I wish we never dated. It was all a fucking bet to you! I was just some extra cash!" You yelled.

"Not anymore." His voice raised above yours, startling you. He never shouts at you — not really. "The fuck is that supposed to mean? Not anymore?" You hissed, your brows furrowing together as your nose scrunched. "Just stop fuckin' talking! You're making no sense, Hobart, you're literally so fuckin' st—" you got rudely cut off by his lips smashing against yours, his hands on your cheeks.

You tried your hardest not to melt into him, the two sides of your head wrestling. You haven't felt his kisses in weeks, you missed them. but on the other hand, it's probably fake. that gave you enough courage to put your hands flat against his chest and shove him away, shaking your head as you wiped your lips, as if you were getting rid of his kiss.

"No, no! You don't get to kiss me and —..and think everything's okay! It's not! You're a selfish, self centered, rude, arrogant cunt. These last eight months were a waste of my time. I could've been fucking alot hotter in this time." Your words flew out your mouth before you even had time to truly consider them, but honestly? he deserved that. you watched him stare at you, his eyes darkening but his breathing surprisingly calm.

He moved towards you, you stepped back, he stepped forward, until your back hit the wall. his hand gripped your jaw, forcing your head up to him as you let out a quiet grunt.

"Tha' so? Jus' a big ol' waste of time for ya?" He asked lowly, tilting his head at you as his stature blocked out anything else.

"Was just a bet to you," you shrugged. "so, why you throwin' a fit?" you watch him run his tongue along the inside of his cheek, glancing off briefly before his eyes dragged back to you.

"Lemme tell you sum, doll. You're real fuckin' stupid." his lips crashed back against yours in an aggressive, but needy kiss. His hand on your jaw drifted through your hair to the back of your head, forcing you close to him. you kiss back absentmindedly, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, balling his shirt in your hand and yanking him flush against you, making him groan.

His free hand trailed down, fumbling with your jean button and pulling them down to your mid thigh before he pulled away from the kiss. He gripped your hair, not tightly, but enough to maneuver you to the sofa, bending you over the arm rest. you gasp, your hands bracing yourself and attempting to push yourself off the armrest, only to be pushed back down by Hobie's large, calloused hand between your shoulder blades.

"Stay down. Lemme do my shit." He huffed, sounding fed up as he practically ripped off your panties. you shivered at the cool air, feeling his hands pull down the rest of your jeans, spreading your legs.

"Ya' could've fucked hotter, y'say? Can hotter make you cum fifteen times in one night?" He scoffed, grabbing a handful of your ass, making you huff.

"Oh, fuck off with that already. It happened one time!" you tilted your head back at him, watching him fumble with his belt, dipping his hand into his briefs.

"Don' look at me like tha'. Might jus' hit tha' score again." his breath hitched as he swiped his tip through your folds, making your eyes flutter shut. Three weeks and no sex, and definitely not in the mood to touch yourself, it's safe to say you're pretty pent up.

"Please," you whisper, feeling his tip repeatedly hit your clit, making you jolt or twitch each time.

"Please, wha'? Please forgive me for bein' a miscommunicating bitch? Please forgive me for not talking to you? Please fuck me?" He mocked, watching as you glare at him and grind your teeth.

"The last one." You hissed. You had no reason to apologise! who the fuck did he think he is?

"Ah, righ'. The impor'an' one." He lined himself up with your entrance, tucking his pierced bottom lip in his teeth, sinking into you with a throaty groan from himself and a whimper from you.

"Fuck. I fuckin' missed you. You n this pussy s'bad." He drawled, already pussy drunk. You clawed at the sofa, feeling his hand force your back to arch as he set a steady pace, watching him disappear inside you, the view hypnotising.

"Oh, fuck. Hobie — Hobie!" you squealed, hands fumbling to grip onto something - settling on a nearby cushion. The armrest of the sofa was right at your lower abdomen, pushing on the bulge of him, heightening the pleasure. He speeds up, a bruising grip on your hips, huffy growls spilling his mouth as he watched how your ass jiggled everytime his hips snapped against yours.

"Yeahh, tha's wha' I thought. Ya' jus' needed to get dumb on my dick again, didncha?" He mockingly cooed, slapping your ass.

"Sh-shut the fuck up n jus' fuck me." You scoffed, leaning back to hold his arm, purposefully digging your nails into his forearm alot harder than needed. He grabbed your arm, pinning it to your back.

"Oh? Still talkin' tha' talk, eh?" he smirked, making his strokes slower but harder and deeper, watching how your eyes flutter before rolling to the back of your head. he grinned.

"oh shiit. feels s'good - fuck." you whined, burying your face into the sofa. he hummed, running his hands over your waist.

"Yeah, I know. I fuck ya' dumb, don' I?" He rhetorically asked, not expecting much of an answer as his thrusts finally sped back up, hitting that sweet spot inside of you, making your legs shake. "Hobie - shit. can I come? please?" You whined, pushing your hips to meet his with a loud gasp. Fuck, your head was spinning. You swear you could see white spots in your closed eyes.

"C'mon. Be a good girl, y'got it. Tha'sss it. Fuck, yeah, cum all over this dick, sweetheart." He coaxed you through your well pent up orgasm, your loud moans bouncing off the walls.

"Fuck, look at her. Always coverin' me in her mess." He hummed, pulling out of you and watching your release drip down. He softly grabbed you, sliding you up the sofa so you were now sat on his lap, too dazed to even feel his still hard cock resting just below your wet, throbbing cunt. You were panting, unfocused until you felt his finger tap your cheek.

"Cmon. I gotta talk t'ya'." He murmured, his other hand rubbing your back. "M'listening." He sucked in a harsh breath.

"Yes, you started as a bet," He began, feeling your body tense. "But, but. You're not anymore. It was selfish, yes, i know. And I regre' i' everyday, n' 'specially not tellin' you 'bout it. I fell in love with you. I am in love with you. Which is why 'it went on for so long'. It got real. m' infatuated wit' ya, my luv." He explained, his perfect face scrunched up as he thought carefully. you could cry. he just fucked your brains out, now he's giving you a love confession.

"I love you, sweetheart." He added in a soft whisper, glancing down at you. You guys hadn't said i love you yet. But he just did. After fucking your brains out. Romantic. You leant up, sniffling softly as you placed a quick kiss to his lips."You promise?"

"I pinky fuckin' swear it. cross my heart, hope to die." He kissed you lovingly, his hand on your cheek as he did so, the other hand trailing up your thigh, his thumb just brushing over your sensitive clit. you broke the kiss, gasping softly.

"what're you doin'?" you asked, feeling him rub small circles onto your clit, making your hands grip his shoulders.

"we got fourteen more ta go, baby."

#christi's posts #‧₊🫧꒷꒦‧₊˚⋆lust444men #christi's list #hobie brown smut #hobie brown #hobie smut #hobie x reader #spider man: across the spider verse #spider punk #hobie brown my love #hobie spiderverse #hobie brown x reader #atsv hobie #astv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara #astv miles #miles morales

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darklydeliciousdesires · 5 months

Note

Hi there! I hope you’re well!

I saw that you’ve opened your drabble requests and, if they’re still open, I was wondering if you’d be willing to write something for Tommy Shelby using the prompt “Really? You’re pregnant?” ?

Thanks so much in advance if you choose to! 🥰

Hello! Yes, I'm good thank you. Hope you are, too! And of course, he you are, love!

"Oh god, oh god, oh god."

Pacing the pavement outside of the Shelby Company Ltd, you know you have to venture inside sooner or later. Ambivalence is your friend at the moment, though, your nerves tingling unpleasantly. Do you go in, or run for the bus stop and head home to remain in indecision a while longer?

He should know, though. Sooner rather than later.

It's happened all too rapidly, just four months into your courting of Tommy Shelby and now here you are, with a tiny little bun nestled within your oven. Tommy's tiny little bun. Bake time nine months.

"Oh, bloody hell." Taking a deep breath, you reach for the brass handles of the doors and pull them open. "Here goes nothing."

Striding down the hallway, you are met at the end by the smiling face of Lizzie, his secretary. "Oh, what a surprise. Luckily for you, he's in his office and not currently engaged, I don't think. Let me go and check for you, though. He might be on the phone."

Biting your thumbnail with nerves, you wait the short time it takes Lizzie to knock upon Tommy's office door, poking her head around to alert him to your arrival. "He's free, go on in."

He cuts a sharply dressed, yet casual figure behind his large desk, idly smoking a cigarette while perusing the morning broadsheets. Looking up, he smiles warmly. "You're the last person I was expecting to see this morning, sweetheart."

You swallow hard, hands fidgeting with the buttons upon your coat. "I erm, I have something to tell you, Tommy."

"Oh?" His curious reply pulls him from the paper, setting it down upon the desk as he gives you his full attention. "Not about to tell me I've been given the boot, are you? Because that really would ruin my tea break."

Tommy and his dry humour. "No, not at all, but depending on what you have to say in light of it, your tea break might still be ruined."

His nod urges you to continue, a small puzzled frown creasing his forehead. "You see, Tommy. The thing is, is, I erm. I've just come from the doctor. I'm erm, I... we... I'm pregnant."

Immediately he rises to his feet, his eyes widening as he walks around his desk, taking your hands. You can never truly tell what lurks beneath a facade as stoic as Tommy presents at times, but as you watch his mouth begin to upturn, your heart flutters with relief.

“Really? You’re pregnant?”

You nod, tucking your hair behind your ear. "I am. Not very far along, but I am."

The warmth of his hug as he laughs with glee is the only confirmation you need that no, you absolutely did not ruin his tea break that morning.

#tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fic

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siempre-bucky · 2 years

Text

anonymous roses

Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Summary: Hawkins High had a time-honored Valentine's Day tradition for the students to send the object of their desire a rose. Sure, it was a popularity contest, but it was cute. This was your senior year and your final attempt to send Eddie Munson a rose.

wc: 4.1k

a/n: i remember writing a little blurb about this like a month ago and finally got around to writing it! Enjoy

February 13th, 1986

For a limited time, the vibrant yellow and green colors that painted the halls of Hawkins High were covered by Pepto-Bismol pink and crimson red. Even the giant tiger logo at the end of the hall had little paper hearts covering his eyes. Cupid had struck the student's hearts just in time for Valentine’s Day.

You stood in front of the school with a large grin on your glossy lips as you admired your handy work. The art club had the displeasure of decorating the halls of Hawkins High every year for the Hallmark holiday, but you loved it with every fiber of your hopeless romantic heart. Your eyes looked lower, your heart beginning to race as you saw the table in front of the doors. ‘Hawkins High Roses’ was written in pink bubble letters and taped onto the red plastic tablecloth.

It was an honored tradition at the high school. Every year the students would send their crushes a red rose, some were bold enough to write a note expressing their love while others remained anonymous. It was all a popularity contest, just like everything else in high school. Chrissy Cunningham needed two of her friends to help her carry all the roses she received in class to her car last year. You? You never received one from a secret admirer and you’ve never had the honor of the poor freshman passing them out calling your name and handing you a wilting red flower.

You wanted this year to be different, it was senior year and it was your last chance to send a rose to the boy who captured your heart back in middle school. The sounds of muffled bass entered your ears, your fantasy dissipating like clouds in your mind. Trying to be casual, you clenched your hands around the black straps of your backpack and turned around.

Eddie Munson stumbled out of his van, tossing the remains of his cigarette on the pavement. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and joined the freshman kid he adopted as he got out of the passenger side. Your knees felt instantly weak at the sight of the lanky boy with long wavy brown hair that shone in the sun.

You’d had a crush on him since the sixth grade. Sitting with your class during the Hawkins Middle School talent show. You were looking up at the ceiling, counting the tiles while the mundane eighth-grade acts went on. Nothing seemed as interesting until the sound of metal music perked your ears. You lurched forward in your seat, your wide eyes staring at the band on stage. One look at the boy with the shaved head and it was like the heavens opened before you.

Eddie and Dustin walked past you, talking amongst themselves. The smell of his cheap cologne filled your nose and intoxicated all your senses. “Shit,” you whispered, burning heat rising to your face. Once he passed the flower table, you knew what you had to do.

“This is my year,” you announced to your friends during art class. You tightly tied on your apron while your brushes sat underneath the sink head. Jeff stood next to you, his arms folded against his chest, his eyebrow raised.

“To do what?” he prompted.

Ducking your head, you turned off the water and grabbed your brushes. Jeff followed you all the way to the back of the room to your spot. Sitting on your stool, you looked up at him with a shy smile. “I’m going to send Eddie a rose this year,” you whispered to your friends.

There was a small silence that lingered. Gareth leaned to the side to look at you without his easel obstructing his view. “You said that last year,” he snickered, Looking at you, and then his eyes fell on Jeff who tried his best not to break out into a fit of giggles.

“And the year before that,” Jeff chimed in, jokingly counting on his long fingers.

“And the year bef-”

“I get it,” you cut in gruffly, waving your brush at them and letting the leftover water hit them in the face like a cat and spray bottle. Gareth and Jeff knew all about your crush on their leader, they teased you at every opportunity but never once revealed your secret. Gareth was the one that formally introduced the two of you during your freshman year.

“Eddie this is Y/N, she agreed to help with the new Hellfire Club logo,” he introduced in the quiet art room.

The metal head loomed over you, his beautiful face adorned a small smirk. You clutched your sketches tightly to your chest, afraid of what he’d say about your art. “H-hi,” you greeted, internally cursing yourself at how nervous you sounded.

He looked you up and down before a small crooked smile appeared, “Hi,” he greeted smoothly.

“This is my senior year, my last chance to tell him how I feel. This is it,” you sighed as you hunched your shoulders and looked at your blank canvas.

You managed to chicken out every year, ignoring the rose table and carrying on harboring your crush on Eddie. Your sophomore year, you stood with the red info card in your hand, getting ready to scribble the senior's name when you had the intrusive thought about him laughing in your face. You shoved that card in your back pocket and let your moment with Eddie slip away. Your heart was crushed when you realized he was graduating.

Fate had stepped in and brought him back the next year, sitting next to you in your sixth period history class. You promised yourself you’d send him a rose, you had to because he spoke confidently to his friends about graduating. When February of ‘85 rolled around you panicked and told fate that they were wrong, he would never like someone like you. He’d laugh at the card telling him you sent it and throw the rose away. Your fear won last year.

But fate was a frigid bitch, and you got the opportunity to stare at your long term crush during third period. Third time’s the charm or whatever that saying was, you had to send Eddie a rose. Time was ticking.

February 14th, 1986

You stood nervously in front of the frilly table, picking at the strings of your pink sweater. “Turn it in now and it’ll be delivered during third period,” the girl told you kindly, handing you a red info card and a stubby yellow pencil. Your heart pounded as you stepped away from the crowd and leaned against the brick pillar, looking down at the card that would seal your fate. A small spot for the sender, the receiver, and even a small box for a note were staring at you, taunting you. “I can’t do this,” you whispered to yourself, shaking your head in defeat.

You went to put the card back when a strong grip around your wrist pulled you away, “Chickening out?” Gareth snickered as you turned to face him, “send the stupid flower, y/n.”

“What if he laughs at me?” you sighed as he let you go.

“He won't.” There was a shift in his expression as he spoke, his features had softened and his lips dipped into a small frown. “He’s never gotten one before,” he informed you before walking away, hoping his words would be enough to convince you.

It was enough. His words echoed in your mind as you wrote down his name and slipped it into the box before your brain could tell you not to. For you, it was hard to believe he’d never received one—there just had to be other girls pining after him and not just you in this town. He deserved the most expensive flowers from the best shop in Hawkins. Eddie Munson deserved the world and a silly high school tradition would be a small effort to prove it.

After the fear went away, you felt excited to be the one to give him his first rose. You got lost in your daydreams that morning, running through every scenario of how he could react. Would he smile? Effortlessly twirl it and press it to his nose, wondering about its sender? Your thoughts followed you all the way to third period, sitting and waiting.

Eddie came in a few minutes after, uttering a false compliment to your disgruntled teacher, and sauntered to his desk beside yours. “Hey,” he greeted you as he took a seat, instantly slouching and stretching out his long legs.

“Hey,” you grinned, sitting up a little straighter.

The anticipation started to eat at you, your eyes couldn’t stay focused on your notes or the chalkboard, instead, they drifted off towards the door. When the door finally opened, you clenched your pencil a little tighter and bit back a gleeful squeal. The room instantly filled with the smell of the freshly cut roses that lay on the cart, the poor freshman interrupting the teacher. The wrinkly old woman scowled and huffed out a few words before allowing him to pass out roses.

You shifted slightly in your seat to get a better view of Eddie. You continued to smile bashfully to yourself as the names were called one by one. Some got four and others got two while Chrissy managed to get fifteen. There was one rose left on the rust covered cart. This is it, you thought while you held on to your pencil for dear life. Eddie just sat there, doodling mindlessly in his notebook.

The freshman looked at the card, his eyes narrowed, then went wide, then narrowed once more as if he was checking to be sure. “Eddie,” he cleared his throat, “E-Eddie Munson.” The brunet’s head snapped up, yet his face was unreadable. The kid took the flower and skittishly walked over and passed off the flower. Eddie rolled his eyes at the kid's behavior and leaned back, his brown eyes studying the red petals. “There was no sender name…sorry.”

That’s right. You didn’t put your name on it. You had hoped to save a little of your dignity if he decided to crush your hopes and dreams. It was easier this way, or so you had hoped.

You could finally breathe once the stem connected with his calloused fingers. “Alright, shows over… where were we?” Your teacher intoned, turning her back to the class and picking up where she left off. You began to relax, allowing yourself to rest your elbows on your desk with your chin resting in the palms of your hand.

Taking another daring glance, you saw him twirl the flower between his fingers and let the petals fan out. He didn’t look angry, which soothed your nerves but he didn’t crack a smile either. He looked stoic, his low eyebrows were the only thing giving you some kind of hint as to what he was thinking. His body still remained relaxed, his limbs splayed out. He must have hated it. Disgusted at the fact someone would give in to the capitalistic holiday. Your shoulders slumped in defeat and tears of embarrassment had begun to well in your eyes. Good thing you didn’t put your name on the card.

Eddie’s mind was a mess. He’d seen how this day played out for the past six years, he didn’t mind though. Not getting a silly little rose never bothered him, he was used to girls avoiding him in the hall and on the street. A couple of older girls that came to see him at the Hideout offered him some attention but it was never as innocent as someone giving him flowers. After six years someone finally sent him one just to mock his lack of love life.

The flower was burning a hole in his hand, he carried it with him to lunch and spun it in his hand while he slowly ate. Hellfire sat around and stared at their leader in awe. “Should we ask?” Mike whispered to Dustin who sat just as confused beside him. The curly haired boy shrugged, unsure of what to do and even more unsure of how Eddie would react.

“So, Eddie,” Mike coughed, sitting up straighter in his seat. Timid eyes flickered to his half-eaten mystery meat. Eddie’s brown eyes slowly left the soft petals and looked unamused at the freshman. “You, uh, got a rose.”

Eddie leaned further back in his chair and threw his head back, pressing the rose to his nostrils. “That’s right,” he sighed deeply. “Someone decided to play the ol’ prank on me.”

Gareth and Jeff shared a glance from across the table.

“Who would prank you?” Dustin asked with nervous laughter, eyes shifting to the other guys. They all remained silent in fear, Eddie could spring from his seat at any moment and cause one of his famous scenes. He slapped Mike’s shoulder gruffly and gave him a stern glance.

“Y-yeah.”

The metal head started to laugh, shaking his head at them. He sat back up and gently placed the rose next to his tray. “Do you see any maidens willingly lining up to have a shot at little ol me? No, boys—I didn’t think so.” Because who would send Eddie the freak a rose willingly?

“Was there a name on the card?” Lucas chimed in, earning nods of encouragement from his friends.

Eddie grinned mockingly, “No.”

Another glance passed between Jeff and Gareth, their confused expressions communicating silently. “There really wasn’t a name?” Gareth whispered to himself. It was meant to be a thought, unheard by their leader, but Eddie’s ears had heard the boy. Eddie leaned forward and cocked his head, striking fear into him.

“What do you know?” He grumbled.

“N-nothing,” Gareth stuttered, feeling like he was about to break his middle school promise with you. You had shoved him against the bike rack after you let it slip that you liked Eddie and pointed your house key at his face, telling him to swear on his mother that he would never tell another soul. He kept tight-lipped, even when he became one of Eddie’s closest friends he never even gave him a hint.

“You know something about this,” Eddie motioned towards the flower. “Who played the joke on me?”

Eddie stood up and placed his hands behind his back, looking up to the ceiling as he sauntered around the table to cause tension within the group. “Gareth, Gareth, Gareth,” he sighed, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “Isn’t it a rule in Hellfire Club to not keep secrets?”

“But that’s only in the game.”

“Shut up!” he huffed. “It applies here, so start talking.” Eddie walked over and clapped a hand on his shaking shoulder.

Jeff looked on with wide eyes. He’d seen Eddie riled up before, but it was never like this. He looked flustered and frustrated by the entire ordeal. It was just a silly Valentine’s Day tradition, there were more serious things that Eddie got this way over. “Eddie,” Jeff said calmly. “It wasn’t a joke.”

The calm in his voice managed to alleviate Eddie’s anger. His head whipped down at him, “Leave,” he said, shooing the others away. The freshman scattered, leaving Jeff and Gareth to deal with the wrath of Eddie Munson.

“Who sent the rose?” he asked, calmer this time as he took his seat.

“I can’t-,” Gareth said meekly.

“Did you send this to me out of spite because I wanted that guitar solo?” Eddie narrowed his eyes and clenched his fist.

“It was Y/N Y/L/N,” Jeff blurted out quietly, hoping not to alert you at the other side of the lunch room.

“Y/N,” Eddie repeated. He knew you. The girl in the art club, the one with the sunny disposition and dried paint lingering on her fingers. You didn’t speak often, but when you spoke even a couple of words he felt like smiling.

He remembered a few days ago when you were standing on the old wood ladder that looked like it was about to collapse under you.

You were hanging up one of the Valentine's Day banners while your helper chatted to a girl. “Andy, can you hand me the tape?” you called from above, your voice strained. “Andy?” you repeated.

You glanced down and saw him, one wrong move to collect the tape from the stool next to you and you’d be falling to your death. “Jesus, Andy!”

A hand tapped your leg. “Here,” the smooth voice said. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as Eddie walked to the other side of the ladder to face you, ring-clad hand holding up the roll of tan-colored tape. His beautiful brown eyes met yours and you had to grip the top of the ladder a little tighter.

“Thank you, Eddie,” you said happily.

“You’re welcome, anything I can do to help the neglected clubs of Hawkins High,” he chuckled as you fixed the banner.

You laughed in response and cautiously descended the ladder before standing next to him. “Does it look ok?” you asked, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand.

Eddie looked at you as a comforting heat spread through his body. “It looks good,” he answered. He never once looked at the banner; just you.

“Shit,” he whispered, looking at his friends with the softness in his eyes returning and a rose colored blush rising to his cheeks. He regretted how he acted towards his friends. “I’m sorry. I just… no one-”

“It’s all good man,” Jeff smiled reassuringly and patted his back.

“She sent me one because she wanted to… because she likes—me. That’s what we’re agreeing on here?” Eddie needed just a sliver of confidence before his next question. The two guys nodded. “Has she ever?” his words trailed off, they were all beginning to feel so foreign. He never gave a girl flowers or went on a proper date. He felt so unsure of himself.

“No,” Gareth told him. You had never received a rose either.

A moment passed while Eddie’s thoughts collected together to form a plan. What did teenagers do on Valentine’s Day? “Boys,” Eddie put a hand on each of their shoulders and pulled them in, “I’m gonna need some help.”

The sun finally started to set, meaning the day was almost over and you could start putting the shame of sending an anonymous rose behind you. You had your Walkman’s headphones covering your ears, the mixtape of sad love songs on repeat while you painted the bouquet of dried flowers that sat on your desk.

Your eyes watched your paint filled brush add texture to your painting, but your mind was louder than the music potentially ruining your eardrums. All you could think about was Eddie staring mindlessly at your flower. Not one smile, not one frown or vocalization. He didn’t even look at you the rest of the day. It felt like he was avoiding you.

You didn’t hear the chipper doorbell ring. Your mom’s heels clicked along the wood as she clasped her string of pearls while she hurried to the door. She was met with a very nervous Eddie holding a dozen roses of varying colors. “Mrs. Y/L/N?” he asked.

She nodded, eyeing his ripped jeans and leather jacket. Instantly she knew who he was because she had spent hours listening to how Eddie said this and how Eddie did that. “You must be Eddie Munson,” she smiled brightly.

He nodded sheepishly, “I was, uh, around and wanted to leave you these…for Y/N.”

Your mother giggled and stepped aside, “She’s in her room if you’d like to give them to her yourself.”

Eddie wanted to shake his head and run for the hills, his hands had a death grip on the dethroned stems of the flowers and his feet felt like cement. “Sure,” he gulped. After getting the directions he made his way up the stairs, heart pounding against his ribs.

Swallowing the nerves, Eddie knocked once then twice then once more for good measure. After getting no response he slowly opened the door and cautiously stepped in. Your back was turned as you worked on your still life. A small smile tugged on his lips, you looked comfortable in the oversized sweater that looked like a painting in itself. He tapped your shoulder.

“I don’t want anything, mom. You and dad go have fun,” you huffed without turning around, your hand skating across the large canvas.

Eddie tapped again and took a step back as you ripped the headphones off your head and whipped around to look at him with annoyance. “I said I- Eddie,” your voice instantly softened. Your heart’s desire stood there in your room with roses pressed against his heaving chest.

Suddenly you jolted at the realization, standing up from your chair and intertwining your fingers over your lap. “Hi,” he breathed.

“W-what are you doing here?” You asked. Never in your wildest fantasies would he be here.

“Your mom let me in,” he told you, pointing back towards the door. “I wanted to tell you thank you for the rose.”

You ducked your head, “You found out,” you said sadly, “did Gareth tell you?” You should have known one day the fluffy-haired kid would crack.

“No!” he gasped, “I forced it out of them. Jeff was the one who spilled, I wasn’t very nice about it. I thought someone was playing a prank on me.”

A prank? Your chin lifted abruptly. “Eddie I would never,” you reasoned, taking a step closer to him. “I’ve been wanting to send you one since freshman year,” you confessed, “I’ve just never had enough courage to do it.”

It was Eddie’s turn to duck his head out of shyness, a boyish smile appearing on his lips and his rosy cheeks lifting closer towards his eyes. He looked at you through his lashes, he would have started dreamily swaying side to side but his train of thought stopped him. “Really?” he squeaked out.

You nodded, “Mhm,” you smiled shyly and scratched your head with one of your hands. “I have a crush on you… I’ve had a crush on you since middle school.”

A silence filled your bedroom, the smell of roses and acrylic paint creating an odd scent in the air. He looked at you and you looked at him, everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. “Wow,” was all Eddie could manage to say, his mind running rapidly. You liked him.

“Why are you here?” you managed.

He presented you with the flowers, “I wanted to return the favor—I wasn’t sure what color you liked so I got them all,” he said quickly. You took them in your hands and looked at the variety of flowers staring at you. Beautiful yellow, pink, red, and white roses were organized beautifully and tied together with a red ribbon. Tears of relief and joy prickled at your eyes.

“They’re beautiful, Eddie,” you said with a waiver in your tone.

Eddie stepped closer and let his hands cover yours, the bouquet between you being the only thing that prevented him from coming closer. “Thank you, Y/N, for the rose. No one’s ever done romantic shit like that for me before.”

You stood on your tippy toes and quickly kissed his cheek, causing his face to redden even more. “You deserve it,” you smiled.

His eyes looked down at the flowers before looking back up, “I also wanted to know if you had any plans for Valentine’s Day? I was sure you had a date or something.”

You looked around your lonely room and your painting set up. You bit your lip and shook your head, “No,” you laughed, “I do not.” You felt him come closer so you let the flowers fall at your side and allowed him to put his hand on your hip.

“I’m sure everything’s booked up but maybe we can grab something from the diner and watch the stars or whatever,” he retracted his hand, regretting his ideal valentine's date.

You smiled widely and nodded in response, instantly missing his touch. “I would love that.”

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

It made your smile grow wider. Your heart nearly exploded at the contact of your lips meeting his, they were softer than you thought and they fit yours perfectly. His free hand found your cheek and yours found the side of his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. The flowers fell to the ground with a soft thud and you wrapped your arms around his neck while his arms found your waist to draw you in. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Eddie,” you said breathlessly as you finally pulled away for air.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Y/N,” he muttered before reclaiming your lips.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #joseph quinn

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russenoire · 8 months

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in response to this post:

ONE-sensei is a bit of a troll, not gonna lie.

but... i actually like this ending, at least for comedy's sake. the stark juxtaposition of

'boy gets hit by a truck and his unexamined jungian shadow self flattens a city before he finally makes peace with it'

with

'and everything was just fine six months later'

is funnier than spelling out exactly how we get from point A to point B, because we KNOW — as the audience — that it wasn't 'just fine'. after everything we saw, how could it be?

subverted expectations underpin a lot of comedy, even dark comedy, especially absurdist comedy. MP100 is practically built on both. this story wrings a lot of humor out of sad, if not tragic, situations: witness shigeo's 'who told you you could pass out?!' after his home has been reduced to kindling. or ritsu's admission that he only recently stopped crying himself to sleep at night over his inability to bend spoons like his big brother. while he's letting shigeo know just how much he supposedly hates him in that alley.

not expanding upon the real-life consequences of said city-flattening is funny precisely because dropping 'i wrecked my hometown after nearly dying in a car accident on the way to ask out my crush when i was a teenager' in a conversation and just... leaving it there? would be fucking horrifying in real life. here, in the elastic magical-realist context of MP100, it's more darkly absurd than anything else...

more to your point, OP: in this particular series, ONE-sensei tells so much of this story by implication. the answers to some of your questions are in the text, only... alluded to.

this might get long. bear with me:

the fact that joseph from the government exists? and that he's an esper working in secret? implies that the knowledge of destructive espers might need to be concealed from the public at large, perhaps to prevent wide-scale panic or ostracism of espers themselves. i doubt the government was forthright with its citizens about the confession arc disaster or the actual cause, for the same reasons.

that suzuki's broadcast-hijacking world domination announcement is met with public disdain and ridicule, especially over social media? outside of our cast, no one actually takes his threat seriously until it happens. reigen's trash-talking claw's seventh division down to earth also shows how little respect espers who don't make themselves useful to society actually get here. he is, after all, just another member of the public.

that reigen agrees to take on haruaki amakusa as a client after the world domination arc in part because he's worried about losing business? people have begun to move away from seasoning city in the aftermath; whatever the threat amakusa's hyakki present, neutralizing them as soon as possible is best for reigen's continued financial health. i can see even more residents deciding they've had enough and leaving after shigeo's last brush with death. would you stay?

how many people know shigeo is connected to reigen, apart from the people they both know? out of his own inflated and fragile ego, reigen presents himself as a sole proprietor on his website; it doesn't seem his business or its reputation would be directly affected at all.

and the injuries caused? possible deaths? we get a taste: early on in chapter 100, several people are trapped and unable to move in a 地盤沈下 (jibánchinka, literally: 'land subsidence', which can apply to a sinkhole, a landslide...) shigeo has left in his wake. we only find out because a cop is being briefed on this and its cause while trying to detain the suspect for questioning.

but like all other bodily harm caused in this story, we aren't treated to the fallout. did the elderly ishiguro survive shou plowing him into the earth? did miyagawa die after teruki flipped his barrier onto him and broiled him in his own flames? did those high school bully boys live after shigeo cracked their heads open on the pavement like eggs? like, these are good questions. (i'm inclined to believe that all these people died, but many would call me harsh for saying that about an otherwise kind story. we never see them again, either way.)

shigeo actually has a healing factor of sorts; his jungian shadow self keeps plucking him from death's arms. we have no way of knowing if this is true for anyone else, because that isn't the story ONE wanted to tell. if nothing else, the mangaka's lack of desire to engage with this question of lethal consequences is at least consistent across MP100.

any questions that aren't answered either directly or that can't be answered by easy extrapolation can foster continued engagement with the material.

for example: we don't know what shigeo's parents think about much of anything in this story, besides how little they expect from him and how ritsu sets a standard they feel shigeo should live up to. this boy goes through hell multiple times and is never shown to confide in either of his parents about it, instead suffering in silence for some time until he finds someone he feels safe enough to talk to. all this gives me the distinct impression that shigeo just isn't that close to his mother or his father. i can understand why. it's actually kind of sad, even as readers' frustrated expectations of real-life parental involvement with — and confusion over — his and his brother's shenanigans also generate some dark humor.

this also establishes a precedent: since we never check in with them, by the time the confession arc rolls around, their opinion hardly matters. (but i'm sure someone has written a fic fleshing that out! i'm somewhat curious myself.)

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jesssssssssica · 10 months

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the folklore love triangle lh44 & cs55

betty

it was a mistake.

a stupid mistake that i will regret for the rest of my life.

i don’t blame you for going to ferrari and i don’t want to jump to conclusions but i think you did it because of me. i remember walking by your garage, looking in at everyone busily working and i couldn’t help but feel my head pound and my lungs close up, as if i couldn’t breathe. i think that was the moment i knew that our relationship would be unsalvageable because of what i did.

i mean at least what pierre said i did, because for all i know, he could’ve exaggerated everything, i mean they don’t call him the paddocks gossip for nothing though i have to say this one time, it’s true and i regret it so much.

at night i look out into the nights sky and i curse at the moon at my stupidity and how i’ve given up this perfect guy, a guy that i wanted to marry and settle down with. i curse the moon for looking so lovely whilst i fall apart, although it’s rightly deserved. i don’t know how the moon does it carlos. it manages to still be in love with the sun even though it never sees it and that’s why he chases after it day in and day out. it’s unfair how the moon and the sun stay perfect and yet i can’t.

call me crazy but would it all go back to normal if i showed up to that party you were throwing? would you want me back? would you see that i regret it all? or would you tell me to leave? maybe you would pull me into the garden and listen to me as i explain that it was a summer mistake and that i was just missing you, in fact i still miss you.

i’ll recall how it all went downhill, that night in that dark club although i was nowhere to be found, too busy waiting away outside, far from the cramped crowd of sweaty people as i always am, though it didn’t help that i saw you dance with her. i think pierre's suspicions started that day as he watched lewis and i laugh the night away, lewis’ arm wrapped round my waist i think that was the moment he kind of caught on and i swear that i regret every single moment.

so maybe if i show up tonight would you want me back and sweep me up into your arms, kissing me with so much passion and telling me you forgive me or would you tell me to leave or maybe you would lead me to the garden and let me explain that it was just a summer mistake, a summer mistake that i made as a sad lonely girl who just missed her boyfriends love.

i remember walking home along the pavement thinking of you and your smile when he pulled up along the street like a succubus pulling me in saying “y/n get in, let me take you for a ride.”. that one night turned into weeks and then into months, waking up with lewis by my side but believe me when i say that i dreamt of you the whole time. whenever he would wrap his arm around me as we slept i would imagine it was your hand or whenever he would kiss me i would imagine it was your lips on mine.

so that’s why i’m here carlos, waiting on your doorstep, flowers in my hand and a thousand thoughts rushing round my mind, piecing together the sentences i’ll say to you and how these are my final moments to think about your face when you see me. my final moments where i can think of these happy endings that we can have together that happen whether or not you take me back. nonetheless, i just want you to know how much i want to make it back up to you and that if i could take it all back, i would because it was all just one big mistake.

so here i am at this party, waiting for you to open up the door, wondering whether you’ll have me, maybe gasping in shock at seeing me and just as i go to open my mouth to explain, you just shut me up by pressing our lips together wrapping your arms around me. if you do kiss me, will it be just like how imagined them to be after all this time, as it feels like an eternity since i last felt your lips upon mine. maybe if i’m that lucky, it will heal all the pain that i’ve put you through, my words being a bandage to the scars that i made and my lips being the medicine to your pain.

i miss you carlos, so fucking much. my heart feels so dull and empty whenever i remember that you’re not there anymore and it’s all because of me. it hurts to remember sharing those kisses as you stop at the streetlights, one hand always rested on my thigh.

cardigan

when you’re young, everyone just assumes you’re just a naïve person who doesn’t know any better and that we know nothing but they’re so wrong because i knew you. i knew you, i knew your favourite songs to sing when you were bored, i knew you, at least i did until you became a person i know longer recognised.

i remember the feeling that everything had changed, the atmosphere shifted and you became distanced. i remember it so clearly because you become someone new, you treated me as if i was perfect and didn’t have a single flaw in the world, comforting me after even the simplest of mistakes.

one night sticks out in my mind y/n, when i dnfed a race and i was feeling like an old cardigan that’s collecting dust under someone’s bed, well you held me so tight, the tightest you’d ever held me and made all my worries go away, whispering in my ear that ‘i was your favourite.’ though i’m sure that night you snuck out to meet lewis.

when pierre told me a thousand thoughts rushed through my head, the first being that it was just an early april fools joke (it was october at the time) and then my second thought was she wouldn’t do this to me because she loves me. it took me a whole week to actually take it all in.

i remember confronting you. it was the worst day of my life, me a sobbing mess and you also crying your eyes out, knowing that this was most likely the end of it all. i remember you at first trying to deny everything, saying that what pierre was saying was all lies and at first i believed you because i knew you, i knew you wouldn’t do this to me but that’s why i’m saying i knew you because now i don’t think i know you, no now i know i don’t know you. after denial came the anger, though i can barely remember anything you said, just remembering the volume of your voice.

i don’t get what you wanted me to say though. did you expect me to say to you? did you think i was going to sweep you back up into my arms and let you kiss me it all better? do you think i would let it all go? you had us both on strings, playing us like a fiddle and now you’ve lost both of us, well at least you lost me.

i really thought i knew you and it’s embarrassing that i, as someone that spent nearly everyday with you, didn’t see and stop it. i mean sure the sudden weekly friend trips were a bit suspicious but i trusted you wholeheartedly and still you stab me in my back leaving behind a wound, that after all this time still won’t close. though who can blame me, you always comforted me after a long day, hugging and loving me, making all my troubles go away.

i wish you had just told me. i wish you had told me as soon as your lips touched his. i wish you had come to me crying and begging for forgiveness as soon as it happened, maybe then everything could’ve gone down differently and you could still be here, though instead you acted as if you hadn’t had another man in your arms as you slept in a bed that wasn’t ours. instead of telling the truth, you made me believe that we would have a future together and that one day i could get down onto my knees and ask you to be mine forever with a couple of kids running round the garden, hell i even bought the ring, the perfect ring that you would always describe to me at night. you led me on. you made me think everything was perfect, you made me feel like a king, healing all my scars with your words and kisses, though that remedy hasn’t lasted long since you’ve left, what with the scars now open and bleeding.

and yet i’m the idiot who still holds you in my heart because sometimes i still believe that we can change it all, change the ending of us make it all the better again, though sometimes i’m trying to just let it all go but it’s pointless because i know that you’ll linger. you’ll linger on my pillowcases no matter how many times i wash them and i hate it, i hate how i cannot move on and i will curse you for forever and always yet will love you nonetheless.

all i wish is that if you were going to love someone, i wish it were me. maybe it is me though if it is me then you’re not showing it. if it is me then why’d you do it. if it is me then why won’t you tell me what i did wrong.

i’ll don’t think i’ll ever know but maybe someday we’ll cross paths again, when we’ve grown and matured and you’ll pull me aside and tell me where it all went wrong and that you’re sorry for the pain that you’ve inflicted on me and that you still love me and i’ll act as if all your apologies are worthless to me and we’ll take a pause, your chest rising and falling with every breath, anxious of what my reaction could be and then i’ll surprise you with the reaction you least expected, a kiss. i’ll kiss you slow, as if there wasn’t a break, as if there wasn’t a pause, as if time didn’t stop.

but until then i’ll wait wallowing in self pity.

august

i knew it was wrong the moment i thought of you as more than a friends partner.

i just wish i had kept my feelings to myself, shut myself away and turned to walk in the other direction the moment i saw you coming and yet i just couldn’t. i couldn’t help but feel pulled to you as if were something special, two magnets made for each other, though i doubt you’ve ever thought of me that way.

once we started, i couldn’t help but crave you. everywhere i went i saw you, wrapped in the arms of carlos when really it should be me.

‘how’s it fair’, i remember thinking, ‘how’s it fair that he gets her whilst i have to suffer in silence?’

i often wondered whether or not he got to experience the same y/n when she laid in his arms, hoping that she gave him the cold shoulder in comparison to the warmth she gave me, mumbling away in her sleepy aroma as i chuckle into her hairline, wrapping my arms around her waist even tighter, scared that if i loosen my hold then i’ll never see her again. in the end, i guess i wasn’t holding on hard enough and now you’re like a ghost, haunting me for eternity.

i remember how you’d always ask me if i was sure that i wanted to continue and in my head i would always curse you because never have i been more sure of something in my life. that’s what happened each and every time.

no matter how many times i try and scrub my memories clean of you i can’t help but recall us acting like teenagers in love, giggling beneath the bedsheets though we weren’t. in fact, if we were anything then we were just another cliché summer romance, the girl and guy meet during the summer, they fall in love and summer ends meaning they have to end it too leading to two heartbroken people however, judging by the look on your face, i can tell that maybe there was only one; me.

what did i expect? you were in a happy relationship with a man who had it all and i was just me. did i really think that a month of sneaking around could change anything? yes, but i was in love, tricked by your smile and the sound of your laugh, pulling me in like a siren at sea.

it’s like i knew the end was near, as you drew on my back i could feel the sadness radiating off the air, causing me to think of whether the next time we passed in the paddock you’d go back to just being carlos’ loyal girlfriend or whether you’d continue to give him the look to meet you back at our secret spot. that day, i savoured it, i savoured every single second as if it were my last, no because it was my last and i’ve never forgot it since.

i just wish you were mine.

you wanting me was enough. even batting an eye in my direction was enough because then at least you noticed me. and it was fine that i would cancel my plans, waiting for you to send me a text and if you were mine i would give it all up just to have you. my friends seemed to have noticed my strange behaviour and whenever they asked i would just say ‘oh it’s just a summer love’ and i tell you now, every time i said those words, my heart would break, though i’m sure it was already broken from the beginning.

because you were never mine.

but can you remember it all? my arm round your waist as we danced the night away with carlos god knows where, then later i guided you through the crowd, leading you into the cold night before kissing you in the alleyway that was a shortcut to the car park. remember how after that we drove into the night, not giving it a single thought and pulling up to my hotel room before acting as if we were each other’s first times, desperate to just feel.

i doubt you do. i doubt you realise how much i just wanted to be with you. i doubt that you realised that i really did like you and how i would sacrifice it all just to be able to call you mine.

but some things just aren’t meant to be.

#lewis hamilton imagine #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz angst #lewis hamilton angst #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #folklore love triangle

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dried-mushroom · 2 years

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Why?

The Grabber x Reader

tw: belts, angst, kidnapping

You had finally gotten away. You had finally made it out of the torture which you've endured now for months, stuck in that basement, or so you had thought.

You knew the game he was playing, leaving the door unlocked, the handle practically beckoning you to turn it. You knew if you went up those stairs right away, he'd be sitting there with that fucking belt, waiting to use it on you. He'd beat you bloody, till you were unconscious or even worse; dead. Did he honestly think you were that stupid? you waited at least an hour before venturing up those stairs and into what that monster calls 'home'.

Your eyes searched the darkness of the living room, looking for anything of use, the only source of light was emitting from the kitchen. Where he was just sitting, seemingly deep asleep, his gangly legs spread wide, with his belt resting slack in his hand. The sight made you shudder, knowing what could have happened to you if you happened to be any earlier.

Your eyes found the front door and to your luck, it only had a basic lock, it didn't have a combination lock which would most likely have taken you eons to crack. Quickly you spared a glace at your captor, who hadn't stired, thankfully. You brought up your trembling fingers towards the lock, and a nervous jitter started in your abdomen. Any loud noise could alert the man or 'The Grabber' as others called him, and if he caught you trying to escape, he'd most likely butcher you.

A wave of relief washed over you as the door unlocked almost silently. You had finally gotten away. You had finally made it out of the torture which you've endured now for months, stuck in that basement, all you had to do was open the door and run. As soon as you turned the handle, a loud voice laced with pure anger pierced the chill air,

"GET FUCKING BACK HERE."

You knew exactly who that voice belonged to and it made your blood curdle. 'It's now or never' you thought to yourself before you pushed the door open wide and took off. The thudding of his boots on the floor, chasing after you made you run even harder.

"You bitch, no matter how fast you run, I'll catch you."

His threat meant nothing to you as you had made it down the street. Even without running for months, you were truthfully surprised at how fast you were, high on adrenaline. You couldn't hear him chasing after you. So you had a chance to slow down and catch your breath. You let out a laugh as you now were free, free from your concrete prison, your fucked up captor, it was all gone. Now all you had to do was go to the authorities and tell them everything.

Oh how you were so wrong.

As you were now briskly walking up the narrow street, the familiar rumble of a particular car sent you running faster than before. You knew it was him, he had found you, and he was going to take you back to that fucking basement and do God knows what to you. Yet, you kept persisting, running further on the pavement, just trying to escape your doom.

Suddenly you roughly hit the ground, a pair of hands grabbed your hips harshly pulling you closer to the warm bare chest of someone. Him. You both were obscured from sight in some shrubs. You could feel the bottom of his mask press into your shoulder, and you saw a porch light turn on at the house only a few feet away. Tears started to form in your eyes, as you realised that you were going to put through hell when he took you back. You felt the cool touch of a blade pressed against your through, he whispered,

"If you say one fucking word, and I will gut you like a pig right here in the street and strangle you with your own intestine."

His threat made your building tears fall down your cheeks, but you stayed silent. When the porch light flickered off, he moved the blade and straddled you, the last thing you remember is the last words he spoke before knocking you out with his fist, adorning rings.

"Nighty night naughty girl."

smol time skip

You think it's morning when you stir, a throbbing pain sets behind your right eye and you feel the familiar uncomfortable mattress beneath and you suddenly remember the events of last night making you gulp. Fearing the worst, you didn't move a muscle. An amused chuckle broke the air,

"You naughty fucking girl. LOOK AT ME"

You slowly sat up, inching closer towards the wall, inching further away from him. You took notice of how he didn't change from last night's attire. Did he watch you all night? the thought sent a shiver down your spine as you met his eyes, through the mask of course.

"You really tried to leave me? why? Was I not good enough for you?"

His words oozed hurt and condescension as he looked down at you, from the opposite wall, you froze when you saw the belt taut around his hand, he noticed your eyes lingering down at his hand.

"Oh this little thing? well, you need a punishment for what you did and my belt seems pretty fitting, no?"

Your face drained as he walked closer to you, almost imitating a predator stalking its prey. He got close to the edge of the mattress, the tension thickening with every second. Before you had a chance to defend yourself, he lashed out and hit you, right on the jaw with his free hand, making you double over in pain. He bent down to your height and pushed your hand away from where he hit, practically admiring his handiwork. He quickly dropped his hand before ordering you,

"On your stomach. now. also, top off"

You did as he said, slowly undressing your top half, him staring awfully long at your bare breasts, before lying uncomfortably face down on the mattress. He placed a boot roughly on your lower back, making you bite your lip in pain, you assume he did this for dominance and to make sure you don't squirm. He didn't waste a precious second before whacking your back with the rough leather of the belt. The impact of the belt broke your skin and made tears bubble up, a scream getting caught in your throat. He hit you, again, and again, and again, and you almost lost count of how many times that leather made contact with your bare skin, now sticky and cold with blood.

Your face is stained wet with tears, your throat scratched red raw from relentless screaming from the pain he inflicted on you. While hitting you, he'd barely say anything, seemingly too enraged to even degrade you. You couldn't bear the torture any longer, you hoarsely begged him.

"please. enough. I'm sorry. I won't try to leave. ever again. just please stop hitting me. please."

Most of your words came out in choked sobs, you were barely coherent. He laughed before hitting you once more as if you needed a reminder. Yet he decided to be 'merciful', he slid his boot from your lower back and bent down to your level. Not without fisting a hand in your hair, craning your neck to look into his eyes, which you noticed were unnervingly glossy.

"You better hope those pretty wounds don't get infected."

Without another word he left you alone in the room, slamming the door shut and locking it. Even with him gone, you still were crying, crying wasn't the right word. It was borderline hysterical sobbing, here you were after you tried to finally be free, stuck in the same basement knowing you'd never be free until the day you die or alternatively, killed him. You pulled your knees to your chest and faced the wall, begging yourself to just stop breathing, then it'd be all over.

The next morning

He almost felt bad for what he did to you. Seeing you so vulnerable, under him made him feel euphoric but as soon as he saw your face, he felt a trickle of guilt seep into him, he saw the look of pure fear and pain in your eyes. (which would irl prob make him hard but oh well).

You didn't sleep at all that night, too paranoid of him coming back to shut an eye. It was morning, as you could see the light come through the vent close to the roof from the corner of your eye. You didn't bother to move, your back felt worse than it did yesterday, the welts had an everlasting burning to them. When you heard the door click open you just wished the ground beneath you would just open up and swallow you whole. You didn't budge when he walked closer to you and placed the tray of 'food' down on the floor near you. You felt the mattress dip and he sat next to your smaller frame. He placed a hand on your thigh and felt how you tensed up.

"I'm really sorry for what I did to you yesterday...I shouldn't have hurt you so bad."

Hearing his apology made you sit up, and you noticed he wasn't wearing his mask, it was odd to see since he was always wearing that creepy fucking mask. He was staring at his lap, his auburn hair covering part of his face. You moved closer to him and whispered,

"Thanks...for apologizing"

The tension in the room was honestly awkward until he offered to fetch some disinfectant and another clean shirt, you nodded at his offer. When he came back with his supplies he looked down at you softly. He sat behind you as you flipped your hair to the side, as he started to dab a cloth soaked in disinfectant on your wounds, making you let out a hiss of pain. He put a reassuring hand on your bare shoulder while cleaning you.

After he was finished, he gave you one of his black silk shirts, it honestly felt so soothing to your skin. Once you were fully dressed, he beckoned you to sit in between his legs, you don't know what compelled you to do it. Your back was pressed against the soft material of his open cardigan and some of his bare chest. While his chin rested gently on your shoulder. He mumbled in your ear,

"This is...nice...We shoulc be like this more often."

You mumbled an agreement, as you started to feel drowsy in the man's arms, slowly you drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

Little did you realise that this was exactly what he had planned from the start.

#ethan hawke #the black phone #the grabber #the grabber x reader #i want this man so bad #i need to touch grass #i really need help

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gingerbreadmonsters · 10 months

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reeling

or: i know you better than that.

gn!reader, warnings for major (offscreen) character death as part of the setup, loss of a loved one, extended depictions of grief, implied depersonalisation, delusion but it’s sort of true?, probably one of the most painful things i’ve ever written. hold on - how has this ended up being my contribution to hot boi summer?? takes place post-inversion, based on this post that i made some time ago - you are welcome to check that post out first so you can get the premise if you like! inspired by loretta by the topline addicts. lots of love to the discord girlies and my wonderful gorgeous proofreader @zozo-01, queen of the slick tyre. yes, the binary means something. gone fishing in the river, and you’ll never guess who i saw floating by. gavin counting down the days in just over 2700 words.

Even if it only lasts a day. Or a month, or a year. I want us free of this place.

He’s so hungry.

It’s impossible to tell what time it is, only that it must be mid-morning by now. The sunlight, bright and soft and floaty, streaming through the curtains and shining a warm stripe across the duvet. It’s Saturday. No noise from anywhere else in the apartment, and he’s the only one in the bed.

Yes, that’s it. Mid-morning on a lovely, sunny Saturday.

God, it would be so, so nice to just stay in bed. To just lie here and watch the light move across the wall all day, to curl up under the covers and snooze the day away until he doesn’t have to think at all. To let the world go by without him, to let the time slip away, wash over his ageless face like water over stone. Quiet and painless and the beginning of the end.

He can’t, though.

There’s something he has to do.

He gets dressed in a haze, eyes shut tight, refusing to look down even for a second. A long time ago, he’d have dressed himself with magic, but he’s out of the habit now. Real clothes for a real body, and he’s real, he’s real, he’s real. What’s he wearing? He doesn’t know, but it feels like - it’s just like - it reminds him-

It doesn’t remind him of anything. If he wrenches all of the doors in the apartment open with magic and stalks out of the bedroom half-phased because he can’t face the feeling of touching anything physical right now, then that’s his business.

He thinks about breakfast, and immediately regrets it. Hungry, so hungry - but he couldn’t possibly face eating anything. It would turn his stomach for sure, eating without you. The horrible burning twists and growls inside him, but he grits his teeth and forces it down. It won’t be a problem for too much longer.

There’s no time. He’s got all day.

The walk is long, and that’s good. What’s not so good is the sun in his eyes and the sticky, humid air on his skin, but it’s not like he can do anything about that. One foot after the other, steps numb and quiet on the baking pavement. People pass him as he walks, but he doesn’t really notice them. He doesn’t really notice much, anymore - just a vague fog of awareness that hangs around his body and follows him like a curse.

It would be so much easier, if he didn’t have to know anything. Hollow bones, like a bird. He feels too much, too deeply - there’s not room, to have to know things as well. Would it be okay, if he could just be empty for a little while?

The ache soaks through the soles of his feet, spiralling up through his ankles, his calves, his knees. It’s nothing new. He’s not rifted for weeks now, not even once. A long, long walk, and late morning turns into early afternoon. He won’t leave this plane again, not even for a second.

The road bends around to the left. The wall on that side is taller than him, though maybe not older - the tops of the trees inside riffle gently in the breeze, barely visible over the top of the wall. He’s almost there.

Rounding the corner, and a deep, deep breath. He looks down at his hand, and it’s full. Petals burst into existence, delicate flowers unfurling atop long, skinny stems. Pink, always pink, never white. He doesn’t cry.

DAHLIA CEMETERY & MEMORIAL GARDENS.

He knows exactly where to go.

Gravel crunches underfoot, before it turns to grass as he turns off the central path. The last time he was here was just after it happened. A cold, miserable January day, looking but not seeing, hearing but not listening. Wanting to be alone, and knowing it was true. He’s always looked good in black. Huxley’s hand on his arm, gently pulling him away as the rain began to fall.

He’s not seen them since. He doesn’t know how they’re coping, if they’re coping. Maybe it would be worse if they were. There’s no such thing as coping, when it comes to this.

Mindlessly, he’s aware of the other people here. There’s only a few, dotted around occasionally, but he doesn’t pay them any mind. He can’t even feel if they’re empowered or not, and he doesn’t try to. The thrum of a human’s Core, threads singing with silent existence - he thinks he’d fall apart, right here on the grass, if he let himself feel it.

Something collapses in his chest, tumbling down into the groaning chasm that fills him now. This place, this place. A happy, golden day, not a cloud in the sky as he walks on through the trees and the grass and the graves, and deep inside the rage begins to grow.

Quicker and quicker, left and right and left behind. How dare it be sunny, today of all days - how dare the sky be blue and the earth still turn and gravity pull him down. Don’t they know? Don’t they care? Doesn’t it mean something, anything at all, that he’s doing this - that he’s here, fingers curled tight around a fistful of flowers, come to do the one thing he should never have t-

Honey, I’m home.

There you are.

Here, at last.

Weakly, he smiles, though the world is a little blurrier than it was before, and hides the flowers behind his back. Did you miss me, my love?

Leaves rustle in the breeze. The world gets very, very slightly colder.

Because I missed you. Very much.

He leans in, conspiratorial, whispering like somebody might hear him.

I have a surprise for you.

When nothing happens, he rolls his eyes and sighs, long-suffering as ever. You have to close your eyes, you know. Otherwise, it’s not a surprise.

A thin, delicate bank of clouds, so faint you might not even notice it was there, drifts slowly across the sky. The softest shadow, dappling the trees.

Ready? He pauses for dramatic effect, holding his breath like the secret might spill out of him at any moment, before giving in and presenting the flowers with a flourish. I know you said you like these ones.

It’s true, you had. He doesn’t remember when, and he doesn’t remember why, but he knows it to be true all the same.

I’ll just put them here for you.

Carefully, he bends down and lays the flowers gently against the cold stone. They look even brighter than they did before.

Don’t you think they’re pretty?

Crumbling, crunching, falling away. Long fingers jammed behind aching teeth, prising open the void.

He nods to himself, acquiescing. You’re right. Not as pretty as you.

There’s nobody in sight. The fizzing drone of a champagne headache. It should be raining.

Are you there, my love?

The stone that bears your name does not reply.

Say it. He smiles again, a little more forced this time, and swallows. Say you’re there.

The breeze is getting stronger. It’s alright, baby. You can tell me.

Beneath his feet, the earth trembles - or maybe that’s just him, tumbling, crashing, hitting the ground. His hands shake as they press into the dirt, and belatedly he realises he’s going to be covered in grass stains when he gets up.

Just tell me. Tell me you’re here.

There’s no such thing as covert, not now. He’s got nothing left to hide. The smooth slide of cloaking magic falling away, horns smooth and shiny in the afternoon sun.

I don’t know how this goes, without you. Dirt under his claws, and a thousand flowers begin to bloom. Filling his hands, his arms, his mind, until he’s overflowing - pink on pink on pink, never white, and he doesn’t realise he’s sobbing until it’s already too late to stop. I don’t know - I don’t - can’t-

There aren’t words, for this. It’s not possible.

Power, sheer and raw and frightening, seethes in his chest. It starts slow, or maybe fast, until it’s bubbling in his not-really blood, curling through his not-really bones. Curse this body, curse this earth, curse this whole fucking plane that thought it could give you to him, that thought it could take you away just as easily.

He won’t let it happen. Some words can’t be unsaid, some bells can’t be unrung.

Hotter and hotter, writhing through what you’d always insisted was a soul. A body celestial, voice breaking and skin cracking and turned inside out with the terrible, savage love of you.

The cosmic coincidence of your existence, the fact that he - that he, of all the demons and humans and creatures that might have ever lived or breathed or been, should have been the one you chose. To know you, hold you, love you. He was made for this, made for you - what sort of wicked world is it, that denies him the only destiny he’s ever wanted? It’s wrong, it’s wrong, it’s wrong.

There’s no world in which you don’t exist. He won’t accept it. He won’t allow it. You can’t just be… gone.

I love you, deviant.

Somehow, it’s very, very quiet.

Clouds start to gather overhead, and the city stares up at the sky in confusion as a lovely, sunny Saturday turns to ash. Howling, snarling wind tears through the streets - for a hundred miles around, windows slam shut and trees battle to stay standing. The sky gets lower and lower, darker and darker.

Together, or not at all.

Cold and still, cracking open, peeling open, swallowed by the earth that you had the curse of being born to. Marble under moonlight, half-melted in the River. Why couldn’t you have been like him? Who let you be made so awfully, horribly human? The one person he’d ever love, cursed to the inescapable fate that plagues your body, your species, your whole fucking planet - the one, single curse that no magic he could ever hope to know could possibly break.

Flowers on a grave he never should have seen, tears and flowers and shaking hands for a person who should never have had to die. No justice in this world, no rest for the wicked and he must be really, truly monstrous by now. He can’t keep it in, can’t contain it - all of Elegy hears his grief as he screams to the empty sky and soon Aria does too, muffled by the Meridian as the world casts its eyes to the dirt and listens.

I love you, deviant.

Skimming stones and the burning of a heart that doesn’t need to beat. Do all flowers turn to face the sun? Power, raw and bitter and grieving, the earth shaking, the shadows twisting. The pressure builds and builds, smashed flat against the surface of the sky, narrowing and narrowing until it’s needle-sharp and spiteful. One way or another, this will be the end of it all.

Hot and cold and death electric. Something’s got to give.

You and I, away from the trappings of this place, for however long or short that can last.

The sky splits, and then something else does too - a fault line in the fabric of reality, a single splinter that cracks the mirror wide. A breath taken, baton waiting for the off-beat. A rest in the Spellsong. It’s over. It’s just begun.

See you around, voyeur.

The world spins, or maybe his mind spins, or maybe it’s just a scream, a scream, sealed off from the stars and utterly alone, a simple, wonderful scream that if you heard it, you could almost imagine the ache in your - wait, why is that so familiar? - because the page turns and the bar ends and the penny drops and an incubus lives and dies and lives again as the world

changes

key.

Hold onto me. We’re getting out of here.

01001111 01101000 00101100 00100000 01100010 01100101 01101100 01101001 01100101 01110110 01100101 00100000 01101101 01100101 00101100 00100000 01110111 01100101 00100111 01101100 01101100 00100000 01100010 01100101 00100000 01101101 01100101 01100101 01110100 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01100001 01100111 01100001 01101001 01101110 00101110 00100000 01011001 01101111 01110101 00100111 01110010 01100101 00100000 01110111 01100101 01101100 01100011 01101111 01101101 01100101 00100000 01101001 01101110 00100000 01100001 01100100 01110110 01100001 01101110 01100011 01100101 00101110 00100000

Is this thing on?

01000011 01100001 01101110 00100000 01001001 00100000 01101000 01100101 01101100 01110000 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00111111

There we go.

It’s been a while.

He’s not really sure how to describe it, but…

Hello. It’s a pleasure to finally speak to you. Mmhmm. You. Not some listener character. You. On the other side of the screen. Hi. How are you?

…he’s different, now.

It was fast and slow and neverending. One man, one lonely, desperate man - who ran from home when it bled him bitter, who crossed the stars for a place to stay. A whole life that happened all at once, just as it never happened at all. A million lives, rushing past him, washing over him, soaking into him.

It’s strange. This place - it feels familiar, but he can’t quite figure out why. The space between, slipping through the cracks of the world he knew. Somehow, he’s on the other side. Or the same side. Or somewhere in between. It’s difficult to tell.

There’s one thing that’s very easy to know, though.

I don’t actually care. I’m not here for you.

Wherever he is now, it makes him cruel. Or maybe it’s just this life that makes him so - the vicious fate that was given to you, that makes him so very vicious as he tries to free you from it. Whatever it takes, whatever the cost.

He’s in control. You’ll never die again.

All sorts of possibilities, all sorts of things to try. He’ll have to test the limits of this new power, see what he can do now that he’s on the outside of it all. How’s he going to do it?

Conventional means, perhaps. The sweet kiss of sharp fangs, burning blood filling your throat as you offer your wrist willingly. Or maybe something different? Something new, something that’s never been done before. A’Xerahn rages in his mind at the sight of a pair of horns, the most beautiful he’s ever seen, sculpted and shaped and spiralling from your skull as if they’d always been there.

(He’d give you whichever kind you wanted, you know. The rest of your form, you’d make as you pleased - but those would always be his gift to you. The one thing a demon cannot change. What might you ask for? It’s not like he could ever resist you. And maybe it’s selfish, but he can’t help but hope you’d want to look like him, that you’d do him that unimaginable honour. Meant to be, remade to be. The two of you, a matched set in every way.)

Perhaps the opposite. He’s always wondered what it would have been like. How he’d be different. Would his human path have crossed with yours? Would you have loved him, if he’d been of your world, or you of his? Or maybe it doesn’t matter, maybe it never mattered at all - because you love him the way he loves you, a grasping, stretching, strangling need that tears through every layer of reality to bring him to you.

Aria looks so beautiful, from here. Elegy, too, and the thin space in between. The River stretches wide in the distance, and he smiles at the sight of black water rushing upstream.

It’s time to put things right.

He’s had a lot of names, over the years. What’s one more? It wouldn’t be right to use his astral name for this. He’s something else, now. Not the name you called him by, either. That one’s just for you. It wouldn’t do, to give that name to something else, to this task he’s set himself upon. Something else. Something different.

Somewhere, on the other side of the mirror, on the inside of the universe, a door opens in a convenience store.

Can I help you?

I’m Echo. And you’re going to be my plaything.

01001110 01101111 01110111 00100000 01110010 01110101 01101110 00100000 01100001 01101100 01101111 01101110 01100111 00101110 00100000 01001001 00100111 01110110 01100101 00100000 01100111 01101111 01110100 00100000 01110011 01101111 01101101 01100101 00100000 01110111 01101111 01110010 01101011 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01100100 01101111 00101110

masterlist

this is an original work by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted angst #redacted gavin #redacted freelancer #redacted echo #ginger writes #gingerbreadmonsters

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blucassiopeia · 1 year

Text

Sullen Books

"A prelude spin-off for an upcoming fic"

warnings: afab!reader, passive angst

A Kuroo Tetsurou x reader one shot or???

a/n: no comfort on this, i wanna pin this mf till the end of my breath LOL; i honestly had a hard time on this one, avoiding as many clues as possible omg; fufufu

"ーma. I don't know."

"Well, we all don't know. And c'mon, she's pregnant. We have to be present in her life in these times. She's alone."

"She's not. That motherfucker will be right there with her any day now."

"And the other one."

"Not the other one."

"If you could be so kind with him."

"I just wish they'll kill the biggest motherfucker ever existed."

You're staring at the vast table that's lining this book café in the university. It's not crowded in this time of day, still got some vacant seats elsewhere, but not directly next to you.

You tried to sleep again when you noticed your phone died and the humming music in your headphones got silenced, but, for the love of God, how? Muffled conversations is all you could hear. You tried not to groan in frustration.

"Akaashi's visiting this weekend, are you really gonna pass?"

You also waited for the other one with the muffled voice to answer to maybe put an end to your over reacting misery. But it never came. Right. Keep that silence and never talk again. Your head is still turned away from them, resting on an opened french book. You didn't read it, you don't even know much about french, you just love how it smells it lulls you to sleep. Yes, your kind of pillow.

Shufflings that came from things being dumped to a bag and minimum volume of a game you once played with your brother over the few months sounded. And Lo! Silence! The last you heard from the man next to you before you went back to your dreamland wasー

"Don't I really have a chance, Kenma?"

It was raining when Kuroo walks out of the university and onto the bus stop. The transparent umbrellaーone which she had left and forgotten in Nekoma's gym from the last Training Campーwas somehow relaxing to watch. The droplets make a hurried plop sound and it slides to the sides, hang on the silver tips and falls to the already wet pavement. He occassionally stares at it as he walks.

Then he heard some heavy books fall in the other side of the pavement, near the bicycle parking area. He turned to your unsuspecting figure that's too messy on picking the scattered, and now wet, books. Your bag threatening to give up on your shoulder too. He just stares at your back for a second or two and walked on, fearing he might miss his bus if he would help you. Also ignoring the fact that he somehow remembers that same long light blonde hair from the university book café three days ago.

"Why is this wet, Y/n?" the attendant on the book café grumpily asked you as you returned the books you borrowed. You frowned as you recounted to him yesterday at the sidewalk just by the bus stop. "You have to pay for the damages."

Your jaw dropped. "But no pages were torn." Your frown deepened when he dismissed you with a tab you have to pay before exiting the book café, or you have to face extra payments in your tuition. Ugh.

You grouchingly made your way to your spot. The book café is strategically situated at the center of a cross road in the university and your favorite spot is facing a part where students rarely pass by, it's peaceful with all the trees fresh to spring forth leaves.

Then you saw a raven-black haired man in your spot. Your frown deepened just a little more you can feel almost wrinkles automatically appearing in your face. Not your day, huh?

His face is turned to your side. He's not especially handsome but he's sort ofーwellーfanciable, at the least. But not your type. Definitely. You grimaced and plopped your things gently to his side, a chair away, not giving up the serenity this spot has to offer. But still grumbling because that grumpy attendant has banned you on the books until you pay up. Grr. You put your headphones on and decided to rest your eyes.

You woke up to the sound of soft dings. You peered and accidentally caught a glimpse of his lockscreen. A golden-haired girl next to his beaming figure. And the screen darkened just as fast. You couldn't care less but that woke you up real bad, your head started to throb.

You were grimacing and finding a perfect angle to rest your head against your arms but to no avail. It was until you tilted your head to his direction again. He's facing you right now and snoring. You softly snorted and somehow, to the soft hum of his snoring and music on your discarded headphones now hanging on your neck, you found yourself closing your eyes.

Kuroo jolted at a tiny pull on his hair and he looked up to find Kenma. "I have been texting you for two hours already."

Kuroo groaned and put his stuff back on his bag, finding a note with his notebook. I like it when you sleep, so adorable but unaware of it. You look so peaceful.

"If I haven't gone hereー"

Kuroo shoved all of his things, note included, to his bag and slung it on his shoulders, wrinkling the fabric of his sweater. "Sorry. Sorry. Let's go."

"Y/n, go with me to this wedding in Miyagi please? It's in 3 weeks."

Your nose scrunched up when you read your brother's message that weekend morning. You yawned as you dialed his number.

"Please! It's my friend's wedding."

"But why do you have to bring someone?" Geez.

"Well, everyone I'm close with are bringing dates."

"Then bring your girlfriend!" Ugh.

"I don't have one! No more of this. You're coming with me!"

And he fucking hanged up on you. Miyagi's 2 hours away. What the hell is he thinking? You rolled your eyes as you took a shower to start your day and classes is in an hour. You'll definitely gonna be late.

The hall was packed already when you arrived. This is a new class you just enrolled in because you just realized this is a prerequisite to that one major next semester. Blockmates are not as kind as you think, if being new to the place is still not as inconvenient.

Your eyes flew to an empty seat at the back. Next to that same raven-black hair in the book café. His eyes were dead straight to the professor and writing stuffs as he goes on with the lecture, thankfully ignoring you as you bend down trying to be obscure. He didn't spare you a glance when you sat next to him, just a subtle drag of his scattered notes out of your space. And you ignored it.

Cold.

But you were surprised when he hurriedly came pass you out of the book café that afternoon. He was all smiles and seemingly excited for something. You looked back to where he is going. And you saw her. The same golden-haired girl in his lockscreen running to meet his open arms.

"Tetsuuu! I missed youu!"

"Hey! Don't run!"

She jumped to his arms to where he spinned as he catches her, hugging her tight, brows all up above his closed eyes, face snuggling in her neck. You saw how his hug tightened as the second passed by, brows furrowing and you have to go on in the book café because of the weird feeling you had harbored in that scene.

The day you gave up a day in your favorite spot is the day you sat by the entrance and see how his face changes as he talks to the sunshine girl that has her waist carefully held by another man standing beside her. You saw Kuroo's face under his mask.

"Don't I really have a chance, Kenma?"

A voice rang loudly as you watch him watch the couple in front of him.

Kuroo's mind was swarming with lots and lots of thoughts. Mostly from what his friend said about his wedding. Wedding. He felt like he's tearing up. What a weak man he is. He just wants to storm outside the lecture hall and go straight home or anywhere else where he can scream his lungs out. His thighs are popping under the long line of desk, his fist resting on it as it bounces up.

"Lemme answer that, sir!"

"Okay, Miss Y/n. Mr. Kuroo is somehow not in my class right now."

He closed his eyes in realization that he was called a few times, and that a girl, you who is sitting rows away from him, saved him from half of the embarassment. C'mon, Kuroo. Focus. Head on the lecture.

Friday came and your brother was already nudging you to pack your things for both of you will be in a train in two hours. That Miyagi wedding is a hassle but you can't ditch your brother when he's being too cute in front of you now.

"So who is this friend that's getting married?"

He grinned in his seat and pulled out his phone. "She's my crush way back first year." Your brows shot up at his confession as he shoves his phone to your face. "Isn't she pretty? Her name is Tsukishima Ran. Well, tomorrow, she'll bear a new family name."

Your face went cold when you saw the bride-to-be. Your eyes travelled to your brother so slow and flickered back to his screen. "Y-yeah, she's really pretty."

You should've asked him before you sat on that bloody train to Miyagi. Now, you wonder what to do to avoid people. You felt your breath hitched as you realize you'll see him again, now out of the university walls.

The walk to the stunning venue was unnerving. The men were in black and the women are in either gray or white. You padded the white fabric against your skin and turned to your brother. "You look scared Y/n." He took your hand to his arm for you to cling to. "You want to poop?"

"Idiot." You hissed and pinched his arm to where he flinched and laughed as he ushered you to a table full of his volleyball friends.

You took a deep breath and act insignificant, dying to ignore the stares of a blond-hair-with-black-roots man across the table. You restricted your eyes to your phone, to your space in the table and to your brother's face. You badly want to end the night fast.

"Ran-chan! Well, you'd still be myーourーRan-chan even if you're married to that fucker. I'd still be your knight in shining armor whenever you need me, will always be available, but not on changing diapers okay? That's someone else's job."

"Who is that someone else?"

"Her fucking bestfriend, who else!"

Your head perked up when laughs were roaring throughout the venue as a man from the nearby table raised his middle finger to Kuroo, of which he kindly returned.

"In all seriousnessー" That stare he gave to the bride sent shivers to you, it made you want to run away.

"ーI'll still protect you and the ones you love with my life. That's how you both are special to me. And to that small one in your tummy right now.." He trailed his eyes to the groom that's still beaming throughout his friend's unsuspecting confession.

"He'll have the bestest dad ever, and the coolest uncle and a bunch of extra shitbag uncles. Best wishes to the both of you. Be happy now."

Kuroo wasn't supposed to say those words aloud. He wasn't supposed to. He was dead-set on keeping his feelings under control but seeing her in her wedding dress with his friend next to her, he lost it. Now he's desperately trying to find a peaceful place away from the venue to rant out, beer on one hand, loosened necktie dangled around his disheveled polo.

And you found him hunched on one of the small round pavillions away from the venue. He was sobbing real hard when you silently walked up to him. The ice came in contact with sunshine and it melted, drowning you too in the process. You pursed your lips and sat quietly two spaces away from him. That moment you held with him was suspiciously your solace from all else that's bothering you right now. His sobs, heaves, whimpers and shuffles, trying to wipe his snotty nose in his slacks. He might've noticed you but chose to ignore, like what he has been doing for the past two months.

He must really love the bride. To the point where he has no choice but to put down his mask like this. You hummed and rested your back on the wooden rails that's encasing the pavillion, careful not to make much noise, careful not to watch him cry his heart out. You closed your eyes, enveloping yourself with the sound of cries from a heartbroken Kuroo Tetsurou.

It seemed like an hour or two before Kuroo stopped crying, the can of beer crumpled on his bloodied hand. He felt his legs cramped as he stretched out and caught a hand next to him. He breathed heavy and out as he brushed the back of your hand with his thumb and looked up at your peaceful, angel face.

He's not an idiot to not know you're around. He just chooses to ignore you to not pass the pain. And he can't, he's still too in love with Ran. He's too in love with her to pay attention to others poking on him. And so, he walked away without waking you up.

Years had passed and you found yourself in his proximity again. Well, you applied at the Japan's Volleyball Association on the sole purpose of indulging what your brother loves, and now you learned to love too. Never did you know it's also his field.

Wait. Who were you kidding?

You still remember the thing Kenmaーthe blonde hair with black roots guy from that weddingーsaid to you after you woke up alone in that pavillion.

"It's better if you stay away, Y/n."

You were still shocked about how he knows your name. And if this is what it is, then Kuroo knows your name too? Is that it?

"He's dead-set on Ran right now, and maybe for a few years. He'll never be ready. I know him. When he's into something, he's going all out."

You remembered what Kuroo said in his message a while ago. "If he's gonna protect her and her loved ones, then who's gonna protect him if I avoid him now?" You smiled. "It's okay. I'm not asking for reciprocation. This is not business anyway."

Then you left Kenma dumbfounded.

You didn't know when did you start falling for Kuroo. Nor know why are you acting like the situation's okay with you. You just know that you're at peace when you see him. Just seeing him breathing and comfortable is okay.

Through the years, you started to do things to make him comfortable in every littlest way. To making him coffee when he's out cold on his desk during a night-shift, to the simple saves you did just to ease his way out of a situation, to that bento you bought him once when he forgot to buy his lunch, to volunteering to cover his shift when Ran's twins needs him for something, to rigging the Christmas raffle to let him win the vacation package.

All those were subtle. And you're comfortable with it. At least, he's happy with it.

Over the years, much to his displeasure, he is still in love with Ran. He has fully accepted that he can't be that person whom she will love, and naively thinks that acceptance itself will make him move on. Oh how wrong is he. Now, he's suffering from your little gestures of appreciations and love.

If he just fell out of love with Ran, he'll gladly turn to you. If he just forced his way to you, he'll gladly hold you in his arms even if you're both hurting. If he's just brave enough to drag you into his life, he'll kiss you breathless. But he won't, and he can't. Coz he loves someone else.

And how bad was it for him when that day came on both of you. Him, holding you in his flailing arms, tears coming down his cheeks and trying to grip your hand to a note from years ago you thought he discarded, returning it to you but the thought's so reversed now. Kenma's words ringing in his ears as he stares at you.

"If you're gonna protect her and her loved ones, who's gonna protect you if she's not around. She said something like that. And you don't have to reciprocate what she gives, she added. She's too pure for your dumb ass but let her love you, Kuroo."

You just made an irreversible sacrifice. And he's gonna regret this for the rest of his life. Well, it's not so long before that too. Kuroo smiled through his tears and he kissed you so earnestly, the kiss he should've given you in that pavillion, or when you saved him from the professor's questions, or when you stared at him getting broken with the wedding news from his friends, or when you walked up to his side on that certain class, or when he saw you getting stumped with so much books under the rain.

He should've done this kiss to you a long time ago, instead of waiting for it from another. He wasted so much time.

Reblogs and interactions are appreciated. Theories will be entertained. Cassie 2023.

#haikyuu #haikyuu angst #FS prelude spinoff _kuroo tetsurou #sullen books #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsurou x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #with special participation of #kozume kenma #CAN YOU GUESS WHO IS SHEEEE #fuck all the clues...#okay it's done #too bland? or okay?#haikyuu kuroo tetsurou #haikyuu kuroo #tetsu tetsu #kuroo angst

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strwbrrybxn · 3 months

Note

I’ve been trying to find someone who at least acknowledges my boi Neji😭 finally found someone. I’m dying for anything Neji, literally anything. A crumb. A little crumb plz. I beg. I saw that ur friends w Donna and Biscuit lol and Manda refuses to write for him *sigh* but I’ve seen ur work and it’s so good like I’m on my hands and knees for u anyways sorry for rambling lolz anything u write for Neji I will eat it up coMPLETELY -🍒

I'm back and I'm so sorry this took so long, but I hope you enjoy this one. lowkey broke my own heart writing this

Temporary ; word count 2040— Neji Hyuga × female reader

✓ prompt: “Everything is temporary. This was merely one of those things.”

✓ pairing: neji hyuga × fem!reader [neji aged up to 23]

✓ warnings:

✓ genre: nsfw, angst

✓ au: isekai, modern times

a/n: **italics — spoken in english

“Neji~”** you hummed, turning to look at the long hair falling into his eyes as he tried to assemble your coffee table. Little did you know, this is one of the last times you’d get to see his smile.

It had been a few years since Neji had come from a different world; since he sat there bleeding out on the pavement in the late hours of the night. You had just ended a late night shift at the veterinarian’s office when you heard groaning in the alley. It was dark, and even though you had always run in the opposite direction of a dark alley, your instincts told you to go.

Using the flashlight on your phone, you followed the sound of someone groaning; a low, guttural and wet groan. He was lying there, long brown hair sprawled on the pavement. A green vest covered in blood draped his body and he had four large holes pierced through his torso.

You didn’t even hesitate, calling the emergency number for an ambulance as you pulled off your coat and covered his chest. You tried to get him to talk, but his eyes were faded and unfocused. His head turned slightly towards you and his mouth opened, but no words came out, just blood dripping down his chin. You didn’t think he was going to make it; in fact, you were sure of it. You had seen too many patients with eyes like that who had said their goodbyes already.

You don’t know why, but you had gotten into the ambulance with him, and every time they moved his head to get him to focus, he would face it back towards you. You had seen this, too, when you had patients who didn’t have anyone else — whose body would turn to the only person they could seek warmth from.

Neji wanted to talk - he had tried to open his mouth earlier but you said something in a language he didn’t understand, but you said it so nicely, and so sweetly, that he didn’t even try to push it. He wanted to talk to you, talk to the doctors, ask them how he could go back home, but no words would come out. His eyes searched for you in the white room, but you weren’t there. He wanted to call someone, but he didn’t know if anyone would even understand him.

The door swung open, much different from the Konoha hospital with doors that slid gently. You walked in with a bouquet of flowers taller than your head. You could barely see around them and when you finally did, you smiled at the man who had finally woken up. He had very pretty eyes, lilac and despite being on the brink of death, he looked beautiful.

“How are you feeling?” you had said, but Neji could only tilt his head to the side. He had no idea what you were saying.

“What?” All your anime watching finally paid off when you heard him speak. You didn’t speak a lick of japanese, barely understood it, but at least you were able to distinguish what language he spoke. Your phone slipped from your pocket and you typed your question, the AI voice speaking to him in japanese.

This is how the two of you communicated every night after your shift until he was able to pick up on some english words and sentences. It didn’t take him long, he was a smart guy, and it had taken you a few months to pick up on his mother tongue, oftentimes speaking to him in japanese while he answered in english. The two of you no longer needed the support of the artificial voice on your phone and communication was much easier, despite his thick accent.

He never liked to talk to you about the village he had grown up in, or the world he had arrived from. Not at first, but as time went on, Neji opened up about what had happened all those months ago.

“I was protecting Lady Hinata,” he had whispered one night after the two of you had finished a movie. Your body was curled into yourself on the other side of the couch, eyes looking over at the other. “She was protecting Naruto, and I had decided to protect them.” his fingers reach up and touch the green mark on his forehead, a sad smile on his face. “I had made peace with dying; I said my goodbyes and the next thing I know, you’re staring down at me with big eyes. I don’t know how I got here,” he leaned back against the cushions of the couch, turning his head to you, “but I’m glad I did.”

Your stomach flipped, as it usually did when Neji was around lately, but with the way he was looking at you, speaking to you, right in this moment, you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning across the couch. His eyes were still lidded as he watched you move. You leaned back, sitting on your heels. Your head tilted to the side as he continued to look at you.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you mumbled.

“Like what?” He was sitting up now, eyes still at the same as when he was leaning back, but now he was facing you completely.

“Like that.” Neji lifted his hand, his head jumbled with what to do. He had wanted to kiss you for months. Every time your hands lingered together for a second longer, or when you were teaching him how to make your favorite italian dish and he was breathing in your scent for so long, he almost got lightheaded, or when you were sat across your shared couch with your hair up in a bun and a ratty old hoodie on, just as you were tonight.

Were you leaning in? Was he? He had never kissed someone before. What if you thought he was bad at it?

His mind was pulled from the thoughts as your fingers stroked his chin, just as you had done so many times before. And just like all those times, he felt a shiver run down his spine at the touch of your fingers.

“What are you thinking about? You got quiet all of a sudden.”

“I wanna kiss you so bad,” he whispered.

“What are you waiting for then?” you hummed. He didn’t think of anything else, didn’t let his thoughts of not being a good enough kisser stop him from pressing his lips to yours. Your fingers cupped his jaw softly, thumb brushing along his cheek bones as you took control of the kiss. He was clumsy — a little obvious he had never had practice in kissing, but nevertheless, you allowed him to follow your lead.

He didn’t know where to put his hands so they just stayed at his sides. It didn’t take long for him to move his lips with yours, molding them and the only time he stopped was when he needed to pull back for air.

Your fingers had slipped down to his shirt, fisting the collar lightly.

“Wow,” he whispered, his cheeks flushed as he avoided your eyes. You couldn’t help but laugh, kissing the green marking on his forehead. His fingers slipped under your shirt, tracing small patterns on your back as he whispered again. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

“And why didn’t you?”

“I’ve never kissed someone before. How am I supposed to know when they want to also kiss me?” He made a good point. Neji never had any formal experience in this department, and you had. It was just one of the many things you’d agree to gladly teach him about.

“Neji~” you hummed, shutting the door behind you and stopping with a confused head tilt to look at the long hair falling into his eyes as he tried to assemble your coffee table.

Pushing his long hair from his face, he smiled, bright and wide as he always had when you came home from work.

“Tada!” He stood, showing off the new coffee table he had bought after the two of you had broken the other one. How? That’s a secret.

“What’s this?” It was beautiful. A lift top with two drawers at the bottom and storage under the lift top. It was the exact one you had been looking at when the two of you went furniture shopping a few months ago.

“We needed a new one after,” his cheeks flushed, the blush running from the apples of his cheeks to the tips of his ears. “well, you know.”

You squealed lightly, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss. He couldn’t help but smile, his arm hooking around your waist and tilting his head to begin to deepen the kiss, but you pulled back, a mischievous smile on your lips.

“You just built this, baby. We can’t break it yet.”

You flustered him beyond belief and he didn’t know how to react most of the time, but the pang in his chest is not the way he usually reacts to you. His eyebrows furrowed and his arm loosened around you.

“Neji? I was just kidding-”

“I know.” His eyes softened as he cupped your cheek, thumb brushing along the apple under your eye. “I just got a weird feeling in my chest.”

It wasn’t just in his chest. The scars on his torso were burning, and he couldn’t figure out why. He had started feeling this way earlier in the day, so he went out to cool down, hoping the chilled autumn air would clear his mind. When he came by, he occupied himself by building the coffee table, but now it was back, and intensifying the more he looked at you.

“Hey.” Your fingers cupped his cheeks, forcing him to focus on you. The pain subsided as he leaned into your touch. “Let’s go out for dinner tonight, yeah? As a way to celebrate!”

Neji’s smile brightened his whole face and he leaned forward, kissing you once more. “That’s a wonderful idea.”

You were passing by the alley, hand in hand towards the restaurant when something caught Neji’s eye. It was shining, the smell of autumn filling his nose. Autumn in Konoha.

“Neji?”

“I think I can hear something over there.” He carefully pulled you towards the place where you met him for the first time.

She stood there with the same eyes as Neji, her hand in a blonde’s. Hinata and Naruto looked almost exactly like they did in the anime, except taller. Neji was the same. Both men stood at about six foot, towering over both you and Hinata.

You could feel your heart tighten. You and Neji had talked about this before; if he could ever find a way home, he’d go. He missed his friends and you promised to let him, but that was before you fell in love with him.

You’re reluctant to let him go, and when he started to pull, you could feel your fingers tightening.

“I have to go,” he said, his hand loosening.

“Right now?” You could barely swallow the lump in your throat, tears threatening to spill. If you had known there was a real way for him to go home, you wouldn’t have made that promise.

“My home is there.”

“But I’m here.” your words slurred as you tried to keep your eyes on Neji. He looked back at his friends, tugging once more and your fingers let go. “C..can’t we talk about this?”

“I don’t know when I’ll get this chance again.” From where you stood, it looked as if he had made up his mind, his eyes softening as he said, “Everything is temporary. This was merely one of those things.”

You wanted to throw up.

How could he say something like that? When you guys had spent almost every day together for four years. When you guys decided to become more than friends. How could he just simply step away from you, and through the door Naruto was holding open? He didn’t even look back, leaving you to your own devices in the same place he stepped into your life.

taglist: @hashira-mal, @justmyownreality, @sixtymillionoverdueideas, @dahlias-love, @penguinmilo, @delirious-donna, @stilestotherescue, @anxiouslittlesunbeam, @dreamcastgirl99, @usagiii3

#neji #neji hyuga #neji x reader #‎‧₊˚✧ally writes✧˚₊#‎‧₊˚✧ally's navi✧˚₊#‎‧₊˚✧ally's motivation event✧˚₊#super late #im so sorry #naruto navi

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idlesana · 1 year

Text

in elegance and beauty

figure skater! myoui mina x photographer! reader ; fluff? angst? a mix?

summary: famous skater, myoui mina, at her new shoot. happening to be done by you, her ex.

the only audible sound to your ear were the taps of heels, bouncing off the pavement and echoing in the studio. you felt your mouth go dry, the speaking of the other photographer next to you now muffled; all your focus on her.

you knew she had some twisted intent on showing-- after all you get to choose the photographer you book. that intent was hidden, however, probably buried deep in her mind, her egging you on to dig it up.

you let out a deep sigh, ignoring her beauty, and instead focusing on the camera capturing it. you'd mentally decided to put the camerawoman next to you in charge.

"this is myoui mina, she's a renowned figure skater and we've decided to put her as our feature of this month. make her look real pretty" the woman behind you said, trying to give some information to the two of you, not knowing you and partner dahyun knew her well.

you huffed, turning attention back to your camera, only daring to take one peek from over it, seeing the skater now smiling in your direction, causing a shudder to run down your spine.

"let's call break!" dahyun grinned-- while it was faux, it still presented warm and true to all in the room minus you; who knew her too well to fall for a forced smile. you watched as she turned to you, eyes expressing frustration, only lasting a second of eye contact before dragging you off to another room.

once arriving in the empty breakroom, only lacking people due to the mina in the room next door, answering all questions from workers with a gummy grin, dahyun ran her hands through her hair.

"what does she think she's doing here?" she huffed, starting to pace in circles as you sat down on the less-than-comfortable couch.

"i'm not sure, dahyun. but i'm letting myself get fired for choking here and screwing up the shoot." you replied, grabbing the phone from your back pocket, seeing several missed texts from another close friend and coworker.

"hell, we might as well screw it up. she has no right to walk into your workspace and prance around." the younger argued, stopping her pacing to face you.

"in reality, she does. if she wants to prance let her, i'm not letting it affect me how she wants it to." you shrugged, opening the messages and swiping through them.

from: satang ₍ᐢ. ̫ .ᐢ₎

y/n!1!11! what is she doing here?!?!?!

i was talking with a very pretty momoring and saw,, her...

we were in the lobby and she walks in all smiley!

helloooo? answer your phone!!

did we ask for her to be here??

ugh m gonna make you tell me allll the deets later

you giggled at your friends concern, only responding with a: ill give the deets if i get the deets about you and momo ;).

you met the girls gaze, seeing as her eyebrows were quirked, and her hands crossed over her stomach.

"you really don't care?" she questioned, clearly shocked at your recovery since just last week you were in tears over how 'cruel a single woman could be'.

"mmmhmm. no need to worry about me, plus, this is probably a one-time shoot, i doubt she'll come back after seeing me so stoic." you hummed in response, grinning proudly as you rose to your feet.

"let's get back to work?"

after what felt like centuries, constant complaints of "i don't look good" and "maybe a different pose is better" finally subsided, and you could wrap up the shoot.

you watched as she bowed, only before locking eyes with you walking on over as if it was casual. your breath hitched, heart beginning to race, hands clenching your pants and letting go repeatedly.

"you're an excellent photographer, y/n." she smiled, hand reaching yours for a handshake. on most occasions, you'd refuse her, but to not cause a scene, you gave in.

her hands were warm, soft, and nothing less than familar, the handshake-- that at this point was more of a holding, lingered as she continued,

"maybe we could grab a coffee to talk about our next shoot? it is next week after all." she hummed, giggling at the shock in your eye as your hand stiffened.

"n-next shoot?"

#mina x reader #mina imagines #mina scenario #mina imagine #twice x reader #twice imagines #myoui mina #mina #twice reactions #mina reactions

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hayakawasb1tch · 1 year

Text

Days Without You

TW: Major injury, blood, self hatred, extreme sadness, coma, hospitals

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Fuck, it wasn't supposed to be like this. That was the only thought that ran through Aki's head. The two of you had gone on a mission that went south. It wasn't supposed to be hard. Maybe it was because you were both distracted, in which case that would make this his fault. The two of you had been dating for three years, but the last month had been rough. You kept getting in arguments, you had a big fight right before the mission. You were telling Aki how sick you were of him, that he was too overbearing and over protective. "I can take care of myself!" You yelled at him, slamming his car door. Little did he know, moments later his world would be turned upside down. The Butcher devil. As if the world were playing some kind of sick joke, the devil got a handle of you. In the blink of an eye you had gotten cut up, and thrown around like a rag doll. Aki saw red. Was it because of his anger, or your blood? He couldn't tell, but it didn't matter. Aki slayed the devil and ran to your side. Your body was limp on the pavement, shallow breaths emitting from your mouth. His heart was pounding, his face felt numb. You weren't supposed to go like this. No, not before him.

Aki panicked, picking up your almost lifeless body. He carried you to his car and laid you down in the backseat and drove to the hospital. Any sane person would've waited for an ambulance, but Aki wasn't sane. He knew he could get you the hospital faster than any ambulance would've. As he drove, you slipped in and out of consciousness.

Aki could hear you mumbling every so often, "Cold... Aki I'm so cold..."

Aki had always been levelheaded, but in this moment he could feel himself breaking. You were his rock, his best friend, his person. By the time you arrived to the hospital, you were completely unconscious. Blood stained his black leather seats. The car smelled so much of Iron, Aki swore he could taste it. He brought you through the hospital doors and shouted, watching doctors take you away on a stretcher. He tried to go after you, but the staff wouldn't let him. They held him back as his eyes slowly lost sight of you, your mangled body becoming nothing but a blur of colors behind his tears.

Aki paced the waiting room for hours as you were being worked on. The whole time his mind was spinning different scenarios. What he could've done different, what he could've done to prevent this. This was his fault. No matter how he tried to spin it, it was always his fault. He should've been there for you.

Eventually a doctor came back to speak to him, snapping him out of his trance. "Y/N is finally in a room resting, we gave them blood and did scans. They were cut up pretty bad and had some brain hemorrhaging but we were able to stop it. Everything looks to be normal now. They should wake up soon if you would like to see them." The doctors voice echoed through Aki's ears. He heard the doctor, but his voice sounded far away. None of this felt real. Aki nodded and followed the doctor through corridors, passing rooms of other people with loved ones waiting hand and foot.

He came upon your room and the doctor pulled back the privacy curtain, revealing your motionless body on the hospital bed. You had never looked so frail before. IVs and tubes were hooked up to your body, making you look like a sick science experiment. No, you weren't supposed to look like this. This wasn't you. It couldn't have been, because if it was that meant Aki had failed. Failed in protecting you. Failed in keeping you safe.

The doctor excused himself, shutting the door behind him quietly. The room was completely silent and empty now, save you and Aki, and the incessant beeping on the monitor proving, showing that you were alive, no matter how much it looked like you weren't. Aki opened his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. There was nothing he could do or say to make things better. And that hurt most of all. Aki wanted to take all your pain away, drain it from your body. That's all he ever wanted to do. Aki stared at you. He wanted to crawl into bed with you, pull you close, but you looked so fragile. He pulled up a chair and sat next to you, grabbing your hand. "Y/N-" he croaked out. He was met with silence, and the beeping monitor. Aki squeezed your hand and stared at you.

Tears streamed down his face as he watched your chest rise and fall. Aki sat there for hours waiting for you to wake up. But you never did. Days and nights passed, and you lay there, looking as if you were in a peaceful dream. Aki barely left your side. He would go on missions and clean himself up, but then return as soon as he could to you. The doctors didn't have the heart to tell him visiting hours were over, so they could only offer a small smile each time he walked through the door. Aki would bring you flowers each time he noticed the previous ones were wilting. They sat on the table beside you, so they would be the first thing you saw when you woke up.

Aki spoke with the doctor and it seemed like you had slipped into a coma. He couldn't explain why as it seemed you were fine.

Sometimes this happens he said. If someone isn't ready to wake up, they won't.

Aki's heart ached at that. Why weren't you ready? Couldn't you see he was right here for you? And you could. You could hear him faintly. His voice echoed in your mind, but all you could see was black. You wanted to wake up, you begged your body to. But it wouldn't. You could hear Aki when it was just the two of you.

His voice sounded solemn, telling you things you wanted to hear. "I love you. I miss you."

You wanted to grab him and shake him, tell him "I know! I love you too!" But you couldn't.

Sometimes you heard other people visit, but Aki was always there. You could hear their voices bounce around your room. After they left, Aki would sit next to you. You could hear his weeping, him begging you to wake up.

"I know. I'm trying Aki, I'm trying. Can't you see that? I'm trying." You wanted to cry out.

Aki would talk to you about everything, what you were missing, your family. Sometimes he would apologize. "I know I'm probably the last person you want to see, but I'm here. And I'll be here until you tell me you don't want me to be." He said.

You yearned for him. Your arguing was stupid. None of that mattered anymore. All you wanted was him. Aki just wanted you to wake up, so he could see your beautiful eyes. Hear your laugh. See you smile. You were still hooked up to everything. You were half you and half wire, but you were as beautiful as ever to him.

It was starting to get colder, the wind brushing the trees until they were naked. Every time Aki visited he would tuck in your blanket for you, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead. His thumb caressed your hand, hoping that would be the day your eyes finally opened.

"When you wake up, I'll get you out of here. We'll go somewhere new. We won't have to do this anymore. We can get normal jobs and a small apartment. You'll be safe." Aki said.

His voice sounded so full of hope. As he spoke he watched the first snow fall outside your window. Snow was never his favorite, it reminded him too much of his little brother. But once he met you that all changed. Your love didn't stop the pain, but it muffled it. Now that you weren't around, the pain from his past grew louder, so loud it was deafening. His mind replayed the events from his childhood, and from the mission you got hurt on. He should've protected both of you. That was his job. His sole purpose in life, and he couldn't even do that.

He lost count of how many days had passed. It was another cold afternoon. Snow was falling and blanketing the hospital surroundings. Aki had been in your room for the past three hours, watching the window. Black bags hung from his eyes, evidence of all the sleepless night he had since you got hurt. He clutched your hand as he watched the snow. Your finger twitched in his hand and his head shot out of his daze, staring down at your hand.

"Y/N- did you?" He started.

Your finger wiggled again, tickling his palm. It was real. It was happening. You were finally waking up. His eyes widened as he stared at you. Your eyes fluttered open, unfocused and trying. They settled on Aki, the love of your life. Aki fumbled and leaned over you, holding you tight.

The breath was knocked from your lungs, but you didn't care. You needed him closer. All you could feel, smell, see was Aki. His scent filled your chest, a mixture of mint and cigarettes. You had always wanted him to quit, but Aki found himself smoking more than ever when you were out. It was one of the only things that soothed him.

Sobs heaved through Aki's body as he held you close. He had a million things he wanted to say, but he couldn't speak. Every time he tried the words would get caught in his throat. But you knew how he felt. Your weak arms lifted up to wrap around his neck, pulling him down closer. "I love you Aki." Your voice croaked out. "I love you too Y/N." Aki choked out, holding you tight. He was never letting you go again. Not ever.

#chainsaw man #aki #aki hayakawa #aki x reader #aki hayakawa x reader #my writing

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indouloureux · 2 years

Note

wait……do you mind writing this…

because i need to like…..….yeah…..

big brother eddie with a golden heart <3

who also got his name cleared bc duh he needs that fuck u duffer brothers

eddie's got an arm around your shoulder's for support, limping his way through the pavement, shoes scraping unevenly on tiny rocks. your hand remains secure around his waist as you pivot a corner and face a large house.

"you sure he's in here?" you ask him, voice small in the desolated neighborhood. "looks like that's abandoned."

"my uncle told me he's here," he murmurs. "that some family's been fostering him for three months since he tried running away and came looking for us. says this was his fifth home."

your hand around his torso feel his bandages — palm to the gauze. "how'd you loose him, anyway?"

"i don't know. i-..." he rubs his eye, a gentle click in his tongue. "ever since what happened to star court, uncle wayne decided it's for the best he grew up somewhere else. i was going to come with him to our aunt but...i was worried they won't take us if she saw me so i told my brother that he was going to stay with her for a while and we'd take him back once everything's okay."

"and?"

"well, little shit ran away from her. the authorities saw him and took him in, switched foster homes all the time since he wanted to be with us. and we were trying to-to get him but this whole vecna thing happened. a-and the gates too, so. we never really found him until last month after the trial."

you rub his torso, resting your head on his bicep. "well, you're here now. that's what matters. you found him, and we're gonna bring him home, okay?"

eddie sighs heavily, looking at you with tears on his eyelashes. "what if he's not safe in hawkins? what if taking him back would-would endanger him?"

"then you'll protect him, right?" you wipe his tears away. "you said you'd always protect him. that you'd never leave him. now here we are."

eddie looks down on his hand. "what if people would still talk about how i killed all those people and my brother hears them? babe, if he hears it he'll never look at me the same way again and i can't handle that."

you step forward, hand leaving his torso and coming up to cup his face between your trembling hands. "you're his brother, eddie," he kisses your palm. "he looks up to you. he loves you. and you're going to take him back to you and uncle wayne, got it?"

nodding, he closes his eyes. "i'm gonna take him back."

"great. now do you wanna open the gate?"

he hesitates for a bit, still looking at you before he slowly turns his head to the house that looks awfully lot like vecna's. sighing, eddie blinks the tears away and reaches over to open the gate, old metal structure creaking as it opens and collides with the fence.

you both walk the dirt pavement, the sound of shoes colliding with the ground and the trees falling on the overgrown grass is heard clearly in the desolated suburb. eddie walks the stairs in your guidance, and stares at the wooden door in front of him.

his hand raises, looking at you for your approval. and when you nod, his knuckles hit the door gently in three knocks. you both hear faint shuffling inside, until the door opens in a loud creak of rusty hinges.

eddie stiffens beside you, eyes meeting and old woman wrapped in a cardigan with an unwelcoming expression. "hi," he begins. "i'm...eddie—edward munson. i'm here for my brother?"

the old woman glares at the both of you before she looks back and calls a name you've heard when eddie talks about his brother. eddie straightens his back, and you swear you can hear his heartbeat pattering through his chest.

quick, light footed footsteps echo across the old hall of the old home, and behind the woman, your eyes meet a small frame of a lanky boy wearing rugged clothing beside the stairs. beside you, eddie's breath hitches and unwraps his arm around your shoulder.

it's an exchange of surprised stares of nostalgia and familiarizing tears that threaten to fall down to their cheeks. eddie's brother removes his hand from the stairwell, and eddie limps his way to the small boy before he's fallen to his knees; his brother immediately running to his arms.

it's a heartwarming reunion that hugs your heart, a hand coming up to your mouth when eddie hugs the life out of his brother, digging his face on the crook of his neck. the old woman looks at you with pursed lips.

and it's also then you realize that they almost look exactly alike — he looks like a little eddie munson with a buzzcut, like he told you he used to have in middle school. he doesn't have eddie's tired worry lines, but he does have the same cynical eyes minus the horrors eddie has seen. same nose, same lips, same melancholy smile.

the old lady looks at you. "kid's been a wreck since i fostered him. kept looking for his brother. didn't expect for him to look like he's in the satanic panic."

eddie hugs his brother tightly, pressed a kiss to his temple as he makes a mental promise to never let him go, before he turns his head to you and shows you his lachrymose tears.

"lets go home."

reblogs and feedback are appreciated <3

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #blurb #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x y/n #joseph quinn blurb #joseph quinn fluff #joseph quinn angst #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn

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thebiggestfuckgiven · 6 months

Text

Ectoberweek 25: Will-o’-Wisps

Rating: T

Warnings: mentions of death, of being buried alive, descriptions of gore, brief mention of vivisection, true crime-esque horror, and general spooky vibes

A/N: I really wanted to do a lil something for the spooky month and what better to write than something for the fandom i’ve been sickeningly hyperfixated on for the past four months. Actual prompt had a two-sentence prompt as well, and i went with both <3

- 💜 -

October 2004

The things everybody tells you about small towns- everyone knows each other, ni things big happens, every day is a slow day, and the biggest local teen hotspots are the walmart parking lot or the big chain pharmacy/corner store —are true. The thing that everyone knows about small towns except for the majority of the people living in said town is that their minds are as small as the local post office.

This is especially true of the teens of Casper High in Amity Park, Illinois.

Sam’s black combat boots stomped against the warm pavement as she ran for the next block. Her breathing was ragged, coming out in harsh puffs of air in the autumn cold. She had gotten an SOS text message from Tucker seconds before the last bell rung.

Normally, she didn’t take the Foley kid very serious. They didn’t know each other that well and they barely hung out save for the couple of school projects they’ve worked on together and those rare lunch hour occasions where he’d sit at her table uninvited. Usually to avoid Dash, Kwan and the rest of their jock entourage.

She stumbled to a stop at a crossroads borderline wheezing. Running was so not her forte. Maybe it was cruel of her, but Same fully intended to ignore his SOS. That is, until she saw Tweedledumb (Dash) and Tweedledumber (Kwan) shove a screaming Tucker into their run-down jeep and speed off.

Hence, why Same was ruining her sickly goth pallor by chasing after them.

She glanced to her left just in time to see the run-down jeep screech to a halt. Christ, the stabbing in her sides was killing her. Sue her for walking. The jeep wasn’t going anywhere anymore. She stumbled a few steps, feet burning, as she held a hand to her sides like that would help her.

Dash jumped out from the passenger side, Kwan following shortly after, from the driver’s side. They opened the back doors on each side, where Tucker was. They cornered him. Dash reached in and was soon pulling Tucker out by his feet. Sam could hear his scream now.

“C’mon, guys, please just leave me alone! Let me go, Dash!”

The Wonder Jocks laughed in response. Kwan slammed his door shut, confident that Dash had Tucker handled now that he was out of the car. Kwan rushed to the sidewalk to roughly grab Tucker’s free arm.

“Guys, this isn’t funny!”

Sam was halfway down the street now and she dreaded the idea of having to run again to keep those two muscle-headed idiots from beating the crap out of the geek that for some reason imprinted on her. Ugh, caring for people was overrated anyways. She could still walk away. Save herself the hassle. No one care about her in this stupid town anyways. So, why should she care?

She slowed to a stop. Her feet ached.

Dash and Kwan were dragging Tucker towards the street corner, which just confused Sam, amidst her inner turmoil. Why even drag Tucker all the way out to his own neighborhood? His house was literally a street away, and there wasn’t even a bare-bones playground here. So what—

“No, no! Don’t put me in there, Dash, Kwan, please! Just let me go, guys, it’s not funny!”

Sam felt a sharp chill run down her spine. Something heavy dropped in the pit of her stomach at the sudden realization of where, exactly, they were.

“Shit.”

She broke off into a sprint as fast as she could.

Shithsitshitshit.

Another thing about small towns is that they all have a well-kept secret. A dark past, usually. Sam found that she thrives on such darkness; on those unwanted and discarded things. As it turned out, Amity Park had a surprising amount of those. She made it her personal business to grow intimate with her town’s buried gutter.

The things she learned were both shocking and, for all her boasting, a little horrifying. Things that would be permanently burned into her retinas. Unseeable and unforgettable. So, she scolded herself for not realizing sooner where they were dragging Tucker to. She would’ve run a little faster, cared a little more, if she had.

She zoomed past the jeep and turned the corner so sharply she nearly fell flat on her face.

Tucker wasn’t screaming anymore, but there were tears streaming down his face as he stared in terror at the behemoth of a house towering over them.

In all its abandoned, festering glory: the infamous Fenton House. Even in bright daylight, the house was obscured in awkward elongated shadows, made worse by the house’s freaky, Frankenstein-esque structure. As if imitating a child’s building blocks tower, there were partial structures jutting out of the house’s main body. They creaked in the cold wind, threatening to snap off and crush any trespassers. At the very top, there was a round dome of sorts with something resembling letters across it. They were black with rot now. Unreadable.

Sam wasn’t a fearful person, but she was a believer. The Fenton House was more than haunted. She’s read enough testimonies to not take it lightly. People have gone missing in that house. Hell, they’ve been found dead in there. She may not be friendly with Tucker, but that didn’t mean she was about to leave him to a tragic fate.

Body running on a sudden burst of adrenaline, she grabbed the nearest thing she could find (a sizable stick) and marched towards the two jocks.

“Hey!”

All three of the boys turned to look at her. She stood two steps below them, resolutely ignoring the way the house seemed to want to swallow them whole. Tucker’s terrified face shifted into one of pure relief. A new wave of tears was visibly threatening to spill over.

“Sam,” he croaked.

Dash barked out a laugh.

“Samantha Manson? What the hell are you doing here?”

“Hey, wanna help us lock this dweeb in the Fenton House?” Kwan smiled brightly, pointing at Tucker.

Sam scowled. People always confused her apathy for cruelty. She hated it.

“It’s Sam, and like hell I do. Drop the nerd, assholes, or else,” she said, pitching her voice lower in an attempt to sound intimidating.

Maybe she should’ve spent her time running thinking up a plan instead of hating on Tucker for making her run in the first place. She clutched the stick in her hand tightly.

Kwan scoffed.

“No way. I just said we’re gonna lock him in the house.”

“Yeah! We wanna know what happens when you put a techno dweeb with murder ghosts,” Dash said, smiling cruelly at a Tucker.

“He short-circuits. It’s not impressive. Let him go.”

Dash must’ve realized, finally, that Sam was being serious. He narrowed his eyes at her, the stick in her hand, and smiled.

“Or what? You’re gonna hit us with the creep stick? Ha. Last I checked, Sam, girls don’t have the balls to pull that off, so why don’t you get lost and forget you were ever here,” Dash said before adding to Kwan, “And Paulina says I’m not a gentleman.”

It was Sam’s turn to smile. She went up a step as she spoke.

“Like any girl would let you get that close, Dash. Besides, I promise mine are bigger than yours. Here, I’ll prove it.”

Before he even had time to blink, Sam jabbed the stick hard into Dash’s crotch. A gentlemanly oof broke past his lips and he let go of Tucker’s arm to clutch at his wounded pride.

“Augh, bitch.”

Kwan also let go of Tucker to check on his friend. Sam didn’t waste a second and grabbed Tucker’s hand.

“Run.”

They bolted down the stairs, Tucker nearly slamming into her from the sudden force.

“Sam, I didn’t think— I mean— shit, thank you. I thought- Ah!”

“Shit. Let me go, jackass!”

They had barely cleared the Fenton House’s shadow when a large, thick arm slammed into Sam and Tucker’s bellies as Kwan— just Kwan —grabbed them by the waist and lifted them up.

Note-to-self: never piss off a linebacker.

Sam knew Dahs and Kwan were big for their age, being football players and all, but jesus fuck this was insane.

She kicked and punched for her freedom, but either rage was a hell of a pain nullifier or her punches were child’s play.

Crap, and she dropped the stick when he grabbed them. Just her luck.

“You better let us go right now, Kwan!”

“Or what?”

He was effortlessly taking them up the stairs and— oh that’s the door.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, they— they can’t actually lock us in. There’s no key. We-we can just leave,” Tucker whispered, panicked.

“You don’t know much about the Fenton House, do you?”

Sam’s voice was small. She felt small.

They were about to be locked in a horror house.

Dash opened the door. Sam didn’t even see him get there.

“Sayonara, losers. Have fun in the Fenton House.”

The world tilted and blurred for a split second, Sam’s stomach lurching at the weightless sensation, before she and Tucker landed hard on the linoleum floor. Pain shot up her elbow and hip. Beside her, Tucker groaned.

“If you even make it the whole night! Ha!”

Bam!

Tucker scrambled up at once, but as soon as his hand touched the doorknob a sound like a lock sliding into place echoed throughout the empty house.

“Wha…”

Sam waited with bated breath. Then—

A low droning sound buzzed across the floor, seeping through Sam’s hands in an odd pins-and-needles sensation. Red emergency lights flickers throughout the house, bathing everything in muddy crimson, and the droning sound was replaced by the most horrifying screech of twenty-year-old rusted metal scraping against itself.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Thick sheets of metal began dropping over every conceivable entry. Including the windows and, of course, the door. Sam pulled Tucker back by the collar of his shirt just in time to keep his hand attached.

Tucker yelped, clutching his hand close.

“What the fuck—”

Warbled, distorted speech boomed from somewhere in the house, the voice and the words long ruined by time. It was like someone was trying to speak underwater. The message was only a few seconds long, but it was disgustingly haunting. Sam knew exactly what it said.

Ghost attack imminent. Fenton Security measure Christmas Ham activated.

If she remembered correctly, the measure lasted six hours. But the last time it was activated (that anyone knows of) was five years ago. Who knew how much the technology had deteriorated at this point. They could be here for a whole day.

Sam broke from her thoughts to glance at a hyperventilating Tucker. She couldn’t blame him. The Fenton House was creepy enough on the outside. Inside? With flickering red lights? Sam was making an active effort not to throw up from the fear writhing in her intestines.

The shadows kept moving in the corner of her eyes, she swore she kept seeing a green glow (but she couldn’t tell where from), and it was freezing cold. Colder than it was outside, which should be impossible, but it was the Fenton House. Impossible was inconsequential.

Sam shuddered. They had to find a way out.

“Tucker—”

“Sam- ohmygodSam- this is- I mean what the fuck was that? We’re literally trapped here. In a tomb with linoleum floors. Shit, and you’re trapped, too, cuz of me. I shouldn’t have sent you that text. Fuck it I shouldn’t have flunked Dash’s essay. Now we’re gonna die here and—”

“Tucker!”

Sam grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him lightly. Their eyes met, both wide with incessant panic.

“Calm down,” she spoke slowly. Tucker gulped and nodded shakily.

“Okay, okay, yeah.”

“Breathe. You’re good with computers and stuff, right?”

Tucker scoffed, but more in a self-deprecative way rather than an offended one.

“Sure am. It’s what gets me in trouble, isn’t it?”

Sam shook him again.

“Forget that. We need good with computers. The Fentons were notorious for their unorthodox advancements in technology. Supposedly had patents on really futuristic shit. Most of it buried, obviously. But they were good enough that their security system still activates nearly twenty years after their departure.”

Ridiculously good, she thought bitterly.

There was a moment of weighted silence as they looked around the house. The lights, the rusted yet intact panels over the windows. It was eerily quiet. She stepped a bit closer to Tucker, who thankfully didn’t say anything about it.

“Yeah, alright, okay,” he muttered to himself before clearing his throat. “The-there should be, uh, a circuit breaker somewhere. We could cut off the power—”

“Won’t work,” Sam stated, eyes furtively glancing around them. She had the weirdest sensation they were being watched. “The town cut the power away from the Fenton House ages ago. It runs on some kind of external power source, but nobody knows what.”

Sam kinda hoped they didn’t get to find out.

“Shit. Man, what the fuck. Who the fuck were these people?”

Sam let out a manic sort of laugh. The hysteria was boiling up in her like toxic chemicals.

“Do you want the short answer or the long one?”

“I have a feeling we’re gonna be here a while. Long answer?”

A pause.

“We should find a way out.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of them moved an inch. They stood in the middle of the living room. A trashed one at that. Although, looking closely from where they were, the whole house looked trashed. Wasn’t the place SWATted?

She spotted a flash of green in the hallway, right there in the corner of her eye, and snapped her head towards it with a small gasp. There was nothing there.

“Hey,” Tucker said softly. “Let’s check out the windows for loose panels or something and you can tell me about the Fentons’ own loose panels.”

Her mouth went dry, but she nodded.

“Sounds good, yeah. So, uh, what do you know about the Fentons?”

Tucker shrugged and went towards the first window, by the door. Sam followed closely by. He didn’t mention it.

“What everyone else knows. Mad scientists who went so crazy after their son’s disappearance that they tried to summon him from the afterlife. They got so obsessed that they never left the house and just, died here, waiting for their son to come back. Pretty sad.”

That window was a bust. So was the next, as well as the door. They ventured into the hallway. There were a few square and rectangle imprints on the walls, but only one hanging frame left. With a picture. Hands shaking, Sam reached up and snagged the picture from where it was, careful not to cut herself on what was left of the glass.

It was a family picture. A wall of a man stood at the back with a practiced, dashing smile. To his left and a little below him was a woman with short, bright red hair. They were both in brightly colored hazmat suits, goggles hanging around their necks.

In front of them were two teens. A girl with bright red hair as well, but styled much longer. Next to her was a boy, younger and slightly shorter than her, with black hair. They were all smiling wide and bright, except for the boy. His was more hesitant, not quite reaching his eyes.

Sam pointed at the young girl.

“Did you know the Fentons had a daughter, too?”

Tucker’s eyebrows went up slightly.

“No… Something tells me I won’t like why.”

“You won’t. Um, kitchen?”

Sam saw another green flash and was anxious to get away from it. They bee-lined to the kitchen, and Tucker checked the windows there.

“So… There’s a few things you got right. The Fentons—” Sam pointed at the two adults in the picture “—were renowned scientists. They did some impressive breakthroughs. Like the kind they still teach in universities, but with a disclaimer attached. The more they went into their work, though, the more obsessed they got…” she trailed off in a whisper, tensing.

The house was creaking.

Tucker stopped in his tracks, too, eyes wide but lips pressed tightly together.

Nothing happened. The house stopped creaking.

Tucker let out a slow breath, eyeing the cabinets.

“Think there’s anything edible left around?”

She glared at him sharply.

“If you open any fridge or cabinet doors, I’m leaving you here alone. This place is bad enough, we don’t need to add rats or rotted food to the list.”

Tucker pouted but conceded.

“Fine, I’ll just starve. Keep telling me about the creepy doctors and their stupid creepy house while we check upstairs.”

Sam sighed in temporary relief. She didn’t think she could handle seeing a fridge full of maggots. Even if it has been almost twenty years.

They continued up the stairs, carefully, and Sam went on with the Fenton tragedy.

“The Fentons started growing obsessed with other dimensions. Specifically… the afterlife, and its inhabitants.”

“Like… ghosts?”

Sam nodded.

“Exactly like. They became convinced they could create a doorway into the afterlife, at the cost of their reputation. They got ostracized by the academic community once they started referring to themselves as ‘ecto-scientists’.”

“Yeah, who wouldn’t. Bunch’a wackos,” Tucker muttered as they ventured into an organized room with cool colors. Light blue walls, light green bed sheets coated in blankets of dust, so the only reason Sam knew they were light green was because she’s seen pictures of what the room looked like twenty years ago. She ignored the uneven pattern of small dark spots on the wall.

It was the girl’s room. Jasmine Fenton’s.

Tucker went straight for the window, but Sam hung back near the entrance.

“They didn’t actually open a doorway, right?”

His voice broker her out of her thoughts. She blinked.

“Hm? Oh, uh, allegedly, yeah.”

This house probably sat on an open portal. There probably was an infestation of something murderous in it. Sam shook the thought away. She’ll drive herself crazy worrying about that.

“Supposedly,” she continued. “The doorway was one of their patents. They had the science backing it up and everything. But they… There were rumors, around the time the supposedly opened the doorway, that there was an accident in the house involving their youngest. Daniel Fenton.”

Tucker frowned at the blocked window. A bust. They made their way to the next room. A queen bed bare of any bedsheets, and a large chest of drawers with an equally large mirror attached to it. The Fentons’ room. It had an extra window.

“What happened to Daniel?”

Sam shuddered, goosebumps breaking out across her arms. The room got colder, so much colder than it had been. A soft crackling sound broke out, like frost taking over with a vengeance. She opened her mouth to speak but her breath got stuck in her throat.

She closed her mouth. Breathe. Another flash of green, this one brighter than the others. Breathe. It was so cold, her teeth started chattering.

“T-t-t-tucker—”

“Y-ye-yeah, I’m-m ignoring it,” he said simply, tugging at the panels.

Fuck, how can he ignore this. Sam was so uncomfortable, consumed by such a sudden unease, she wanted to claw off her skin. She tried to ignore it anyways.

“Daniel— jesus I’m freezing —he was out of school a couple of days after neighbors heard a scream. That same night, the power went out in the whole town, except for the Fenton House.”

The freezing cold seeped away, leaving behind a frost pattern that didn’t melt on the mirror despite the warming room. Sam blew out a breath, sending out a silent thanks.

She frowned, unsure why she did that.

“A lot of people theorize,” she went in, rubbing the remaining cold in her fingertips away. “That one of two things happened that night. One, a backfired experiment drove the Fentons all the way crazy to the point that they started experimenting on both their kids, thinking they were ghosts.”

“Wait, both of—”

“Two, Daniel died because of said backfired experiment and his parents somehow managed to either bring him or his ghost back.”

None of the windows opened. They started for the next room.

“That’s… actually insane. And what do you mean, both their kids?” Tucker stopped for a moment, meeting Sam’s eyes.

“Did something happen to their daughter, too?”

Sam pressed her lips into a thin line. That’s the part rarely anyone knew about the Fenton horrors. Daniel wasn’t their only kid. He certainly wasn’t their only victim.

“I’ll get there,” she replied instead, looking away. “It only gets worse.”

“Christ,” he muttered.

They walked onwards.

“A couple of weeks after that, Daniel disappeared. But in those weeks, the Fentons became obsessive, borderline manic, with ghosts. Their nature, their morality. How to trap them, contain them… kill them.”

They were nearing then end of the hallway, where the last room was.

Tucker shuddered, sporting his own goosebumps.

“I don’t like the way you said that.”

Sam grimaced, sticking close to him once more.

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad. What’s worse, the Fentons called off the search party after just one night. They claimed they didn’t want false hope, they just wanted to lay their son to rest. They buried an empty casket, and Daniel hadn’t even been missing three full days.”

Her voice was hollow.

“Shit. They…”

“Killed their own son because they were convinced he was a ghost? Most likely,” she said bitterly. As far as true crime went, Amity Park’s dark secret was the worst she’s ever read.

Neither said a word. For one long minute, intentionally or not, they remained quiet, mulling over the terror a kid must feel when they realize their own parents saw them as something to be killed. And to think, they were standing in the house where it happened. Where two parents killed their son. Allegedly.

And their daughter…

As if reading her mind, Tucker quietly asked, “What about the girl? It gets worse doesn’t it?”

Sam swallowed, her mouth dry and throat sore.

“They—” she sighed. “After their son ‘becoming a ghost’, they got paranoid. Extremely so. If one of their kids was a ghost… They couldn’t stand the idea of having an imposter in their own home. There were reports of screams two nights after the funeral. Like, really awful screaming that went on for nearly an hour, I think. Authorities broke into the house after multiple calls to find the Fentons in the basement and their daughter on a table just… cut open. She died before the paramedics could get to her.”

Again, neither said another word. Sam wished she’d run faster. Hit Dash harder. This house was tainted in blood and betrayal.

Tucker clutched at his chest and Sam realized his breathing was short and sparse. Crap.

“Tucker—”

“I fucking,” he gasped, trying to catch his breath. “Hate that we’re here. We’re trapped in like they were, but they— Fuck, they were kids. Their kids. Who does that.”

“Tucker, breathe,” Sam insisted lowly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He nodded, but only got a few gasps of air.

“I’ve been t-trying to hold it together but I just can’t— what if we can’t find a way out. What if we die here.”

“We’re not gonna die here,” she stated fiercely despite being unsure of it herself. “If the windows are a no go then we’ll just find a way to deactivate the security system, okay? We’ll be fine.”

Tucker nodded again, quiet.

It took another few minutes until he finally got his breathing under control. Sam squeezed his arm comfortingly, giving him a small smile. They’ll make it.

He returned the smile without a word and turned to the last room. They had windows to check.

She suspected it was Daniel’s room. It was the only one they hadn’t seen yet. Tucker tried to turn the knob but it didn’t budge. She frowned. Weird… thinking about it, all the other rooms had been wide open.

“Rusted?”

Tucker shook his head, shaking off another involuntary shudder. Sam suppressed her own. It was getting colder again. Tucker tried again to open it. No dice. The knob wasn’t budging. He let go of it, hissing through his teeth as he rubbed his hands together.

“The metal is freezing. It, uh, must be something with the heating.”

Sam gave it a try and immediately drew her hand back. Freezing was an understatement. A second longer and she would’ve gotten the world’s worst case of freezer burn.

“Tucker, I don’t think we’re allowed to go in this room,” she whispered, hugging herself to keep warm.

He gave her a look like she was crazy.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That’s Daniel Fenton’s room. All the other rooms were open but this one—”

“—is locked.”

“No. Look at the handle. There’s literal frost on it. There was frost on the mirror in the other room, too. I think—”

“If you say ghost.”

Sam glared at him.

“After everything I told you. Scratch that, haven’t you been feeling all the weird stuff in this house? The creaking, the frankly extreme cold spots, the fucking creepy green light!”

Tucker’s eyes went wide at that, mouth dropping open.

“I-I didn’t think you could see them. But that— that doesn’t mean—”

The house gave a violent creak, causing the floor to rumble threateningly. The temperature dropped drastically, covering the entire hallway in a light frost.

Sam’s teeth immediately started chattering from the cold.

“This is too much,” Tucker whispers, that underlying panic settling back in.

Impossibly, finally finally finally, they both saw the green flash at the other end of the hallway, flickering desperately before disappearing.

“Tuck,” Sam let out, mesmerized, overtaken by the overwhelming urge to follow that light. An itch she had to scratch, to claw at until it broke open. “He’s here.”

She didn’t know how she knew that, but she’s never spoken truer words. This she knew with absolute certainty.

“Sam.”

He was struggling not to fall for the light, but he couldn’t ignore this forever. Sam thought he’d be an idiot to do so.

She moved forward without another word. Shortly, she heard Tucker follow after.

When they reached the stairs, another flash of light burst to life at the landing, flickering that desperate staccato.

They continued to quietly follow the light wherever it appeared. It led them down the hallway of missing picture frames. Sam clutched the picture in her pocket. They reached a closed door. It was colder in this area, but the door knob was warm. It opened easily to reveal stairs to a basement showered in white fluorescent lights.

They went down the stairs with no hesitation, following that green light that was growing more and more desperate with each step they took. At the bottom, they were greeted by an empty expanse of white floor.

There were various metal tables, but all devoid of any machines or materials that one would expect in a lab. Because no doubt that’s what this basement was. There were discarded cords and metal scraps scattered across the room. But most notably, there was a large, round arch-like structure at the center of the furthermost wall. It was huge, its top scraping the basement ceiling. It had an indent, with two metal panels that interlocked in the center. As if it were a… door.

“Sam… is that—”

“Tucker, look.”

The little flash of green stopped by a blue button on the wall. It flickered swiftly, faster than any of the other times before it went out entirely.

They stayed there, standing, for a moment.

“Are we… are we about to find a dead kid’s twenty-year-old decayed corpse?”

Sam nodded shakily, not believing it either.

“I think so.”

They still didn’t move. God, it was so cold. She couldn’t feel her fingertips.

“What if something happens to us?”

“The thought crossed my mind.”

Two dead people found in the house during its abandonment. Three missing.

“And?”

She looked back at him, a soft smile edging its way onto her face.

“He deserves to rest. Doesn’t he?”

Tucker glanced between the blue button and the closed, arch-like door. Determination set into his features. He nodded.

They went towards the button. Tucker settled his hand over it first, Sam placing her hand over his. Their eyes met.

“This had to have been the world’s worst nap.”

Sam snorted and pressed his hand onto the button. The technology down here must be in better conditions because the effect was instantaneous. Concrete scraped against concrete as a rectangular hole opened up in the center of the lab.

From where they were, they could see it. A homemade metal casket that weirdly resembled more of an iron maiden. They found him. Daniel Fenton. He could finally, truly rest.

That’s when the pounding began.

Sam and Tucker turned to each other in horror. She felt a visceral tug in her gut she nearly threw up then and there. Instead she ran to the metal casket, dropping to the ground halfway there so she slid across the floor. The pounding grew louder, and it was definitely coming from inside. Tucker was frozen stuck by the button.

It only gets worse.

A faint sound, behind all the pounding. Sam leaned closer, listening. Her stomach dropped. Her head snapped towards Tucker, eyes a desperate frenzy.

“He’s crying. He- He’s still- o-oh my g- Tucker, help me get him out!”

This broke him out of his horrified stupor and he kneeled on the ground next to her. His hands were shaking.

“What do we do? What do we do?”

“Fuck, idunnoidunno- uh, grab, shit, shit, go to the other side. Maybe we can lift the lid.”

Stumbling, trembling, Tucker did as he was told and crawled to the other side. But he saw what was on the lid. Fuck.

“There’s a lick. Sam, it’s locked.”

She looked back up at him on the verge of tears.

“What! No, no it can’t be- it—”

“Just, hold on. I’m gonna go back upstairs. Maybe there’s something we can use. I’ll be back, I promise.”

She got the feeling he wasn’t really talking to her. The pounding quieted down but there was a muffled sound. A strained whimper.

“Shit,” Tucker whispered before running out and up the stairs.

Sam sniffled and laid a hand in on the biting cold metal of the casket.

“We’re gonna get you out,” she whispered, wiping at the tears streaming uncontrollably down her face. “I don’t really understand how this is even possible, but we’re not gonna leave you here.”

There wasn’t a response. Not a whimper or a knock. She was gripped by the fear that maybe they were too late. Twenty years buried and they were five minutes too late.

Tucker came stomping down the stairs, taking two at a time. She looked up to see he had an honest-to-god metal bat in his hands. Fully intact and not rusted at all. His hat was askew and his eyes seemed wild.

“He- he helped me find it. Nearly ran all over the house,” he said, panting heavily.

“Hurry up and break it,” she begged, not bothering to disguise the desperation in her voice.

Without another word, Tucker aimed the thicker end of the bat downwards and plunged it against the lock.

It broke apart with a resound clang.

“Help me with—”

But Sam was already crossing to where he was. Kneeling, side by side, they gripped the edges of the casket and lifted. A cloud of freezing cold air puffed up, obscuring their vision for a few seconds. They couldn’t see if they really did save a boy’s life, or if it was just his corpse playing tricks on them. But they heard heavy breathing coming from rattling lungs and not from either of them.

They’d both been holding their breaths.

The cloud dispersed. In front of them lay a young boy with matted white hair, brilliant green eyes drowning in tears and a grotesque muzzle caked from within with old and fresh blood. Metal clinked against metal. His wrists were chained to the casket. His knees scraped and bloodied from banging on the lid.

Tucker immediately removed the muzzle, which thankfully wasn’t locked. Sam’s heart broke. Shattered. The boy’s cheeks were caked, blanketed, with that same mixture of blood, his lips horribly scarred.

He sobbed, screwing his eyes shut against the bright lights.

“Thank you,” he rasped. His voice scraped against his throat.

Tucker and Sam held his hand. They cried with him.

“You’re safe with us.”

He always would be.

#ectoberweek2023 #day 25 #danny phantom #shit’s insane #i wrote this in one night #yes instead of sleeping #it ran away from me so quick #i wrote like a beast POSSESSED #when i tell you this story had me in a choke hold #there’s a lot of fenton lore for this one in my head in true crime format #i think said format really adds to the horreur~ of it all #things that didnt make it into the story: sam’s witchiness #she’s studying to be a green witch #tucker is the classic nerd #can you tell i tried to stick to the early 2000s vibes? pls tell me you can #alsoalso can you spot the teensy super tiny monster high reference #i couldnt help myself #badass Sam Manson #i love her #posted a little late but hope that’s okay #sorry for any grammar errors im pretty tired dkdj #tucker foley #he just wants a friend pls #i genuinely like how their personalities came out in this one #will o' the wisp #buried alive #infinite constant: the trio will always find each other

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miss-celestia13 · 10 months

Text

Strangeness and Charm

DanxOFMC First Date One Shot

Words: 5.3k

Three months after the events in the mine, Imogen has moved to Colville and is determined to find out of the thing growing between her and Dan is something real or imagined. A dark theater, a row to themselves, and Dan's surprisingly gentle disposition leave her head spinning.

I started this a year ago and finally got around to finishing it. It is sickly sweet. Tooth-rotting fluff and romance. Just tried to capture something light and lovely. Tension, soft looks and touches as they watch the stars and open themselves up to the possibility of more. I hope you enjoy it!

Imogen

Imogen paced the pavement outside her house, counting the cracks in the concrete repeatedly until her mind spun with numbers, and it shut up that voice yelling that this was a stupid idea. It had been three months since the events of the case had come to a fiery end—three months of healing and breaking and bleeding. Most nights, she awoke to gasp for air, sweat trickling down her neck as she clutched at damp bedsheets in a vain attempt to keep her tethered to the here and now. She was getting there, though. It was easier every day to ignore the flashes that crossed her mind whenever something reminded her of those dark days.

Tonight she was meeting the one person she’d never stopped thinking about. Not even while she’d been interrogated for hours on end, FBI agents screaming in her face as she refused to give up Jake’s location. Not that she knew it. Nobody did. And he had vanished like the phantom he had to become to stay free of the twisted justice system of their country. Jake hadn’t been in touch with anyone since, and she missed him in an odd way. She had thought there was something between them in the midst of fire and blood. Still, it had turned out their situation had created a false sense of urgent emotions that had dissipated the moment Hannah was saved. They’d parted as friends and had made no promises to see or hear from one another again. And she was good with that.

The betrayal of one of their own was a poison that had yet to be sucked from shared wounds. None of them would be the same again, and Imogen thought that was good. After all, their secrets and lies had caused the entire mess; maybe now they’d communicate before hell could rain again. She’d barely spoken to them since. Lilly and Jessy had made the most effort, but Imogen was the type to let people breathe and reach out when they were ready. So far, that day hadn’t come, and it stung her after all she’d done to help, but she didn’t blame them for not wanting to speak with a living ghost reminding them of their darkest times.

Then there was Dan. His abrasive nature had been offputting and irritating. Until that hard shell had cracked like an egg, and he’d shared a piece of his heart with her, and she’d seen him for what he really was. A golden soul with a heart of sunlight that he protected with barbed words and bristled skin. They’d tentatively made plans that last day and kept in touch while her friends put their lives back together. She had initially hated that it was Dan who had reached out. Thought he was brash and combative in those early days but had soon learned that he felt and saw more than he let on. He found it challenging to deal with. He’d been trying with her over these long months they’d spoken daily over text or video calls. Planning for this night.

A first date always brings up a myriad of emotions. Nervous anticipation led the charge, a sparkle of fireflies in her belly each time she thought about seeing him, and delicate hope was the most giddy-making of them all. It was the cause of the sparkling energy currently causing mayhem in her stomach each time she imagined the many different ways this night could end. That feeling of weightlessness blended with a tang of fear had haunted her throughout the long day. She swore the clocks had rallied against her. Each time she looked, they had barely moved. The day had gone smoothly despite it ebbing like thick treacle, and the sunny weather helped boost her optimism, as had all her preparations for the date. She took that as a good omen. Her days usually were a test of endurance and fortitude. She tried to picture it in her mind; Dan reaching for her hand, his shock at her newly dyed purple hair, and she could already hear him asking if she wanted butter on her popcorn. His voice had slowly become a lullaby these past few months, soothing her and making her laugh whenever he spotted the shadows swimming in her eyes. Her dearest hope was he would remain her friend if this failed and they didn’t click.

Imogen loved and hated horror movies in equal measure. She loved being terrified after the scare was over, the giddy rush of adrenaline as you realized you were safe, and laughed at your own stupidity. He hadn’t mentioned if they were watching something scary, only telling her he was holding her to their deal. Dan was on his way to pick her up since only she moved to Colville last month and hadn’t gotten a car yet. The early evening sun beat down on her bare shoulders, the sundress she wore insubstantial as it frothed in the breeze. She was overdressed, but she had wanted Dan to see her as she was and not the terrified creature she had been for the past three months.

Her heart was a hummingbird in her chest, fluttering wings grazing her ribs every time a car slowed as it passed her. He was a few minutes late, but traffic was always bad at this time of day. The heavy satchel she’d stuffed with toiletries and a change of clothes slapped against her thighs as she continued her pointless pacing. It was presumptuous to assume she would spend the night after they left the movie theatre, but she liked to be prepared. She was reaching into her dress pocket for her cell phone when a car horn blared too close. She jumped a foot in the air, whirling with a hand pressed to her chest to see a black Mustang purring at the edge of the pavement. A shy smile curved her mouth as Dan leaned over to open the passenger side door for her. Another car waited impatiently behind him as she scurried over and clumsily got in.

Her eyes raked over him hungrily. He’d hit the gym hard after everything, and it showed. All hard lines and lovely muscle, his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow as he drove off with one hand on the wheel. His hair was much shorter now. She had loved the long hair, but it had looked scraggly a few days before, and he hadn’t video called her since that day. It warmed her to know how much effort he’d put in, and the new hair color and makeup she donned didn’t feel as frivolous now. He wore black sunglasses, effortlessly cool as he smiled softly at her, and she itched to scratch her nails through the scruff of his beard.

“Hello, stranger,” he chuckled in a deep voice when all they did was steal glances at each other every time he hit a red light.

“This feels weird, right?” She laughed after a long moment, making Dan grin.

“It does, but who said weird had to be wrong?” He returned, and she shook her head, smiling as she looked out her window.

She could feel his eyes on her every now and again. A flash of heat crept up her neck and colored in her cheeks when she met his sparkling gaze. Her body felt as if someone had replaced her blood with fizz. She might have floated away if she hadn’t been strapped into her seat. He chatted about mundane things, his usual sense of humor was restrained for now, and her heart grew gossamer wings as she understood he was nervous. Dan. Was nervous. That seemed absolutely ridiculous to Imogen as the man had no shame, and his brash attitude was part of why she started falling for him.

It wasn’t until they were well into the drive that she broke the easy silence. Her mind was abuzz like a swarm of bees had taken it over to build a new hive inside the dark of her brain.

“So… what movie are we seeing?”

Dan flashed her a Cheshire Cat grin, eyebrows waggling as he replied, “Well, you said you liked being scared. But I didn’t want to frighten you off on the first date… kinda hoping for a second one.”

He winked playfully, and she couldn’t help the shocked laugh that burst out of her.

“What did you pick? If there are spiders, I can’t watch it.” She warned, teasing him, and he shook his head.

“No! It actually looks funny more than anything. M3GAN? Have you heard of it?”

Frowning, she reflected on the things she’d seen and couldn’t stop the thought that reminded her that her whole life had been a horror movie for months. She did not remember if she had stumbled across a trailer or something for it.

“I don’t think so. What is it about?”

“Ahh, it’s better it stays a mystery. I want to see your face when she’s on screen.” He joked, making her giggle and play with the ends of her hair.

“I swear, if it’s anything gross, you will pay my next therapy bill.” She laughed. Dan’s undignified snort only intensified her joy.

“Deal. We’re here,” he said gently, and she was startled, suddenly realizing they were parked behind the movie theatre, and she hadn’t even noticed the car had stopped.

She hurriedly unbuckled her belt and reached for the door handle. Dan’s voice stopped her from opening it.

“Wait, you can’t deprive me of my gentleman routine!”

Chuckling, she smirked and said, “Gentleman? Come on, Dan, we both know you’re far from that.”

He exaggeratedly gasped, clutching at his chest while she tried to hold in a stupid giggle.

“You wound me, Genna! I am a sophisticated man who knows how to treat a woman.”

“My apologies, Daniel. Go on, treat me like a lady.” She teased to make his lovely eyes twinkle. The pleasure of his nickname for her still made her chest glow.

Watching as he got out and walked around the hood of the car, she bit down on her lip to restrain her joyous smile, trying to break free, and quickly failed as he opened her door with a flourish. He held out his hand, head bowed and watching through a fan of thick lashes as she took it. Tingling like a thousand tiny creatures crawling up her arm as their skin connected, the fireflies in her stomach took flight again as he helped pull her out of the low car. Her cheeks were stained pink, and a delightful warm flush crept up her neck, yet she felt utterly at ease with this man. He had seen her at her worst. Her most desperate moments had been spent with his face on her phone screen, and she had done the same for him. There was nothing to hide as she tipped her head back to meet his eye.

“Thank you, sir,” She joked as he closed the door and locked the car.

He chuckled, voice dry as dust as he said, “Sir? I’ve been called many things, never that.”

“Let me guess, uncouth, cheeky, strange... should I go on?”

He winked and slung her arm around her shoulders as they approached the ticket booth.

“You missed mouthy, obnoxious, and charming!” He chirped, making her look away to hide the smile hurting her cheeks.

He quickly bought their tickets, dropping his arm to hold the theatre door open for her and ignoring her arched brow as he fell into step beside her, and they headed for the concessions stand. Scanning the menus, her stomach grumbled. She hadn’t been able to eat much that day. Too excited and nervous, she’d forgotten that food was a necessity as time finally grew legs and tried to outrun her. Dan heard and ordered the most enormous bucket of popcorn they had, more of a trashcan, really, smothered in butter, and she added nachos and chocolate to the order once he had gotten them drinks. Carrying it all was the biggest challenge. Hot plastic cheese, cheap salsa, and jalapenos tickled her nose as he opened the screen door and let her choose the seats.

The room was chilly, the air conditioner working overtime as the bodies filling the theatre raised the temperature. It wasn’t full yet, but almost there as she climbed the darkened stairs, desperately praying she wouldn’t trip as she spied an empty row near the back. Glancing back to ensure Dan followed, she guided him into the middle of the row and plopped down. The previews started as Dan handed her a drink, and he settled in beside her. The dim lights went off, sounds of explosions, some hero rallying their team to defeat the enemy, and the quiet murmurs of people chatting about which movie they’d see next filled her ears as static skittered over her skin. His arm had come up beside hers, barely touching her, but she felt it like a shock each time he shifted, and his skin brushed hers. The hair on her arm stood straight as he did it again, and she wasn’t entirely sure if he meant it.

By the time the movie started, she had run through a hundred scenarios and questions, wondering how the date would end and if he’d make a move. Would he do it here? Taste like popcorn and syrupy sweet Dr. Pepper? She wasn’t sure, couldn’t plan for it, and didn’t want to. They shared the popcorn, blindly reaching for handfuls, jolting each time their hands met, and shyly smiling at each other. It was driving her mad in the best way. She took a deep pull of her drink to wash the saltiness away as the titular character appeared on the screen. She almost sprayed Pepsi out of her nose. Dan was grinning as she turned to him and shook her head.

“That’s the reaction I hoped for,” He had leaned in so close his warm breath ghosted down her neck, and she suppressed a shiver even as she smiled.

“I’m glad you find me amusing,” She laughed, ignoring the tremor in her hand as she rested her arm beside his again. He hooked his pinky around his almost absentmindedly. He watched her, though, like he was ensuring she was okay with it. The world might not see it, but Dan was sweet, and she would fight anyone that said otherwise.

It went on like that. Tension swirled and grew more palpable as the evil doll robot thing murdered everyone that displeased her owner. It was a current under and over her skin, electric and vivid, like she had finally awoken from a months-long sleep, and the world had returned to full, screaming color. The small touches lingered longer, hands reluctantly parting and shifting imperceptibly closer to each other. She wanted to rest her head on his shoulder and see what he would do if she did. Just do it. He clearly likes you! Stop overthinking it. She chanted it over and over in her mind but slumped down in her chair as courage failed her, and the voice in her head called her a coward.

Eyes glued to the screen, she tried to ignore the melancholy trying to creep into her heart at her inability to make a move. Dan either sensed it or had been having a similar internal battle. She managed not to jump out of her skin as his arm wound around her shoulders, fingers tapping the bare skin of her shoulder, scattering goosebumps down her arm as she turned to find him gazing at her with a question in his eyes. Is this okay? And she melted as she nodded and relaxed into it, finally giving in to the urge to rest her now silent head on his broad shoulder. She felt as if her blood had been replaced with helium, and she was at severe risk of floating away as he squeezed her gently.

The empty nachos tray lay at their feet, and the popcorn bucket was almost done, too, as Dan set it down on the open seat beside him, and every inch of her was alert as he settled back down. The weight of his eyes on her was heavier than his arm, and she couldn’t shake it off. He paid more attention to her than to the movie. Every time blood was spilled or that freaky robot danced, his eyes were on her to see her reaction. Her cheeks were aflame, hands trembling as she fidgeted with the skirt of her dress and tried to hide how pleased she was, but it was impossible. It was almost hard to breathe. Each little movement had them rubbing together. His breath ruffled her loose hair, and the heat coming from him was close to scalding, keeping the chill in the theater well at bay. She was dizzy, excited, and terrified all at once.

Whatever cologne he wore sent her thoughts down steamy, dark paths. Slightly spicy, woody with a hint of musk and clean skin. It was addictive, and she found herself sneakily inhaling deeply whenever she felt his attention stray from her. She wanted to brand it into her lungs and imprint it on her memory so she never forgot it. Time was a cruel mistress. It loved to drag out the boring parts, the waiting. But when it came time to indulge in the things she’d wanted for months, it slipped through her hands like she was trying to catch smoke. Neither moved as the credits rolled, enjoying the darkness and closeness as the other patrons left in a slow drip. Colville had never felt like home; she had believed it wouldn’t ever feel like hers. But in that dim room, the scent of him, his whisky eyes locked on her blue ones, she could feel the last three months of displacement and anxiety slowly slide free of her body.

There was an invisible thread between them. A magnetic force that drew them closer, mouths inches apart before they were aware of moving. Her lips tingled as she licked her bottom lip, and he followed the action. She went very still as he seemed to come to a decision and moved to eliminate those last inches just as the lights came on and the door slammed shut, indicating everyone else had left. They sprang apart as if lightning struck them as the usher tidied up for the next showing. Shaking hands and black internal curses at this stranger for interrupting their moment were all she knew as they hurried out. Dan burst out laughing as he held the main door open for her, and they skipped out into a beautiful summer’s night.

A plush blanket of stars glimmered overhead as he took her hand, threading their fingers together and slowing her to a casual stroll. They ambled toward the car park, taking their time as they chatted and joked.

“Your face... I wish I had taken a photo. I want it as your contact pic.” He said as she nudged him with her elbow.

Her fingers were fizzing between his, the innocent contact sending sparks flying up her arm and into her chest.

“It was funny, not scary... Though I’m sure my nightmares will now consist of that thing dancing down the hall to kill me.” She retorted as they waited to cross the busy road.

“Yeah, it made me want to climb out of my skin. Creepy.” He laughed as his hand tightened around hers, and they crossed the street.

Her heart rate was more appropriate for a life-threatening situation, not a first date, as they entered the parking lot, and his car came into view. She didn’t want to end it yet. Wanted to talk with him for hours and then do it some more when the sun came up. His steps had slowed almost to a crawl, and it made her feel brave that he was reluctant to end the night too. She smiled as he let go of her hand long enough to open the car door for her, waiting patiently for her to get in, but she paused in front of him, making him toss her a questioning look as she took a deep breath. He was much taller and bigger than her. Indeed, he was a bear of a man, and she had to push up on her tiptoes, tentatively laying a hand on his hard chest as she brushed a tender kiss onto his bristly cheek.

It was meant as a chaste, quick peck to thank him and show him she was open to more than friendship. His reaction was beautiful. She had never imagined Dan Anderson could blush! But roses were definitely blooming in his cheeks, and he moved mechanically once she’d belted herself in, closing her door and marching around to get in his side. Neither spoke until he’d pulled out of the lot and merged with the traffic. The radio played softly, an old rock song she remembered her parents singing along to the last time she’d visited them. Every glance they shared was charged by indecision and reluctance to end their lovely evening. She was tired of denying herself good things, and she thought he might be too, so she dredged up as much confidence as she could gather and offered him a way to extend their night.

“If you take a left just up here and follow it for a few miles, we can sit at this quiet spot near the docks and see if we can catch any falling stars.”

“What the lady wants...” He jested, making her giggle like a schoolgirl with her first crush.

The spot was quiet, a small hidden cove not many knew about, and she often walked there during her many sleepless nights to watch the sun recolor the world once the moon had turned into its watery bed. It was peaceful and calming, and hardly anyone went there as there was no beach to play on. The sky looked like fine art on the best nights. Sometimes, she felt that each masterful stroke of shadow and brush of light across the endless sky had been done purely for her eyes. She hadn’t told anyone else about this place and crossed her fingers that he would like it too. Her breath was tight in her chest as he took the left turn and coasted down the tarmac while she told him where he could park. Too soon, they reached their destination, and she had to fight not to hold her breath as he stopped the car and stared through the windshield at the water rippling endlessly before them.

“We can sit inside, but it’s better outside,” She nudged when he remained quiet long enough that she was starting to feel the urge to pick at her nails again.

“Come on then, Genna show me; it is your spot after all,” He said after shaking out of whatever was holding him captive.

She searched his face for any sign of turmoil or regret, found none, and relaxed slightly as he helped her again.

The salt-coated wind on her face, brine, and a clean freshness perfumed the air, and she breathed it in deeply, quickly calming down now she was in familiar territory. Her nightmares usually chased her here. Many tears had dried on her cheeks as she stared longingly at the sky, begging for a reprieve from the terror. She wanted to replace all that with something good, something fragile and full of glittering hope as they perched on the hood of his car. He didn’t hesitate this time. His arm wound around her waist and tugged her into his side as she followed his lead, arm wrapped around his hips and hooked her thumb through his belt loop. Her feet didn’t touch the ground, kicking carelessly as they enjoyed the peace. So many words were crawling up her throat, begging to be given life and sound; she was tired of holding them in.

“Thank you,” She whispered, “Not just for tonight, but for everything. You didn’t have to be there every night and day.”

“I didn’t, but I wanted to be. You don’t need to say thank you. You did the same for me.” He replied just as quietly, uncharacteristically somber for him.

“I don’t need to, but I wanted to.” She said, lifting her head to meet his eye as he smiled at her.

“I accept your gratitude, my lady,”

She snorted and poked him in the side, delighting in his false shout of pain before he laughed and kissed the crown of her head.

“Just so you know, those nights you struggled? I was struggling too. I needed you just as much as you needed me. I hope you know that,” He confessed in a murmur, serious and utterly free of his usual snark. It touched her, and she felt like she’d been dipped into a hot bath. The cold night didn’t bother her as they basked in silent comfort, speaking and joking when something popped into their heads. She couldn’t remember a time she had been able to indulge in those silences borne between two people who understood each other and did not need to voice everything that came to them. It wasn’t something she had thought Dan was capable of, but he kept surprising her. His fingers drew patterns over her dress, making her shiver and lean into him.

Soon, they lay back on the car, she mourned the loss of his touch for a split second, but he immediately grabbed her hand as they got comfortable. They stole glances at each other through their periphery as they watched nature’s finest show in the sky above them. His thumb made slow circles on her hand. An incredible prickling sensation moved in the wake of it, and she shifted closer until their heads and legs touched too. Contentment was a rare thing for her. She always found some way to sabotage it or deny it. Still, she felt it then under the melody of stars and the crash of the waves, and her heart was the drumbeat to the song her mind composed in honor of it.

“Did you tell anyone you were meeting me tonight?” She asked after a long while just to hear him speak.

“Thomas and Jessy. They’re both too happy about it, and Jessy demands that you visit her soon.”

Forcing a laugh for none had reached out to invite her or check on her, she said, “Tell her I will come soon... How are they all?”

Dan caught the shift in her mood but understood she didn’t want to poke at that wound.

“They’re okay. Some are worse than others, but they’re better than they were... It’s still weird, though.” He said, and she nodded, understanding they might never be okay again.

“Maybe one day this will all just be a memory that doesn’t hurt anymore.” She muttered, hoping it would come true as a star streaked across the sky, and Dan instantly pointed at it.

“What do I wish for?” He said with a wide grin, turning to her as if she held every answer to every question he’d ever had.

“Whatever you want, it has to be yours.” She teased as he gave her a resolute nod and took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second as the star vanished.

When he looked at her again, she couldn’t stop her nosiness, “What did you wish for?”

Dan shook his head, “Can’t tell you. Then it won’t come true.”

“If you tell me, maybe I can make sure it does,” She chuckled, eyes locked on his rugged face as his gaze dipped between her mouth and a spot over her head.

She thought he would ignore her, change the subject or make a joke. He didn’t.

“Or I can make it come true myself.” He said in a voice that wavered as her body went loose and tight, her hummingbird heart out of control as she nodded without any idea what she agreed to.

It didn’t really matter. Not as he moved so close, her vision doubled. All she could see, feel, and smell was him. Electricity sparked under her skin as he let go of her hand to cup her face, tilting her head so gently it made her want to cry. He was careful and slow, giving her time to back away or turn him down. Instead, she gave in to the need to scratch his bristled jaw and wordlessly handed him the consent he sought. Her pulse flickered in her throat, breath quickening along with it, the rush of blood in her ears as time stretched out and the world around her faded until there was only Dan. Supple lips on hers, delectable and plush as he tested the waters, and she let go of the breath she was holding. He made a sound then like a leash snapping as he grew more insistent and brave. The scratch of his whiskers, the heat of his body, and his big hand dragging her closer chased away any doubts still flittering about her overthinking mind.

He tasted like sugar and salt, sweet with a bite as she opened for him, and his tongue swept inside to tangle with hers. It felt like discovering something new and coming home all at once. Unfamiliar but somehow fitting her perfectly as she mapped the shape of his lips, his hand dropped to her hip to pull them flush together. It was a clumsy kiss that soon turned into something so sweet and profound that she felt her nerves melt away as her body slackened and the tremor in her hands stilled. Her fingers were in his silken hair, trying to pull him closer in as her greedy lips opened wider, and she nipped at his plump bottom lip to feel him smile. His very male scent in her nose was so enticing she sighed and let herself enjoy being soundly kissed for the first time in years.

Their lips tasting each other, their roaming hands, and the scrape of his beard on her flushed, sensitive skin was all she ever wanted to feel. She felt free, a little wild, and wanted, and it was a gift beyond price as he taught her a secret language that needed no sound or words but their panting breath shared between two lungs. In all her imaginings, she had never come close. She had expected roughness, grasping hands, and a demanding mouth from him. He held her like she was made of fine glass, reverent, and like she was something he never wanted to break. It made her heart quiver and jump as they kissed. Heat cascaded through her chest and banished the frosty layer that had protected her during these past months of painful healing. The weight of it had been crushing, and now it was gone.

Magic. She had never believed in it before. But there, on the hood of his car under the stars, she felt it ignite in her veins as he broke the kiss to stare into her eyes, and she knew his world had just tilted upside down too. All they thought they knew was now gone, and something new was ready to bloom. If they were brave enough to take it, they could grow like ivy, out of control and all over each other. Was she prepared for that? She didn’t think anyone was ever truly ready to change their lives to include another. So, instead of overthinking and writing a thousand speeches, she would never say out loud, she was tired of playing it safe. Imogen took a deep breath and jumped.

“Your place or mine? I’ll pay for breakfast.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I may or may not write another part. I haven't decided. I wanted to write something romance-focused without smut to see if I could. Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed it, I'd love to know! :-)

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