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wraithlafitte · 2 days

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even it up

pairing: dean winchester x f!reader

CONTENT: violence (hunting), graphic descriptions of injuries and repairing them, SMUT, unprotected piv, dean might have a pain kink (or a competency kink), praise (m!receiving), blowjob, riding, (reckless) choking, edging (m!receiving), begging, biting, overstimulation

word count: 4.7k

a/n: part 2 to bitchin'. sorry it took so long! i got busy with schoolwork, but the semester's almost up so we'll be back to our regularly scheduled programming soon. thanks for your patience!

Silence filled the rental car as you and Dean drove to the location you'd tracked the missing vampires to. You had woken up tangled together, naked, dried bodily fluids a stark reminder of how far you'd fallen. You hadn't said a word to him all morning, and even Dean was devoid of his usual quips. At least you seemed to agree: last night was a mistake, and shouldn't happen again.

You parked the car in an unmarked, cracked parking lot a few blocks away from the abandoned house. Dean was out the door before you pulled the key from the ignition, rushing to the trunk to grab his weapons. You sighed and went after him, slamming the door behind you.

You stopped to the side of the trunk. "Dean."

"What," came his gruff reply from under the trunk lid. The sparse weeds growing through the pavement were suddenly very interesting.

"We should talk-"

Dean slammed the lid of the trunk, causing you to jump, and tossed you a machete, which you caught easily despite being startled.

"Let's just get the job done," he said, his face hard and unyielding as he made eye contact with you.

You looked away quickly, avoiding his stony gaze. "Fine," you mumbled. Those weeds sure were growing. Kind of how Dean had started to grow on you... persistent, despite the unforgiving terrain.

Shaking your head, you fell into step behind Dean as he started walking down the uneven sidewalk.

Your hands were deft as you picked the lock of the back door to the old, peeling green house. All the windows were boarded up, so you had no idea what was waiting for you directly behind this door, but if there was one thing you could count on, it's that if something did charge you, Dean would chop its head off. Not necessarily because he wanted to save you, but because he liked killing monsters. And you had a feeling that he had some anger he might want to take out on something deserving.

The lock finally clicked and you pushed the door open cautiously. It opened into a dirty mudroom, scattered with shoes and coats of all sizes and styles. Your stomach turned as you realized they must have belonged to victims.

Dean noticed it too. "Let's go," he said grimly and pushed past you into the building, machete held high.

You picked up your own machete from the ground where you had set it to pick the lock and followed Dean. He was quick, peeking past corners before whipping around and advancing down the hallways, pressed flat against the wall. You were less... dramatic about your caution, choosing to let him clear the way.

Dean stopped suddenly and threw an arm back, stopping you in place. For a second, you were distracted by the way his hand pressed back against you, fingers almost curling around your shirt, touching but not quite. A breeze through a broken window sent a wave of his Old Spice scent in your direction that almost overtook you. Then you came to your senses and slapped his hand away.

You peered past him to see what it was. You had come across a bedroom, in which three vampires were snoring away unwittingly. You recognized them from the warehouse.

Dean looked back at you and nodded, creeping into the room. You each went to a side of the bed and made eye contact over the sleeping monsters in front of you.

One, Dean mouthed, raising his blade.

Two, and you followed suit.

Three, and both of you swung. The blood of two vampires splattered the white sheets, and the third leapt up immediately, fangs descending. She stood on the bed, ready to pounce on Dean, when you pulled her legs out from under her. The vamp fell to the mattress, where you unceremoniously chopped off its head.

"Nice move," Dean muttered, wiping his blade and already walking towards the door. "Let's clear the rest of the house."

You checked the remaining rooms on the ground floor, while Dean hurried upstairs. You found nothing in the dilapidated rooms except some mice and rotting wood floors.

A loud pounding and scuffling sounded on the ceiling above you, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of metal hitting the floor. You turned and ran up the stairs two at a time.

Dean was locked in hand-to-hand combat with a vamp on the landing, his machete lying some distance away. Blood trickled down his temple. The ornate bronze candlestick the vampire wielded had a matching red stain.

The vampire hooked his beefy arm around Dean's neck and slammed him face first into the wall, shattering the glass on a picture frame that hung there. You seized the opportunity of having his back to you and rushed up behind him, hacking at his neck. Only his neck was so thick and muscular that your blade barely went through a third of it.

The vamp dropped Dean on the ground and slowly turned on you, your machete still stuck in its neck. Your eyes darted to where Dean's machete had fallen, and you scrambled backwards to pick it up, almost tripping on a rug in the process, but successfully retrieving it anyway. You brandished in front of you as you got backed into a corner, your last line of defense.

It had the audacity to laugh at you. "You think that's gonna work?" he taunted, bearing down on you and shadowing you from the meager sunlight coming through a window in an adjacent room.

In your periphery, you saw Dean rising from the ground, eyes fixed on the weapon stuck in the vampire's neck. You suppressed the urge to glance at him fully as he crept up behind the monster. He took hold of the machete handle and yanked.

It was no good. The vamp whirled on him, socking him in the jaw. You saw your chance. Dean was down for the count and the vampire had its back turned again. You ran up and swung with all your might in the opposite direction. The vamp's head rolled.

Dean looked up at you from the ground where he had fallen, panting hard. “You’re welcome,” he breathed heavily.

“For what? I saved your ass,” you reminded him, holding out a hand to help him up.

“If I hadn’t distracted it, you wouldn’t have been able to get it,” he said while standing, obviously trying to repair his ego.

You rolled your eyes and dropped his hand roughly. “Oh please.” You started down the stairs to head back to the car.

“At least we got them all now,” Dean commented, stomping down the stairs behind you.

You ignored him all the way back to the car and all the way back to the hotel as he continued to try to convince you that you hadn’t done all the work.

The sun was setting by the time you got back to the hotel, all shades of red and orange that reminded you of the blood you had spilled today. It reflected off the Impala, parked in front of the side door of the hotel. And it bathed Dean in a warm golden light that bounced off his freckled skin and made him look like he was glowing.

Ew, what am I thinking, you scolded yourself. He's just sweaty. He's a gross, sweaty man who you hate and never want to be intimate with again. He doesn't look sexy at all right now.

You were brought back to earth as Dean winced heavily while hauling his bag out of your trunk to transfer it to his car. His hand went to his ribs, tenderly feeling around for cracks.

"You should come inside so I can check you out," you said without thinking.

Dean looked at you incredulously. "Yeah, I bet you'd love to check me out, but I gotta go."

You rolled your eyes, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "Not what I meant. You're obviously hurt, let me take a look. I can patch you up better than you can yourself."

He threw his bag into the trunk of the Impala and slammed it shut. "Fine. If you'll let me leave after."

You prepared your first aid kit while Dean stripped off his top layers. You could have just gotten what you needed as you went, but you were preparing yourself for seeing him shirtless again... in the same environment that you'd fucked in last night.

You turned around, heart rate picking up. You were just making yourself nervous more than anything. You'd seen him shirtless thousands of times before. It's fine, it's normal.

And there he was.

Half-naked.

Sweaty.

Groaning.

Dean sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed, trying to look down his side, where deep red bruises were already formed. They were accompanied by a gash on his chest, presumably where the vampire's claws had cut into his skin as it tossed him around.

You kneeled in front of him and began examining his ribs, making sure to be gentle as you ran your fingers over each bone. Goosebumps rose on his flesh in the path of your hands. "Well, good news, nothing's broken."

Dean gave a pained sort of grimace-smile. "Great. So I can leave." He made to get up off the bed, but you held down his thighs.

"Not so fast," you said. "Let me fix up that cut."

"It's fine, really, I can do it myself," he protested. He met your determined gaze and slumped back.

"Fine. Make it quick."

You poured some antiseptic on a gauze pad. "This is gonna sting."

"I know, sweetheart, this ain't my first rodeo," Dean griped.

You gave him an expressionless look like I-am-so-done-with-you and pressed the soaked gauze to the cut. Dean hissed through his teeth, fingers tightening into the blanket beneath him. You wiped away the blood and the grime, revealing how deep the cut was.

"I'm gonna have to close this up," you told him. "It's deeper than I thought." You begin rummaging through the first-aid kit for the suture needle you knew was around somewhere. A hunter's first-aid kit was a little more elaborate than most.

You carefully threaded the needle, tongue poking through your lips, then looked up at him. "Ready?"

Dean's expression hardened and he grabbed the t-shirt he had been wearing, wadded up one end, and shoved it in his mouth.

Your brow furrowed in concentration as you wove the needle through his delicate skin, meticulously joining the two sides. You worked as quickly and as steadily as you could, painstakingly making sure to sew him up in a way that wouldn't scar too much. Dean did his best to keep quiet, occasionally grunting in pain, his face scrunching up around the shirt in his mouth.

You reached the end of the cut and adeptly tied off the thread, snipping the loose end off. Dean spat the chunk of t-shirt out of his mouth and tossed it to the side.

You made eye contact for a moment as you covered the wound site with a bandage, then Dean shifted his eyes to the side. "Thanks," he said after a minute.

"You sure you want to go? Why don't you rest one more night before getting on the road?" you asked softly, placing your hand on his knee soothingly. His leg twitched under your hand.

"I should go...." Dean protested half-heartedly, not making any move to get up. Did he want to stay?

"Got somewhere to be, Winchester?" you teased. Testing your theory, you rubbed his thigh a couple times. His eyes fluttered half-closed and he looked at you darkly through his lashes.

"Don't," he murmured, uncharacteristically non-combative. His hand crept around your wrist, holding your hand on his leg.

You looked up at him from your place between his legs. "You say one thing, but do another," you said softly. "What do you want, Dean?"

Dean bit his lip and let go of your hand, clasping his together in his lap and dropping his gaze to them. You waited a beat, then grabbed his hands, pulling them to your chest.

"Look at me, Dean," you commanded. His eyes flew up in surprise. "Tell me what you want."

His expression changed from surprised to irritated to aroused. He grabbed you by the shoulders.

"You."

You grinned and stood up to clamber onto him, leaning down to capture his lips in a kiss, Dean's hands ghosting across your back and legs, helping you into his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him as close as possible as you made out and rolled your hips down onto his hardening cock.

Dean groaned and broke away. "Let me fuck you," he rasped, pupils blown.

A lovely mischievous idea occurred to you. You pouted. "You'll hurt yourself. Let me take care of you." You slid off his lap onto the floor and turned away, pulling your own shirt over your head. "Get comfortable on the bed."

In the fake gold plated mirror on the wall, you saw Dean look you up and down hungrily. Then he quickly stripped the rest of his clothes off and sat against the headboard. You slowly lowered your jeans, then your panties, being as teasing as possible, knowing he was watching.

"Come here," he barked finally. You turned to face him, bra still covering your breasts.

"So demanding," you breathed, but went to him anyway. You sat down on his thighs and looped your arms around his neck again, pulling him in for a kiss, which he swerved in favor of mouthing kisses into your neck and jaw. You moaned a little as he paid attention to a sensitive vein. Your hips almost involuntarily rolled forward, meeting his lower stomach.

His hands, which had just been resting on your thighs, squeezed harshly into the supple flesh of your hips. You yelped as he dug his fingers into the bruises he had left the day before.

"You said you would take care of me," Dean said snarkily, staring pointedly at his cock between you. You smirked and wrapped your hand around its base, admiring the reddening tip. You slowly squeezed your hand up from the base to the tip, and were rewarded with a thick drop of precum leaking out and dripping down the side. Dean huffed, a dark flush spreading across his neck and chest.

You scooted down his legs until your face was level with his crotch. Making teasing eye contact with him, you slowly stuck out your tongue and licked his cock from his balls up, flicking off the tip. Dean growled, his skin and gaze fiery.

"Quit'cher teasing," he slurred, tilting his head back to knock against the headboard.

You found significant pleasure in weakening him, and although you'd have liked to keep teasing him, you wanted to make him come undone. So you took his cock into your mouth, sucking gently on the fat head, savoring the salty taste of him.

"Fuck," Dean whispered, head still back, eyes closed. You swirled your tongue around a few times, then started lowering your head, taking him further and further into your mouth. He reached for your head but you caught his hand and held it down to the bed.

You raised your head, letting his cock fall from your mouth, a string of drool still connecting the two. "Trust me," you said, raising your eyebrow.

"I don't trust you as far as I can throw you," he groaned.

"Don't make me tie you down," you warned. "I will."

"I'd like to see you try- ngh!" You squeezed the base of his cock tightly and watched as it turned red and Dean squirmed beneath you, mouth agape and panting. He truly was a beautiful, lewd sight.

"Mind your stitches," you reminded him gently. "Lie still." You loosened your hold on his cock and began sliding your hand along it languidly.

Dean visibly relaxed, eyes fluttering open. You lowered your mouth back onto his cock, taking him all the way to the back of your throat and swallowing around him. Your eyes watered and stung, but the groan he let out was worth it. You repeated the process a couple more times, then pulled off and looked up at him. He regarded you darkly and lustfully as you grabbed his hand and brought it to the side of your face, allowing him to lace his fingers through your hair and grab a handful.

A handhold.

You nodded slightly and dropped your jaw, mouth waiting above his heavy cock. Dean's mouth slowly grew into a grin.

"Want me to fuck your face, huh? Guess that's one way you can help me out." He shoved your head down onto him. You gagged as his tip hit the back of your throat. "Fucking slut, letting a guy fuck your mouth just 'cuz you feel sorry for him." He began bobbing your head up and down. His grip on your hair made your scalp tingle.

You made a little moan of protest. It turned into the most obscene gurgling, gagging sound as he continued to use you like a human fleshlight.

You gripped his wrist and tugged his hand out of your hair so you could pull off of his cock. You looked at him through narrowed eyes. "I will stop."

"Yeah, right," Dean scoffed, out of breath. "You practically threw yourself on me."

You smirked, moving up to straddle him, and pinned his hand to the headboard. "I think you'll find that, both times, it was the other way around."

Before Dean knew what was happening, you ambushed him with a handcuff snapping around his wrist, the other side looped haphazardly on the bedpost. It didn't matter that it wasn't secure. He didn't have enough leverage to lift it over the tall post and free himself.

While he snarled, distracted, you trapped his other wrist in the same way. You smiled down at him sweetly when his angry face turned to you.

"I did warn you," you said, grinding down on his lap. "But I guess I should've known better than to give you any control. It was always going to come to this, wasn't it?"

"You bitch," Dean said through gritted teeth, straining forward against his restraints.

You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his neck, his jaw, his earlobe. "Just say the word if it's too much."

You felt him relax underneath you, then he nipped at your ear. "How weak do you think I am? Do your worst," he sneered.

You rose above him, triumphant. "Oh, I will, baby." You ground your wet core against his cock, still slick with your spit. He ground his teeth more, trying not to react. You threaded your fingers through his hair and tugged gently.

And oh, how beautiful it was that he let his head loll back, giving himself into your control, eyes fluttering shut. Then he seemed to snap to his senses and he opened his eyes, muttering, "Just ride me already."

"Patience," you whispered, and began kissing him. You kissed down his neck, across his chest (avoiding the stitches), down his stomach through the soft hairs that led back down to his pretty cock, laying on his stomach and leaving droplets of precum like dew in the hairs.

You blew softly across his length as you considered the best way to make him unravel for you. He let out a low groan, quiet and strained. You smiled to yourself and lowered your mouth back onto his cock, running your tongue lightly along the thick vein that ran up its underside, tracing the life-force that pulsated beneath his skin. He huffed softly in quick succession.

"Breathe," you murmured against his dick, and licked the tip gently, slo-o-owly. Dean made a pretty noise that was halfway a grunt and halfway a breathy sigh, and your pussy fluttered between your legs.

You clambered back up his body, your knees framing his waist as you hovered over him. His eyes were completely clouded by lust, an eager expression taking over his face. You took hold of his cock and lined it up with your body. His breath hitched in anticipation.

You cocked your head, smiling. "What do you say?"

Dean scowled. "Fuck you, I'm not begging."

"Oh, but you already have, Dean." You stroke his cock gently where it waits between your legs. "What's one more word?"

His eyes threatened to close against his will. He gritted his teeth, opened his mouth, closed it, sighed, and spoke. "Please," he whispered.

"Good boy," you praised, sinking down onto his cock slowly. You moaned loudly as you felt him fill you up again. It almost felt better now that you were taking your time with him. Dean moaned softly, arms finally relaxing in his bonds.

Your head dipped down and you kissed him. His mouth was soft and pliant against yours, not fighting, not working to dominate, and you had the fleeting thought that you had tamed him. You didn't know how, but in this moment, he was completely submissive. And you liked it.

You raised yourself up and drew off his cock until just the head remained inside, then slid back down slowly, like you had at first. Dean leaned forward, held back somewhat by the cuffs, to suck and press kisses to your breasts. You ground down on him, pressing his cock as far in as it would go until it ached, and your chest vibrated with Dean's responding groan.

"Please move," he begged hoarsely, hips twitching underneath you.

"Since you asked nicely," you breathed. You began rolling your hips against his steadily, watching as his pleasure flickered through his rugged features. It was a stark contrast to last night, when he had been scowling and making quips the entire time as he fucked you into the mattress. This was almost... loving. Or perhaps you were simply providing him a service. You did agree to take care of him, and maybe that's what he needed.

You reached up and unclasped the handcuff on Dean's left hand, somehow trusting that he would not go anywhere. His eyes flew open and his hand was on you like it was a magnet and your hip was the opposite charge. His hand massaged into the flesh of your hip, making a dull ache arise from the bruises of the previous night.

You looked into his eyes as both your moans filled the air. They were wide and asking, and since his hand was gentle on your body, and he had been on such good behavior, you released his other hand as well.

It was like a switch flipped. His right hand darted to your waist and dug in, the hand on your hip tightening as well as he took control of your movement. You yelped and he began pushing you faster, your thighs screaming with effort as you tried to regain control.

"Dean," you gasped, clawing at his shoulders.

He grinned, slamming your hips down on him until you were forced to fall against his shoulder. "You were too slow," he gasped between heavy breaths, the wind rushing from his lungs each time your hips met his.

You managed to push yourself back up, bracing your forearm against his throat. His gasps turned ragged as you cut off his air. His thrusts slowed as you regained control of him.

"Be good," you said harshly, catching your breath and narrowing your gaze. "Only good boys get what they want." Dean scowled as he realized you were parroting his words from the night before.

"Fuck you," he spat hoarsely, voice barely audible from the pressure on his vocal cords. You cocked an eyebrow and leaned a little heavier on his throat. His cock twitched inside you.

Letting up on his throat just enough that he could breathe, you picked yourself up and began fucking yourself on his cock again, this time fully in control as his hands just clutched at your hips. You swear he went bug-eyed at the renewed friction combined with his light-headedness.

You felt pressure build in your core as you watched Dean's face, red and straining, mouth hanging open as he gasped in a desperate bid for a full breath. All that came from his mouth were raspy moans and heaves. He seemed determined not to beg still. You supposed he had been faking before. That wouldn't do.

"Tell me when you're close, baby," you purred in his ear as you began rubbing your clit, the sensation causing you to clench around him tightly. You readjusted the arm on his throat so he could speak.

"I'm close," you continued. "If I come on your cock, can you take it? Or will it be too much?" You pouted in mock pity. Dean was barely listening, eyes rolled back in his head, mouth moving in something that might have been words, if he wasn't so pussy-drunk and oxygen-deprived.

The look on his face finally pushed you over the edge, and you fell on his mouth hungrily as your pussy spasmed around him, eating up his desperate whines and moans as they fell from his lips.

You didn't stop your pace, overstimulating yourself and building another orgasm while Dean... finally broke.

"Please," he gasped hoarsely into your mouth, teeth clashing against yours as he jerked forward, drawn towards you, needing to be closer and closer and closer. "I'm so close."

You smirked down at him and slowed drastically. He was going to feel everything you were subjected to last night. He whined and buried his face in your chest, hips wiggling in an attempt to thrust into you again. "What do you say?"

"I just did," he growled, scraping his teeth over your skin.

"You didn't," you said cheerily. "You know what you need to tell me."

He let out a drawn-out groan followed by what could be considered somewhat of a sob. "Fuck."

"That's not it," you chastised.

Dean gritted his teeth and looked up at you, meeting your gaze. But he couldn't hold it. "I need to come," he whispered, eyes dropping. "Please make me come."

You resumed your last pace, touching yourself and clenching down on him as your body reacted to the feelings. Dean let out a broken moan as you leaned on his throat again. "Fuck- fuck-" he gasped against your skin, more his mouth just forming the words than speaking, hot and wet and open. His entire body tensed and he stopped breathing for just a moment-

And then he came inside you, shuddering and digging his nails into your hips so tightly you thought you might bleed. You didn't slow until you were following him, wringing every drop from his spent cock as he begged you to slow down in half-human sounds. You didn't slow until you were overstimulating yourself too, and he was straining against your arm, all but crying as his face contorted, all gritted teeth and tense muscles and red cheeks.

At last, you seated yourself fully on him and just stayed there, finally un-obstructing his airway. Dean's hands fell limply to your sides as his chest heaved, panting heavily and looking at you with a glazed expression as his cock jerked weakly inside you.

You made a quick scan of his injuries. Nothing had burst or ripped. He was catching his breath. Satisfied that he was physically okay, you smirked down at him.

"Now we're even," you told him slyly, dragging yourself off of him and laying down beside him.

"Fuck you," he croaked.

You smiled and nipped at his jaw. "Think you better just stay the night, wouldn't want you to drive like this."

Dean hesitated, then decided to take the bait. "Like what?"

"All weak and worn out," you said sympathetically. "Driving tired from a good fucking is the same as driving drunk, you know."

He let out a sharp chuckle. "I don't think that's how the saying goes."

"Really?" you asked sweetly, propping yourself on one elbow to look at him. "Could've sworn it was something like that...." You pretended to think.

"I'll stay," Dean sighed, snaking his arm around you and pulling you into his side. "If you promise we can do this again before checkout."

"I don't know," you said. "We might sleep too long. We might have to take it out to the car."

Dean shivered at the thought of fucking you in his Impala. "I guess that wouldn't be so bad."

#supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn smut #spn fanfiction #supernatural smut #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #userwraith

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avelera · 21 hours

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One thing I find really fun and interesting when writing Hob Gadling (Sandman) in fic is to keep front and center that he’s the one of the only immortals I know of in fiction who is completely anti-nostalgia.

That’s not to say Hob can’t have fond memories, or keep mementos or relics of happy times.

But I don’t think we have a single canonical instance in the comic or show of Hob waxing poetic about how good things used to be. Quite the contrary, when actually asked about what the world used to be like, he says, err, colorful things like this:

And when it comes to memories of past lives and lovers, we get scenes in Hob’s Leviathan like this:

… which is actually Hob throwing away what appears to be a photograph of himself from his previous identity, alongside his previous lover (or wife), Elspeth seen earlier in the comic. Truly severing ties with that previous life. (Which is not to say he always does this, he seems to deeply regret pawning his portrait of Eleanor for food in the 1600s.)

This is unusual because most immortals in fiction have some past era that they miss. Or keep some historical affectation, like an accent, or slang, or clothes or hairstyles, which are slightly or even wildly out of date for the present day.

But Hob doesn’t. In the show even more than the comic we really get to see that he updated everything, including clothes, accent, slang, and pronunciation to blend into the latest era. There’s no sense that he misses any previous era and he enthusiastically embraces whatever new thing arrives, like his clunky mobile phone in 1989.

I just find this really fascinating because I think the knee-jerk tendency for writers when portraying an immortal is to make them a product of their time, brought forward to the present. The logical thing would be to have them prefer some time period or aspects of a past time period over another, or fail to be completely up to date on some aspect of life, just like your grandparents might not be up to date with the latest slang.

But because this is such a logical way to depict an immortal, it borders on cliche if not done thoughtfully. What sets Hob apart and makes him such an intriguing character is that he bucks this trend. He doesn’t prefer the past, he thinks every new innovation is brilliant, from chimneys to mobile phones. He doesn’t stick to old ways of speaking, he rigorously adopts the latest slang and pronunciation. He doesn’t wax nostalgic about how things were better in his day. If anything he seems to firmly leave every previous era in the past, as seen when even disposing of a picture of his past identity with his past lover as part of moving on to the next identity.

It’s just something I find worthy of keeping firmly in mind when writing him, as one of those unique little details that make him feel authentic to his character, as seen on the page and on screen, as opposed to falling to my own instincts (often lazy ones) to make him a more standard issue immortal as seen in other stories.

#the sandman #hob gadling #sandman meta

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lethesomething · 3 days

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A classification of Candela Obscura series

As a liveplay, the different Candela Obscura series are interesting, because the Vibe changes every time with the different group setup. So if you're not sure where to start, here is my totally unscientific classification:

Series one: The Vassal and the Veil

The introductory one. Look at this new type of game we have! It is turn of the century inspired so there's street urchins and madams and prim ladies and weird professors, the kind of characters you find in a Dickens novel. Also it's narrated by Matt so Much Body Horror ensues. It's spooky and sad and American Gothic but weirdly, probably the lightest series of the four out now.

Series two: Needle and Thread

The PTSD edition. Now that you know the setting, let's dump a bunch of trauma in it! What is the value of a life? Of a soul? What is it that makes us human? How do fight you supernatural phenomena while still haunted by the ghosts of your past self? Your past life? This one has some of the better action sequences of all the Candela series. The vibe is Lovecraft meets Rambo and I will not elaborate on this.

Series three: Tide and Bone

In which Aabria turns the dial to eleven. There's body horror, there's monster fucking, there's that thing Sam does where he fucks you up with his character's backstory. The world is an unjust place even without all the supernatural horrors and capitalism is going to get all of us killed. The vibe here is a little bit more Dark Horse comics, because the characters themselves are Weirder and less grounded than in the other series.

Series four: The Crimson Mirror

In which Liam tries to murder the characters. As a dm, he has been given a Large Set of Knives with which to stab his characters but he's still just constantly swinging at them with a giant mallet also. This one is High Drama with lots of flashbacks and grappling with how to reassemble a life that has been torn to shreds. Heavy Edgar Allen Poe vibes. This one has some of my favourit acting in the series.

#candela obscura #lethey analyses #wow it's been so long that tumblr doesn't remember my tags anymore

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izvmimi · 18 hours

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cw: yandere. female noun for reader used once.

“Baby, did you hear a word I just said?”

You look up from your phone with a start, realizing you’ve been distracted for the past minute. Izuku is uncommonly sensitive these days, and the edge in his voice is sharper than usual as his emerald eyes flit from your phone screen back to your face. There’s a dull shine to them, matching with the very faint bags circling his eyes, and he lets out a sigh as he sets his dinner utensils down and runs his right hand through his messy hair before shaking his head.

“I’m sorry,” you say reflexively. Ever since your last argument, there have been new rules imposed - you mean, agreed upon - and one of these includes avoiding using your cell phone at dinner. After all, dinnertime is sacred between two loved ones, it’s the only recourse you both have from the demands of the day where you are face to face and replenishing with the fruits of your own labor. Man works so that they can eat. Man shares food with the people they love.

Izuku’s meal is untouched. Yours has been picked at slightly, and your chopsticks are no longer neatly placed against your bowl but stuck nearly straight up in your rice. An affront, he’s already reminded you multiple times, but again you’re being careless, texting instead of talking to him, disregarding him, disregarding the sanctity of a meal, disregarding the fact that his jaw is clenched and he’s trying his best to remain calm, deep exhale through pursed lips.

He doesn’t tell you it’s okay, although you remember a time when you first started dating where every misstep you made could be assuaged by a mere pout and batting your eyelashes at him, because you were terribly cute to him no matter how much and often you disrespected him. Now, the corners of his lips perk up in a mirthless smile and he asks, tilting his head:

“Who’s that?”

You blink, and he exhales under his breath. “Who are you talking to?” he repeats, still smiling, trying very hard to be oh so patient with you, the corner of his lips hiked up higher than before.

You had perhaps smiled a little too much when receiving that text message. It was nothing really, just a group chat with your friends where you’d alerted them you’d be slow to reply, and the conversation still went on without you, with the intention for you to come back and get up to speed. A picture of a cat in a ridiculous situation of its own making had been posted and it’d drawn a chuckle out of you - even though you’re having dinner with your partner, the only person on this earth that should matter and does matter.

“My friend. You know her, remember?” you remind him. It shouldn’t be a big deal. Grabbing your chopsticks in your right hand again, you try to redirect him, indulging him in conversation.

“So as you were saying…-”

“Hey, can I see?”

Izuku has moved on from whatever he was trying to communicate and is already reaching his hand out in demand for you to give up your phone. He’s steady and stubborn like an ox, and you know he can stay in this position for as long as possible.

“It’s just a group chat, it’s not that interesting. Hold on, let me unlock it for you,” you start, but he insists.

“Just hand it over.”

The edge is sharper still, practically bleeding as though it were already pressed against the soft skin of your neck.

Your throat dries, but you hand it over hastily, practically slapping it into his palm.

“Good girl.”

Before you can guess what his next move is, he’s closed his fingers around the phone the wrong way around and it’s so small in his hand, just as vulnerable as you are.

It snaps.

Izuku doesn’t make a dramatic scene of it; he stares at you, unwaveringly, the entire time, as the glass and metal and whatever else of the phone crumples and gives way in his hand like wet toilet paper, and he looks practically bored doing it, as if he were doing a necessary chore like taking out the trash when his roommate forgot to do it. Once he’s done, it’s set aside, nonchalantly at the edge of the table, in an irregular, far too neat clump.

“Focus on your meal,” he says.

Bile rises in your throat quickly, then subsides as he picks up his chopsticks again.

“Yes.”

Three seconds pass, and he picks up speech again.

“So as I was saying, Kacchan’s been really struggling with making sure his paperwork is in on time and it’s causing stress for everyone else and-”

“They’ll ask, you know,” you pipe up, suddenly. It’s in a small voice, smaller than you want it to be, but it’s enough for him to know that he’s been interrupted and that you have something to say. Izuku’s eyes narrow as he looks at you for a moment, then picks up the metal ball that comprises the remains of your cell phone and rolls it in his other hand.

“Who’s they?” he asks, softly. His feigned ignorance seems to mock you.

“The phone company. That’s the fourth one this month, Izuku.”

He tilts his head, pondering for a moment. “Really?”

You prevent yourself from gritting your teeth, and reply sweetly, “Really.”

“They won’t ask. We can afford it.”

The word ‘we’ both aggravates and mollifies you. We means him and you, you and him. You are equals. You are not possessed, even if he could very much do so, own you, if he wanted to.

Allowing yourself to wrap yourself up tightly, safe and warm, in this understanding, you aim to take a bite of food in your chopsticks but decide instead to let your chopsticks dip over to his plate to pick a piece of roasted meat off of his plate before slipping it into your mouth coyly.

“If you say so,” you add between bites. He smiles, glad that despite all this hassle, you’re still very much, and inevitably so, his.

#izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #daydreams: bnha #cw yandere #mimi's notes

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her-favorite · 12 hours

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A HUNCH; M. STURNIOLO

MATT STURNIOLO X F!(QUIET)!READER

warnings: none!

a/n: requested! hopefully you like it anon! <3

wc: 1,154 (short)

SYNOPSIS: The beginning of a relationship may be rocky, but with you and Matt, it never happened that way. He understood you more than anyone else, and he always knew what you wanted before you even had to say it.

You knew it was kind of foolish to be nervous to ask something of someone - especially someone like your boyfriend - but it never came easy to you.

You and Matt have only been official for a little over two months, but it’s already been a million times better than your other relationships. You’ve known him and the triplets for a little while now and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t drawn to Matt the very second you saw him. His perfectly parted hair, his pretty eyes, his smile.

For someone as reserved as yourself, your closest friends around you could always tell you had more than just kind feelings for the boy. But being that reserved person, it wasn’t easy to admit something like that, let alone tell Matt you’ve developed romantic feelings for him. So, you spent years trying to convince yourself that your admiration for the boy was purely platonic. You couldn’t face it if he were to reject you; you wouldn’t just be losing the boy you loved, but your best friends, too.

To anyone else but you, it was even more obvious the feelings Matt has for you were. Lingering glances, smiling a little too wide when you decided to participate in a group activity, or the butterflies he felt swarming in his stomach when he ‘accidentally’ sits a tad too close to you on the couch. But he could never tell you how he feels.. you’d only reject him, right?

After far too long, Nick and Chris were tired of the silent pining. From the quiet, defeated sighs that left your mouth when Matt didn’t join your movie nights, to the whining from their brother about how much he wishes you were his girl.

Once the two boys were done playing matchmaker, you and Matt couldn’t be happier together. With the relationship still being in its early stages, it still took some getting used to everything a real relationship comes with. It never upset you, you were more than happy to be able to experience something like this with the man you were hopelessly in love with for the past few years. But that didn’t mean anything about you changed.

You still liked to keep to yourself, to not cause a distraction, or to not speak when you didn’t feel like doing so. And Matt still (and will always) loves that about you.

You both tended to be quiet people, especially in public, it just felt more natural to the two of you. And with that, it was easier to confide in each other, since you both understand how the other may feel in that moment. You couldn’t be more ecstatic to have such a patient and understanding boyfriend.

But even with your love and trust in him, the anxiousness for rejection still lingered in the back of your mind. You were never one for hugs or anything of the sort, but with Matt… it was different. His touch was comforting and safe; it left you with a warm feeling inside.

You wanted it.. you just hated asking for it.

It wasn’t too often that Matt held you in his arms, besides at night. If he notices you becoming anxious in a public setting, he’ll immediately reach for your hand and bring you close to him, but other than that, Matt just doesn’t want to overwhelm you.

He’d love to smother your face with kisses and make you rest on his chest while you guys watch a movie together, but he knows that sometimes physical touch can be too much on a bad day.

Every since he met you, he always found you interesting. Not just because you were quiet or held a lot of the same qualities as him, but because of the way you handle yourself (your beauty was just a bonus). From then on, he’s studied the way you react to certain phrases and plans and made sure to either avoid specific outings or to do something that came natural to him: being quiet. Sometimes silence can be tense and awkward, but with Matt, it was only the opposite. It felt secure, a soft layer of comfortable solitude shared with another person.

As you sat on the couch at the triplets’ house, you wait for your boyfriend to get out of the bathroom as you click through unseen movies. Hearing the door creak, it grabs your ears’ attention but doesn’t make your head turn.

“Finally.” You tease softly, glancing over at him. Matt walks over to you in a plain white tee with plaid pajama pants, the untied string seemingly holding them up without having to be tied. His hair was slightly messy, his hands in it just seconds prior. Reluctantly tearing your gaze away from the pretty man, your eyes focus back on the tv screen a few feet away.

“Hey.” Matt huffs lightly, throwing himself down on the couch beside you. “Did you pick anything yet?” He asks, following your line of sight, watching the movie titles pass by. With a shake of your head in response, he chuckles softly. “You’re making fun of me for how long I was in the bathroom, but you haven’t picked a movie the entire time?” He says playfully, poking your side gently. Smacking his hand away once it starts to tickle, you send him a joking glare, a small smile tugging at your lips once you see his.

A few minutes pass and you both decide to rewatch one of your favorites, too exhausted to pick and find a new one. Sitting beside him, Matt sprawled out on his couch, giving his legs room to stretch. He quickly picked up on your tense body language as your legs scrunch up under yourself and the way - only he could see - your fingers twitched, signaling for something more.

“C’mere, baby,” Matt broke the silent argument in your head as you looked over at him. He was motioning for you to get closer as he lightly patted his legs. Sensing your hesitation, his hands envelope your hips, gasping when he drags you over towards him. Lying you down on top of him, he wraps his arms around your back, squeezing you into him. “‘S’this okay?” He whispers, his head resting on yours as you dig yours further into his neck.

“Mhm,” humming in response, your once-tense body relaxes in his hold, immediately becoming one with him. His steady heartbeat calmed you as yours became synced.

“Don’t be scared to ask me somethin’, okay? You know I have absolutely no problem holding my girl.” Matt whispers, pressing a sweet kiss to your head, rubbing a gentle hand up and down your back.

With a quiet, “okay,” leaving your lips, you let yourself melt into him, slowing succumbing to sleep instead of rewatching a movie you considered a classic.

Only he knew you better than yourself.

#matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine

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hellfirenacht · 1 day

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Wing Man Part 9

Fic Summary: Steve 'the Hair' Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you'll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

Chapter Summary: You and Eddie go on your first date, but the past always lingers. 6.5 words

(1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8)

Note: Y'all get to be a little horny in this one. As a treat <3 Also the poll results said you don't mind small details of what you all are wearing, and that you wanted to dress moderately slutty so I tried to keep that in mind. Enjoy!

Eddie kept his promise. For the next few days the two of you found yourself talking on the phone a lot between work shifts, band practice, and school. Late night talks became the norm, the two of you spending your evenings opening up to each other bit by bit.

You told him about Family Video and gave him the scoop of which of his peers were renting from the back rooms, and he told you about his own shifts at the Hideout and about the weird things his drunk usuals would say. Bev had been giving him shifts again, which was at least a small steady income compared to his usual dealings.

The next Tuesday you had gone to the Hideout with Eddie, this time with him picking you up and dropping you off after. It wasn’t a date, not exactly. It was just two people who had an interest in each other hanging out with other people. Eddie had said the main reason it wasn’t a date was because he was technically working, and he didn’t want your first official date to have his band mates tagging along. Of course, that didn’t stop them from giving him knowing looks and giving him shit whenever your back was turned. Eddie would carefully keep tabs on how often they would do it, and would make them pay later during their campaign.

That was fine with you, you were still more than happy to just spend time with Eddie and learn more about him. Watching him play guitar was mesmerizing and it was nice to be able to gawk at him in peace during his set without Steve telling you to close your mouth and stop drooling.

After the set and dropping everyone else at home, the two of you had spent another two hours in his van just talking. Now that everything was out in the open, that awkwardness that had been between the two of you had faded into nothing. You found that talking to Eddie was as easy as talking to Steve, and you loved hearing about all of his stories from Hellfire and hearing him talk about his music.

The only reason the two of you didn’t stay up until morning parked in front of your apartment building was because Eddie was reminded by you that he was still in school and needed to get some sleep for class the next day. When you kissed his cheek again before sliding out of his van he made a mental note to beg Bev to go on with Corroded Coffin on a Friday or Saturday for once.

Halloween was on a Thursday this year, and you had made it very clear to Keith that you were not going to be working that night, or the next day. You had saved up all your bartering chips of overtime and days where you came in when anyone else couldn’t. You had put in your time off request three months in advance.

Work could have you any other day of the week, but Halloween was yours and yours alone. You’d work Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, Arbor Day, and Groundhog Day. You’d forgo Easter Sunday, New Years Eve and Day, and you wouldn’t bat an eye at Valentines day. But Halloween? That was yours and yours alone.

It was the one day out of the year that you felt like you could be you. Even after the monster that is Hawkins High tried to strip you of being yourself, you pushed through and came out the other side of graduation with a new determination to never water yourself down again. You worked your ass off to save for your own run down apartment, to find clothing that you loved and not just what your peers told you to wear to blend in.

If you wanted to show up to a shift on Halloween dressed as Han Solo with a Teddy Bear, you damn well could and no one could stop you. Not even Keith.

But lucky for you, when the schedule for the week was posted that Monday, your name was thankfully cleared for Thursday and Friday. Keith could handle himself for those two morning shifts, and Robin and Steve could handle the evenings. It’s not like Family Video was really busy or open late on Thursday nights and you trusted Steve and Robin to handle the Friday rush.

You woke up that Thursday feeling like it was your own personal Christmas. You took your time to wake up, have breakfast and get ready for the day. You almost called Eddie before you remembered that it was still a weekday and he would be in school. Besides, it would be weird to call him before your first date, right?

Steve had given you a crash course on first dates over your shared shifts. His advice was a mixed bag to say the least. Every time he gave you insight into the male mind on how to act or dress or talk on a first date he would then backtrack when he remembered who he was talking to and who this first date was with.

“Listen, you got this far by being a weirdo.” Steve had finally said after the conversation had basically gone nowhere. “I guess keep talking about eating bats and fake being drunk and you’ll get the guy.”

“You know, when you put it like that I’m starting to see why maybe this whole casual dating thing hasn’t worked for me in the past.” you had replied.

Most of your Halloween was spent by yourself, but that wasn’t a bad thing. You started off with a nice slow morning of carving your annual jack o'lantern, having learned the hard way to not put it out early, lest it rot or be smashed by asshole kids in the neighborhood. The afternoon was spent around town, just taking in the crisp fall air and the decorations set up by all of the shops..

The hypocrisy in this town was stunning sometimes. Every other day of the year you had been followed by whispers of the Satanic Panic and any idea that something other than the norm might be related to something more nefarious was ostracized. Sometimes you could understand where the fear was coming from, after all the Byers kid had disappeared, presumed dead, and then had come back all within a week a few years ago. Barbara Holland had been killed by chemicals in the Hawkins Lab. There was even the fire at the mall that had killed the police chief, as well as the local lifeguard. It seemed like every single year some new tragedy would strike the small town.

You couldn’t wait to run away to somewhere else.

But for now, the day was yours and the night was Eddie’s. Your stomach flipped every time you thought about meeting up with him tonight. You had built up this production a lot over the past few days. You had seen the shadow cast about once a month since you were old enough to go at 18, give or take a few times where you had other plans.

Each time you had gone, you had checked the board hoping to see the announcement that they would be opening auditions to be part of the cast or crew. But the show was tight knit, and that rarely happened.

But at least that meant that tonight you could share something with Eddie other than your origami. Not that you were embarrassed by your hobby, but compared to running a D&D campaign and being in a band, it didn’t feel like much.

You never seemed to run out of things to talk about with Eddie though, during your late night talks on the phone. When you weren’t captivated by his tales of running Hellfire or the inspiration for his music, you two would talk about everything else. Music, movies, the occasional small town gossip, anything you two could think of. You had already compiled a small list of movies that only one of you had seen, because all new relationships always start with “What do you mean you haven’t seen this movie?!”

That’s how you and Steve and Robin had bonded over those first few months. It probably wouldn’t be that much different with Eddie.

After a long stroll through the town, a quick stop in to your favorite coffee shop for a treat, and a bout of window shopping in the Halloween aisles of local stores, you made your way home. You considered dropping by the high school to see Eddie as the afternoon came to a close, but you didn’t want to seem desperate. You’d see him soon enough anyway.

As the evening went on, you popped in a few thematically appropriate movies that you watched between doing your hair and make up and passing out candy to kids who came up to your door. You may or may not have saved some of the best candy for yourself. And Eddie. He liked Snickers right? You hoped he did.

You were ready a good two hours before you needed to meet him at the theater at midnight. You were starting to wish that you had invited him over to pre-game before the movie, but unfortunately you had listened to some of Steve’s advice and were left sitting around in your fishnets and dark lipstick for your first date with Eddie. The only thing you weren’t wearing yet were your tall boots which you only broke out for this showing because they were too uncomfortable to wear anywhere else.

Steve had relented that you were going to dress weird for the date, considering the day and the nature of what you and Eddie were doing, but he said it’d be too weird to get ready with him.

You decided that next time would be different. Next year, you’d have Eddie over all day, and the two of you would spend the day carving pumpkins and listening to music and arguing over what movie to watch as you passed out candy. Eddie would probably be stingy with the candy so that there would be leftovers for the two of you at the end of the night, and you’d be giving bars out by the handfuls. Maybe the two of you would cough up the dough for some full sized candy bars for kids with really fun costumes and-

What were you doing? You weren’t even officially dating yet, the first date hadn’t even happened! You were getting ahead of yourself, and thinking way too far ahead. You didn’t need to be thinking these domestic thoughts about a guy you barely knew.

Get your shit together. You scolded yourself. Let’s try and go on one date first, then maybe have dirty thoughts about him and then I can have mushy domestic thoughts about him if things go well.

You were really hoping things went well.

After around 10 pm the trick-or-treaters tapered off and you dumped the remaining candy in your bag for the movie. Your hand itched for the phone around 10:30, your brain telling you that it was getting late and that you should call Eddie now if you wanted to talk to him before bed, and you reminded yourself that you’ll see him in an hour.

The hour could not go any slower.

“Steve, I’m freaking out.” you said into the phone the second he picked up. “What the fuck am I doing?!”

“You’re going on a date with Eddie Munson to a midnight showing of a movie that has no plot.” he yawned.

You resisted the urge to hang up on him and instead paced around your living room, holding onto the phone.

“Steve, I’m serious!”

“So am I, the more you talk about the movie the less sense it makes.”

You lightly smacked your head against the wall. “How do you do this every week with different girls?! I’m going on one date and I feel too damn antsy.”

The chord to your phone stretched to its limit as you walked towards your bookshelf and pulled out your senior year yearbook, flipping through it.

“Dating is like any other skill, you have to practice and actually do it to be any good.” Steve sighed into the phone.

“I hate that.” you said, looking through the Ms. Maddison... Morrison.... Munson.

No photo available, what the actual fuck? You flipped through the book, to the club section but there was no trace or whisper of the Hellfire Club at all in the 1984 Hawkins High yearbook.

“This was your idea.” Steve reminded you as you pushed the book away and reached for 1983’s yearbook.

“And? I have a lot of ideas and not all of them are good.” You flipped through the book, trying to find Eddie’s name and photo. Why hadn’t you thought of this before?

“So... are you chickening out, again?” You could hear the mild annoyance in his voice.

“No! I’m just... I’m just nervous, alright? I haven’t been on a date since Junior year. Wait no, there was that horrible study date in Senior year. It’s been a while okay?” you groaned.

You scanned the Ms again, stopping for a split second to snicker at Chris Morrison’s horrible yearbook photo. His hair was an unfortunate overgrown sandy haircut that looked like a bad mix of a mullet and a bowl cut, with a fringe that fell in his gray eyes. His face was stoic and he looked like he wanted to kill whoever was in charge of the camera.

A few photos later was Eddie Munson’s Junior year photo. Somehow seeing his face in your yearbook made your shoulders relax a little bit. You at least could confirm that you had indeed gone to school with him. His face was softer looking, and his hair fell just below his jawline.You saw a peak of his Hellfire shirt, the same one in Chris’s photo. He was smiling, well as best as a teenage boy who doesn’t want to get his photo taken would smile. It was endearing, and something in the back of your mind started nagging at you that this Eddie looked more familiar.

“Hello? Anyone home?”

You snapped back to reality, remembering that you were on the phone with Steve. “Yeah, sorry I got distracted. What was that?”

“I said you shouldn’t be nervous.” Steve repeated. “You like him. He likes you. It’s not that complicated. He wouldn’t have shown up that night if he didn’t have an interest in you.”

“Oh, but what if it is that complicated, Stevie?” You sighed dramatically. “After all, the three of us seem to be horribly unlucky in love.”

“You’re telling me.” Steve admitted. “Three dozen dates later and I’m still looking for that spark.”

Steve had been head over heels for Nancy Wheeler, and had his heart crushed. You hadn’t had any luck in love ever, with only a few failed dates under your belt from high school, and two one-night stands. Robin... you couldn’t get a read on her. She seemed to have a crush on someone, and Steve definitely knew who it was but they weren’t telling you. It hurt a little, but you knew that the two had a bond that you wouldn’t be able to touch. If Robin wanted to tell you, she would.

Okay, you did ask and make sure that the person she was crushing on wasn’t Eddie. The last thing you wanted was to date someone who your friend had feelings for. Thankfully, Robin had quickly cleared up that she didn’t even know Eddie and therefore can confidently say that she had absolutely no feelings for the guy, romantic or otherwise.

Steve spent the next half hour calming you down and talking to you as you flipped through your high school yearbooks, picking out Eddie’s photo in each one. There was even a small blurb about the Hellfire Club in your freshman yearbook. As you delved deeper in time, his hair got shorter and shorter, and he looked more and more familiar.

Where did you know this guy from?

When the clock struck 11 pm, you said your goodbye to Steve, checked yourself out in the mirror one last time, and made your way to the theater.

It was twenty minutes until show time when you parked your car and made your way into the lobby. The yellow lights illuminated the crowd of people who had shown up for the annual midnight screening, and you took a deep breath as you scanned the crowd.

Just for tonight, you felt like you could breathe.

Freaks and weirdos from all over had come together for a night of sex jokes, aliens, music, and yelling at a screen. The room was filled with people covered in leather, and lingerie and costumes from both the show and other media. There were a few familiar faces, and you spotted two people that you recognized from the shadow cast in the corner. They looked... upset. Not at each other, you recognized the way they were talking to each other. You and Steve and Robin had given each other the same looks before when Keith had fucked up the schedule or a customer pissed one of you off.

Whatever was the matter, the two quickly finished their bitch session and made their way back into the theater. You wondered what that was about, but didn’t have time to think about it too hard because a hand fell on your shoulder.

Your breath caught in your throat when you turned around to see your date. Eddie’s hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, which really showed his jawline and really long neck you wondered what the square of his jaw would feel like against your lips. He hadn’t ditched his battle vest or leather jacket you weren’t complaining and he was wearing a cropped shirt . You had to force yourself to not look at his exposed midriff you’ve never wanted to bite someone’s hips before holy shit, or note the fine trail of hair just below his belly button that dipped into his dark ripped jeans where a peak of blue boxers were peaking out. Did he taste as good as he looked?! He had swapped out a few of his rings, but the obsidian one on his right hand stayed, and the chains on his jacket, bracelet and wallet made a noise with every movement he made. What would that sound like if he was on top of you?

A small voice in the back of your mind told you that Dustin Henderson could rent any movie he ever wanted ever forever as long as you worked Family Video.

You pushed those sudden X rated feelings down, and smiled up at him. “Hey, I’m glad you made it.” you managed to say, tongue tied as you thought about what you’d rather your tongue suddenly be doing-

Eddie’s eyes drifted down your outfit in the same way that you were sure you had just looked at him. The idea that he might also be thinking similar thoughts about you made your heart race before he turned away. He was now looking around the lobby with wide eyes, taking in all the different people his expression was somewhere between elation and disbelief.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many freaks in person.” he said, his eyes darting around to the crowds of people.

“You aren’t at Hawkins High and these aren’t children.” you said, watching his expression. “It’s why I like coming here each month. I get to meet people who are more like me.”

Eddie took in the scene, and you took in Eddie. Horny thoughts aside, you wondered how often he got to see people who weren’t cut from the standard Hawkins cookie cutter. From what he’d told you during your late night calls, his social circle was tiny. His only friends were in Hawkins, except for one Ronnie Ecker.

You had escaped the monster that was Hawkins High School, even if you were still stuck in the beast of a town. You didn’t have much room to judge his smaller group when Steve and Robin were the only ones who you reliably hung out with on a regular basis. Even then, you knew that the two of them had a connection that went deeper than just coworkers and people who went to school together.

Did Eddie have someone that he connected with the same way Robin and Steve did? There were so many things about him that you still wanted to know about him.

A voice called your name, and your eyes lit up as you saw Robin and Steve walking over to the two of you. Excitement then shifted to confusion, wait, what were they doing here? Did they come here to crash your date? That didn’t seem right, not after Steve had put in so much effort into making sure that this date actually happened.

You and Robin hugged and Steve gave a slightly awkward hello. Eddie was looking between you and your two friends, looking just as confused as you felt.

“Hey, Robin!” you said, trying to figure out what was going on. “What are you guys doing here?”

“You invited us a month ago, remember?” Robin asked. “You made a big deal about dragging us to the Halloween showing this year and Steve and I got tickets. But don’t worry! We know this is a date so me and Steve are going to sit at the opposite side of the theater and make sure that we don’t bother you. Of course, Steve said that we shouldn’t come but we had already bought the tickets and I wanted to come and see this again.”

Oh... oh shit. Right. You had done that, hadn’t you? Before you and Steve had even started this whole thing, you had been bugging him to come see it with you. Robin had come and done it once with you earlier at the end of Summer, but Steve hadn’t been able to make it.

In a sea of lingerie, leather, and sequins, Steve stood out like a sore thumb in his yellow sweater and tall hair. For once, he looked like the odd one out. Robin had always had a slightly edgier style, and with her sharpied black nails and chain necklaces, she fit right in.

You were going to give Steve so much shit for it later.

“Look, I didn’t expect us to actually come out tonight until Robin called and demanded I pick her up.” Steve said, apologetically.

“I see what’s going on.” Eddie spoke up, looking between the three of you. “Mom and Dad are here to chaperone your first date.”

You threw your head back and cackled at the joke, laughing unabashedly.

“Steve’s the single mom with six kids.” Robin said. “But I’m not Dad, I’m more like the cool weird aunt.”

“‘Why am I always the mom?!” Steve demanded.

“Because you have six kids, Steve, keep up.” you pointed out. “But we all know Dustin’s your favorite.”

“I’m telling Wheeler.” Eddie chimed in.

“I’m not the mom, I’m the babysitter!”

“You literally gave Max lunch money two weeks ago.”

“That doesn’t mean-”

“Oh look! They’re starting to tag the Virgins!” You suddenly said excitedly.

Steve and Eddie stopped and stared at you, as your eyes darted to the two cast members that you had seen earlier. Whatever they had been bitching about was now put aside, and they were now walking around, each holding a bright red tube of lipstick. They had approached some guy and drew a giant V on their forehead.

“Right, I didn’t really tell you about this.” you explained. “So at each showing, if you’ve never seen the movie in theaters you’re called a ‘virgin’. So, there’s a bit of a hazing ritual for newcomers. They call it the Virgin Sacrifice here. Basically, they draw a V on your forehead, and then before the show starts they’ll have the Virgins come up on stage, do some sort of dare or task, and then the movie starts.”

“How bad is it?” Steve asked as Robin grabbed his arm and started dragging him to the cast members.

“It’s usually not that bad.” You said. “When I was a Virgin Sacrifice a few years ago they had me ‘Pledge Allegiance to the Lips’ and taught me how to do the Time Warp on stage while the sprayed me with silly string.”

“When I went they had all of us blow up a bunch of red balloons and then hit them with thumb tacks when they were still in our mouths.” Robin laughed. “They called it ‘The Great Cherry Popping’.”

“Oh my God, I remember that one guy had crazy lung capacity and blew up like, ten in a row!” you cackled.

“What do you think they’ll have us do?” Eddie asked, and for a second your brain froze as you felt his hand wrap around yours as you started to approach the cast members. You could feel the metal of his rings, warmed by his skin, pressing into yours.

“They always mix it up every month so it’s hard to say.” you said. “But they always go crazy for the Virgin Sacrifices on Halloween.”

“Got a fresh Virgin for you!” Robin says, shoving Steve in front of the Columbia actress who looked Steve up and down as if she were going to eat him.

“Aww, a cute little Virgin just for me?!” she squealed. “You shouldn’t have! Come here, Big Boy.”

Steve didn’t have much time to react as a large V was placed on his forehead with the lipstick. He didn’t seem to mind, however, when Columbia leaned over and gave him a big kiss on the cheek, leaving a large lipstick stain.

“You know, maybe I’m seeing the appeal of this.” He said as you pushed Eddie up next.

“A two for one deal for ya, Columbia!” you said proudly.

“Two?!” Her eyes lit up, and you could tell that she was having the time of her life. “Is it my birthday?!”

She looked at Eddie and pushed his bangs back as she drew the V on his forehead and gave him a smooch on the cheek as well. You could already tell what Steve was thinking when he looked at you. Probably something like It’s not normal to let another girl kiss your date or something like that. And okay, fine, you were planning on wiping the lipstick off of Eddie’s face before you went in for the kiss tonight, but you didn’t see any reason to be jealous. You knew exactly what was going to happen tonight. Hell, when you first came you ended the night with three different lipstick marksI Really, Steve and Eddie were getting stiffed tonight. Besides, Eddie hadn’t given you any reason to not trust him, and why start anything if you didn’t trust a guy?

“His name is Eddie.” you offered up and Steve gave you another look that you translated to Are you wing manning your own date?! You ignored it.

“What a coincidence! My boyfriend’s name is Eddie!” Columbia said excitedly. “You two even have the same leather jacket! Do you also ride a motorcycle?”

To your delight, Eddie didn’t miss a beat. “Not yet, but I might one day. Just a van for now.”

“Ohh, I bet a lot of fun happens in the back of your van.” she winked, and you could see a slight blush spread across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “You should come join me and my Eddie for dinner next week, we’re having Meat Loaf!”

You and Robin burst into a fit of giggles at the joke, as Eddie and Steve made eye contact for a moment and just shrugged at each other. Columbia gave Robin a wink and sauntered off to another group with their own Virgin to sacrifice.

With your Virgins freshly marked, snacks in hand, and the doors to the theater opening, you parted ways with Steve and Robin as they made their way to the front row and you made your way to the back with Eddie.

“The back row has my favorite call and response.” you explained as the two of you made your way to an open pair of seats. “And there are a lot of lines that are standard with every show, but if you can think of a good one, don’t even hesitate. Just call it out, okay? I’ll also warn you when people are about to start throwing things.”

“So, this is a bad movie where we are encouraged to yell and throw things?” Eddie asked, a wide grin on his face. “And where we sit depends on what we say?”

“Yes, it’s complete chaos.” you said. “I love it. Every show is always a little different because of the audience participation. Keeps it fresh, you know? Also, if you sit in the back you won’t get popcorn on your hair.”

“Jeff dumped a bucket of popcorn in my hair once.” Eddie said. “It took me a week to get all the kernels out.”

“How the hell did that happen?!”

“I was sitting down, he was walking over with popcorn to bribe me for some roll, and then there was popcorn and butter everywhere.”

“I take it you didn’t give him the advantage he wanted?” you giggled.

“No, he desiccated a snack in front of the Dungeon Master. He’s lucky I didn’t kill his character off when that happened.”

“The more I hear you talk about Hellfire, the more I wish I had been able to join in school.” you sighed. “You always sound like you have so much fun.”

“You... sometimes I do run some one-shots.” Eddie said, messing with one of his rings. “I haven’t done a game for beginners in a while but I could get the others to suck it up and run one for you.”

A warmth burned in your cheeks and you smiled at him. “Really? You’d run a game for me just so I could play?”

“Oh yeah, but just so you know, your movie isn’t the only thing that has its own hazing ritual.” Eddie smiled at you. “I tend to go extra hard on new players, just to make sure that they’re really up for the challenge of being in Hellfire.”

You can go extra hard on me. You just barely managed to keep that as an inside thought with the way he was looking at you with those intense doe eyes. You definitely didn’t miss the subtle way his eyes darted to your lips for just a split second.

Oh, you were so going to kiss him tonight. Not yet, not right now. If you went in for the kiss now, you just knew that you wouldn’t want to stop kissing him. And as much as you wouldn’t mind that, you also really wanted to share this experience with him.

“So, is that a Hellfire thing, or a you thing?” you asked. “Did any former Dungeon Masters have hazing rituals, or are you just that sadistic?”

“Chris didn’t need to haze anyone, if that’s what you’re asking.” Eddie said. “Hard to haze new players if he never let anyone new play.”

“Touche.”

“He was actually in the theater program the last semester he was with Hellfire.” Eddie said suddenly, as if he had just remembered. “He got roped into doing backstage work for the Spring play and ran Hellfire into the ground. He’d always change the schedule of when we could meet up, and then get pissed with everyone when he couldn’t keep up.”

“I heard that doing tech for the shows is always a lot of work.” you said. “But it really sucks that he got pissed.”

“He ended up fully quitting Hellfire halfway through the semester, and that’s when I took over.” Eddie explained. “I had already been running the club anyway, but that just made it more official.”

The lights in the theater flickered on and off, signaling the start of the show.

“They’ll probably call you up to be part of the Virgin Sacrifice.” you said. “If you want to back out, no judgment. Your hair covers your shame, so you could probably duck out”

“I’ll do it.” Eddie said. “It’s only fair, if I run a one-shot for you and refuse to go easy on you, the least I can do is get on stage for your interest.”

Had anyone ever shown this much interest in something you cared about? Robin had come with you before, and Steve had to be dragged here but this felt different somehow. Shit, the more you talked to him, the more you were tempted to ask him to leave the theater right now and show you the back of his van.

“You know, I really always wanted to be part of the shadow cast.” you explained. “I’d love to be on stage as Columbia or Janet, hell I’d even love to be Riff Raff.”

“You want to be on stage in your underwear once a month?” Eddie raised an eyebrow.

“It looks fun, but they never have auditions. It’s a pretty tight community, so you really have to know someone to get in. The most I’ve been able to do is sign up for clean up duty after the show. They give you tickets to the next show if you do that.”

The house lights went down, and you waited for the stage lights to come on and for the cast to come up and introduce the show and start the Virgin Sacrifice. The idea of seeing Steve and Eddie up there made you so giddy, and you couldn’t wait to tell Eddie more about the cast.

But the stage lights never came on. Instead the movie just went and started and soon a bright red pair of lips were on screen, singing to everyone.

They were skipping the Virgin Sacrifice? You had been going to this show for years and they never skipped the Virgin Sacrifice. And on Halloween? What was going on?

You were disappointed, but there was no use letting it ruin your evening. You shook it off and focused on singing along and teaching Eddie the important things to shout and when. How could you be too disappointed when Eddie was having so much fun? He was a natural, and witty and was quick to pick up on the jokes.

It helped even more that he was still holding your hand.

But something felt off during the whole show. There were a few members of the cast that you didn’t recognize, and they were giving a less than stellar performance. Choreography was wrong, the lip syncing was off, and Janet’s bra and slip were too... sexy. You also felt the man with the long sandy hair playing Rocky would have better been suited for Riff Raff.

Whoever coordinated this show, didn’t do a very good job. You felt bad that Steve and Eddie’s first time at the show wasn’t the best, especially after you had talked it up so much.

If Eddie noticed the lackluster performance, he didn’t say anything. Maybe you were being too nitpicky, he was having a blast after all. Eddie was cracking jokes, and his voice carried through the theater so well even the front row fuck the front row! could hear him.

As the credits rolled, and everyone made their way out to the lobby, you met back up with Steve and Robin.

“That movie made even less sense than when you told us about it.” Steve said and you just shrugged.

“I never said it made sense, I just said it was fun.”

“I wouldn’t mind coming back.” Eddie said. “I wonder if they’d consider a live band to go with the stage actors.”

You had to stop yourself from dropping down to your knees. One knee or two, you hadn’t decided yet.

Robin yawned and you caught a glimpse of a lipstick mark on her jaw. You made a note to ask about that later. “If I’m out any later, my parents are gonna kill me. I still have school in the morning.”

“Alright, let’s get you home.” Steve said. “See you two around.” His eyes darted down to where your hand and Eddie’s were still clasped together before pushing Robin out of the lobby and towards the parking lot.

You and Eddie followed behind, but didn’t head straight for your cars. The two of you moved to stand below the yellow lighting of the yellow marquis. You watched as Eddie leaned against the brick wall and lit a cigarette, blowing smoke that disappeared under the clear sky.

Under this lighting, you had a familiar feeling. There was something in the back of your mind, like a picture that was made of the same smoke coming from between his lips. Every time you reached out and almost had it, it disappeared in an instant. Something about the way he looked right now gave you a faint memory of being nervous, but not in a bad way.

“That might be the first time I’ve ever felt normal.” Eddie said, looking at you. “I didn’t realize how many freaks there really were in Indiana.”

“There are freaks and weirdos everywhere, if you know where to look.” you said. Eddie pocketed his lighter and took another drag. “Most people hide it though. I’m glad you don’t.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s nice to see someone really being themselves in this town. You’re a breath of fresh air.” you looked out at the street, watching as people got in their cars and drove out of the parking lot. You caught a glimpse of the Columbia, only catching her by her hair and make up as she rushed out of the theater towards the parking lot. “I... even if this doesn’t go anywhere, I like you.” you admitted. “I want to keep being friends.”

Eddie frowned and faced you. He had dropped your hand to light his cigarette, and you noticed his hand move towards yours before stopping and falling back to his side.

“Is this your way of letting me down easy?” he asked, and your heart broke seeing the confusion in his big brown doe eyes.

“No!” you said quickly. “No, not even a little. No. I want to see you again. A lot.”

Eddie’s face relaxed and this time he did take your hand. He dropped his cigarette and snuffed out the butt with his sneaker. You took the hint and moved closer to him as well.

“You like me?” he asked, and you liked the way his dimples showed when he smiled.

That was the high sign. You didn’t even care that he still had a lipstick mark on his cheek, when all you could focus on were those warm brown eyes. You started to lean in, and you felt Eddie’s free hand move to your arm and up towards your shoulder. When he got close enough to count his unfairly long eyelashes, you closed your eyes-

“Eddie? Eddie Munson?”

Reality snapped back into place as you two heard a voice. You looked at Eddie’s face first, and there was an intense look in his eyes. His hand fell from your arm, while you tried to decipher what his expression meant.

You turned around to see who he was looking at, ready to kill whoever had interrupted the moment.

You hadn’t recognized him on stage as Rocky. The man's long sandy hair was now tied back and his overgrown fringe still fell into his gray eyes. He had filled out since high school, and he wasn’t wearing that stony scowl that had been his staple all through the years you’d seen him.

“Chris Morrison?!”

a/n: This chapter turned out way longer than expected and I still didn't fit everything into it! I had a whole other scene planned out, but that just means I have the motivation to start on the next part!

ALSO I think I might have run out of blogs to tag? It won't let me tag anymore blogs for the tag list but you can also find this story on AO3 and sub there as well!

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Tag List: @k8loo @terrormonster55 @sp1dyb0y1008 @crocwork-clockodile @ali-r3n @mxcheese @josephquinnschesthair @gagasbee @peaches-roses-sins @witchwolflea @vintagehellfire @royale1803 @cumslutforaemond @prestinalove @browneyedgirl320 @perpetualmessmachine @thebook-hobbit @mistonk @cultish-corner @grishaversecaptivated @sortagaysortahigh @halialex1119 @bakugouswhOr3 @siriuslysmoking @pookiesnatcher @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @takemetoneverlandbabe @killjoynotes @maelibo @themunsonator5000 @wheels-of-despair @woodlandsubshrub @ghcstpyre @pedroschka

#nacht fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you

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anonymousewrites · 1 day

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A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 1) Chapter Thirteen

Kusuo Saiki x Reader

Chapter Thirteen: Punk Transfer

Summary: A new student comes to PK Academy. How much trouble will this one be?

“We’ve got another transfer student,” said (Y/N), leaning on their desk.

“It’s all people have been talking about,” said Saiki. “And thinking about.”

“As long as they’re not another Toritsuka, they can’t be that bad, right?” said (Y/N).

“Don’t tempt fate. God hates me enough,” said Saiki.

“Okay, everyone, please be seated,” said their teacher, walking in. “I’ll introduce you to the transfer student.”

Everyone sat still, expectant.

“Okay, come in,” said their teacher.

A boy with purple hair and rectangular glasses stepped inside.

Immediately, all boys lost interest, and, apparently, he wasn’t good enough for the girls either.

“I’m not sure,” whispered the boys.

“He seems gloomy,” murmured the girls.

“Well, then, please introduce yourself,” said the teacher.

The boy turned around and began writing on the board. However, for some reason, he wrote “Aren Kuboyasu wuz here!!” instead of just his name.

“I’m Aren Kuboyasu. I moved here from Ibaraki Prefecture,” said Kuboyasu.

So polite and yet… thought (Y/N), sweat-dropping as they looked at the message on the board.

“ ‘Wuz here?’ ” read the students.

Kuboyasu freaked out and erased the last two words. “Ah! Sorry, old habit! Wait, no! Just forget I did that!”

And it seemed that everyone did since the students all smiled widely. “Nice to meet you, Kuboyasu!”

“What’s that?” Kuboyasu looked at them awkwardly. “Ah… ‘Sup homies!”

“ ‘Sup homies?’ ” Several people laughed, thinking he was people silly. “You’re funny.”

“He seems pretty interesting,” said Kaidou.

(Y/N) looked at Saiki and whispered before class began. “What do you think, Kusuo?”

“I need to keep an eye on him in case he proves troublesome,” said Saiki.

(Y/N) nodded. “I’ll help out.”

Saiki glanced at them. “It’ll be a bother.”

“Yeah, but just because you’re the one who can…do everything doesn’t mean you should do it alone,” said (Y/N), smiling.

Saiki liked the idea of working with them way too much.

“So?” said (Y/N) during the lunch break. “What is up with Kuboyasu?”

“He was a punk, and he says he’s trying to go ‘straight,’ ” said Saiki.

“And you aren’t sure he really will?” said (Y/N).

“He decided to ‘beat up anyone who tries to stop him,’ ” said Saiki.

“Well, hopefully he’s just…weird.” (Y/N) laughed. “Like us and our friends.”

Saiki wasn’t quite sure he liked that idea.

“So, are we following him?” said (Y/N).

“We need to see how he handles ‘going straight,’ ” said Saiki, peaking around the corner.

“Got it,” said (Y/N).

Oh, that’s the transfer student! thought a boy, walking past Kuboyasu.

“What? What’re you staring at?!” said Kuboyasu, glaring at the boy. A moment later, he realized he was in the wrong and backed off. “Ah! I’m sorry. My eyesight is bad, so I just…” he trailed off awkwardly.

“Looks like it’s going to be tough for him to be a regular person,” said Saiki.

“Yeah, but he did realize he was in the wrong,” said (Y/N), shrugging.

In Kuboyasu’s next test, Takahashi bumped into him accidentally.

“Oh, sorry,” said Takahashi.

Behind him, Kuboyasu grabbed a fire extinguisher and lifted it angrily. The moment before he swung at Takahashi, Kuboyasu’s eyes widened. He realized he was making a mistake. Quickly, he set the extinguisher down and walked on.

“Not even delinquents usually hit people from behind with fire extinguishers,” said Saiki.

“Maybe not, but he didn’t actually do it,” pointed out (Y/N).

Kuboyasu’s next challenge was meeting Nendou, who looked like a punk himself.

Who-Who the hell is he?! thought Kuboyasu. He’s a punk! On top of that, he’s pretty fired up!

“Why is Nendou acting like he wants to fight?” said (Y/N).

“Script convenience,” said Saiki.

Kuboyasu opened his jacket and took off his glasses. He was ready to go up against Nendou.

Then, again, he thought better of it, zipped his jacket up, and put on his glasses.

“No, I ain’t gonna fight!” he declared, walking away quickly.

“Oh, you’re not gonna take that off?” Nendou just looked like an idiot again. “Don’t tell me your scared!”

“Wow, he is really getting tested,” said (Y/N).

“Very convenient,” said Saiki.

“What?!” said Kuboyasu angrily.

“I guess that’s natural, huh? I may not look it, but I’m a punk, so…” Nendou looked proud of himself.

“If you looked like that and weren’t a punk, you’d be an idiot,” murmured Kuboyasu under his breath.

“That’s what Nendou is,” said (Y/N), frowning. Saiki nodded in agreement.

It wasn’t even a mean statement. It was just a fact.

“I’ve mellowed out now, but I used to do some pretty crazy stuff,” said Nendou conversationally to Kuboyasu.

War stories, huh? Lay ‘em on me, thought Kuboyasu. “Oh, like what?”

“The meanest thing I did was chase mosquitos around with a mosquito coil,” said Nendou. “I also ate a whole watermelon by myself. I was seriously crazy.”

Kuboyasu had a blank, almost shocked look.

“I think he understands Nendou now,” said (Y/N).

“Nendou can’t make it any more obvious that he’s an idiot,” agreed Saiki.

“I feel like we should feel bad for saying that, but it just feels like a statement…” said (Y/N).

Nendou patted Kuboyasu’s shoulder. “Hang in there, kid.”

Kuboyasu managed to just walk off, but his anger had peaked. Still, he had gone through another convenient test without acting out.

“So, what do you think?” said (Y/N), crossing their arms and considering Kuboyasu. “I think he seems weird but nice in the end.”

No sooner did they speak did Kuboyasu round a corner, spot a boy bullying a younger classmate, and grab a locker.

“Don’t act like trash in front of me, you scum!”

He threw the locker on the bully.

“I spoke too soon,” said (Y/N).

“I think we can overlook this incident,” said Saiki.

“So, we approve of our new transfer student?” said (Y/N).

“We’ll tolerate him,” said Saiki.

(Y/N) laughed. “Just wait. He’s going to end up our friend.”

Saiki wanted to say they were wrong, but they probably weren’t. And who was he to take their laugh away?

In the following week, Kuboyasu had, unfortunately, not made any friends. He wasn’t experienced in approaching people in a “goody-goody” way. In normal terms, that just meant he couldn’t fight people to bond. For Kuboyasu, that left him with no idea of what to do.

So, in a daring move, Kuboyasu decided to try going up to someone. First, he had to decide.

He looked at Nendou. He couldn’t go around with him since he was a punk himself. Takahashi was also off the list since his face was too punchable to Kuboyasu.

His eyes landed on the pink-haired boy in front of him. He decided to try with him.

Wrong choice, try someone else.

Oh, that person seems nice, too. And kind of pretty. That could help me seem more goody-goody, thought Kuboyasu, almost changing direction towards (Y/N).

Worse choice, leave them alone. Saiki didn’t need someone thinking (Y/N) was pretty like that, even if it was true.

No, they’re already talking to people. I should just try one person for now, decided Kuboyasu.

Saiki had to remind himself that he’d prefer to deal with Kuboyasu while he was still learning to be a “goody-goody” instead of (Y/N) as the boy came over.

“Hey, I’m Kuboyasu.” He smiled in a friendly manner. Great, now I just start bonding.

Notice my boredom and walk away, thought Saiki furiously.

Instead, Kuboyasu launched into a series of stories from movies he’d seen. He didn’t notice Saiki’s noninterest at all and just kept going, no matter how nonsensical and incomprehensible his summary was.

“So this guy shot this other guy, breaking the pledge of brotherhood between them,” said Kuboyasu.

Good grief…Even though I’ve been ignoring him, he just goes on and on about some yakuza movie I don’t care about, thought Saiki. And the way he tells a story is beyond terrible. Just how many guys are there? He sighed inwardly. This is too much. I really didn’t want to use this technique, but this calls for…my annoyed face. Saiki turned his infamous “annoyed face” on Kuboyasu.

He flinched back and stared, wide-eyed.

See? You don’t need psychic powers to drive people away.

“W-Well, then, later,” said Kuboyasu, turning away hastily. I can’t believe that goody-goody gave me such an annoyed face! At least I learned one thing: I have nothing in common with them.

“Hey, newbie.” Kaidou walked up confidently. “My name is the Jet Black Wings.”

Kuboyasu stared at him in surprise.

“This is a boring world. It’s a cage for sheep just awaiting death’s embrace,” monologued Kaidou.

This is hopeless! Kuboyasu’s mind spun from Kaidou’s rambling. I can’t understand what regular people say at all!

Be careful. That guy isn’t a regular person.

“The awakening of Dark Reunion draws near,” continued Kaidou. “We have to complete the ‘Grand Cross’ soon and house the engraved seal of Cross!”

“Grand Cross?” Kuboyasu perked up. I’ve heard of that! “That’s right, they’re legends!” Legendary biker gang!

“What?! You know about it?!” Kaidou grew excited. No one ever got into his stories with him.

They’re not the same thing.

However, since Saiki had no interest in correcting their misunderstanding because he was using his telepathy, didn’t want his powers revealed, and, quite frankly, didn’t care, the pair continued to jump back-and-forth with identical (misunderstood) ideas.

“Yeah! They annihilated ‘Samantha’ and ‘Paramount!’ ” exclaimed Kuboyasu.

“Whoa, to think you even know about ‘Samantha’ and ‘Paramount,’ ” said Kaidou happily.

Saiki ignored the rest of their conversation to preserve his own sanity.

On the next lunch break, Kuboyasu went for a walk in the halls to stretch his legs. Almost immediately, he bumped into someone.

“Oh, sorry about that!” said (Y/N).

Remembering his previous experiences, Kuboyasu nodded and attempted to react correctly. “It’s…no problem.”

“I should’ve been looking where I was going,” said (Y/N). They chuckled. “I have my head in the clouds.” They brightened. “Oh, sorry, I should introduce myself. I’m (Y/N) (L/N). You’re Kuboyasu, right? The transfer student. I hope you’re liking PK Academy.”

Kuboyasu stared at them as they rambled. “I, uh, yeah.”

“I know it can take a while to settle in,” said (Y/N). “If you need anything, just let me know.”

“But we don’t know each other,” said Kuboyasu. We’re not even friends… He didn’t dislike being approached, but he was confused.

“Yeah, but no one knows each other when they first meet. And that doesn’t change that I’m always up to help someone,” said (Y/N) cheerfully. They knew he was struggling but doing his best, so they were going to give him the benefit of the doubt and try to help his transfer be as smooth as possible. “Seriously.” Without another word, they brushed by him. “Bye, Kuboyasu!”

He stared at them. Is everyone in this school weird?

As he learned in the next five minutes, they were. Toritsuka was girl-crazy, and Hairo was exercise-crazy. Kuboyasu didn’t understand Toristuka’s taste, and he couldn’t figure out why Hairo was so popular. He also met Teruhashi, but no one thought she was weird, just a perfect pretty girl.

Still, he returned to class with his head spinning with all the vibrant (colorful, strange, and odd were also appropriate adjectives) personalities at PK Academy.

And then, Kuboyasu was faced with something strange. Everyone he’d met, whether he’d liked them (Teruhashi, Kaidou, (Y/N), Hairo) or thought they were weird (Nendou, Toritsuka), was gathered around a single desk.

“Hey, pal!” Nendou called out.

Pal? In other words, a man who’s at the same level as a guy that Hairo admits that he can’t defeat?! thought Kuboyasu, alarmed. He looked over, and his eyes widened.

Saiki sat silently at his desk.

Him?! I went full circle and back to him! Kuboyasu was shocked. Well, even if we shouldn’t judge people by their appearances, this can’t be right!

“How is Plan Alpha coming along, Saiki?” asked Kaidou.

“Hello, Saiki!” said Toritsuka.

“How’re you doing, Saiki?” said Teruhashi sweetly.

“Hi, Saiki!” said Hairo.

“Hey, Kusuo,” said (Y/N), beaming.

What’s going on?! Everyone’s gathering around that goody, thought Kuboyasu, thoroughly confused. Could it be that…he’s the one pulling the strings?!

Yare yare. I’m never using my annoyed face again.

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#a not so disastrous romance #x reader #gn reader #nb reader #x nb reader #x gn reader #the disaster of psi kusuo saiki #saiki kusou no psi nan #kusuo saiki #saiki x reader #saiki #saiki k #saiki no psi nan #saiki kusuo #kusuo x reader #saiki kusuo x reader #the disastrous life of saiki k #the disastrous life of saiki k.#tdlosk

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steviewashere · 6 hours

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Balls in Laundry Baskets: An Apology Chp. 3 (Final)

Rating: Teen and Up CW: None for this part Tags: Post Season 4, Post Canon, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arguing, Making Up, Apologizing, Steve Harrington & Lucas Sinclair Friendship, Eddie Munson Gets Put in His Place, Eddie Munson has Asthma, Lucas Sinclair is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Protective Steve Harrington, Emotionally Hurt Lucas Sinclair, Emotionally Hurt Steve Harrington, Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Means Well He's Just Defensive, Hurt People Hurt Others

This is chapter three! Want to read chapter one? Click here. For chapter two, Click Here

Can also be read on AO3

🏀—————🏀 Come Thursday, Eddie could admit that he was a bit nervous. Considering the parameters that Lucas set for him: no complaining, no criticizing, and no refusing. Yeah, Eddie can say that he is rightfully nervous. He doesn’t have much of a filter or a ton of control when it comes to his brain to mouth, but he’s got to get the reigns somehow. Even thinks about just not talking and going with whatever physical activity Lucas wants to do. Go with how Steve moves and how he coaches them through a basketball practice.

And it started good. He did what he was told, wore one of his Metallica t-shirts with the sleeves cut off, a pair of ratty joggers transformed into shorts. Sneakers and socks and put his hair up in a bun. Max was there, jeering at them, complaining about ‘sweaty boy smell’. It felt good to move the way he was. Up and down the court. Twisting around Lucas, just barely dodging Steve. Making a few three point shots and some from off of the side.

He’s worked up a sweat. Breathing heavy, ragged and panting. Wheezing, but he ignores that part, even as it makes it harder and harder to breathe. (Maybe he should’ve brought up his lifelong asthma diagnosis and the inhaler he definitely doesn’t have hidden in his shorts pocket.)

Steve comes up to him, hair drenched in sweat and thighs glistening. Slaps his right shoulder—a term of endearment, so Max has told him. “You’re doing a good job, Eds,” Steve praises. “Let’s get some water in you and we can go for another half an hour. Then, we’ll be back here in like two weeks, yeah?”

Eddie pants, chest heaving, stuttering. His stomach is twisting. And he’s starting to get light headed, but he pushes that away. “Nah, Stevie, let’s keep going,” he strains to say, “I can—I can go some—Can go some more.”

However, Lucas strides past him then, towards Max. He shoots a look of concern. Quirked eyebrow, widened eyes, soft scowl. “Eddie, dude, it’s alright to take a break,” he states. “In fact, I usually take a good fifteen right now. Throw back some cold water, pat away my sweat, put some Tiger Balm on. Y’know, what I’d usually do at practice.” He even grabs for an ice cold bottle of water—its beading and foggy and so incredibly tantalizing. Lucas shakes it, Eddie can hear the ice clinking around. “Just take it, Eddie. It’s good to replenish.”

He waves a hand, though. Shouldering past Steve coming towards him. And grabs the basketball. Dribbles it, passes it back and forth between his hands, rolls it around on his palms. “Come on, guys! Let’s do this some more!” He urges. Because he has to prove this. Prove that he cares. That he wants to do this. That he’s capable of consuming and enjoying both Lucas and Steve’s interests. Because they matter. These people matter to Eddie and if he doesn’t show that they matter, then who knows…Eddie would prefer to not find out.

Steve shares a sidelong glance with Lucas. Looks back to Eddie, concerned and oddly a bit afraid. “If you want to continue play for a few minutes,” he says slowly, “then I guess you can?” Though, he takes a careful step forward. Places a tentative hand on Eddie’s sweaty shoulder and squeezes. Softly, he says, “You don’t have to play right now. You need a break, baby. It’s good to take a break.”

“I’ll survive for a few minutes,” Eddie continues to strain. His breath is still rattling and he can’t quite catch it fully, but it’s fine. Everything is fine. “Nobody’s ever died from basketball, I’m sure.” Then, he turns towards the court and saunters away.

It takes him only a few more laps up and down the court to really feel the effects of not taking a break. His chest burns as if somebody threw a molotov cocktail down his throat. He can’t quite get neither the black specks out of his vision nor the dizzying swoosh in his head. For a moment, he swears his head may fall right off his neck. And as he raises the basketball above his head to sink another basket, the world begins to teeter. He’s gasping for breath and not landing a single one.

Arms wrap around him before he can crash to the ground. Distantly, the sound of the basketball dissipates, bouncing away from him. Gently, his body is leaned up against something. Somebody is digging into his pockets. And then his inhaler is between his lips.

He follows the person’s lead. Taking in puffs as they’re pressed into him. Focusing on the sensations around him. A thumb on the back of his hand. Fingers through his damp, yet crunchy curls. Slowly, his vision comes back to him. His ears are ringing, but he can see.

Lucas is crouched in front of him, holding his inhaler. Steve is on his right, soothing him with his fingers. They’re both sporting looks of adamant fear. And hot shameful guilt curls inside him.

“—die? Eddie?” Steve calls out. He blinks at Lucas, too exhausted to loll his head towards Steve. “Eddie, come on, say something.”

“Did I make the shot?” He croaks.

Just barely, he hears Lucas sigh under his breath, “Jesus Christ.” His hands fall away from where they were up and presenting the inhaler. Wipes one down the entire length of his face and shoots the softest glare Eddie thinks he’s ever seen. “You fucking scared us is what you did!” He exclaims.

“Lucas,” Steve warns.

“What?! I can’t admit that he scared me? I mean—“ Lucas looks directly at Eddie. Something inside of him burns more, that curl of guilt growing bigger and bigger. Overfed like a house cat. “—Dude, why didn’t you say something about having asthma? I wouldn’t have agreed to this if I knew it could…God, you almost died over basketball. Do you know how absurd of a statement that is to make?”

Eddie merely shrugs. “I wanted to play. Had to make sure I was being a good friend,” he meekly states.

Lucas gives him another soft glare. Sighs exasperated. And requests quietly, “Steve, can I have a moment alone with him?”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m pretty positive, Steve. Nothing bad, I just…Just give me a moment and then we can go get burgers or something, yeah?” Lucas doesn’t turn to watch Steve leave, keeping his focus completely on Eddie. For the first time in a while, Eddie feels completely bare and flayed. He’s not ready for whatever lecture this is going to be. Or how Lucas is about to break off their friendship, but he readies himself anyway. Sits patiently as Lucas calculates him with eyes alone.

Then, Lucas speaks. “That was stupid,” he states easily. “The stupidest thing I think I’ve ever seen somebody pull. And I’m kind of ticked that you didn’t just take a break. Your body needs that, y’know? Otherwise, shit like this happens.”

“I get it, man,” Eddie grumbles. But his voice softens, saddened. “Just tell me to go and I’ll leave. I’m sorry that I didn’t care like I should’ve. And I’m sorry that I was shitty to you. And I’m sorry that I didn’t make it up to you sooner. But please save the lecture and rip the bandaid off.”

Lucas’s eyebrows furrow. “What? Eddie, I’m not telling you to fuck off. You’re my friend, dude. A…Eddie, you’re a good friend,” he states, an admittance. “And I—I appreciate you going out of your way to try and include my interests, really include me and what I like to do. I’m so fucking glad that you pulled your head out of your ass and apologized, that it was meaningful, that you promised yourself to be better. But—“

“But?”

Again, Lucas sighs. Looks down at his fallen hands. And back up to Eddie’s face. “—But I don’t need you dying just to prove yourself to me. That’s…That’s insane. And, honestly, your apology was enough. It was.

“Because you meant every single word of it. I could actually tell that you were sorry. You were so eager to do it. And you…God, Eddie, you’re only person that’s ever apologized me like that. Not even Mike and Dustin have apologized yet—and they’ve had so many moments to get over their own biases and talk to me. But they haven’t. You have.” His face does something a little sad, but it’s quickly schooled. “You have and that’s what matters to me. I forgave you the moment you apologized, but I was willing to let you prove yourself or whatever.

“Which, thank you for trying, but I’d prefer you alive and hysterical and insane about D&D then not have you here at all,” Lucas admits quietly. He scoots himself over to Eddie’s right side. To where Eddie can finally bring his head to look. “Thank you for apologizing. For trying. But we’ll find something else for all of us to do together. Just not today, and that’s okay.”

Eddie, sort of embarrassingly, notices that his eyes are glazed with tears. He sniffs, chews the inside of his cheek, and swallows down the small cry that wants to escape. He throws out a soft smile, to which Lucas returns. “Thanks for saving my life, Sinclair. Should’ve just taken your guys’ advice. But…I’d like to find something for all of us to do that doesn’t, y’know, involve me having an asthma attack and almost dying on you.”

“You could watch Chicago Bulls games with us,” Lucas offers. “It’s not the worst thing in the world. Just have to endure Steve and I yelling about missed baskets and calling the players names for not doing great.”

Chuckling softly, Eddie nudges Lucas’s shoulder. “Hey, as long as I can have a Mtn Dew and a bowl of popcorn, I’ll be seated and watching. Might have to explain what’s going on, but I can learn to enjoy the games with you guys.”

“Honestly, there’s not much to explain. As long as the Chicago Bulls are scoring high and actually making their baskets, that’s all that you need to focus on,” Lucas explains. “But enough about basketball. Let’s get you some water, a sweat towel, and a burger. We’ll talk about watching sports later.” He hefts himself up, offers his hands out for Eddie to take, and pulls them up to about eye level. Lucas is still a bit shorter than him, but he’s sure that in no time, they’ll be the same height.

Without warning, Lucas is wrapping himself around Eddie. He responds back enthusiastically. Squeezing them together as tight as they’ll go. “Thank you, again, Lucas. Fucking saved my life. I’ll be in your debt forever.”

Lucas pats his back and muffles into his shoulder, “Chicago Bulls games, that’s how you repay me.” But there’s a smile, Eddie can feel it through the cotton of his shirt. “Let’s go, man. Steve gets impatient if I take too long.”

Eddie sighs, pulls away, and rolls his eyes. “He does that with you, too? He’s such a stickler about being on time places, even when there’s no timer.”

“I know, right? Love the guy, but he’s got a weird internal clock.”

“Agreed, Sinclair. But I guess we’ll just have to live with that. We’re all dorks anyway.” He leans in to Lucas’s space as they walk back towards Steve’s car. Whispers low, “Steve doesn’t believe he is, but just ask him about Star Trek and you’ll get him going. Figured that out a few days ago and it’s kind of fascinating to watch.”

Lucas hums, nods, and runs out to Steve’s car. Shouts for Steve to hear, “Hey, Steve! How do you feel about Star Trek?!”

Eddie hides his laughter as Steve groans. “You told him?! I thought I could hide that!” He whines.

“Indulging interests, babe!” Eddie uses as his explanation.

“Lucas, tell him about The Karate Kid!” Steve shouts back, smug fucking grin on his face. And Lucas groans just as Steve did.

As they clamber into the car, talking amongst themselves, excited and happy and together—Eddie thinks about indulging interests more often. Star Trek, Chicago Bulls, The Karate Kid, and all.

🏀—————🏀 Taglist: @wonderland-girl143-blog @tinyplanet95 @sharingisntkaren @ghostquer @practicallybegging

#stranger things #Steve Harrington & Lucas Sinclair #steddie #steve harrington #lucas sinclair #eddie munson #angst and hurt/comfort #Eddie Munson & Lucas Sinclair

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'DON'T BLAME ME, [PART TEN]

-GOTHAM!JERVIS TETCH X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; Reader remembers why Jervis captivates her. Jervis remembers why he has a soft spot for her.

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!jervis x female reader. SLOW BURN!!! Not sure how many chapters this will be yet! LOTS OF PLOT SET-UP!! AGE GAP ROMANCE! (reader is Jim and Barbara's daughter) Jervis being a horrible teacher. The slow burn is slow burning. She fell first, he fell harder. (Guys, he's falling harder!!!) Soft Jervis. Jim and Barbara are probably tweaking out somewhere. Writing this kind of artistically and as character studies for everyone. Why are they in there friends to lovers era rn. I'm taking canon out back and beating it with a stick until it stops twitching.

⋆ tag list (tell me if you want to be removed!) @adalwolfgang @jervis-tetch-my-beloved @honestmrdual @moonlightnyx @all-things-fandomstuck @killingboredom @sweetlimeharvest @frenchfryqueen69

⋆ 'PART ONE, - 'PART TWO, - 'PART THREE, - 'PART FOUR, - 'PART FIVE, - 'PART SIX, - 'PART SEVEN' - 'PART EIGHT, - 'PART NINE, - 'PART TEN,

♫ “Baby, am I your little secret? I'm old enough to keep it.” Older by Isabel LaRosa

You're not sure when you two fell asleep, or if Jervis even did.

He still needed to wash the cuts and warm water helps the ache. You watched him settle himself into the bath water, or rather, turned around and covered your eyes for his privacy. You couldn't see the absolutely flustered expression on his face.

Ever since his hypnotism, your wound has only been mildly painful, every now and then twisting. Turns out, Mr. Tetch's hypnotism is a much better alternative then pain killers. He seems to detest the idea of you putting any drug in your body. Weird.

You settled yourself into a guest bedroom in the mansion, becoming familiar to your new surroundings. It looks more like a nursery for rich people. You weren't entirely sure how long you were going to stay with Mr. Tetch. This could take months.

You were going to learn hypnotism, from the guy who tried to kill your dad, to kill your dad. Huh.

Well, that's not exactly true. You don't know if you want to kill him. You just need him to hurt in the same way you hurt.

That idea puts you calmly to sleep.

You wake up the latest you've woken up in years. Typically your dad would wake you up at an ungodly hour, and you're not sure Barbara even has a bedroom for you to stay in. She falls asleep at her desk in the club half the time.

It reads 11:00 AM on the clock next to you. Damn. Mr. Tetch let you sleep in.

You look at your clothes to find the hospital gown still on you. You must've forget to change last night. There was...a lot to deal with.

You rummage through the drawers and closet. For a guest bedroom, it's got a wild selection of clothes. All female. All petite. An old teenage daughter of the couple must've abandoned this room. You're thanking your lucky stars. It's perfect.

Discarding the hospital gown, you scan through the garments. Pink shirts, jeans, rings and necklaces. You pause when you see it.

In all it's glory, hangs a baby blue dress. Mysteriously lolita-esque, white lace decorating the sweetheart neckline. You want to laugh. The irony. Mr. Tetch does remind you of the Mad Hatter. Alice and her dress....

You sigh as you put it on with a pair of thigh highs. It's too good not too, and provoking Mr. Tetch seems to be your favorite past time as of late.

Coming down the stairs, you smell the sweet scent of pastries and tea. Is he...cooking? He never stops being interesting.

"Another tea party?" You question, stepping into the kitchen. "The last one didn't end too well for me."

You watch as he turns to look at you. At first he goes to sneer at the jab, before he fully intakes your image.

He stands rooted in the ground, staggered, and utterly taken aback. You hear the sharp and small exhale of breath he releases. His eyes scan you over, widened, and his mouth gets dry underneath your gaze.

He looks at you with complete and total fascination. You feel your own breath catch and your cheeks burn. You can't but feel satisfied at startling the showman time and time again. The way he looks at you now is different though. Like he was just reminded of a part of him he didn't know was missing. Like he just found it again.

The timer of the oven breaks your silence. You avert your gaze from his, but he doesn't. He keeps his eyes firmly on you. You start to feel your body heat up.

"Those are going to burn." You say, swallowing, looking at the biscuits. He blinks at you, expression soft. He cocks his head, and without a word, turns back around. You sit down at the dining table.

As the timer beeps, he takes out the biscuits, perfectly golden brown. It takes him a moment before he takes his seat parallel to you. He's silent for a moment, just studying you. His voice comes out in a shaky breath.

"You look...magnificent, I must say." He clears his throat, complimenting you.

"You don't look so bad yourself, showman." You whisper, sending him a smirk. There it is. That jolt of electricity from his eyes on you. The same feeling of seeing him for the first time in the club. Before it all went to shit.

It's not so bad though. You think. It could be a lot worse. At least It's Mr. Tetch and not some other insane freak in Gotham. Mr. Tetch is gentlemanly. He's...nice. When he isn't trying to kill you or your father, or taunting you into oblivion.

He offers you a smile at your own compliment. You see his entire face beam. His voice is soft, yet sharp when needed. He seems to be more sincere, genuine. For the first time, you see the real him. Not the charismatic exterior. He's like a puppy, wagging his tail at your praise. He leans back in his chair.

"Hypnotize me." He says, bluntly. You almost choke.

"What? How?"

He pulls out his oh-so-very-precious pocket watch, and his gloved hand gives it to you with care. You marvel at the item.

He leans forward slightly and watches you take the pocket watch, his eyes sparkling with intrigue. He's enjoying this. A LOT. He crosses his arms and waits patiently for you to continue.

You rack your brain for what to say. You think about what Mr. Tetch says. Okay. Okay. Okay. You got this.

"Look into my eyes. Not above them, not around them, but deep into their center." You try to repeat his exact words back to him, watching as his eyes never stray from yours.

You want to utter another command, but you can't get the words off your tongue. The two of you just stare at each other in silence, letting the light from the blinds peak in. You hear yourself breathing, and see that shit-eating smirk of his on his face. You feel mutually scrutinized...and aroused.

Aroused? No. You can't be aroused. This guy shot you. All this is, it's just fascination! And a partnership for revenge!

Still, that jolt of electricity only grows. You notice the way his lip curls, and he notices the way your big, almost innocent eyes look up at him.

"Mr. Tetch..." You murmur the name out beside yourself. At this, his eyebrows furrow, voice still soft.

"...Yes?" His head cocks, awaiting your command.

"Are you hypnotized?" You ask, and at this, he lets out a chuckle.

"No, dear. And, if I may, that was truly a ghastly attempt."

Ah, and he's ruined the moment.

You groan into your hands as he chuckles, smug.

"Do not fret, my dear. Do you recall when I hypnotized your father? He was truly a bawling mess, wanting nothing more than to end his miserable life." His tone is gentle, and he speaks the words so casually, but there's left over venom in his voice.

"What's your point?" The volume to your voice raises. You don't want to be reminded of your fathers oversights right now.

"My point, Y/N," He clicks his tongue at your hostility, "Is that hypnotism is something intimate. It allows you to reach the deepest, darkest depths of a man."

"You want me to reach the deepest, darkest depths of you?" You ask, raising an eyebrow with a bit of a smirk. He sputters.

"No! That's- that's certainly not what I meant!" He sends you an expression of disapproval, like a teacher scolding a child for telling a joke during class. But his face is just as red as yours was earlier. He huffs. "You need to feel that intimacy. That darkness. Channel it."

You listen to his notes intently. There truly is something about him that's startingly perfect. You can't quite place your finger on it. But you notice how his smiles seem to be less saccharine, more genuine. You notice how his eyes never quite leave yours, or how your hands fidget under the table.

There were many hypnotism attempts that day. Most of them just ended in staring contests.

#gotham #x reader #gotham x reader #batman #batman rogues #gotham villains x reader #batman rouges gallery #batman x reader #dc comics #jervis tetch gotham #jervis tetch x reader #jervis tetch imagine #fic series #gotham jervis tetch #the mad hatter x reader #the mad hatter dc #the mad hatter

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