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sweet-as-an-angel · 10 months

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Miguel’s Reaction to You Taking Him to Watch The Barbie Movie

Warnings: Mainly Just Miguel Being Defensive, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Miguel Secretly Being a Barbie Girl, No Pronouns Used for Reader Except ‘You’.

Miguel loves you. So, so much. And he would move Heaven and Earth to ensure even an ounce of your happiness.

However, he is 100% convinced that this excursion, this ‘girls’ day out’, will be anything more than a mind-numbing jaunt to the cinema.

At first.

He can’t deny that his heart sank and all enthusiasm he held for your date drained from his body the second you said the words ‘Barbie’ and ‘Movie’ in the same sentence.

But alas, he swallowed his dismay and took you out, plastering on a thin smile while he thought of a million and one things you could both be doing besides watching this masterclass in colour theory.

Sat beside you, packed in on either side by yourself and the many other attendees, waiting for the film to begin, Miguel can feel his patience trying to escape, trying to convince him to run, to get out while you still can!

Because of his heightened senses, he can hear every single word passing between the crowd. And with every mention of “Pink”, “Ryan Gosling,” and “Margot Robbie!” he can feel his mind numb.

The film starts. And for you, sending a watery smile your way, while your eyes sparkle with nostalgic wonder, he endures.

Five minutes in, Miguel is assaulted by pink. The very essence of the colour and all its vibrancy sends hot pink pain through his skull, his senses raw.

Quietly, he slips his sunglasses on.

This is going to be a long movie.

And, for the first quarter of the film, Miguel held that notion. Near and dear as if it were the antidote to the current situation.

Then, halfway in, the story started to intrigue him.

The colour scheme is…tolerable now. Even pleasing to the eye in some scenes.

And, dare he say, Miguel found the music to be catchy.

Two thirds in and he’s sat forward in his seat, hands clasped and his lips resting atop them. Not that you can see, but his eyes are blown wide, his mind arace with possible outcomes.

By the end of the film, Miguel’s holding your hand, forehead pressed to your shoulder, a single, silent tear illustrating his cheek.

“Miggy?” you say, leaning over to try and see his face. You recognised the singular jutting of his shoulders immediately. And, with a smile teetering on the edges of your lips, you try to console him.

“Mig–”

“S’nothing. M’fine,” His cut-off is blunt and non-negotiable. You drop the subject and escort him from the screening by his arm, the music bright as the credits roll. The dimness of the room gives way to light, gradually, slowly. The streak of Miguel’s tear glistens.

Miguel’s visceral reaction to Barbie’s movie doesn’t stop when you get home, by the way.

It actually gets worse.

If you’re lucky, you can catch Miguel reading articles on his phone, an unmistakably pink banner and the title of ‘Top 10 Things You Missed in The Barbie Movie!’ leaving little to the imagination.

Confronting him about it will lead you nowhere. Miguel will sooner shove his phone up his ass and pretend it never existed than admit that he is indeed curious as to what happened to that one background character who fell off a cliff in that one scene. Is she okay? Does anybody know where she is? Does her family know?

The fact that you find his curiosity (empathy) endearing, ‘Aww’ing at him and pinching his cheeks, makes him ever the more secretive.

Just about secretive enough to keep his volume to a minimum when he’s singing; tunes which you know are from the soundtrack.

“I’m a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world~”

“Babe, what was th–”

“Nothing.” He’s blunt, but there is haste to his tone. Shame, even.

Occasionally, you’ll see him eyeing up Barbie-themed merch when you’re out shopping. But he never makes a move to purchase any. Not for himself, anyway.

He’ll buy you said merch – anything that catches your eye, your fancy. Even if it is a shirt ten sizes too big.

“Babe,” you say, pinching the shirt up at your shoulders, the fabric in enough excess to cause the neck to expose most of your chest. “I may be wrong here, but I’m fairly certain only you would be able to fit in this shirt.”

“Oh, well, guess I’ll just have to take it off your hands, then,” he says, his elation barely concealed behind his faux-disappointment. As if him doing so is a chore – that he’s doing you the favour by taking the garment whose shoulders could only fit his insane proportions.

Please just buy him the merch. Any shame he may feel upon initially receiving it will fade when he realises – when you reinforce – how his liking of Barbie is “Adorable, yes. But uplifting; it’s so relieving to see that you’ve found something you actually like that isn’t to do with the Spiderverse!”

“It’s actually called the–”

“Yeah, I don’t care, Babe.”

His favourite present you ever got him was a brightly-coloured exercise suit Barbie and Ken wore in the movie. He had to turn away, the fabric neon in his periphery, tears filling his eyes and balling in his throat when he saw that you’d bought a matching one.

“So we can fight crime in style!”

Miguel’s watery smile twitched, faltered. His Brow furrowed.

“Wait, what’s that supposed to mean?” he said. “You don’t think my suit’s fashionable?”

The way your face drained was enough to spark laughter in Miguel’s chest. His only line of defence against the tears that pricked his throat, played him like an instrument, with you as the orchestra’s master.

While he can’t wear the suit out on superhero duty, he does keep the headband on beneath the suit.

A reminder of you when he’s throwing himself at every threat, every monster, every evil, the band a halo hugged to his skin; a slim substitute for your warm touch, your scent, but a reminder all the same.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

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zhongrin · 1 year

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insignificant (pt.1 / 2)

◇ characters ◇ al haitham, cyno, wanderer, ayato

◇ tags ◇ angst, hurt no comfort, major character death (you), slight description of dead bodies, hints of wanderer's story spoiler, hints of cyno's backstory spoiler

◇ a/n ◇ happy birthday kazu @kazuuaki ily <3

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

numb.

when the news reached al haitham's ears, it feels like something was forcefully carved out of him. it’s a nostalgic feeling, but it was still unwelcome nonetheless. he moves on auto-pilot from thereon; nodding and following the messenger calmly, expression as stony as ever despite the dimming of his previously verdant green optics.

even when he sees your body - bruises and scratches marring your skin, the unnatural bend of your joints... and yet still, you look like the most gorgeous being in his eyes - he doesn’t cry. he simply confirms your identity before walking out of the morgue and immediately starting on preparations of your funeral.

he doesn’t want to touch you because he wants to remember your soft, warm hug as you left that morning for a commission, and not the chilling cold as rigor mortis settled in. he doesn’t want to see you any longer because he fears he’ll forget the lively grin on your expression and the love in your eyes as you promised each other to take care and stay safe-

never in his life had he imagined you would be the one who would break your promise to each other first.

but then again, the fact that you chose him at all was a big mystery even to him. what else did you see in him besides his intellect and stability? did you really mean it when you said you didn’t mind his bluntness and selfishness? did you ever regret getting into a relationship with him? did you ever dream of the same future that he saw in his own dreams?

in your last moments, did you think of the future you lost with him? did you curse him for not being there? did you…. at least…. pass on instantly?

the thoughts continue to run in circles inside his head, breaking the sentences of the book he reads and the paperwork he needs to sign as the acting grand sage. he finds himself continuously turning up the volume of the music in his soundproof headphones. his attention span diminishes. his temper worsens.

"are you hearing yourself right now?" kaveh seethes, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes.

a blank and stone-cold facade is all he gets from al haitham, “this is a meaningless topic to dwell on. i have made my statement clear and if you can’t see my point, i’m afraid it would be impossible to find a middle ground.”

“ugh, i swear to archons, you’re as stubborn as a mule! i really don’t understand why [name] likes y-” the blonde halts, the annoyance in his expression dropping into guilt and horror in mere milliseconds.

a chilly silence falls.

“i-i’m sorry. that was insensitive of-”

the older male's breath hitched. years of knowing the scribe as an acquaintance-turned-roommate, and yet this expression was a completely new sight to the architect. sure, kaveh does find the silver-haired male annoying sometimes, but he was no heartless monster - in fact, that was a title he thought his roommate held…

… that is, until today, as he witnessed the first tear fall down his roommate’s eye, therefore proving his hypothesis completely and utterly wrong.

“al haitham...”

“i don’t understand either.”

and he supposes it would stay as the one mystery he would never be able to unravel, for he would never be able to ask you now that you’re gone.

death is something the general mahamatra deals with almost on a daily basis.

it haunts him constantly; whenever cyno judges his targets with the scales of justice, he risks losing his life to the spirit that resides within him. not only that, there’s no denying the dangers that lurk just around the corner, ready to ambush him the moment he lets his guard down, given his position and the way he has to deal with criminals.

which is why whenever he has to do his duties, he always makes sure to kiss you goodbye and promises you that he’ll come back safely. to which you always reply with that lovely smile of yours and a cheerful “and i promise i’ll always be waiting for you back home!”

his dance with death is a neverending tahtib. one slight mistake could be fatal, yet cyno is anything but careless.

but what can the strongest and the most careful individual do against nature’s will?

his confident steps faltered when he received the briefing while the locals explained the situation as they walked towards the tent. several bodies had been found earlier in the day, and they suspected it was caused by the massive sandstorm that happened overnight. seeing as the victims were akademiya scholars, the villagers had asked for some people to help identify the bodies. conveniently, cyno and tighnari had been in the area, so they had volunteered to help.

the two slipped under the tent flap and the first thing cyno notices is the familiar shade of your hair.

as if he’s in a trance, his bare feet move instinctively. his heart rattles against his chest as he stops right by your side, ruby reds shaking horribly.

this has got to be a dream, right?

he dropped to his knees, uncaring of how the rough sand dug into his skin as he reaches out to trace the lacerations on your face; no doubt caused by all the sand. some of them are still stuck on your eyelashes too; and he prayed for them to flutter, to show some kind of movement, to quickly end this horrible nightmare he’s having in the middle of the day.

“cyno…”

his friend’s voice is soft and laden with sadness, as if the fox hybrid could feel the way his very soul is cracking at the edges. his calloused hands - the very same ones you used to pepper kisses upon kisses - clench around your sleeve.

“and i promise i’ll always be waiting for you back home!”

“you promised… you promised!!”

tighnari’s arms wrap around him, and he crumbles. the infamously stern and unwavering general mahamatra, broken and vulnerable, tears rapidly streaming down his bronze skin as he bit his lips until they bled to stifle the whimpers and sobs racking his body. he could barely hear his friend’s worried calls of his name. the arms around him felt suffocating and wrong because they weren’t yours.

he would never be able to feel that warm, floaty sensation from your hugs, ever again. you weren’t coming back. he will be stuck in this perpetual nightmare for as long as he lived.

“they promised….”

“……… i’m so sorry, cyno.”

as a puppet, wanderer is fortunate enough to not need many things that others find crucial to live with.

he does not need a name. after all the misdeeds he did, it felt wrong to desire such a human necessity. and yet you gave him a name nonetheless - a beautiful acknowledgment of his existence and a gift that ties you to him. they sound heavenly when the syllables fall from your lips, and he would never admit it but every time you call him that he could feel the desire to live up to your wishes behind such a precious benefaction.

he does not need love. he had craved it enough. groveled and begged for it enough at the start of his archon-made life. he tells himself he does not need the fickle emotion. not from his creator, and certainly not from a measly human who was too stubborn to let him be. still, you gave it to him with your bare hands, bit by bit, ever so patient and fleeting, with your honeyed whispers and gentlest touches upon his wooden skin. and oh, what a marvel it was, to bask in them.

he does not need to eat or drink. while he can taste and digest organic sustenances, his body didn’t exactly need them to function properly. his ‘mother’ could have taken his tastebuds and he was convinced he would not have minded… before he met you, that is. for how else was he going to taste your sweet lips and savor the intoxicating taste of your skin? and the way he just can’t seem to get enough, how he keeps starving for more, how he keeps having these funny feelings in his stomach - was it what the mortals call them “hunger pangs”? or perhaps it was something else? - whenever you are not by his side… you make him malfunction and he hates you for it.

he does not cry and he certainly does not need to cry.

so why are there liquids seeping down his polished cheeks and dropping onto your still hand?

“fix them.”

the small dendro archon returns his empty stare with a sympathetic frown. his jaw sets.

“fix them.”

he repeats, yet she remains unmoving; her green eyes flicking back down at your unmoving body.

“please.”

he does not breathe, but the pain in his voice and the cracks in his plea mimic that of a breathless, pained human.

nahida looks back at him, and then she steps forward.

something tugs within him. a little spark. a familiar sensation. one you frequently elicit from him, with your annoyingly endearing laughs and silly declarations of love.

the deity’s little hand places over your glazed eyes and closes them gently. then, she steps back.

the small spark fizzles and dies.

“not even us archons can bring back souls long since left for the afterlife into a dead body. this is the very law of nature itself,” she gives him a pained look, “you know of this.”

“…. please…”

“i know it hurts, little one. this too, proves that you’re no different than a hu-”

“THEN END ME ALREADY! LET ME PERISH!!”

for his heart has stopped beating, so why was he still alive?

“ayato.”

his name falls from your lips like the stars falling from the sky this rainy night. the downpour continues to make the ground muddy and the workers continuously struggle not to slip as they wrestle with the soil. it was not the ideal weather for this event and truthfully had he wanted he could probably order to stop the whole thing or use his vision to help with all the rainwater.

“i just feel like i needed to tell you.”

but the blue hydro gem merely hangs uselessly on his hip, along with the rest of his clothes, clinging uncomfortably onto his body. the umbrellas held by thoma hadn’t done their jobs properly, but the blonde housekeeper does not dare utter a word as the two siblings continued to stand side by side in silence, staring at one singular point.

“if, one day, you need to choose between the kamisato clan and me…”

to the elders in the family, it is a familiar sight. they could see it as if it was just yesterday. the same scene, the same setting - just a different place and with a younger version of the current lord and lady of the house. the girl had clung to her older brother, sniffling and choking back sobs, as the latter held her tightly, but with a sort of resolve that didn’t exactly fit his young visage.

just like last time, ayato watches silently as one of the most important people in his life is taken further and further away from him. as the wooden crest of the kamisato clan is eventually covered by the dirt. as his memory frays and his heart screams in pain and tears itself inside out behind his white robes.

as the pristine tomb with your epitaph marking your final resting place settles on its place.

his father.

his mother.

you.

all of whom should have been his family. all of whom he had sworn to protect and cherish.

“… i will not resent you for the choice you make.”

but [name], dearest, i will forever resent myself for the choice i made.

his vision never does shimmer as brilliantly as before from thereon.

#astronetwrk #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #rin writes #al haitham #cyno #wanderer #ayato #al haitham x reader #cyno x reader #wanderer x reader #ayato x reader

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3terna15unshin3 · 4 months

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Connected

—

A/N: idea came from this ask, so thank u anon🥰🥰 it was so fun to think of how Matty and Este’s relationship was seen from the other side like what fans pick up on, and also establish how much they decide to share with fans vs keep to themselves. this concept is so interesting to me but i had a hard time writing from the pov of a fan hahaha so i just did it this way instead :))

This obvs is based heavily on TBSG lore so none of this makes sense if you haven’t read the main fic - go do that first!! and also check out the Instagram AUs, they add to the pizazz

—

“Love, look what I just saw on Twitter. This is hilarious.”

Este points her phone screen towards Matty as they sit in bed on a Sunday morning. He yawns, tired and still half asleep, then blinks his eyes a few times to read what she’s showing him. It’s a tweet from a fan that sits in her mentions from a couple of days ago when a clip from his Zane Lowe interview resurfaced.

megs ⎕ PL4YINGONMYM1ND

thinking about the fact that matty mentioned meeting e.manansala when she worked at a bookstore in manc to zane and in this 2018 interview he said his fav spot in the city is Greenhouse Books …….. what are the chances this is the same bookstore bc that would be so😭😭😭💔💔💔💔 https://manchesterwire.co.uk/?s=matty+healy+give-yourself-a-try/arts&culture/article

jaymie SAW UNDO LIVE trmanb1ackk

→ Replying to PL4YINGONMYM1ND

Hold on you might be onto something

megs ⎕ PL4YINGONMYM1ND

→ Replying to trmanb1ackk

right like okaayyy bookstore worker x customer to lovers notting hill pipeline????? 🤭 huge if true

She watches his eyes scan over the text and a fuzzy smile grow on his face. Matty loves talking about Este when he can—to bring some much deserved attention to her writing—and did so often, but does’t always mention many the details of their relationship. That was until strolling around the Northern Quarter with Zane brought a bit of it out of him.

Este is what brings him back to Manchester the most often, from visiting her family and Cate and Georgia to just needing a bit of a homey feeling from its familiar pubs and nostalgic shops. So, naturally, Matty talked about her in the interview done for the release of Being Funny—explaining how they’d met and how much the city means to them both.

“How they put two and two together is beyond me,” he says, scratching his head. “That Manchester Wire interview was five years ago now, you know. Did you ever read that?”

She chuckles. “Course I did! We had a few fans come in that summer with the sole intention of coming to a place you recommended, actually.”

“Why have you never told me that?” Matty asks, “You’re welcome for the business, by the way.”

“You never even told me about your little shout out, to be fair. I had to find out on my own,” Este teases. “Plus, we weren’t even a thing at that point—we’d met once! Quite creepy, in retrospect.”

“When you put it like that it’s honestly so cringe so please change the subject now.” Matty buries his head in the bunches of sheets that sit in her lap, embarrassed and frankly too sleepy to defend himself.

Este giggles, letting her hands settle into his curls. “Oh c’mon, you weren’t cringe. I’m just pulling your leg. It was sweet,” she reassures him.

“You’re just saying that because you feel bad,” he whines, then rubs his eyes to try and get the sleep out of them. “That’s so crazy that they dug that up, though. I’m not sure if many people know you’ve been around since then.”

“They probably looked at your life in 2019 and figured you were a rockstar with a new girl in every city but in reality you were calling me to get to sleep every night and doing origami in your free time because it reminded you of me.”

Matty’s jaw drops at her blunt comments. “I was about to get mad but I can’t even disagree.” He sits up, raking the hair out of his eyes. “Do people still use the word ‘simp’? Can that be applied to this situation? Was I a simp?”

She throws her head back, mouth wide, as she laughs at how ridiculous his question is.

“Please don’t say ‘simp’, love. You’re 34.” Este squeezes out between her giggles, “But no, people don’t use that word anymore. And yes it can be applied. And also yes, you were. And still are.”

“Proudly am,” he adds.

She leans into his side and he snakes his arm around her waist. They sit there, Matty only in a pair of pyjama pants and her an oversized tee, scrolling through the funny replies to the tweet and how big of a deal some fans were making it.

“You should respond. Tell Megs that she’s right.”

“Seriously?” Este asks, shocked that he’d want her to engage in something so meaningless and speculative.

But alas, he nods casually with a smile. “Yeah. They seem sweet, and just curious. And maybe being such a simp will give me some brownie points,” confirms Matty.

“God, enough of that word!”

Este e.manansala

→ Replying to PL4YINGONMYM1ND

Can confirm🤝

liv livmymistake_

→ Replying to PL4YINGONMYM1ND and e.manansala

MEGS OH MY GOD

Jude 🥾🌎 ittsjudesk

→ Replying to PL4YINGONMYM1ND and e.manansala

UMMMMMMMMMMM

megs ⎕ PL4YINGONMYM1ND

→ Replying to e.manansala

omg hi😭😭😭 are being fr i can’t cope

Este e.manansala

→ Replying to PL4YINGONMYM1ND

Greenhouse is the bookstore i worked at and is where matty and i met that year:)) and hi💌

megs ⎕ PL4YINGONMYM1ND

→ Replying to e.manansala

i think i’m psychic for guessing that🤭🤭🤭🤭

—

megs ⎕ PL4YINGONMYM1ND

k now i’m going crazy bc i had no clue him and este had been dating for that long💀 was genuinely convinced it had been 3 years max

Jude 🥾🌎 ittsjudesk

→ Replying to PL4YINGONMYM1ND

Literally they didn’t post each other until like 2020

sarah🧸 _102sar

→ Replying to PL4YINGONMYM1ND

I think she was at the 2018 Pryzm show too. Not sure but I was at the after party and remember seeing her there lol

megs ⎕ PL4YINGONMYM1ND

→ Replying to _102sar

WHAT…….. this lore being uncovered omg

“Someone recognises you from the Brief Inquiry album release show?!” exclaims Matty in disbelief. “There’s no way.”

They still sit in bed as Este types away, having fun interacting with the small group. He leans his head on her shoulder and watches her as she does it.

“They’ve known you longer than I have, you know. They know their stuff,” she responds.

“Even I don’t remember you being at the Pryzm show.”

Este’s mouth falls open in shock, thoroughly offended. “You prick.”

“I’m joking!” Matty defends through fits of laughter. “C’mon E, I’m joking.”

She knows he is, but enjoys the theatrics of it all; shoving his head off her shoulder and scooting away from his touch in protest.

“That was a special night for me! The first time I saw you play and met the guys! Don’t make fun!” Este pouts, crossing her arms playfully.

“Fine. I take it back, I take it back,” Matty begs, dragging her back over to him and bringing her legs over top of his. He grabs her hand and places a kiss on her palm. “I remember meeting Cate, and introducing you to Louis. And Ross making fun of my gallbladder surgery, and leaving Cate on the dance floor to get drinks, and screaming at each other over the music at the bar. You telling me about the anniversary party. I very much remember!”

“Okay, okay. Enough gushing. I forgive you.”

Matty pecks her palm once more and shuffles her even closer. “Open Twitter back up. This is fun.”

Jude 🥾🌎 ittsjudesk

→ Replying to PL4YINGONMYM1ND and _102sar

This is absolutely shocking bc how did his chronically online ass manage to hide a whole gf that long

megs ⎕ PL4YINGONMYM1ND

→ Replying to ittsjudesk

fr!!! like do we think she was on the abiior tour with them bc i swear jordan absolutely fed us with so much bts content it would be impossible to miss?? someone dig

sarah🧸 _102sar

→ Replying to PL4YINGONMYM1D and ittsjudesk

If u scroll back on her IG u can see Matty in her comments since then. And they’d repost each other on their stories and stuff🥲 So not that hidden if ur a stalker like me lmao

megs ⎕ PL4YINGONMYM1ND

→ Replying to _102sar

thoroughly upset that i missed so much bf matty content </3

Este e.manansala

→ Replying to PL4YINGONMYM1ND and _102sar

Ignore me stalking u🤭🤭 i was indeed at that Pryzm show lol but we weren’t dating yet. And during abiior tour I saw a few UK shows but otherwise i was just in Manc working/being a bad groupie x

Este e.manansala

→ Replying to PL4YINGONMYM1ND

Also matty is sitting beside me now and he is cool with me filling u in (it was his idea) and he says hi. and that u guys are cute

megs ⎕ PL4YINGONMYM1ND

→ Replying to e.manansala

ohhh yes u are a working woman how could i forget!! bookstore worker/groupie same difference. thank u for responding😭 u are the coolest❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 (also hi matty😳)

Jude 🥾🌎 ittsjudesk

→ Replying to e.manansala

Hi Matty sorry for calling u chronically online x

Este e.manansala

→ Replying to ittsjudesk

He forgives you (but it’s true imo)

liv livmymistake_

→ Replying to e.manansala

este wait i have to know …. since u are a former bookstore girlie turned writer are u the reason matty periodically spam posts a bunch of literature on his instagram stories???? did u convert him to bookstoregirlieism??

Este e.manansala

→ Replying to livmymistake_

I am obsessed with the idea that he was illiterate before meeting me so i’m gonna say yes. thank u for that

Este e.manansala

→ Replying to livmymistake_

Liv it’s me I stole the phone and don’t appreciate this sentiment tbh. You should know I’ve always been a wanker so all the literature spams are just me letting that out and este just enables me. hope that helps x Matty

#is this even good???? i’m spiralling #like why do i feel like it isn’t giving anything.#tbsg #meste blurb #blurb #matty healy #the 1975 #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 fanfiction #matty healy x oc #matty healy fic #matty healy fluff #matty healy fanfic #fanfiction #fluff

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wario-speedwagon · 3 months

Text

Dave and Old Sport Adopt a Kid: Chapter 13

Hello! Happy first birthday to this fic! I can't believe this fic has come this far. Thanks for all who have tagged along for the ride, and I hope you enjoy today's chapter! Full chapter below the cut! <3

Chapter 1 Chapter 12

Chapter 13

“So Scott sure wasn’t happy with us, huh!” Dave finally commented with fake cheerfulness to break the awkward silence that had hung in the air of that dingy car.

It only ended up making the following silence even more awkward than before when there was no reply beyond a deep breath. Jack didn’t have the spoons to start up such forced small talk, not with everything that was on his mind right now.

So seeing that Jack was still staunchly “focused on the road,” Dave went back to rubbing the shoulder of Pruny, who was leaned up against him in the back seat. He could practically feel her trembling.

Despite not really having one, his heart went out to her, as he could tell exactly how she was feeling based on her behavior, if only because it reminded him so much of his own during a “bad day” back in his Henry days.

Now that he thought about it, the way he himself was cradling his own injured eye with his other hand was also just as… nostalgic.

Dave figured it must be an Aubergine trait to keep up such a brave face in spite of it all, as despite being so shaken, there weren’t any more tears he could see. Dave petted her head out of bittersweet pride, to which she responded by readjusting herself more comfortably.

Dave would be content with this bittersweet peace, except unfortunately Pruny’s wellbeing wasn’t the only big concern of his. He couldn’t really take in all the confusion in the heat of the moment, but now that he could properly sit on his unanswered thoughts, the implications of the words exchanged today started to become… rather serious. But only if “Jack” could prove his fears were founded.

So after another couple minutes of sitting in all this uncomfortable nothing, Dave eventually took a shot:

“Hey, so we gonna talk about what happened or…?”

“...U-Uh—”

“...Because the other option would be to keep actin’ like it never happened, and I’m sure as hell not doin’ that.”

“...Later. When we get home.”

“Alright, fair enough I suppose.”

More silence settled in the air, though now with some of the tension broken at least. Dave found himself relishing in how Old Sport called it “going home.” And “going home” how it seemed to naturally include himself and Pruny now. Or maybe he was overthinking things again. Either way, for how much Sportsy played “hard-to-get,” he sure was falling easily into this new family dynamic.

It was good that his family was starting to form on its own, hopefully without further need for intervention. But after the shit that went down today… he couldn’t be too hopeful.

No, this stuff needs to be aired out now. Hiding secrets only ever led to more hurt later on. He learned that lesson from Henry a lot.

“How’s your eye doing?”

“Oh. Probably fine. It’s not the first time it’s been roughed up like this.” Although it was usually a blunt impact from a wrench rather than a scratch, but—

“We should probably take you to a doctor.”

“Hah! In this economy?”

“Okay then, coward, I hope you’re ready to be a pirate if it gets infected though, cuz I don’t have a first aid kit good enough for that.”

“You kiddin’? I’d look badass with an eyepatch!”

“...You might have to retire your kiddie strangling days though.”

…Well that came out of left field. Dave wasn’t comfortable with how serious he sounded either...

He’d never really put much thought into it yet since this all began… If they kept up this whole “family” schtick, then would it make sense to keep up their “kiddie strangling” schtick as well? He hated it, but Sportsy might have a point about that.

…But what if they made Pruny “Kiddie Strangler 3.0” and made a cute murder family? Now that'd be the best of both worlds—he was smiling just imagining it!

Eh, but something told him that Pruny wouldn’t be all that gung-ho about the idea. Even Dave himself hated the idea at first when Henry started with him. What if she warmed up to it though…?

From now on, this won’t be happening again.

Sportsy's earlier words cut through his thoughts. Was he really so willing to give up what they had that easily? Or maybe he didn't really mean it, or he meant something else… Fuck, it had him concerned though. Why was Sportsy such a doormat to that thing, anyway?

That whole scene today had so many questions to dive into.

And while Dave hadn’t quite pieced it together in the moment, he was sure now in hindsight that “Jack Kennedy” was what that thing—”Dee”?—was calling Old Sport. He’d never even considered until then that Old Sport had a name, but now he had to know.

“Jack?”

The orange guy's head tilted accordingly.

“That your name? Jack Kennedy? That’s what she was calling you. And you were callin’ her ‘Dee’—”

“I’ll explain when we get home, Dave, just—please, not right now.”

“Okay.”

“...But yeah, that is my name.”

“Huh…” Dave wasn’t sure if he’d be used to him having a real name.

But still: it seemed that the bright side of today would be that Old Sport was finally going to really open up to him about everything!

You don't even remember what you did to Jack Kennedy. And apparently neither does he.

…Okay, maybe he was feeling a just a little bit intimidated to unpack all that.

...Even more so now that he just remembered the name Dee Kennedy. And which of his victims it belonged to.

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

Violet, meanwhile, had been tuning out their occasional muffled conversation and reliving her experiences that day.

The puppet had been so nice and fun to her! Was it genuine, or was that thing really dangerous?

You were on your way out. Leave the kid alone, comprende?...

…Prune, get out of here.

The way Dave fiercely threatened that thing while Jack nervously negotiated with it, the way it tried to keep her from them and the way Jack pushed her to escape…

She didn’t know what conclusions to draw from all that except that they were not good, not at all. The puppet and them were clearly old enemies somehow. And right before she and the Phone Guy came back into the room, she barely yet certainly heard Jack shouting something inside, and Dave was on the ground covering his face like it was hurt once they entered. Dave was still nursing that injury right now next to her…

She wished she would have been able to tell what the puppet was apparently saying to them so she’d not be so hopelessly in the dark about what had just occurred.

Was this all her fault for running off with it? Did she cause this? Did she get Dave hurt? Is there something she could have done to make them not fight? Or would things have at least gone better if she’d just hurried up and spat out what she needed to say sooner to the Phone Guy—!

She realized she'd worked herself up again when she felt tears forming in her eyes again, so she tried to stop the what-ifs. But just after her breath hitched, she felt a giant hand pat her head again, knocking those tears loose down her face, before his hand returned to her shoulder again. She still tried to fight the urge to cry, but once her breath hitched a second time, she instead just let it all happen. And she heard Dave take notice as he softly cooed something in comfort to her (not that she could see what he said) while he hugged her tighter against him.

This... This was a new feeling. She'd never felt... good crying before... Was that even allowed?

...No. With them, she decided dumb rules like that didn't even matter.

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

The loud sound of the entrance doors closing reverberated through the dark and empty dining room, almost like some old, empty cathedral. Scott fumbled with his ring of jingling keys before finding the right one which he then inserted and turned to lock up the entrance, filling the haunting silence behind him with more echoing clicks.

And then he sighed loudly because no one could hear him but these walls. Well, in theory anyway. Because that puppet was still unaccounted for, and was frankly only the second greatest source of his stress right now.

First place of course went to the police investigation, the missing children scandal, the distraught parents he'd faced, all of it weighing heavily on his mind. It was unbearable, simultaneously hoping a solid lead came out of it for their sakes while actively fearing the fulfillment of that same exact hope for his own sake.

But then on top of that, there was the whole Jack, Dave and puppet fiasco, and it was putting so many extra thoughts on his mind, thoughts he just didn’t have the headspace to handle right now. Words replaying in his head repeatedly—

And you, Dee. I know you have no reason to believe me ever again— Save it, Jack. I’m not interested in what you have to say anymore. Dee, just listen to me— You listen to ME, Jack Kennedy! Dee— —Jack Kennedy! Dee—! —Kennedy!

The names especially kept repeating ad nauseum. For such few words he overheard, they haunted Scott incessantly. They agitated so many memories and images in his head that didn’t belong in his wiring—

His orange employee who recently knelt down comforting a purple child—except somehow that image felt like a much older memory than just a mere day ago… no, was it a different child maybe? But then why would Jack be there? Why would Jack be in his old memories? Or was it someone else he was being reminded of? ...Yeah, someone decidedly less orange, probably. But then why does he have the same last name as himself—a-as Peter? There’s simply no way that could…

...So does Jack know Peter? Is that the conclusion to draw? Does that puppet!? Because they clearly knew each other somehow with how they talked—Dee, that was its name? Dee?... Dee… Dee… Dee…Kennedy? Did that last name fit there too? Maybe it might but he couldn't be sure either way.

The puppet… is still out there hiding somewhere… Could he…

…ask it?

...Did he want to?

Either way, he had to find it to contain it and prevent Freddy’s from having any more reasons to shut down.

Knowing the puppet was maybe a person of some sort, though, that course of action felt kind of… wrong…

No, Scott didn't have time for such ethical quandries in these dire times. He reached for his flashlight and began his search. It was certainly daunting, both because that thing could be lurking anywhere, and depending on its mood, it could be any level of dangerous if he was caught unaware.

Then again, death by puppet was probably far more favorable than the “proper” way for a Phone Guy to go…

Scott decided he hadn’t checked the ballpit in a while today, so he made that his first search destination. As he approached the door for that room, though, a chilling whisper from behind him stopped him in his tracks:

“You’re looking for me, aren’t you?”

He immediately turned, and the flashlight beam revealed a damaged puppet standing amongst the dining tables just two rows away.

“I-I suppose I am, yes.”

“To put me back in my box, right?”

“I can't have you causing any more trouble for me.”

“Do I have to stay in there?

…I have no desire to hurt anyone you know.”

“Th-That’s not what I saw there in the Saferoom.”

“Those two were different. They’re murderers.”

Scott had suspected that a fair bit, actually, but it was still chilling to hear that seemingly confirmed. Dave was obvious, but perhaps after seeing how Jack was with that girl, he’d started to dismiss his previous doubts with him. He didn't remember Jack being like Dave—

“‘Dee,’ was it? Do you know Jack?”

“I do.”

“How so?”

“He was my brother.”

“Your brother?”

“I’m not a robot, Scott. I’m the soul of Dee Kennedy.”

Uncertainty was finally clearing up as things started clicking into place.

“And that makes him Jack Kennedy, then?”

“Naturally.”

But as addicting as the straightforward answers were, he still hesitated to get to the crux of his questions.

“... …Was there a Peter Kennedy as well?”

“Peter? He was our older brother. Why?”

That confirmed it. It was so obvious now that he knew for sure; Peter did have something like siblings, didn't he? Of course he did!

“Do you know Peter?”

“...Sort of? …This is going to sound strange because it is, but… I have several of his memories rattling around in my memory banks for some reason.”

“Memories? Like what?” she asked with sudden alert interest.

“It’s… Well, a lot of them involve a wife named Caroline. She’s in most of them. Her, and his job at Freddy’s before he died. Oh, and a kind of pinkish man, the guy that killed him. He and Peter both keep showing up in my nightmares lately…”

The puppet was perked up over something he said, though remained silent for a while. But then it eventually cut the silence, bursting with:

“Your ring, you have a wedding ring, right?”

“Y-Yeah, of course, I do have a wife besides Caroline…”

“Take it off! Is there any writing on the inside!?”

“U-Uh, hold on a sec…?” Scott did as told. After sliding it off, he carefully held the flashlight up to it at an angle where he could inspect the inside of it. After a few moments, he did notice some fancy etched calligraphy.

…

His heart skipped a beat.

“Does it say something like ‘Peter, lawful husband of Caroline’?”

“How do you know that!?”

“Because I was there when you picked it out! And you were so annoying when you made sure everyone saw it!”

Peter’s eyes were still glued to the golden ring he was holding, still in awe that such an answer had been on his finger this whole time, so he didn’t even notice her rapidly approaching—

“Woah—!”

—for a hug.

“It IS you! It’s you, Peter, isn’t it!?”

“...” He couldn't bring himself to reciprocate the hug.

“...Isn’t it?”

“... I don’t know. Just because I… have his ring… there's countless other ways I could end up with his ring. Because I-I’m Scott Cawthon. I have my own life, my own family, my own memories—”

“—But you have Peter’s memories!”

“It’s probably a programming fluke—”

“No way!” she whined.

“Puppet, it’s time you returned to your box,” he said coldly, unwrapping her rope-like limbs from their embrace.

“No! Not unless you tell me that you’re Peter!”

“...” He simply couldn't keep eye contact with her anymore.

“Please! Peter, I haven’t seen you in so long!”

“... Good night, Miss Puppet. Behave yourself, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“No!”

Scott turned to make his exit.

Stringy arms immediately wrapped around him from behind again, holding him back.

“Dee—”

“That’s right, I’m Dee! Your baby sister! You raised me yourself, you and Jack!”

“That’s enough, Dee, please let me go.”

“No! Please don’t leave me, not again!”

Peter’s heart shattered.

“Please!”

…No, he saw no other recourse than to just make a run for it, and with enough force that he broke free from her grasp.

“Don’t go! Please!” the child wailed behind him, abandoning her dignity. He wished this was only the first time he'd heard that wailing, because he couldn't help her this time—

His heart was racing—he fumbled through the keys again once he reached the locked entrance while the Puppet rapidly followed him; when she arrived—

“Dee, enough.” A different voice came out of him, and with enough desperate sternness that she stopped immediately in her tracks.

“Peter... that’s your voice…”

“Goodnight, Dee,” he firmly reiterated, switching back to the voicebox like nothing happened.

“No!” she protested one last time—

His cold, sweaty hands turned the key and quickly pushed the door open to leave as fast as he could— ...and then firmly pressing his back against the outside building wall which he started to slide down, he attempted to soothe a panic attack he didn't realize he was having until now.

At this rate, his brain was going to fry.

(Chapter 14)->

#ngl that last half of the fic was so fun to write #thanks for all your support throughout the year! <3 #dayshift at freddy's #dsaf #dayshift at freddys #dsaf fanfic #peter kennedy #dee kennedy #jack kennedy #dave miller #dsaf dee #dsaf peter

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rosemaryandarsenic · 2 years

Text

A Little Eyeliner Goes a Long Way

pairing| Gareth Emerson x fem!reader

readersynopsis| Gareth lets you do his makeup and it leads to *activities* also reader gets nostalgic A LOT lol

warnings|SMUT! 18+ only as always, minors DNI. Drugs, fingering, oral sex, and dirty talk! and cursing. SoftDom!Gareth hehe. As always, Gareth and reader are aged up <3

AN: listen, this took me way too long to write but I did it. I have been struggling to put my thoughts to paper but I hope you like it!

I’m sitting on the sofa, a blunt curled between my lips as I stare at the television. Its nearly 11:30pm and the digital clock to my left is blinking red against the dim lights in Gareth’s living room. His parents are out of town, so we decided to have our annual pre-halloween celebratory horror film marathon (that’s a fucking mouthful, I know) here, so no one would bother us. Jeff had left thirty minutes ago with the new corroded coffin member who’s name I can never remember. I try okay? I’m bad with names. Eddie had bailed to go do a deal, promising to be back the next day so we could work on Hellfire’s new campaign together. I’d conned Gareth into Rocky Horror Picture show (I know he secretly loves it) and we’d been snuggled together watching when he’d leaned in and whispered in my ear.

“How hard is it to do Frank n Furter’s makeup?”

“Not that hard, why?” I mumble, feeling hazy.

“You wanna do it on me?” Gareth mumbles back, bumping his nose against my cheek affectionally.

I leaned back, giving him a look. “You never let me do your makeup!”

“I can change my mind.” He smirked, “I’m sure you’d be so bored, I can just forget-.”

“NO!” I squeal, “I’ll do it, I wanna do it.”

I jump up from the sofa, rocking a little as I make my way upstairs to his room to get my bag. It's on the floor, next to a stack of D&D books, and I grab it in what feels like slow motion. Whatever weed Eddie gave us was hitting me HARD. I stop before leaving his room, letting my eyes linger on his wall. Polaroids from the last few years scattered the walls, but my favorite is the one above his bed. It’s us, our senior year at camp. I’m sitting on a picnic table, hugging Gareth from behind as he sits in front of me. We’re both sunburnt, smiling and the lake behind us is sparkly blue. That was the year we’d first kissed, both of us hungover from the night before and trying to find some quiet by taking a boat out onto the lake. He’d leaned in, barely touching my lips before pushing me out of the boat, into the water, and laughing. I giggled at the thought, reaching out to touch the picture. My boyfriend is so pretty.

I hear shuffling downstairs, and scurry back towards the living room. Gareth’s stretched out over the sofa now, head leaning against the back of it, legs spread and arms outstretched. His eyes are closed, and I let myself take in the view. He’s got some scruff growing, curly hair framing his face like a halo.

“Hi pretty.” He mutters with his eyes still closed as I plop down next to him and rummage through my bag.

“Hi baby.” I reply.

He opens his eyes, finally, blinking as he focuses on me. God I love those green eyes. Sometimes I want to melt into him when he looks at me, its like my brain see’s those little gems and gets this insatiable urge to eat him alive. We’ve been dating for a year and I still get butterflies just from looking at him. I scoot closer, pulling my bag with me as I straddle his lap, facing him.

His eyes are so dilated already, and they only get bigger as I sit on his lap, the color in his eyes dissolving into black as he watches me settle.

“I’m gonna start with eye makeup, then I’ll do the rest.” I smile, pushing his hair out of his face.

He leans closer, letting me brush shadow over his eyelids. His eyes are closed again, and I go slow. Too slow probably, my hands feel heavy and I keep getting lost looking at him. His cheeks are warm, lips extra pink and a peaceful expression covers his face. So pretty. When I’m high like this, everything feels more tangible, and warm. His hands on my hips feel electric, and it's taking a lot of willpower not to kiss him. I just want to push into him, feel his body warm up against mine and his face nuzzle into me.

“Whatcha thinking?” I jump as he asks, realizing he’s opened his eyes and caught me practically drooling.

“Nothing,” I giggle, grabbing his face and brushing on more shadow. He smirks, letting me work and grabbing my hips tighter, shifting under me. I know he can feel me squirm, probably feel the heartbeat in between my legs with the way I’m sitting.

I reach for my eyeliner, delicately drawing it over his eyelids and smudging it with my fingers. His lips part a little and he smiles as I admire my handiwork, checking to see if the liner is even on both sides. As I check, he sneaks a kiss, pulling me closer to him, and I let him. His lips feel even better than I expected, warm and a little wet. Instead of pulling away, I deepen the kiss, letting my tongue roll against his mouth as he groans softly. He pulls away to breath after a minute, a small trail of spit connecting our swollen lips. He reaches up and wipes my mouth with his thumb, sending a shiver down my spine. I toss my liner to the floor and push both my hands into his hair. I moan softly at the way he leans back into my hands, my fingers tangling in his hair as I kiss his jaw.

Making out with Gareth can go one of two ways, either he ends up slamming my face into a pillow while absolutely railing me, or he stops after five minutes and goes back to whatever he was doing like nothing happened. It drives me nuts when he teases me like that, and he does it regularly. I let it go because it never lasts longer than a few days before his willpower breaks and he’s slamming me into the nearest empty closet out of desperation. I’m hoping he’s too tired to tease me today, we haven’t had sex in two days and its starting to drive me a mad just a little.

I whimper a little as Gareth bites my lower lip, his kisses getting harder. His arms are wrapped around me, pulling me in so tight I can feel us breathing in unison. The hoodie I’m wearing has slid completely off one shoulder and he pushes it down further, kissing down my neck and my collar bone lazily. I nuzzle into him, my hips instinctively grinding into him as I feel my skin tingle from his kisses. He leans back, pulling my hoodie back up and zipping it closed. I groan as he raises and eyebrow and smirks, situating me on his lap and handing me my eyeliner.

“I was busy.” I whine, trying to kiss him again. He grabs my face.

“I know you were,” he chuckles, “go ahead and finish, you always wanna do my makeup. Now all of a sudden you’re not interested? Somebody’s gotta make up her mind!”

He’s babying me, and I feel like smacking him. Instead I sigh and climb off his lap, turning so my butt was facing him as I bent over to reach for the mascara I had just conveniently knocked off the sofa. Two can play at this game.

I turn back around and grin as I catch his gaze. I’d taken off my pants earlier, after everyone had left. I may be wearing plain black undies, but I could literally be wearing a garbage bag and Gareth would still get hard at the sight of my ass. He’d admitted to me once that he’s an ass man, but I knew a special little secret - he loves thighs. Like LOVES them. My thoughts wander to a memory of his face buried in between my thighs, and I feel my pussy throb. Jesus Christ.

I can feel the energy in the room shift as I turn back to him, sliding down to take my previous seat on his lap. His eyes are dark now, more than before, and he looks like he might eat me alive. He’s not reaching for me, stubborn in his resolve to make me finish my task. I lose myself in brush strokes and blush for a few minutes, savoring the red that’s slowly crawling over his face. I can feel him getting harder underneath me too, and I know I’m starting to drive him nuts. This knowledge only makes me go slower, and I smile to myself as I watch him squirm under me impatiently. He’s eyeing me hungrily as I take my sweet time, grinding my hips down into his as I pull out a tube of lipstick. Before I can even open the tube he’s grabbed me by the wrists and flipped me under him, into the sofa cushions. I gasp at my sudden change in position and stifle a moan as he attacks my neck with kisses and nibbles.

“How do I look?” He rises, still over me, knees in between my legs, and whips off his shirt. I’m smiling, admiring my handiwork and the hair on his chest. Curly tendrils of it are scattered across his chest, but they concentrate on their way down his torso, a soft brown happy trail that travels underneath the waist of his boxers.

“You look hot with eyeliner,” I say, grabbing at him and pulling him back down for more kisses.

“I think you’re biased.” He murmurs, lips sloppily meeting mine as he presses into me. He’s sighing softly, almost barely loud enough to hear but I feel the hum in his chest. Our lips stay together, pulling at one another as both our hands roam. Mine through his hair, down his chest, across his back, feeling the muscles in his forearms. His under my hoodie, on my butt, in my hair and the back of my neck, pulling my face tightly to his. We’re both a moaning mess at this point, breathless and refusing to pull back.

“You feel amazing,” he whispers, hands slipping under my hoodie again, to my chest.

My heart is pounding out of my chest at the feeling of his palms over my nipples and I can feel my pussy throbbing, aching for friction as I rut my hips up into him. He gently slips one hand under the waistband of my panties and I cry out at the sensation of him circling my clit.

“Needy girl,” he smirks, looking a little hazy himself as he watched me unwind around his fingers.

“Ive been thinking about this for days,” I whine, reaching for his arms. He slams me back down with his free hand on my chest, sliding a finger inside me.

“Days?”

“Days.” I moan, arching and throwing my head back. His fingers are agile, stroking slowly in my core, his thumb circling my clit. He’s bent over me, pressing kisses on my chest lazily, down my torso. I love the way his checks flush when he watches me, he may be in charge but I can still fluster him. I remember when we were 16, I developed a habit of playing with his hair. It started when he sat in front of me on the floor during a movie night, and I absently ran my fingers through his curls. He let me do it, and after that he always sat the same way when we hung out. It was his quiet way of inviting me, saying, “touch me please” before either of us had admitted how we felt. He has the same flush on his checks that he did then, except now he’s confidently fingering me on his parents sofa.

“Pretty girl.” He murmurs in my ear as his fingers push into me, obscene sounds filling the air around us as I whimper and gush around him.

“‘Gunna cum on your fingers.” I stutter out, my brain starting to feel the haze of an orgasm. I’m stoned as hell and this feels really good. He’s watching me intently as I stutter underneath him, one of my legs trembling.

“Squirt for me, i wanna see you cum on my hand.” He orders softly, kissing my cheek and pressing into my clit. I give into the high, white light fringing on my vision, my hands grabbing at the cushion under me. I cry out, feeling the slick on my legs and seeing nothing but Gareth over me with a grin.

“Good girl.” He hums, slowly removing his fingers and leaning in to kiss me again. I moan into his mouth, pulling him on top of me while I’m still shaking from cumming.

He kisses me deeply, curls brushing against my face as he grinds into me. I feel needy, already practically begging for him to touch me more. I want to see his pretty pink cock. I want to lick the tip and watch his face when I slowly bob up and down on him, making sure he hits the far back of my throat where I know he feels it more. My hands fly to his jeans button, struggling to undo it as he laughs into my mouth.

“You in a rush?” He groans, letting me continue pawing at his pants.

“No,” I pout (just a little),”I wanna suck your dick.”

He crinkles his nose at me, turning even more pink. He moves to pull off his jeans, and I feel my mouth water at the sight of him in his boxers. He’s already slid out of the fly a little and his cock is shiny with precum. I don’t bother to pull his boxers off, instead I fall onto my knees and push him to a seated position on the sofa. Sliding his cock out of the fold in his boxers, I take my time and run my hand slowly down his shaft. I lean in and follow with my tongue, licking his shaft and kissing his tip as I continue to stroke him with my hands. He’s not even in my mouth yet and he’s moaning so loudly. His head is thrown back and he’s leaning into my grip.

“Look at me,” I whisper, and he does. His eyes widen and his lips part when he watches me suck on his cock like a lollie pop, bobbing up and down as I let myself get lost in the feeling of him on my tongue. He’s so close, I can see it in his face as he wraps his fingers in my hair. He’s watching me in awe as I lift off him with a pop, a trail of drool stringing from my lips to his tip.

He digs his fingers into my hair and gently pulls my head back down onto his dick, moaning.

“Just like that.” He grunts, as I let him thrust deeper into my mouth, fucking the back of my throat. He cuts suddenly, spilling out of my mouth as I gag and smile, waiting till he’s done to lift my head up and kiss the tip of him. I love the way his cock twitches, how hard he gets when he’s fucking me.

“Jesus Christ, sweetheart” he gasps, brushing loose strands of hair off my cheeks. “M’sorry I didn’t warn you.”

I wipe my chin with the back of my hand and giggle, “s’okay baby.”

“Baby, huh?” He growls, pulling me up onto his lap, “that’s your title.” He kisses my cheek and smirks as he notices the cum that’s dripped down onto my neck. Carefully he grabs his shirt to wipe it away and let him.

“Let’s go shower and get you all cleaned up.” He whispers, nuzzling against my face again and leaving a kiss on my cheek.

“Only if you wash me yourself.” I giggle.

He grabs me and pulls me as he says, “Don’t worry, I'm gonna clean every inch of you.”

#gareth smut #gareth emerson #gareth the great #gareth x reader #gareth x fem!reader #stranger things

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relocatedheads · 1 year

Text

Love is Scary

Summary: To love can be one of the hardest things to do. And a lot of us tend to run from out problems rather than fix them. Pairing: Eddie munson x More-Than-Friends!reader Trigger Warning: Death mentioned / Swearing Content Warning: Sharing Clothes / Being drenched by the rain / Intimate Awkward conversations / reference to trauma / slight nsfw joke

My Eddie Masterlist!!!

It was a Thursday. It was the middle of November. It was 1985. It was Hawkins. It was 7pm. It was all a perfect sum for a stormy evening. You found yourself bundled up in your coat, trainers sopping, hair drenched and slicked back, eyes squinting from the wind and rain, walking pointedly through Hawkins to the trailer park.

You never intended your evening to roll out this way but when things mounted up above your shoulders, the act of thinking was never sought out. After almost 2 months of ignoring each other, sitting with the band kids instead of the freaks, keeping your head down in classes, evenings resulting in mediocre movie nights with the previously mentioned, concerts that always fell short or simply sitting at home doing sod all: life was getting suffocating.

Another set of unanswered phone calls, quiet and lonely trips to your locker for class books, and walking home on your own, sitting in your room alone got too much. A sporadic few minutes of storming through the house picking up door keys, your coat and shoes; you were out the door before the contemplation of the weather and your parents confusion settled in your brain.

When you did mentally tune back in though, you were entering the trailer park, hair dripping around your face, t-shirt noticeably wet under the coat you thought was thick enough to get through anything, your thighs bitting from the cold. The park was dark minus the handful of dim street lights, it’s edgy nature was something you’d gotten so used to and learnt to love in your recent history. Being back there made you nostalgic but also feel like home.

Knocking on the familiar trailer door at 8pm wasn't in your nature, and something you’d call inappropriate or disrespectful if you were the receiver but right now, that wasn’t your brains focus.

The door creaked open unconfidently, the body opening it wasn't the wide shouldered, dark broad you were hoping for. “Y/n?” But were you so glad it wasn't the Munson you’d expected. “Kid, wha-”

“Hi, is Eddie home?” You knew the answer was a no, from the lack of van, but prayed silently it might have been in the garage.

“Did you walk here?” You nodded, “Get in here before you catch a cold.” The elder Munson dragged you in. Instinctively, you took off your dripping outerwear, apologising for its mess. Wayne took it off you, hanging the coat on a near by radiator. “Ed’s gone out, but he should be back soon.”

“Oh- I’m sorry for butting in on your evening Wayne-” Your voice small and disheartened and mumbled behind your t-shirt that was being used to dry your face.

“Nonsense kid.” He called out as he walked away to a laundry basket. The trailer still felt like home, and Wayne still treated you like it was only yesterday he saw you... not 2 months ago. “Listen, you take these and go have a shower - go warm up.” He was thrusting a pile of folded clothes at you, “I’m guessing your drenched to the bone so there’s a pair of Eddie’s boxers in there for you.”

“Thank you Wayne, but I'm not that wet.”

“You’re making a puddle in my living room.” Delivered in his usual stoic blunt tone. “Go get warmed up and I'll make you a tea.”

The giving nature of the Munsons was a gift. 2 boys who didn’t have a lot but would stretch it around the world for anyone and everyone who needed it. The green tinted bath / shower, the grey shower curtain, the brown cabinets: it all felt like a second home to you. The humming of the shower, the golden rule “give it 10 seconds before getting in or you’ll ice yourself” running around your brain (in Eddies warm tone, accompanied by a tip of his head) and the collection of products dotted on the edge of the bath that smelt like a warm hug to you.

Gladly for you, the sound of the shower drowned out all other noises from the trailer, letting your brain only focus on the warmth and provide you with some form of calm - even for 10 minutes.

In the living room of the home, the door ripped open, “Old man, the good have been collected!” Eddie’s gravelly voice announced, followed by him waving a plastic bag, “What are you looking at me like for?” In reference to Wayne stood in the kitchen, arms crossed, stone expression.

“Got anything you wanna explain to me, boy?”

“What ever phone call you’ve received, it wasn't me.” He chuckled to himself, rounding the breakfast bar to lean against the draws.

“Not so much a phone call. Nothing you wanna indulge me in?”

“You gotta give me a hint here.” As the young man started the empty the bags items - bottles of beer, packets of smokes, a packet of matches - he noticed a few miss placed items. “Is that-”

“Wanna tell me why Y/n was stood at my doorstep after walking from the other side of town in the pouring rain?”

Yep. It was her coat. He knew it. Eddie felt his heart stop and stomach fall, he knew he had to address this soon, but he’d hoped it be on his terms, “Erm,” The brain that was infamous for never stopping seemed to fall silent. He knew the stare he was getting, he knew this was a Wayne is right and Eddie needs to be honest or listen moment.

Wayne was never a do as I say guardian, rather a let's find a compromise and understand why we did what we did one. The only times he stepped over the barrier was whenever his nephew did anything illegal and got caught for it, or acted similarly to his dad.

“Boy I'm waiting-”

“I don’t know.”

“Well something must have happened. Women don’t walk in heavy rain late at night, for nothing. You used to bring her home almost every day and now I can’t remember the last time I saw her, or heard you speak about her.”

Eddie unfolded his arms and left his hands to carry his face, a groan falling out, “I fucked up, Wayne.”

“No shit-” He laughed at his boy, crossing the kitchen to stand next to him.

“I like her so much, and I got scared. I’m so used to quick, surface level things. I don’t do vulnerability, the last time I let myself be open to anything deep and personal was Mom. And look how that turned out. I got scared; I don’t wanna hurt Y/n. I just know I would, or will, so I just ran way. I'm no hero, Wayne.”

“Ed-”

“No, Wayne, I'm not. And even without wanting to hurt her, I did. I’m just like dad, and I don’t wanna be that.” The boy rambled, his eyes never leaving the floor and his hands constantly playing with his rings and feet jumping in place.

Wayne wasn't used to this Eddie anymore. He’d gone through the motions of melancholy, flat, monotone, effortless Eddie - he’d pulled the boy from grey to colour. And was truly convinced he’d never meet that side of the kid again. “You are so much like your mother.” He laughed hopelessly. Eddie looked up at him ready to bat the comment down, “Listen to me kid, you are definitely your mothers son. If she was still about, she’d agree with me. The only thing you share with your dad is the boisterousness and the surname.” The silence that fell between them was the indication was Wayne’s words were sinking in Eddie’s brain. “But son, you can’t run away when things get out of your comfort zone.”

“I know.”

“She’s a smart girl, Ed. she wouldn't be in that shower if she didn’t think you were worth something. Love’s hard, always has been and always will be for a Munson, but when you’re given the opportunity to feel it, do it, boy.” He stopped himself, putting a hand on his now taller nephews shoulder, “She reminds me of your mother, too - so full of life and love that there's no where to put it all. Your mom woulda done the same thing for your dad - walk in pouring rain when it could've just been a phone call.” Eddie made a weird noise at that, Wayne squinted at him, “What.”

“I-um I've been ignoring her calls.” He couldn't look at his uncle.

“You’re a dipshit.” Eddie pulled a straight smile at his uncles blunt honesty, he agreed. “And she still tries with you. Realise what you’ve got son, and go fix it, for gods sake.”

The twos conversation was broken by the sound of the bathroom door opening. Being wrapped in Eddies oversized joggers and jumper was the closest thing to solace you had in the last 2 months. Even if tonight fully put a close to yours and Eddies friendship, you’d die happy knowing you could get away with stealing something of his forever - even if it was just his clothes.

Your heart dropped at the silence and extra soul in the room. Thinking you were gonna come out the bathroom to Wayne and a conversation... He was definitely the last thing you expected.

Stood in all his usual jean and leather jacket glory stood Eddie Munson. His face was small, the tiny smile laid hesitantly, hands jumbled in his pockets. “Hey.” His voice was small too.

“Hi.” You couldn't help the small smile, he always put a smile on your face. Your hands lost under the sleeves of the jumper, shoulder hitched up to your ears.

The air was thick, just the two of you staring at each other, both overly aware of your independent breathing - almost taking every second at it came.

As though running on autopilot, your feet padded forward toward the boy, and your arms stretched themselves out, eloping you in him before he could react. The reaction was one Eddie never expected - he’d tensed up ready for you to shout at him, to hit him, to do something that replicated your pain.

The moment you felt him wrap his arms around you, and his cheek on your head, you let go of a breath you never knew you held. Absentmindedly squeezing him.

“You’re cold.” Like an accidentally dropped thought. Eddie’s voice was soft and concerning, he brung you in closer, rubbing your back.

Being tucked under his jacket and in his chest was home. It was a place of safety and protection, anything negative never reached that spot, “And you’re warm.” You hummed, your tone was filled with love and comfort; you weren't going to apologise for it either.

“Shower not warm you up?” The way he spoke to you was immensely delicate, like you were a crying child and he was the consoling parent. You knew it shouldn’t have given you butterflies, but you'd be lying if you said otherwise. He forever had a way of talking to you like you were fragile china.

You groaned in his chest, rubbing your cheek into him itching to get closer, “I don’t think any amount of boiling water could warm me up after that.”

He laughed lightly at your dramatics, feeling awful at the same time. “Sorry for that.”

“Nah, I quite enjoyed it. Might make it a new hobby.” Was it too early to joke about it? You could feel him sigh above you.

“You’re a nightmare.” Eddie was sure everyone in the world could feel the love dripping off his voice.

You smiled, pulling your head out to look up at the metalhead, “And you’re an idiot, Eddie Munson.” Arms linking even tighter behind him. No matter how loved up he sounded, it couldn’t psychically warm your bones.

He was looking down at you, one hand around your waist and another moving the damp strands of your hair behind your ear, “I know.” It was a whisper.

With an agreement that a conversation was needed to be had, and a thank you to Wayne for the tea, you both directed yourself to Eddie’s bedroom. It was still the same explosion of his mind as you’d remember it being - only a slight bit more messier.

You sat yourself on the far side of his bed, putting your mug down on the speaker that sat in place of a bedside table and the boy knelt down to the cabinet under his cassette player.

Sitting in the comfort of his bed, you noticed a familiar friend - an out of place object - in his pillows. Sat on the side where you’d grown to own on the weekends was a small stuffed horse you’d both named Flo.

“What one?” Eddie’s voice pulled you out of your trance, confusion painted on your face, he nodded down to the selection of cassettes. It warmed your heart at his options: 3 of your favourite albums - well the ones he felt were not pop-y enough to make his brain explode. You’d made your choice and the once silent room was filled with recognisable melodies.

Eddie plopped down onto the bed, next to you, stretched out on this back as you sat cross legged next to him, Flo in your lap, fiddling with her ears.

“You kept her?” You voice was soft and at a whisper. Seeing the deep smile on your face made Eddie’s heart flutter. The small horse was a gift he’d won you at a carnival that was in town - the two of you went alone, too scared to call the evening out a date. But it ended in giggles, candy floss induced highs and a new stuffed toy. The memory never fails to calm you.

“Of course I did.” Eddie couldn't help the pride in his tone, “Someone’s gotta keep me warm at night.” You sighed a laugh at his flirtatiousness.

“Has she been behaving?”

“Absolutely, but she did tell me she misses her mom.”

You looked over at him, he had a dumb smile on his face, “Oh yeah?” He nodded, “Well Flo,” You’d turned back to the stuffed animal, “I kinda miss your dad too.”

Eddie put a hand on your lower back, rubbing it lightly. “I’m sorry I dropped you outta the blue.” The quiet grey Eddie was coming back.

You turned, leaning against his wall, his hand retracted from you and found home on your thighs. “Please talk to me, Ed. Did I do anything?” You started to stroke the top of his arm.

“Jesus no, y/n. You never did a thing. I guess-” You felt him hesitate so you moved your hand up to his shoulder, still stroking. “I don’t know. I’ve never had an easy life: I never really get the good ending, ya know.”

Knowing where this was going, you interjected. “You don’t have to tell me if you aren't ready, Eds.” His life story was only known through the walls for you. You knew to not believe the rumours about his parents and that he’d open up to you when he was ready.

“I want to, you kinda deserve it. I’ve been a dick.”

“Bit of an understatement.” You laughed lightly, looking down at the boy with a smile. “You know I went to see the new Death Wish with Johnny from band: one of the most awkward things i’ve ever done.” You were still laughing.

“You’re joking? Here I was, refusing to go watch it and here you are, whoring yourself about.” You gasped at his dramatic adjective, slapping him on the arm slightly. “Seriously though Sweet, I owe it to you.” You couldn’t help the flutter at the nickname.

“Well don’t feel like you need to tell me everything, just say what you’re comfy with.” He squeezed your thigh as a thank you as you kept stroking where his collar bone met his shoulder.

He sighed, looking up at the ceiling, “You know I didn’t get to grow up with white fences, and home cooked meals. I did for a bit but- life just sort of...became real really early on. My mum was amazing, she used to wake me singing to me, and we’d make breakfast singing to each other, the house was never quiet.” You noted how Eddie was never quiet - everywhere he went, music followed. “Dad used to join in at times, but I don’t really remember anything too great with him. Wayne told me he got into a bad crowd at school and it just followed him through life. Apparently when he met my mum, he sorted himself out for a bit, but old habits died hard, I guess.” You nodded and hummed along, making your presence known by the constant touching. “Ya know, he shaved my head once.”

“Why?”

“I’ve got my moms hair, and she always had it down and free and I wanted that- but-um-” He hesitated again, the momentary confidence ran away. You scooted a little closer. “My hair was like, down near my shoulders in places and I guess he didn’t like it. Called me a queer, told me I looked like a girl and off it went.” Instinctually, your hand shot up into his curls moving misplaced bundles and rolled some of it around your fingers, “That was the first time I head them fight.” His voice was reminiscent but flat... painfully flat.

“I'm glad you had the confidence to grow it back.”

“Keeps a part of mom with me, yaknow.” He mumbled, twisting the lone ring on his left hand. There was something so raw and honest in that sentence alone, you felt a knot in your throat. He cleared his throat, “Dad was quite a lot at times, when mom would work and he was looking after me, he let me hang out with his gang - they’d teach me to Hotwire cars, to roll, how to grind things, the full works. Mom and Wayne went off on him for that one.” He paused, “When mom died- he got worse, fast. Wayne used to come round a few times a month for dinner or we’d go see him but that all stopped, dad just kinda stopped parenting and I became a hinderance.” You dropped your hand to his jaw, rubbing his cheek with your thumb, you’ll never be a hinderance. “He and mom - before she died - would argue a lot towards the end. She never said anything, but he’d always bang on about what an expensive mistake I was, or I'd just hear things break. My mom went out one night - I presume, to get away from it all, and-” You saw his eyes filling, he rolled his lips in and made a gesture with his hands to fill in the gap.

You squeezed his shoulder, unable to stop the frown on your face. Eddie was never good with words when big emotions were being felt - so you’d come to learn. “I’m sorry Eddie, she sounded amazing.” You spoke soft and quietly, slowly so he felt each syllable.

“She was! She used to bake loads - every week there was a new cake in the stand” You now realised why Eddie got so teary when you’d brought round a cake out the blue a few months back. “She was always singing and dancing. Wayne said that you remind him of her.” You squinted at the boy, still rubbing his collar bone. “You both have a lot of love for the damned.” Something about that made you tear up again, “And you’re always calm, always singing and smiling too. I think she'd love you a lot.” His voice was laid with something you’d never heard before. He spoke slower, lighter and more airy. You turned your head aware from him, “Hey, you okay?”

He heard you sniffle, and saw you wipe your face, “Yeah,” you turned back to him, chuckling to yourself, “I don’t know why I'm crying.” He stretched an arm up to wipe your cheek. “I’m sure if your mom was still here, she’d be so proud of you.” You looked down at him, offering your biggest, most hearty smile.

“Do you wanna go meet her?” the heaviness of the question broke your heart, “I ain’t been to see her in a while, she could probably do with some new flowers.”

“Oh Ed-” You were back wiping your eyes, a small laugh again at his soft side not many people got to meet. “I’d be honoured to.”

The two of you smiled at each other, falling into a lull in conversation. You left his presence to get your drink, falling back onto the wall to drink it. Eddie stayed laying down below you. He looked lost in his thoughts as he mindlessly played with Flo - bending her legs in random directions. The sight filled your heart. Oh how you’d missed this boy.

“Y/n?”

“Eddie?” You both asked for the other facing your respective objects: him -> Flo, you -> your mug.

“Why did you wait 2 months to come see me?”

“How long were you planning to ignore me for?”

“I asked first.”

“Okay-” You dragged out, taking a sip of the hot drink. “I was a little confused at first. You kinda just flipped on a hat.” You noticed him cringe, “I was really lost. I thought something was going on, and you’d tell me when you were ready. But it just kinda got too much and I didn’t really feel wanted-” Your voice quieting with the honesty and weight of your admittance, “I guess after 2 months, I just had enough. I’d wanted to drag you out that lunch hall and scream at you everyday, but it just felt wrong.”

“You should’ve. I think I coulda done with a slap to wake me up.”

“No- nobody needs that.” You looked over at him, he was still bemused by the toy. You put a hand on his arm, “You just needed time.”

He smiled at the boy, “I got scared, to be honest.” He paused, “I didn’t grow up with a lot of love - sure Mom and Dad had their moments, but it was always over before it really started. I was always raised to believe Munson’s never get a happy ending.” You squeezed his arm, “ Or if we got close, we’d fuck it up somehow and-” He paused. “I guess I didn’t wanna lose you on a circumstance out of my control-”

“So you curled in on yourself?”

He nodded, “The Munson doctrine is anything but white picket fences, nuclear families and happy endings.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t want white picket fences with you.” He turned his head to you, and you looked down at him, “I just want you. In anyway that comes. We could live in a trailer just the two of us until our dying days, we could be destined only 2 years together, we could have 100 kids- anything and as long as you were there, I'd be happy.”

The two of you fell into a stare, drowning the other in a look that read nothing but love. Eddie cracked first: chuckling, “That was disgusting, Y/n.”

“Here I am, trying to cheer you up, calm you down. And you continue to bully me.” You both revealed in the lighter mood.

“Oh I'm grateful.” He sat up with you, “But it still doesn’t excuse how cheesy that was.” You shook your head at the boy, he leant over to grab the mug out your hands, placing it on his bedside table. Eddie lent back, stretching an arm over your shoulders and tugging you into his chest.

“For the record, I didn't know how long I was going to ignore you for.” He’d placed Flo into your lap, his hand rubbing your bicep, “Maybe until she started looking at me with too much guilt.”

You laughed at the horse, “Speaking of which, how much do I owe in child support charges?”

“Hmm, I think it’s a lot.” He contemplated, grabbing your chin so you looked up at him.

“Yeah?” He nodded, “Got a figure in mind?”

“Yours?” There was your Eddie back - the 6ft flirt. You let out a cackle, gaging jokingly.

“You’ve never even seen me naked!”

“Jesus, don’t sadden me any more, Woman!” He quipped back with as much volume and torment.

“You're an idiot-”

“How about: you repay your child support by staying here tonight and joining me and the boy at lunch tomorrow?” He cocked a brow at you.

You turned the horse around to face you, looking at her, you pretended to have a conversation. Watching you back in his arm made Eddie melt, he felt more at peace than he had in weeks. He couldn’t deny he was still scared of his feelings, but he was ready to try again, to try be honest.

“Flo thinks its a smart idea, and so do i.” You smiled back up to the boy.

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simp999 · 1 year

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A New Home Ch. 14

Various Splatoon Manga x Skilled! Isekai'd! Reader

Wc: 1.8k (whoops.)

A/N: This is the biggest headcannon in the story, I hope you guys are alright with this! (There was a hint at this earlier in the series! Did you notice the octopi and tentacle on his first banner?)

Back to the start! Previous Next

The next day, you ask your teammates if there's a library around. Yesterday, you read all three volumes of Naruto that Mask had given you, then put the book beside the plushie you had themed after him. It was very nostalgic, and reading it made you feel much more at home, but you wanted more.

"Oh, yeah! It's kinda small, but there is one not too far way. You'll still need the train to get there, though!" Milo sends you the address on your phone and you thank him, making your way to the nearest train station.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

It's a small library, you note from the outside. You doubt that you'll find more from the Naruto series, but it's worth a shot. Once you enter, you see how filled to the brim with books it really is. It seems to be well kept. There aren't a lot of people here today, probably since the weather is nice. The sun can't be seen, but the rain has stopped. It's a nice kind of warm outside, perfect for some turfing.

You browse around, looking for the manga section. It is still an old building, so lots of the signs can't be read easily. You also wouldn't be surprised if the manga section was only half a shelf in size. After a long enough time of searching, you decide to try to find someone that may know the place better.

You go to the first person you see, and probably the only other one there, who appears to be in the recipies section. They have a book in hand, and you're about to tap them on the shoulder.

Wait a sec, is that a special forces beret? And that color of jacket, definitely a forge inkling parka. Not to mention their ink color. It must be!-

"Ah, hello. May I help you with anything?"

He must have noticed your presence.

"Do you happen to know where the manga section is? Or rather, if there even is one?"

"Yes, I do believe it's just around the corner. This way," he begins to walk, almost march, towards a bookshelf a row or two down. Definitely Army.

No wonder you missed this section, the manga only covers two shelves and is in the dead center of the aisle. You spot a couple of different series, ranging from Attack on Titan, Your Lie in April, to lesser-known series like Servamp.

You search a little higher up and there it is, Naruto! There are volumes 1-9, currently missing 8. You excitedly reach for volume 4, grabbing it off the shelf. You’re unsure of how many books you’re allowed to take out at once, so you turn to Army.

“Um, one last thing, Army?”

He turns back to you, and you ask him.

“We’re allowed three at once.”

“Oh…”

He notices how you lose part of your exciement, and quickly comes up with a solution. He’s quick on his toes, as expected.

“There’s a sitting area at the back of the library, you could always sit there and read the volumes you can’t bring home. If you’re uncomfortable being here alone, I have no problems sitting near you. I do have a few novels I’m interested in, after all.”

“That’s really kind of you! There’s no need for that though, I wouldn’t want to bug you.”

You laugh nervously, holding a couple volumes close to your chest.

“Oh. I was going to stay and read either way. I was not expecting that answer.”

You jump up a bit, surprised at how blunt he is.

“That’s okay too! I do have lots of respect for the S4 as well as team orange, so it’s completely fine!”

He gives you a curt nod, and goes off to presumably grab the novel he wanted to read. You try to find the back of the library, finally picking the seat of your liking. You’re about a chapter in when Army comes back, situating himself at a seat with a mini side table attached. He puts his bag down resting right beside his feet. It seemingly has a manual, post-it notes, pencils, inkling-safe water, and you could guess whatever else he may need throughout the day. He places his pencils on the table along with his manual, and you notice how he adjusts his pencils to be in order of tallest to shortest, then makes sure his manual is square in the corner of the table.

The two of you read in silence, every once in a while Army will jot down notes, probably about his novel.

You finish volume four, and you can tell he’s already nearly halfway through his novel. If you could guess, it’s probably 300-400 pages long. He’s a quick reader. The two of you continue like this until you’ve finished volume seven, and he’s finished his third, smaller novel. He’s just taking notes now on his last book. You stand up, going to put the books back where they came. He follows you, and you’re unsure of why. You make it back to the manga section, putting the books back and browsing the other series.

“I saw Mask read the ’Servamp’ title. It seems there are nineteen volumes in total, so they’re all here. He read until the end of volume nineteen, during a team meeting might I add, but that’s not important. I think you may want to check it out if you haven’t already.”

Just full of information, huh? Well, if Mask liked it, it’s worth a shot. You go to grab volume one, accidentally knocking down another book. You quickly go to reach for it, but apparently Army had the same idea, and the two of you bonk heads.

“Whoops, sorry! Are you o-”

He quickly catches his beret before it hits the ground, putting it back on his head and adjusting it to put it back in perfect place.

The two of you stand in silence, Army looking anywhere but at you.

“...You did not see anything…did you?”

You think for a moment, of course you saw. You’re a natural at taking in information at break-neck speed and adapting to it.

“I may have. Does it matter?”

“Please do not tell anyone, not even the S4 know.”

He analyzes your expression.

“You don’t seem to be surprised.”

“I would never tell anyone, you can trust that. And I might of had a hunch.”

You could tell he was nervous, afraid that somebody was now fully aware of his secret. You could see the way his shoulders just barely relaxed, and how he let out a sigh of relief at your words. His cheeks were still tinged much more orange than usual, and he hasn’t looked you in the eye once, until he asked you his next question:

“What gave it away?”

You slowly walked back to the back of the library, making sure he was following you. You looked around to be certain again that no one was around, and even then, you kept your voice low out of respect for Army.

“Well, my teammate is a big fan of you, so I get to see lots of battles, posters, that kind of thing related to you. I’ve noticed that your ears are rounder than most, you frown to make your eyes appear smaller, and you often keep your mouth closed to hide your teeth. They’re not very sharp, but one of the teeth that ‘should’ be more defined is not. And I’m sorry about mentioning this, but, your height, too. I see that your Punk Cherries are taller than most pairs, so I’m assuming you have lifts in your shoes to make you a little taller. But even then, you’re much closer to average male octoling height than inkling’s.”

You realise everything you said, and you begin to twiddle your fingers and bounce your leg. Army also notices your face heat up.

“Damn, that makes me kinda sound like a weird fan, huh? I’m so sorry- I should probably mention that I draw too, so I really have to pay attention to details-”

He takes a minute to take in all the information, and the last sentence.

“No, I understand, I’m the same way. I didn’t feel the need to mention it, but I’m aware of your skills, I’ve seen a few of your battles. You were also at the ‘party’ after Team Blue and Purple’s battle, where we had the curry that I had made.”

Oh, he understands. ‘Thank cod that he doesn’t think I’m weird. I hope. Or maybe he’s just being nice.’

You continue to overthink, but his next question pull you back.

“Then what about the inkling mask?”

“You draw on the rest of your face paint daily, don’t you?”

Maybe his bluntness is rubbing off on you.

“That’s correct. I’ve done just about everything I could to hide my secret. I find it impressive how you pay attention to detail, well done.”

You can still tell he’s nervous, and he has every right to be, had he run into anyone else. You are still somewhat of a stranger to him, you’d be nervous too. But you want to offer him the most comfort possible. You’re about to reach out and rest your hand on his shoulder as comfort, but decide against it.

“Army, hun. I swear to never tell anybody, not even my closest teammates. I understand how big of a secret this is, and how important to you is it that this doesn’t get out.”

You try to think of a way to reveal that you know about friendly octolings, then you think; just be honest. Well, kinda.

“I’ve also been to this new place called Inkopolis Square. They have lots of octolings, and the population is almost the same as inklings out there. All of the ones I’ve met have been very kind and friendly, so I hope that this assures you that my view of you has not changed. Really, you only confirmed my headcannon.”

The last part is quieter, and ends with you scratching the back of your neck.

“Well, I hope that I can trust you. Thank you for being truthful, and please, please, keep your word. This could change many inkling’s view of me. I don’t want to stand out any more than any other S4 member.”

“I’m aware.”

You don’t know how to make him any more comfortable, besides taking this secret to the grave. And that, you will.

“Thank you. I hope to see you in the near future and perhaps battle you. Your team is quite strong, you know.”

“Of course. Have a good day, Army. See you and the Orange Team soon.”

"Is your head okay, by the way?"

"...Yes, thank you for asking."

You check out a few volumes of Servamp, and make your way home.

Next Part

May.4.23

#x reader #fanfic #splatoon manga #splatoon manga x reader #splatoon #splatoon 2 #splatoon 3 #splatoon fanart #splatoon army #splatoon manga army #splatoon army x reader #splatoon manga army x reader

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offbrand-turntech · 2 years

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Yandere!Hank j. Wimbleton x ATP Engineer!Reader: Oh god it’s done!

I’ve finally finished, this will probably be the last one unlit get REALLY inspired to make another part.

(Cw: Blood, negative thoughts briefly, it’s a yanderexreader fic what did you expect?)

- [ ] I guess the fact that I’m not dead, makes me rare.

- [ ] I’m just one-in-a-million, Easily expendable, but it feels odd to be considered “unique”

- [ ] It’s been a few days since Hank brought me here, to what I assume is his room. I don’t remember much past him stuffing me into the locker…

- [ ] I lift myself up from the bed, sitting with the sheets still covering my legs.

- [ ] the smell of blood and sweat permeates through the air, it’s so dense in this room…

- [ ] Looking over to the small bedside table, one of the corners broken off, probably from repeated blunt force, you see your mask, the thing that kept your face protected from the outside world

- [ ] The option to keep yourself anonymous and apart of the crowd.

- [ ] To the A.A.H.W, you’ve effectively dissented, even though you did nothing wrong.

- [ ] Your crowd, the others that are exactly like you, only personalities differing ever so slightly based upon the seconds separating your birth from theirs

- [ ] They were all gone now, having probably forgotten your face,

- [ ] Even now, all alone, far away from the agency that Hank said “kept you hidden” from him,

- [ ] You feel ostracized.

- [ ] He was on a mission today, as he was yesterday, probably spreading carnage to those who look so similar to you

- [ ] …

- [ ] Meaningless thoughts interrupted by a curt knock on the door.

- [ ] The door retreats to let the other in, revealing a messy Mohawk and tired eyes behind a scratched mask

- [ ] Pressing shoulders back, a stance you would take during roll-call, 2bDamned speaks

- [ ] “I read your files, 1233. You seems to be a reliable ATP engineer, but you never worked with technology that closely did you?”

- [ ] You shake your head no.

- [ ] “Says here your job was to transport equipment in between bases, you drove the trucks, is that correct?”

- [ ] You nodded yes

- [ ] “Well, Hank doesn’t want you leaving this room, in my opinion it would be a shame to put an extra set of hand to waste”

- [ ] Tilting your head, you feign not knowing what he meant.

- [ ] “I have prepared a short list for you, it’s just of a few chores to get you started.”

- [ ] Tossing the blankets off of your legs, you accept the paper from Doc, and to your surprise the list was only 5 tasks long

- [ ] He leaves the room, and you follow him out, “you should probably leave your jacket in the room, it’ll get hot”

- [ ] Backtracking, you toss the leather jacket on the bed, airing out the black shirt you wore underneath

- [ ] Doc leaves you again

- [ ] Getting to work, you feel like your back at home

- [ ] Reminiscing as you sweep the floors, broom bristles getting stuck together on the small droplets of blood scattered around the floor

- [ ] Brushing the tracked-in sand into the dustpan, you leave to regrettably get the mop from the back room

- [ ] As you come back to the main entrance, your grab a bucket, and fill it half way with water

- [ ] You look out the glass window of the entrance way, a locked sliding door made of glass lie dormant

- [ ] It’s been a few days since you’ve seen outside, light grey sandstone and red sky seem nostalgic

- [ ] Refocusing on the task at hand, you scrub the dried blood off the floors with the yarn of the mop

- [ ] …

- [ ] “I kinda wish I had my music with me,,”

- [ ] Collapsing into the back of Sanford’s truck, Hank let the adrenaline of the day flow out of him.

- [ ] Allowing other things to enter his mind…

- [ ] Most notably, the little engineer that rests in his room now

- [ ] He couldn’t wait to get him to see you,

- [ ] But he had to as the ride as about an hour,

- [ ] Deimos got into the passenger side, while Sanford assumed the driver’s seat

- [ ] Taking off, Hank was left in the back seat alone, that doesn’t really bother him but what bothers him is the conversation that Sanford and Deimos engaged in

- [ ] “What do you think We’re gonna do with the engineer” Sanford queried to Deimos

- [ ] “No idea, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Doc already got em’ cleaning”

- [ ] The conversation continued but Hank was mildly annoyed, he had told Doc he didn’t want his engineer to do anything

- [ ] He didn’t want them to socialize with the others, he didn’t want them to get any ideas…

- [ ] As far as they know, the engineer was just another dissenter who wanted out,

- [ ] As far a Doc knew, Hank barely met this new engineer

- [ ] Completely done with the cleaning, having put away the broom, mop, and bucket, you lay on the couch now, admiring your work

- [ ] After a few minutes, Doc enters the room, a coffee cup in one hand and a water bottle in the other,

- [ ] He tosses the bottle to you, instinctively you catch it, twisting it open to indulge in its contents

- [ ] Doc gently praises you for your work, with a simple pat on the head ruffling your hair and knocking your mask out of place

- [ ] Adjusting, he praised you again but this time punctuating his congratulations with a “alright, go back to Hank’s room”

- [ ] Unknown dread, weaves into your expression, hidden by the mask.

- [ ] You didn’t want to go back, the mark of the grunt. Always be useful till’ the day you die. If feels horrible to sit around and look pretty

- [ ] But orders are orders, even if they are not from the higher ups and are from someone’s who’s medical license was revoked a long time ago…

- [ ] Sanford sets the truck to park as the garage’s shudder-door is pulled close with a rumble

- [ ] Deimos ties a chain through the loophole as a method to lock the garage door

- [ ] Hank exits the truck, slamming the door shut. At this point Sanford didn’t bother to complain.

- [ ] Hands twitching, Hank stalked through the garage to the door connecting the main building.

- [ ] To the right, a sliding door made of glass lies dormant, to the right the hall that leads to the living room

- [ ] Stalking through the halls, lights dim and flicker as he passes

- [ ] Closing in on a door, dried blood marked the wooden door in a “H” formation. Representative of the one who resides in the room.

- [ ] Gently fiddling with the doorknob, Hank cracks open the room the door complaining all the way.

- [ ] The room that belongs to Hank, now co-inhabited by a engineer, is dark.

- [ ] Blackout curtains work together with the ceiling light that had burnt out a long time ago, creating a dank but comforting atmosphere to Hank.

- [ ] Fingers twitch, neck bones pop as Hank cranes his head further into the room.

- [ ] Spotting a lump under the sheets of his bed, a person lies beneath, Hank’s favorite person

- [ ] They sleep peacefully under two layers of blanket, His blanket and their fire blanket.

- [ ] Hank finds the sight adorable, not wanting to interrupt but wanting to cuddle,

- [ ] The intrusive thoughts win as he plops into bed alongside you.

- [ ] A mumble of complaint murmured from the engineer, as Hank moved them to the little spoon position

- [ ] The continued to sleep, resting their head on his chest, his heart beating a gentle tempo lulling them further to sleep

- [ ] Hank, after getting over the fact that you (for once) wish to cuddle with him. Also embraces the tight squeeze of sleep, accompanied by a warmth on his side

- [ ] ..

- [ ] A few hours have passed, the sounds of cicadas creating a symphony of love songs outside grow ever louder.

- [ ] Both residents of the room lie awake, unaware of the awakeness of the other

- [ ] The engineer is paralyzed in fear, thoughts of “what will he do with me?” “What does he want?” “Will he kill me?” Race and bounces through their head

- [ ] While more comforting thoughts of “comfy” “wanna stay here forever” “bite them”- huh?

- [ ] Bite?

- [ ] Mmmh bite…

- [ ] No, no that would hurt em’

- [ ] Hurt them?

- [ ] I want that

- [ ] From the spooning position, Hank propped himself up on his elbow

- [ ] He saw your eyes were open

- [ ] A rookie mistake…

- [ ] Hands reach to tug on the edge of your mask,

- [ ] You scream, and try and push his hands away from your face

- [ ] All this does is remove your mask faster, a cold and wet breeze hit the skin of your cheeks

- [ ] Your face turns red, he thinks it’s of embarrassment,

- [ ] It’s not… rather that of fear

- [ ] You sit up and scoot yourself to the edge opposite side of the bed, pressing yourself against the wall, covering your face

- [ ] A misinterpreted tug from Hank makes you scream again, he pulls on your legs bringing you down to him again

- [ ] Laying on you back legs hanging off the bed, Him in between

- [ ] You can’t tell what he’s thinking, let alone what he’s even looking at

- [ ] all he wants to do is to take a scalpel and peel apart the layers of your form. Epidermis, dermis, fat cells, blood vessels, muscle layer and then reserve fat.

- [ ] he wish you were like him, in the fact that god refused to let him die, callously bringing him back every single time.

- [ ] So he could kill you as many times as he wanted, to have his cake and eat it

- [ ] He did want you alive though. The noises and movement he wanted didn’t come from corpses.

- [ ] He gives in to the intrusive thoughts, and bites. Hook, line and sinker.

- [ ] Collecting the fat of your stomach with his hands, he bites down hard

- [ ] Pleasure blooms, he can barely contain the drool coming from his metal jaw as he watches you squirm and whimper under his grasp.

- [ ] Squeals of fear and anguish encouraged him to press further…

- [ ] Your smaller hands clawed at his forearm and he squeezed on your rib cage. Fulfilling his wants of your screams

- [ ] A scream breaks through your throat as he squeezes harder, you feel your ribs bend inward.

- [ ] He sits back up a lifts up your black shirt.

- [ ] You try and kick him away but he’s too strong, or he just doesn’t care.

- [ ] He takes his time pulling it up, exposing the expanse of your stomach. Bringing himself down, smelling the flesh of the only person who’s brought heat rushing to his cheeks.

- [ ] Pleasure blooms, he can barely contain the drool coming from his metal jaw as he watches you squirm and whimper under his grasp.

- [ ] Bolts connecting bone and metal lie whining. A screech rips through the air as he collects the fat of your stomach and clamps down.

- [ ] Salvia and de-oxygenated blood pours out. Adrenaline rushes too, giving you the strength to push Hank off.

- [ ] Heels of the hand press into his forehead as his teeth pierced further, being stretched by the push. He reluctantly released the fat.

- [ ] You look down in a haze at your body. Yellow smeared, a top row of blunt bruises and a bottom one of leaking gold.

- [ ] You’ve seen gallons of blood spill in your days, but the sight of your own made you light headed.

- [ ] You press your hands into your stomach to stop the bleeding

- [ ] Laying his head on your thigh, he draws illegible patterns with your blood on your skin.

- [ ] Bright yellow starts to dry to a mustard.

- [ ] Hank rises from the bed, producing a roll of gauze from… somewhere between the bed and the side table

- [ ] He leans you up, and completely takes off your shirt

- [ ] “Intrusive thoughts won” he dejectedly mutters while dressing your wounds

- [ ] Once he’s done he pressed his face mask to your forehead as a apology, a mock kiss

- [ ] “Maybe something good will come of this?”

- [ ] You thought as you looked up at the man who brought you here

#thisisaveryelaborateshitpost #hank madness combat #yandere #madness combat x reader #yandere x you #fanfic

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allaboardtheblankship · 2 years

Text

Aftermath of a confession

Summary: After Ingo confesses his feelings for his twin, Emmet has a rough time handling the news and goes to seek out Elesa’s company. (2K words)

“Oh wow, you look like shit.”

“I am Emmet and I haven’t slept in two days. Let me in.”

“Oh yeah, sure. Make yourself at home.”

Elesa opened the door to her complex, her emolga slippers ruffling on the floor as she stepped back. She was still in her pajamas despite the hour.

“You look like a child. It’s nostalgic.”

“It’s one of those mornings” Depending on the day, she could get dressed incredibly fast, or not at all.

“Where’s Ingo?” She looked in the corridor for a sign of the twin. Emmet flinched behind her.

“Busy.”

“Huh-huh”

She was not buying that. For all the years they had known each other, the twins Always did Everything and went Everywhere together, even when only one was invited somewhere.

“Say Emmet, is the reason you’re here at all related to the multi line being canceled for today?”

He flinched again, but this time Elesa caught it.

“No way…. Did you two have a fight?”

That was surprising if true. Sure, they often argued over petty little things, but it had become much less frequent now that they were adults. An apology, a hug, and everything was resolved by the end of the day.

Emmet stayed silent and immobile for a moment.

“…..no.” He finally muttered. It was half hearted, not the usual genuine and blunt tone.

That was… worrying. Maybe more than if he had said yes.

“Then why are you here?”

“…”

“I want to sleep on your couch for a few days.”

“WHA—”

Before she could finish, the subway boss had already face-planted on her designer couch. Head buried in a pillow, he groaned in approval of the couch.

“Emmet sweetie, first off, I have a guest room—”

“Couch is good.” His voice was muffled.

“— and second, WHY do you want to do that? Are you avoiding your brother?”

“…”

“…yes…”

“Oh…”

She sat down next to him.

“Sweetie, you can tell me if something is bothering you.” After all, she often vented her frustration to the twins, they were good listeners. It’s only fair she did the same.

“Uuurgh” Emmet groaned again, this time in frustration, and flipped over. Now laying on his back, he fixed Elesa with his silver eyes.

“It’s complicated.” and personal. Would she understand? Can he even say it or would that betray Ingo’s trust? He wasn’t the best at lying. Blunt and direct, says what he means, means what he says. Always the same.

“Ingo told me something and I got upset. I can’t talk to him.”

“Things won’t get better until you do hun.”

“I know. But I can’t talk to him.”

“Why not?”

“Because of what he said.”

“Was it that bad?”

Emmet fell into silence, staring at the ceiling. He was remembering their conversation. Ingo had planned it carefully, now that Emmet looked back on it. It was a place they didn’t usually go to, so Emmet wouldn’t have to see it again. They were alone and able to have a private conversation, but there were many ways for Emmet to leave if he wanted to. He did leave.

What Ingo had said…. He groaned, pressing his hands on his head, to hide his embarrassment and shame. What was he supposed to do?

“…. Elesa.”

“Yes?”

“You’re my friend. And you’re Ingo’s.”

“Well yeah, we established that a few times already.”

“I trust you. We trust you. So if I tell you something serious, promise you’ll keep it for you.”

Emmet was really starting to worry her. She put a hand on his shoulder.

“I promise.”

He took her words as the green light, and dropped the bombshell.

“Ingo said he loved me.”

Silence.

Elesa.exe has stopped working.

“Not like that though. He said it with more fancy words. But the final station is the same one.”

She shook her head, trying to clear her mind. That wasn’t what she expected. She had so many questions.

“You mean romantically? He said that he likes likes you?”

“Yup. Romantically. He loves me romantically.”

“Ingo?? Your twin??”

“Yup. My twin brother Ingo. He loves me. Romantically.”

“I… what… I’m just…”

That was about how Emmet reacted himself. So that means he reacted in the normal way. Probably. Elesa was the most normal of the three of them.

“…so… what did you say to that??”

“Nothing. I left. We haven’t spoken since. It hasn’t been fun.”

“And Ingo…”

It was killing her to even think about it, but she had to be sure.

“…before, has he ever tried… forced you to —”

Emmet interrupted her before she could finish that phrase.

“No. Don’t board that train. We’re talking about Ingo. He is the same Ingo you know.”

“Right, sorry… it’s just… A lot to process.”

Emmet nodded.

“Elesa, don’t let it change your view of Ingo. He is the same as before. Nothing changed.”

“… maybe for me, but what about you?”

“That’s why I’m here. I don’t know.”

A weighted silence fell on them like a blanket. It felt crushing.

Elesa couldn’t help but think back to all the instances where Emmet and Ingo’s relationship seemed just a bit too close. She was an only child, she assumed it was normal for siblings. Maybe it wasn’t. Should she have said something? Done something? They wouldn’t have listened to her anyway.

Emmet was replaying the moment Ingo confessed his feelings on loop in his head. Each word from that declaration was engraved in his mind. If Elesa asked him to, he could reenact the whole speech, minus the tone and facial expression. Ingo had never seemed so vulnerable. Emmet probably broke his heart, like all the others. He couldn’t face his twin. How could he, after he hurt him?

And yet, the thought of being separated…

“So what do you want to do…?”

She could let him stay over as long as he needed, that wasn’t a problem. But ignoring Ingo wouldn't solve anything.

“...”

“I don’t want to lose Ingo. But I don’t want to hurt him either. He’s been acting like nothing happened….”

Ingo had been greeting him, trying to chit-chat, bringing him lunch, just as he usually would. And each time, he was ignored and disregarded.

“...but I can see how much he hurts.”

Emmet was observant, and he knew his twin better than anyone else. He could see the guilt in his eyes, the pain in his smiles. It made his own heart twist and turn in agony. The memory of his brother’s face from that morning made his eyes sting. He gripped at the couch, clenching his fists until the nails started to dig into his palm. Elesa was attempting to comfort him wordlessly, her fingers brushing his hair gently. He tried to focus on that sensation instead.

“Elesa, you know what it’s like to be in love. I don’t. Can you explain it?”

“That’s—”

That wasn’t the first time he asked. It was a regular question of his, one that he never got a satisfying answer to. Elesa had tried, over and over again, to explain it. Others had tried. Emmet never liked the answers, and hated how everyone around him seemed to understand them. It frustrated him. After a while, they had concluded that Emmet didn’t feel romantic attraction, just like Ingo didn’t feel sexual attraction. He liked that explanation.

Elesa closed her eyes, trying to come up with the best way to explain love to her friend.

“Love is this dazzling feeling that sweeps you off your feet. It’s actually more than a feeling, it’s passion. You start caring so much for someone that you would do anything to spend time with them. Sometimes it even hurts to be apart. There’s something very tender about touching them and having them close to you… I know I compare a lot of things to electricity, but love really feels like electricity sometimes. It can power you, or hurt you, it’s fickle and sudden, and it can be very high intensity.”

“...”

“Was that a satisfying explanation, sweetie?”

“I guess. Is that what Ingo feels for me?”

“Hah—” She had almost forgotten what this was about.

“Maybe, people all experience love differently.”

She wished she could say he was just confusing his affection for his twin for love, but they were adults, Ingo has had partners before, and it was too serious of a topic for him not to have already considered the option. He had to mean it.

“What if I also love him? Romantically?”

Her fingers stopped moving through his hair.

“What… do you mean?”

“What you said about love. It’s close to what I feel for Ingo. Every time you explain love, I think about Ingo. He’s the only one I’ve felt that way for. I’ve been told it can’t be love because he’s my twin. Maybe it’s love, if Ingo also loves me.”

“I— I guess that’s a possibility.”

Elesa was out of words. What was she even supposed to say to that? She wanted to be supportive of her friends, but this? She didn’t know what to think. It was their personal business after all, she had no right to judge.

“You’re making a face.”

Emmet was staring at her.

“Sorry, it’s just—”

He got up and sat properly on the couch, startling Elesa.

“Do you think it’s wrong?”

Blunt as always. He put her on the spot. He looked at her expectantly, like a sad lillipup.

“I— I don’t— There’s nothing wrong with it, not inherently.”

She was looking for the right words.

“I think, if both of you are happy about this, if it’s consensual and reciprocated, then I have nothing to say against it. I’m your friend, I want what’s best for you. I’ve been told I was wrong for being who I am and loving who I love all my life, I won’t do the same to you.”

His smile changed into a genuine one as she talked, and he looked relieved.

“But—”

The corners of his mouth drooped down once again.

“Not everyone will think that way. Society isn’t kind, especially to public figures like us. I don’t want you to be hurt.”

Emmet crossed his arms.

“Society is stupid.”

“Hah, it sure is.”

“I don’t understand what it would change. If he loved me from the beginning, and I loved him as well, then our formation is still the same as before. We’re the same two-car train, with an added qualifier.”

“I don’t think most people would see it that way, sweetie.”

“I’m not most people. I am Emmet! I’m a subway boss together with Ingo! And I LOVE INGO!”

“Ow! I love the enthusiasm, sweetie, but please. I’m not wearing my headphones.”

“sorry. This is exciting! I think. I’ve never been in love. Am I jumping on the wagon too fast? Maybe it’s not love. Why does putting a word on it change everything?”

She smiled fondly.

“You’re doing just fine Emmet. You’ll just have to talk with Ingo about what this means for the both of you.”

Maybe it won’t mean much. They’ll be the same as they’ve always been, with one more label. They were already so close, it sounded impossible for them to be even closer, even if they started calling each other ‘lover’ instead of ‘brother’.

“Ingo! I’ve left him alone today. I need to talk to him. I need to—”

When trying to get up, Emmet wobbled on his feet and fell backwards, barely caught by Elesa.

“Are you okay??”

“...I forgot my safety checks.”

He looked so tired. Right. The whole ‘I haven’t slept in two days’ thing. That wouldn’t do. She sighed.

“Stay right here, and try to sleep. I won’t let you leave until you get some shut-eye.”

“Nooooo, I don’t want to nap, I need to talk to Ingo!”

“I will tell him to come pick you up, alright?” And have a word with him. She trusted Ingo, she really did, but… No, no, that was silly. They were adults, they didn't need her mingling.

Emmet pouted, but eventually recognized that she was right.

“You win this battle. Can I take out Eelektross?”

“Sure, knock yourself out!” Her whole apartment was electric-type-proofed anyway.

Emmet knocked off his shoes, folded his coat and took out a pokeball. A giant eel came out of it in a flash, and proceeded to wrap itself around Emmet. It gave him an affectionate munch on his head. The subway boss laid down, and his pokemon, recognising it meant nap time, snuggled against him. The pressure and coldness of Eelektross' body soothed him, and quickly lulled him to sleep.

In another room, Elesa asked subway boss Ingo to meet her at home.

And that’s the end of it! Who knows if I’ll continue, but it was really fun. I have shamelessly put in Emmet my own experience of being aro and struggling with the concept of love :P

#blankshipping #blankship #nobokuda #kudanobo #emmet #ingo #kudari #nobori #elesa #kamitsure #blankship fanfic #if you don't like it don't interact thanks!#mine

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the-himawari · 2 years

Text

A3! Settsu Banri - Translation [SSR] MANKAI Party (3/3)

*Please read disclaimer on blog; default name set as Izumi

---

Sakuya: Having the three of us gathered together feels like a blast from the past, doesn’t it?

Masumi: …Not really.

Banri: Geez, you’re blunt as always.

Tenma: Nothing’s changed, huh?

Izumi: (Seeing the three Hanasaki High students all present does make me feel a little nostalgic.) (I’m sure we’ll get to hear some memorable stories from those three today.)

-pause-

Banri: Thanks for comin’ today.

Sakuya: Banri-kun, happy birthday!

Masumi: …Happy birthday.

Tenma: Happy birthday, Banri-san.

Guest A: Happy birthday, Banri-kun!

Guest B: Banri-kun! You’re so cool~!

Guest C: With Tenma-kun, Sakuya-kun and Masumi-kun as guests, maybe we’ll get to hear stories from their high school days!? I can’t wait…!

Banri: Aight, let’s get the VLOG viewing party segment started right away.

-pause-

Banri: “Today, I got Tenma to come shoppin’ with me as we search for a pair of sneakers I was dying to get.” “That bein’ said, Tenma’s also in charge of the camera. Thanks, Tenma.”

Tenma: “Yeah, leave it to me.”

-pause-

Guest A: It’s celebrity shopping…!

Guest B: Banri-kun’s taste is on point, as expected~.

Sakuya: Banri-kun, you never look at the price tag until you buy something, huh… If it was me, I’d look at the price first thing…

Guest C: Yeah! That’s right!

Banri: Ah, really? I never really noticed.

Masumi: Isn’t the price tag what you look at at the time of purchase?

Tenma: Exactly.

Sakuya: Ehh!

Guest B: Masumi-kun’s a celeb too…!

Guest E: I empathize with regular folk like Sakuya-kun…!

Guest F: I’m with Sakuya-kun too! But shopping like a celebrity sure is nice too…!

-pause-

Banri: “The three of us studied for a test at that café before.”

Tenma: “That reminds me, Juza-san, Taichi and I joined you guys later…”

-pause-

Sakuya: That brings back memories! We had a match between Hana High and O High to see who could answer the questions faster.

Masumi: …It wasn’t even a match though.

Tenma: Guh…

Guest A: That’s the Hana High team for you.

Guest B: They must get along, studying for tests and stuff together~.

-pause-

Tenma: “That shoe store is way too much of a hole in the wall.”

Banri: “I know, right? Masumi and I bought some rare sneakers, but Sakuya didn’t buy anythin’.”

-pause-

Masumi: …That happened too.

Sakuya: Right! I’d love the three of us to hang out together again. But I guess only Banri-kun and Masumi-kun would end up buying something again.

Banri: How ‘bout Masumi and I choose then? Somethin’ even Sakuya can buy.

-pause-

Banri: “…It sure feels good findin’ what you were looking for, doesn’t it?” “…And so, that’s the end of my VLOG. Thanks for watchin’.”

-pause-

*applause*

Masumi: …Wait, what was the sight you wanted to show us?

Banri: Who knows. I’ll leave it up to your interpretation. You can look at it that way.

Masumi: What the heck?

Sakuya: Now, now. I had fun being able to see those nostalgic sights after such a long time.

Tenma: We don’t show our shopping trips much either.

Banri: Did y’all enjoy yourselves?

Guest A: I had a blast!

Guest B: Banri-kun looked so cute when he found the sneakers!

Sakuya: Banri-kun did look like he was in high spirits when he spotted the shoes.

Tenma: Well, he had been searching for a long time.

Banri: Pff… I know I said this at the end, but it feels amazin’ finding what you’re looking for, doesn’t it? (I had always been searching for that somethin’ that would set my heart ablaze. Then I found it, and now I’m standing here.) I kinda glossed over it in my VLOG… But I’ll convey myself without hidin’ anything on stage. Thoroughly, through my acting. So, I’ll continue countin’ on your support from here on out.

*applause*

-pause-

Masumi: It’s about time to wrap up the end.

Sakuya: It was so fun, the time passed by in the blink of an eye.

Banri: Alright, last but not least is my photoshoot time. Go for it, Tenma.

Tenma: On it.

Banri: This outfit is amazin’, ain’t it? Take some commemorative shots, everyone.

Guest A: We’re allowed to!?

Guest B: YAY!

Banri: It’s a special service just for today.

Guests: KYAHH!!

Masumi: Looking good.

Tenma: If Kazunari was here, he’d be snapping up more photos than anyone else.

Sakuya: Ahaha, you’re so right.

Banri: M’kay, let’s start the photoshoot time filled with all my gratitude.

*click, click, click*

---

previous |

#a3!#a3! translation #banri settsu #act! addict! actors!

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grabbaqueen16 · 2 years

Text

Eddie Munson - King of the dancehall

Eddie goes to a cookout with Caribbean! (mainly Jamaican) Reader to meet her extended family for the first time.

headcanons/preference/slight oneshot???

Slight use of she/her pronouns & feminine terms, mentions of smoking & getting high, anxiety and slight language warning.

Mostly fluff + Eddie experiencing new things.

Pulling up to the function hearing the music blaring and already being filled with that happy, nostalgic feeling

Eddie respecting the vibes but being scared out of his mind to meet your family

Him looking extremely out of place around everyone else and being super nervous

At first having him trailing behind you everywhere you go and being scared to leave your side

Him meeting some of your older family members and him laughing awkwardly while they tease him (they’re only joking but he’s scared they actually don’t like him, you reassure him)

Eddie finding it sexy when your accent starts to come out

Somehow convincing him to do an impression of the accent

Him failing miserably and laughing your ass off at him as he turns bright red and tries to curl up and die in your arms

Taking a break from the booming party outside and stepping into the house for a bit, meeting up with your parents inside and Eddie feeling internally relieved to see familiar faces.

Introducing Eddie to more family members, he is unsure if he should go in for a hug or a handshake and ends up giving some kind of awkward fist bump.

Starting to get hungry so you swing by the kitchen to make up some plates

Eddie thinks everything looks and smells amazing so he stacks up a mountain of food

“Are you sure you can handle all that babe? I’m warning you it might be spicy and it's not what you’re used to.”

“Nah I’ll be fine, I can handle a bit of spice”

He lifts a huge spoonful up to his smiling mouth, immediately bites into a pimenta and loses his appetite.

Laughing at his sulking again while you try to pick out all the whole spices from his food

Going back outside after a while and hearing your favourite song playing

“Ooh baby I love this song, will you please come dance with me?”

“Sure, anything for you princess”

Eddie doesn’t usually dance with you so this is a treat

You feeling the music and letting your body move free, him awkwardly swaying beside you

Teaching Eddie how to wine and move his hips

HE IS STIFF AS A BOARDDDD

Eventually loosening him up and starting to get the hang of it

“Hey this song is actually so good but what is it about??”

(You explain the lyrics to him)

“Holy shit.” his jaw drops and you both burst out laughing

Eddie gaining full confidence in his dance skills and having the crowd start to cheer you both on (this really boosts his confidence and ego)

You decide to take a break from the the festivities and walk around a bit

You run into all the relatives lounging around and smoking. Eddie goes starry-eyed at all the weed and blunts around

“I think I’ve finally found my place” he whispers excitedly to you, pretending to wipe happy tears from his eyes

You both pull up chairs and Eddie starts to pull out his rolling papers and smoke stuff

Uncle sees what Eddie’s doing and offers some of ‘the good stuff’. That’s an offer Eddie can’t refuse

“Oh my goddddd!” Eddie exclaims, he’s in cannabis heaven, experiencing ‘Canna-bliss’ if you will. “Where has this been all of my life”

You chill with Eddie and the others for a bit until your favourite cousins call you over to come hangout and catch up

“Do you wanna come with me or are you okay to stay for a bit?”

“Oh don’t worry about me princess, I am juuuussstttt fiiiinnneee.” Eddie smiles, high as a kite.

You stay out with your cousins for a little bit longer than you originally intended to and head back to the house to check on Eddie and see if he was ready to head home yet, you go around back but you don’t see him in the spot you left him. You ask your relatives and they tell you Eddie said he was going inside to use the washroom but never came back. You walk into the house, the music playing outside is so loud you can see and feel the bass thumping and shaking loose objects around the house. You check the washroom, no sign of your boyfriend, you check the living room, kitchen, everywhere, he is nowhere to be found. Finally you decide to check the bedroom where all the coats were dropped off, “Maybe in his high daze he stumbled into that room and got lost? I don’t know, whatever.” You think to yourself and roll your eyes at the silly idea. Sure enough, when you walk into the room you find your boyfriend snuggled under a bunch of jackets, bags, purses and even some shoes, laying on the bed next to the iconic random sleeping baby that you know belongs to one of your relatives, you just have no idea which one. You gently wake him up and tell him it's time to start heading out. He yawns and rubs his eyes, gets up and quietly follows you out of the room.

“Are you still recovering from that smoke sesh?” You ask jokingly concerned about his bewildered state

“Ohh yeah, big time.” he says mimicking a brain explosion. You giggle at him

You grab your to-go plates from the kitchen on your way out of the house, you say goodbye and goodnight to all your relatives, give out your thanks, hugs and kisses and continue on your merry way home.

During the drive home Eddie asks if you can play the song you were dancing to earlier

You pop in the CD and turn up the volume on your car stereo

He hums along to the melody and you smile to yourself and hum along too while you focus on the road.

BONUS:

Your cousins teasing calling him a battyboy and Eddie unknowingly thinking they’re referring to his Bat tattoos goes along with it, just thinking they’re calling him some caribbean version of Batman

Little cousins being fascinated and wanting to braid up his hair and make him look nice

Eddie learning how to play some classic tunes on guitar for you

Him randomly using slang from your country in everyday conversation just to try and catch you off guard

Sometimes he tries to piss you off on purpose just because he knows your accent will start to come out when you get riled up/begging you to speak to him with the accent because he loves it

A/N This is my first ever tumblr post and it is just written based off of my experiences at parties with my Caribbean(Jamaican, Trinidadian, Grenadian and Guyanese) family & friends, if anyone has a problem with this please let me know!! If you really liked this and would like to see more, I am accepting requests!

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