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klausinamarink · 5 months

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Love Over Box Labels

rating: G | cw: none | tags: modern au, no Upside Down, the romanticism of workings at warehouses | wc: 987

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles | Dec 4: Meet Cute at Work

—

When his dad had threatened Steve into working at a warehouse instead of being the good CEO’s son, Steve had laughed at his face and said, “Go ahead! Maybe I’ll like it better than your stupid neopet position!”

It’s been two years since that conversation. And Steve’s still working at the warehouse. Though it’s not the same one his dad plunked him in. He’s since transferred to another place for a full time position. And Steve loves it.

Maybe ‘love’ is too strong a word to use. Steve definitely doesn’t love waking up at five-thirty in the morning every weekday, requiring espresso to prevent falling asleep on his feet within the first few hours, and the muscle strain from all the heavy lifting.

But warehouse work is surprisingly mundane and much better than Steve expects. He chats with his coworkers, the music choices aren’t bad, and the days can pass within a blink through the repetition of box folding and forklifting shipments.

There’s one guy that keeps catching Steve’s attention though.

As one of the new contract workers who came in last week, the new guy - Eddie, according to his ID badge - has long curly black hair tied up in a bun, black fitted clothes with different band tees, and a few tattoos on his bare arms. His brown eyes were dearly expressive, a bit helpful since he was also one of the few employees still wearing a mask. (an automatic sign of a decent person in Steve’s mental checklist)

As a team leader trains Eddie on the basic operations of their taping machines at the other line, Steve keeps sneaking glances at him as he steers a pump truck of packages into the shipping area. Eddie’s eyes are narrowed with concentration, nodding along at Deb’s words, probably unaware of his surroundings at the moment.

Steve gives out a quiet sigh. Then he mentally slaps himself. Jeez, this is a new low bar of pathetic-ness for him. Crushing on a new coworker who either doesn’t know he exists or has noticed Steve and thinks he’s a creep.

He should probably just be normal and try talking to Eddie during lunch. Problem is that Eddie is working on another line which has a different break time than Steve’s line. So unless the leaders rotate the employee’s positions to other lines next Monday, then Eddie’s going to be far from Steve’s reach.

Steve shakes his head, focusing back to his work. Whatever. It’s just a stupid crush. He’s gonna get over it because he and Eddie are never going to talk anyways.

—

“Steve, can you let Eddie help you with those labels?”

Steve blinks at Karen, caught off-guard by her sudden appearance with Eddie right next to her. He only manages to answer coherently, “Oh, sure!”

“That’s lovely!” Karen smiles at him, patting Eddie on the arm as she leaves. And then it’s the two of them at this table with stacks of boxes and rolls of labeled stickers.

“So…” Steve starts. “You're new here, right?” He kicks himself in the shin because what the hell, Steve?

Eddie just gives a jerky nod. “Yeah, first season.” He says, clipped. His eyes flick down to the labels questioningly. “How do I..?”

“Oh, this is like, super easy stuff, dude.” Steve says, hoping he doesn’t sound too eager on showing off the beauty of box labeling. “You just take this white label, place it here right above the numbers, take this..” He continues his demonstration to Eddie, who’s once again narrow-eyed with concentration. Steve nearly flutters when he notices how close enough he is that he can see the pinched furrow of Eddie’s eyebrows and a faint speckle of freckles below his eyes.

Be still, my bisexual heart. Steve demands as he looks away just before Eddie’s eyes - they’re so round, oh god - catches his. “You got it?”

Eddie nods, “Easy enough.”

“Cool.”

Unfortunately, that’s just all they say to each other as they work in tangent on the labels. Steve wants to talk to Eddie again. Bring something up like-

“Nice tattoos, by the way.”

Lord, please smite me from this earth and send me to Amazon.

“Thanks, man.” When Steve looks at him, Eddie’s eyes are crinkled up. “They’re super old, though. Got them when I was a rebellious junior student. Been thinking about getting new ones over it.”

“I mean, if you wanna change them or whatever, that’s totally up to you! Just saying that the bats look wicked.”

Eddie quirks an eyebrow. “You like the bats?”

“Yeah! They’re, uh, your favorite animals?”

“In a way.”

Pretty soon, they both fall into an easy conversation, discussing bits of their respective upbringings and what they’d done before coming here. They only pause to collect new boxes and bring the finished ones to the packers. When lunch break is called, Steve’s relieved that Eddie now has the same schedule, allowing them to talk more.

It creates a delightful feeling in Steve’s chest.

—

“I really learned a lot,” Eddie says as they walk out the building together at the end of the shift, “I don’t think I could survive today without you.”

“Really?”

Eddie takes off his mask. Steve’s heart flips sideways at the sight of the other man’s eye-crinkling smile. “Yeah. Now I know how to label boxes like my life depends on it.”

Steve bursts out a good-hearted laugh, “Well, if you want more advice, I can give you my number.”

Eddie stares at him for a beat before smiling wider, “I wouldn’t mind that.”

#klaus writes #steddie #stranger things #source: I wrote at a warehouse and I yearn for love sometimes #steddieholidaydrabbles

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billthedrake · 9 months

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PRE-FROSH (CHAPTER ONE)

This story is a sequel to "Dad's New Life."

I was prepared to take a good amount of teasing, and maybe more, this weekend. But the guys in the Sig Ep house were cool, I had to admit.

I didn't think I was going to be able to visit. But my older brother Connor swore to my parents he'd keep a hawk's eye on me and keep me from drinking or doing anything I shouldn't. I got along OK with my brother, but growing up he was always kind of bossy, taking advantage of being three years older than me and more of the popular kid in school.

He was still that guy, only now I'd grown up, taller than Connor now, and had really bulked up. I'd say it was basketball and lacrosse, but a lot of it was just obsessively working out and keeping my growing teen body fed with enough protein to put on muscle. I still had a young face - and I had a good idea it would be a while before I could pull off a fake ID - but I was starting to get a strong build for my 6'3" frame.

I now sat in a big sofa in the rec room of the fraternity house, watching some dumb TV. Connor plopped himself next to me with a knowing grin. He had two beer cans in his hand and offered me one. "Not a word to Mom and Dad, Squirt," he admonished.

"Course not," I said, gratefully taking the beer. I took a few sips. It was cheap beer but I didn't care, I loved it.

"Hey O'Brien," one of the brothers said. Alan I think his name was. A senior and a stocky, goofy dude who I discovered was one of Connor's close buddies in the house. The Four Musketeers they called themselves, and Alan was the crudest of the bunch. "Is the pre-frosh gonna partake of Mike's services?"

I wondered if Mike was a drug dealer or something. I figured my older brother wouldn't be into anything too wild. He was the studious one in the family.

Connor got an uncharacteristically shy look. "Dude, it's my baby brother we're talking about."

"I'm not a baby," I objected. I'd turned 18 a couple weeks earlier.

This fraternity brother just gave me a sly wink before turning to my brother. "Like your brother doesn't get his dick wet. The young dude's a fucking lacrosse player fer Christsake."

Fuck, they were talking about sex. With a dude. I smirked, and Connor laughed when he turned to see my expression. "You don't even know what you're grinning about, Jase," he teased.

I shrugged, showing off as much teen bravado as I could. "I figured if it wasn't fun, you wouldn't be acting like I wasn't ready for it."

I could sense my brother was frustrated, cause he didn't object or act bossy, he just gave me a pale grin. "All right. Just remember. No talking about what happens this weekend. Promise?"

"Yeah, dude," I said, annoyed. "I fucking promise."

It was a half hour before Mike showed up. I heart his booming baritone voice coming down the SigEp house steps to the basement before I saw him. I don't know what I expected, but the guy was older, a lot older. Like, dad's age. And buff as hell. He didn't quite look like an ex-athlete, not like Coach Carson, but he was big and beefy and muscular, more of a gym-pumped build, but he clearly took real good care of himself. He wore a snug polo shirt and faded jeans and had a Chicago Bears ball cap on. His shirt was all filled out with huge pecs and big guns. I had jerked off to some bi and gay porn, maybe more than I'd like to admit. I never thought of myself as into older dudes, but something about this guy got me going.

Particularly since I was putting two and two together and realizing this buff older man really was somehow providing some kind of services to the fraternity brothers. Maybe just a handjob or something, and I wondered if he was actually a fucking hooker the way the guys acted so nonchalant.

"Hiya, fellas, how's it hanging?" he asked, giving Dale a fist bump. Dale was another one of the Four Musketeers.

"About six inches soft," Dale wisecracked.

It may have just been banter, but this was not what I was expecting for my pre-frosh weekend on campus.

Mike gave a soft chuckle and looked around. "Same room?" he asked.

"Yeah," Alan replied. "We set it up to make it extra comfy for ya."

Mike smirked but didn't take the bait of the taunt. He just asked. "Who's first?"

"Let the prefrosh have first dibs," said Kyle, a sophomore soccer player who had a whole stoner vibe about him.

I looked over at my big brother Connor, like he was going to object. He just shrugged in a "you wanted it," kind of way.

So I acted like I wasn't some dumb young high schooler and stood up. I felt the guys' eyes on me, almost giggling.

I followed the big guy up the stairs and down the hall. I don't know whose room we were using... one of the brothers', but Mike seemed at home, like he came here regularly. As we stepped in, I started to get nervous, my bravado going right out the window. The man caught on.

"I've not seen you around the house before," he said.

I stood awkwardly in front of him, shifting on my feet some. "I'm just visiting," I explained. "I'm still in high school actually," I added, then immediately regretted it. I was probably blowing my chance for a handjob right then.

But the man didn't seem fazed. His blue eyes twinkled beneath the brim of his ball cap and a smile formed on his handsome face. Up close I could now see the silver flecks in his stubble and for some reason I found that really hot. "Is that right, buddy?" he asked. "Not too young for me are ya?" he asked. Kind of flirty in his question.

"No sir," I replied. Feeling dumb for calling him that. "I'm a senior... just turned 18 a couple weeks ago."

He nodded with that sexy smile of his and now openly looked me up and down. "You're big for 18... you lift regularly I bet."

"Yessir," I said. I wished to hell my parents hadn't instilled that deference to elders thing in me so hard. I probably seemed like an idiot to this guy. "I'm a typical jock, I guess. Hoping to get a lacrosse scholarship somewhere." God, I was blabbing now.

"Nice," was all the guy said and like that he was crouching down in front of me. I'd lost any chub I had with the nervousness and the small talk, but now I knew instantly I wasn't gonna have a problem getting hard. I felt that horny tightness in my chest and throat as I watched this hunky guy get in position and run his hands along my legs.

Mike looked up at me. I tried to gauge his age. Late 40s to mid 50s. He was well preserved for sure, but also had a tan that made his face look more ruggedly handsome. "I bet you get a lot of attention from men."

I shook my head. "I wish," I replied. It was refreshing to be honest, even if I didn't even know this guy.

Mike's paw now massaged the growing boner in my shorts. "Just send out the signals, stud, and I can guarantee you'll get as much attention as you want." It was wild to hear his words in such a deep baritone of a voice, the Chicago accent thick as hell.

"Signals?" I asked. In addition to a handjob, maybe I could get some advice for hooking up. If I had the guts to back in my small hometown.

"Yah," he explained. "Eye contact, body language. Letting a guy know you're open to his advances." His fingers were now undoing my shorts. "I wasn't sure about you, actually. You seem the shy type."

"I've never done anything like this," I admitted.

"Na? Ever have your cock sucked, buddy?" he practically growled.

I shook my head. My heart pounded more. Maybe this was gonna be more than a handjob.

I watched as he pulled my shorts and underwear down. My cock flopped out, hanging in midair for a second before it bounded up into a hard upright position. I was hornier than I realized.

"Hot damn!" Mike gasped. "Cherry and hung as fuck." His hand wrapped around my meat, sending shock jolts of pleasure to my balls. The man's eyes seemed fixed on my dick. "Hell of a cock you got, buddy," he said. Then looking up, he asked, "You Connor's brother?"

"Yeah," I replied. Blushing some. I guess I figured Connor partook of Mike's services, but this was crazy to think about. My dick enjoyed the idea of my big brother getting sucked, though. It jerked in Mike's mitt.

He returned his attention to my crotch. "I could tell. Though you're even bigger than him.... fuck!" He paused and licked his lips. "God, I love virgins."

And like that I watched, almost as if in slow motion, as this middle-aged hunk leaned in and started taking me into his mouth. He used his mouth to wet me down at first, just an inch or two, but it felt incredible. Pleasure but also the novelty of sensation. I'd not been entirely truthful. I'd fucked a couple of chicks, that drunk fumbling at parties kind of fucks, and I'd dated one girl who let me feel her up and she'd give me a handjob. THIS, though, was another world. Mike knew what the fuck he was doing.

The kicker was when he pulled back a second and took in a breath then swallowed me all in one go. His throat felt snug and tight but it was the nastiness of the action which caught me off guard.

Not as much of a shock thought as a voice in the room.

"How is he, Pre-Frosh?" It was Craig, a fit, muscular junior, a kind of typical popular frat dude. The fourth guy in the Four Musketeers group my brother hung out with. I'm guessing he was sent in to keep an eye on things and make sure I was OK.

"Fuck," I gasped. Switching personalities now that I was trying to impress one of Connor's brothers. "Dude knows how work a cock."

Indeed, as I spoke Mike was bobbing up and down on me with slick sounding mouth strokes, his spit running down my balls.

I got a better view of Craig as he stepped up. He always wore his longish dirty blond hair under his ball cap and I saw his cute-handsome face examine my own. "You gonna nut soon, bro?"

I shook my head. "I could. But I want this to last." It was my first time out, and once I got over the fear of a quick trigger I'd settled into enjoying the rising and cresting pleasure without quite orgasming. Though I felt it could come any second now.

"You up for sharing?" he asked. Cautious. I had a sense if it was any other brother, he would have butted right in. But I was Connor's kid brother.

I pulled back and we both laughed as Mike tried to follow me, latching his lips on my meat before I finally broke free.

Craig was already pulling down his sweatpants to reveal his hard dick. He was regular sized, with a good looking cut cock. I enjoyed seeing it but also was proud I outmeasured this college bro.

"Hot," Mike gasped as he moved from his crouch to a kneeling position. Craig played host by offering a folded towel for his knees. The man pulled off his ball cap and tossed it aside. His hair was short and showed a good bit of gray on the temples, but he had enough length on top to give that matted-tousled look from his cap. Mike was still in his polo and jeans and his muscle looked pretty amazing as he scooted toward Craig.

"Fuck yeah," the fraternity brother grunted. "Suck my fucking cock dude."

Craig's eyes were down on Mike, eagerly watching the big guy do his work. Craig's smaller size meant Mike could go wild, battering his own throat with hard and fast movements of his skull.

I didn't know where to keep my eyes. On Mike and his slutty thrill in sucking cock. Or on Craig, who was clearly responding to the sexual stimulation in his face and whole body.

Craig finally reached down and held Mike's head, steadying it and slowly pushing him off.

"It's O'Brien's turn," he said with a chuckle. "I know you like the big ones, Mike," he added.

"I do," the man admitted without shame. He gave Craig's tool one more lick then watched as I stepped up to where Craig had been.

Somehow his BJ now had warmed him up for me. It wasn't just the deep throat that got me off. It was the swiveling motion of his head and the milking suction. Involuntarily I gripped the sides of his head to brace my body.

"Oh SHIT!" I cried. I was entering orgasm now, one that put my previous ones to shame. I saw white for a second and felt light headed. Like Mike was sucking out my consciousness along with my cum.

I heard Craig laughing. "Go for it, bro!" Then. "Niiiccce."

Mike finally spat out my prick. "If you want seconds, stud, you know where to find me," he winked.

Craig meanwhile was practically pushing me out of the way, eager for his turn, his dick reddened and leaking in excitement. "Tell the next guy he's up," he said as he thrust back in between Mike's wet lips. "It won't take me long."

I found my shorts and underwear and put them back on, taking one more view of Craig, who was actively fucking the big burly dude's face.

Everything about this was so crazy and so exciting. A couple of the guys on the team had bragged about gangbanging Kelsey Myers, but I think they were bullshitting. And here was an out-there gangbang happening in my brother's fraternity house.

I was still flush and breathing heavy when I returned to the den. "Who's next?" I said, as I plopped next to my brother on the couch and picked up the beer can, which hadn't warmed up too much. I took a sip of the cheap watery stuff, which for whatever reason tasted like the best goddamn beer I'd tasted.

I could tell Connor was watching me, trying to read me. I turned to him. "What, bro?" I asked, maybe acting more annoyed than I was.

"You OK, Jase?" he asked in a low voice.

I nodded. "Why wouldn't I be?" I said, trying to play it cool. "That was awesome."

He paused and took a sip of his own beer. "You won't mind if I go in there soon?"

"Fuck no," I said, getting the courage to make eye contact with my brother. We were two O'Brien men experiencing the same cocksucker. It was a strange bonding experience for sure. "I'd feel bad if you didn't on my account."

Indeed Connor's turn was next and he got up off the couch, a boner already forming in his sweats. I had never thought of my big bro like this, but indeed he had a pretty big tool.

He was gone about ten minutes. Good for him. When he came back he was flush like I was, the Irish genes making his cheeks rosy pink after sex. I could tell he was embarrassed to have done that with me there, and I enjoyed being the laidback one for a change.

"Seriously, bro," I whispered. "Thanks for letting me do that. You know, for not getting all protective and shit."

He shrugged. "Just don't tell Mom and Dad," he warned.

"What the fuck would I tell them?" I said with a chuckle.

Connor laughed. "You got a point there."

We were watching some dumb MTV reality show, but mostly my attention was on the brothers as one by one they got up to go partake of Mike's services. Alan might have been the last to do so, and when he came back he asked, "Anyone up for seconds?"

I heard the guys laugh as I stood up.

"Pre Frosh is going back!" cried one of the guys. I hoped I wasn't embarrassing Connor or anything, but I had tasted the forbidden fruit and wanted another bite while I still had the chance. I ignored the taunts and made a beeline back to that room.

The door was ajar and I pushed my way in. I saw Mike's polo shirt before anything else. It was on the floor, a few feet away from where that folded towel was, and his discarded jeans.

The man was lying on the bed, face down and ass up in a dreamy quiet repose. I underestimated how muscular he was. That ass alone jutted up in two round hard globes and his back dipped down then swelled up in an amazing mass of lats and rear delts. The back was tanned and totally smooth, a contrast to his pale but furry buns.

I was taking off my shorts and underwear when Mike turned and looked over at me. "I was hoping you'd come back, buddy," he said in his deep soft voice. "You eager for the full ride?"

I wasn't the brightest guy I suppose but it was dawning on me what he meant. At least one of the brothers had fucked him and Mike was now asking me if I wanted to fuck him too.

"Yeah," I said. Like it was a normal occurrence for me. My dick was rock hard again and I fisted it a little.

Mike gave a smile as he watched me get closer to the bed. "Damn, I'm gonna feel that in me good, aren't I?"

Somehow he knew how to be flirty as hell in a masculine way that got me rock hard. Before this weekend I would have imagined I'd enjoy having sex with one of Connor's fraternity brothers instead. Living out some SeanCody or CorbinFisher fantasy. But this older guy was pushing my buttons big time.

"Yep," I said, trying to act cocky like Craig or the other guys had. Only I didn't know where to start when it came to fucking. Surely it wasn't as easy as in the porn videos.

Thankfully Mike seemed to read my hesitation. "Just climb on buddy. Daddy's all lubed up for that big monster."

I wasn't sure what I thought of the daddy thing. But this man was so hot and so clearly in heat, humping the bed some and hiking his meaty ass up for me as I got onto the mattress.

His muscle felt warm beneath me as I stretched my body on top of his, trying not to put all my weight down on him, but just enjoying this. It was so different than fucking a chick, the complete lack of hesitation as Mike reached back and gripped my tool long enough to guide me in place.

"You have an amazing body, stud," he hissed. "Hot fucking high school senior."

My prick felt the wetness of the lube. Then as I pressed in past his recently fucked folds, I knew it wasn't just lube. I'd heard the phrase sloppy seconds of course but it was insane how sloppy Mike's ass felt. Tons of fraternity cum awaited my dick as I bored inside him. I knew not to just ram it in him, and in a way I savored the slow inching in and the way the man's cuts clung to me.

"You have a great body, too, Mike," I said, now letting my chest press more against his back muscle. A thought occurred to me. "You let guys do this a lot?" I asked.

He leaned his head back up against my neck. It took me a second to realize he was moving his ass back against my hips too, doing some of the work to penetrate his ass with my long cock. "Yeah, I do," he replied, matter of fact. "That bother you, buddy?"

"I don't know," I said truthfully. "I guess it's kind of hot.... thanks for letting me do it."

Mike let out a deep growl. "Anytime buddy... that dick of yours feels AMAZING."

I sawed some inches in and out then decided to go for it. Sending my hips forward I pressed all the way inside him. I'm thick and long and I know Mike really felt that.

"Oh FUCK YEAH, buddy!" he grunted, pushing his chest up a little as if to challenging me to press him back down to the bed. I did, accentuating my movement with another thrust into him. "Love that horse meat ya got."

I would have loved this anyway. Losing my virginity with a man. Having my first ass fuck. But Mike was gonna spoil me, I knew. The man just loved sex and his love was infectious. I held on to his shoulders and started fucking. Not hard but with a steady deep pump. Maximizing the pleasure on my cock but also aiming for that vocal response from him.

"Take that dick, man," I growled in his ear as my hips now worked faster. Mike was bigger and more muscular than me but I had the leverage position to hold him steady while I nailed him, as well as the sex adrenaline pumping in my veins.

I worried I was going too hard, but the harder I nailed him the more he seemed to get into it.

"GODDAMN! High schooler fucks like a porn star," he growled.

I worried the brothers could hear us mate. Then I hoped they could hear everything. I was riding that excitement of my first piece of ass, and I was rising to the occasion. I now knew why my lacrosse buddies were so excited by pussy, but this was even better.

His ass was slick and I could feel the wetness along my cock and balls and had a good idea all that cum was frothing up his furry crack. A few of the fraternity brothers had fucked and bred Mike's hole. Connor was probably one of them, I thought.

That idea I was fucking on my brother’s load made my balls tighten immediately. "Holy fuck," I gasped, my cum working up real quick. A part of me wanted to slow down and enjoy this more. That part of me lost out, though. I held on tighter to Mike's beef and just went to town, cumming deep inside the man's guts.

"Get it, buddy!" Mike cried, eager for my seed. I had no idea if he was going to get off. Maybe he did earlier. Right now it was just about my spurting prick and my pure need.

I rode out the cum and finally slowed my roll, now kissing along the man's neck and feeling up his body.

"Hmmm," the man muttered. "You sure that was your first, Stud? You fuck like a champ."

"Yeah," I chuckled. "Hell of a first time, too," I said. "I'm gonna remember this one for a long time."

"I'm glad, bud," he said. "Damn... it feels like I got a baseball bat wedged up inside me."

"Sorry... I can pull out," I said.

"Don't on my account," Mike said, softly, almost shyly. "I mean, I figure an 18 year old jock has another in the tanks, right?"

My dick wasn't going soft and while I wasn't 100 percent sure I could come again soon, I knew I wanted to get as much Mike time as I could. It might be a long time before I had a chance to fuck a man again. "Yeah," I replied.

I humped him some more, before Mike asked if I wanted to try some other positions. We didn't do them all, maybe, but I had a good number of firsts that afternoon. Missionary, cowboy, reverse cowboy, standing. But we finished in doggy, which might have been my favorite.

I felt like a total stud when I finally dismounted and saw how much cum I'd added to Mike's hole. I gave his rump a gentle pat which made the man laugh.

He watched as I got dressed again. "You around town for long?" he asked.

"Just the weekend," I said.

He grinned and looked me up and down. "If I give you my number, will you hit me before you go?"

This is not how I expected my college visit to go. "Hell yeah," I said.

Mike slid out of bed, his beefy body looking amazing all naked and some wiry silvery hair in his chest fur. His dick was pretty soft but I could see the trickles of fresh cum dripping down the insides of his hairy thighs. He found his wallet and fished out a card to hand me.

It read “Daddy Mike” with a phone number, Insta and Twitter handle and OnlyFans URL.

"Are you a porn star?" I asked in surprise. I now felt like a small-town hick for sure.

"Just like to have a little fun," he said. "If you're the jealous type don't look me up online," he said. "A couple of dudes learned that the hard way." He seemed weirdly apologetic to be warning me.

"If what we did just now was a 'little fun' I'd hate to see a lot of fun," I joked.

"The weekend is still young, Pre Frosh," he winked.

I was a little lightheaded and thirsty when I got back to the den. A couple of the guys razzed me for taking so long and I notice Kyle and some other dude get up to go into together.

Connor seemed quiet, not pissed off but in a strange mood. Later, after dinner, we found ourselves sitting alone. My big bro decided to check in with me.

"I guess I shouldn't have been so worried about you with Mike," he said. An edge to his tone, like maybe he didn't approve. I don't know.

I sighed. "I'm gonna call him up tomorrow, you know, go hang out with him." It was a weirdly euphemistic way to say I was gonna fuck Daddy Mike again.

That hit my brother the wrong way. "Come on, Jason. I'm supposed to be watching out for you."

"Dude, it's gonna be fine," I countered. I didn't know if I could convince him of that, or if he needed convincing. Maybe he just felt guilty things had gotten out of hand.

"You know," I added. "I'm into dudes, Connor."

"Clearly," my brother laughed. OK, he wasn't THAT pissed off at me if he was joking around.

That made me laugh, too. "I mean, like, I know that's what I want. I'm gay."

"Oh," he said. "That's cool." Then, "you know I still worry about you, Jase. It's what brothers do."

"Yeah," I conceded. I shot him a wry grin. "And thanks, bro. I wouldn't have it any other way."

#drakestories

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bouncybongfairy · 11 months

Text

Wild Night

Summary: You are convinced by your best friend Stacey into having a wild night at the club where you met Rick Sanchez.

TW: Drug Use | Smut | Alcohol | Rough Sex.

Rick Sanchez x Reader

Word Count: 3k+

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

You rummage through your purse, trying to find your lanyard to unlock the door. After what seems like an eternity, you finally get the door open. You set your bag on the island in the kitchen and check your phone. Today was your Friday, and you were looking forward to your three-day weekend from work. With school, work, and your social life, you only want to sleep when you get free time. This was something your inner circle was noticing and pointing out more often. Your phone rings with the collar ID of Stacy. You met her in statistics class and really hit it off.

“Hey girl,” you say into the phone while walking into your bathroom to take off your jewelry.

“Y\N! What are you doing tonight? Novah and I planned on going to The Wormhole tonight and we really want you to come.” She said into the phone, the faint sound coming from the background.

“I don’t know Stacey, I have a ton of homework and I worked today,” you say, taking your earrings off and your claw clip.

“Please, just come out. You told me yesterday that you have a three-day weekend.” She remarked while Marina played quietly over the speaker.

“What does that have to do with anything? My free time isn’t your availability.” You said leaving the bathroom and going to sit on your bed. Stacey sighed and switched her tone before speaking,

“Look, I really miss you. I know you’re working and have a life and I admire how dedicated you are. It just can’t be healthy to be going so non stop. Please just come out with Novah and me, have one or two drinks and if you really are not feeling up to it we can Uber you home. I’ll come over and we can get ready together.. please..?” Stacey at this point was begging.

“Be here in like, an hour okay?” You say while turning the shower water on the heat up.

“Yay! I’ll be there soon girl, I promise you won’t regret this.” Stacey sang into the phone before hanging up. Once you thought more about it, you began romanticizing the idea of going to the club. Getting all done up, breaking out the lashes, extension, heels, mini skirt.

The last time you went out with Stacey you damn near blacked out. Dancing with the strippers on the pole, body shots, the looks you got when you started grinding against Stacey. Once the water was warm, you stepped into the shower and started washing your body. The Wormhole is the sickest club you've ever been to. The bouncers do a great job of keeping creeps out. Some of the bottle girls sell molly and they have strippers.

"What did I get myself into tonight?" you mutter to yourself and you rinse the shampoo out of your hair.

Once Stacey got there, they began doing their makeup in front of the mirror built on your closet door. You were clipping your extensions into your hair while she was applying power to set her foundation.

"So.. are you planning on getting laid tonight?" Stacey asked, shifting through her make-up bag. You chuckle while grabbing your curler and wrapping your hair around it,

"Honestly yeah, I haven't gotten dick in like, three months." You said finishing up your hair, teasing it a bit to give it some volume.

"Oh my gosh, are you serious? Yeah, it's a good thing that I convinced you to come out tonight because that's some grandma shit right there," she said, spraying setting spray on her face.

"I don't know, I'm just tired of the ending. It's like the buildup is great. We're all taking shots and smoking, dancing the night away. The end of the night begins to approach and you start looking for the guy you're gonna take home. The sexual tension is like so electric when you're dancing with said dude or on the car ride home. You get in bed, he'll dig into your hip for a while and then when you do start having sex, they last like 45 mins then collapses after they finish. Then sit there in award silence for 10 minutes before getting dressed and mumbling: mY uBeR iS hErE and run out the door. It's just too much." You said while fixing your eyelashes and grabbing a couple bobby pins to secure your bangs to the side, "do my eyelashes look even?" You ask Stacey who had just finished lighting a blunt, handing it to you so she could answer your question.

"Yes, they look even and yeah I get that. It's hard to find guys our age that can play that mind game. Like, the cat and mouse game. You know, like flirting and teasing but I would settle for a guy who could find the clit without help!" She said, bursting into laughter. "That is setting the bar low, even for you." You joke back while exhaling your hit before turning back to finish getting ready.

After about another 30 minutes you both were leaving your apartment to get down to The Wormhole. Novah was going to meet you both there and you were really excited. After pre-gaming with the blunt Stacey had rolled, you were feeling so optimistic about the night. Especially compared to how you felt before the invite. You're wearing a jean mini-skirt that pretty much looks like a tube top. Pink, chunky pumps, and a white long-sleeve crop top that left your mid-section bare. Your platinum blonde hair blown out Farrah Fawcett style resting on your shoulders and back. Of course, the Juicy bag that you stole from your sister in high school. It really wouldn't be a complete outfit without it. Once you guys walk into the club you immediately find Novah, who saved a table for you guys.

"You know Y|N, when Stacey texted me that you were going to meet us here I can't say that I believed her but I'm so stoked you came out!" She said playfully pushing you on the shoulder. You laugh and nod your head, "Yeah it's been all work no play but I'm here tonight and I'm trying to get fucked up." You giggle which makes both girls laugh. "Let's drink to that whore," Stacey says, walking away to order a bottle.

It was somewhere between the fifth shot of GreyGoose and the second joint you smoked in the bathroom that you became more open-minded. Stacey was behind you, grinding her pelvis against your ass. Novah was dancing in front of you holding their mixed drink in the air. You were really starting to feel drunk at this point, especially when you started wanting a cigarette.

"Our bottle girl has molly, are you down?" Stacey whispers in your ear you immediately turn around and flash her a devilish grin which causes both of you to break out into laughter. You guys track down the bottle girl and buy 60 dollars worth of molly.

That was when you first noticed him, it honestly was a bit embarrassing. You had dipped the acrylic nail on your pinky into the small baggie of powder and brought it up to your nose. Right as you snorted the molly is when you locked eyes with him. His hair was so blue, like seriously blue. He had on a lab coat which at first struck you as weird but it really goes with his whole vibe. One of the first things you notice is that he's alone or at least you were hoping he was. Without breaking eye contact with you, he grabs his glass and takes a couple of swigs.

"Hello, Y|N are you good?" Stacey asks while stroking your hair. "Um, yeah but, do you see that guy over there who -hiccup- who is that?" You ask, referring over to the blue-haired man.

"Oh, that's Rick Sanchez or Smith or something like that, uhh, I think I went to high school with his granddaughter. He's a drunk but also like a crazy scientist who has this weird-ass car airplane hybrid vehicle thing. I don't know tho." Stacy slightly slurred while still dancing to the music that was blaring, "Are you thinking about getting at him?" She asks you while pulling you in to start dancing again.

"Well yeah, I mean like I said I'm tired of clueless men so maybe I should go after an older man, try something new." You said but you couldn't help but giggle the entire time while you said it.

'God this molly is so strong you thought to yourself.

"I support Y|N on their journey to getting space man dick," Novah said, grabbing Stacey as showed you away in an encouraging way to go interact with him. Under different circumstances, it might have taken you more of a pep talk to be so direct but with the liquid and powder courage took away any anxiety. You had to admit it was a bit nerve-racking when you first approached Rick. Most people change their facial expressions and body language to acknowledge the fact that you are approaching them. He just stared at you with the same facial expression from when you first locked eyes. Once you were standing directly in front of him you smiled and greeted him.

"Hey, your name is Rick right?" You asked, fixing your purse strap. "Are you trying to make small talk?" Rick asked sarcastically.

"Sure looks like it doesn't it." You snap back quickly, grabbing his glass and taking a sip out of the black straw. You quickly realize what you thought was a glass of water was indeed pure vodka. You bite down on the straw to keep your face from grimacing.

"What's your name?" Rick snickered, taking the glass back and taking three large gulps.

"Y|N, my friends said that you're a spaceman. Are you?" You ask, becoming impatient on trying to find a good opportunity to ask him to dance.

"How does that concern you or your little girlfriends?" He asked leaning so she could hear him over the speakers.

"Oh, that doesn't really concern me, you know what really does worry me? The fact that you aren't grinding against me on the dance floor. Don't you find that concerning?" You ask sarcastically, grabbing his belt loops and using them to pull yourself closer to him. This causes him to stand up from the bar stool he was sitting on. That was when you realized how tall he was, he was literally towering over you. Your neck was bent completely back to look up at him whereas his head was hanging down to see you.

"I'm not going to be your parent for the night, I don't want to deal with daddy issues." He said which made you throw your head back and laugh. You felt his hand on your back catch you in case you lost balance.

You grab the bag of molly out of your cleavage and scoop a fair amount of powder onto your nail. You bring it up to his nose and whisper in his ear as he snorts it, "I don't need a daddy, I need a dick that lasts longer than an hour and doesn't need GPS to get to its destination." You giggled as he pulled you in closer, almost causing your feet to lift off the ground.

"I think we're gonna make a great pair." He said as he led you to the dance floor. You had been standing with Rick for so long that when you began making your way to the floor, you really began to feel inebriated.

The energy you felt between the two of you on the dance floor was unreal. To be fair, being intoxicated could be clouding your proper judgment but feeling Rick behind you was making your legs feel like it was burning. Such a warm feeling in the bottom of your stomach. As you were grinding against him you couldn't help but try to size him up.

"Your dick feels so fucking big." You said after turning around to face Rick. He was smirking at you, his body slightly hovering over you so he could squeeze your ass. Which is when a bottle girl walked passed and asked what time she would be meeting Rick after the club closes.

"Back the fuck up." You sneer, shoving her back causing a couple of the drinks on her tray to spill on a couple of people around you. Immediately the bouncers come to remove you but Rick grabs you by your waist so that your back is pressed against his chest.

"I got it, alright buddy calm down j-just calm down I'm taking- I'll take her." He said while you were trying to get out of his grip. Your feet were dangling and you eventually got your hand loose and immediately slid your hand down his happy trail as he walked you over to his ship which was parked out back instead of in front of the club. Once you get close enough to the ship he turns you around and slams you against the ship door. He pressed his body against yours making you pinned in between him and the metal.

"You're fucking mental. I'm not one of these frat boys who can't look past you. If I want to hook up with her or whoever the fuck I choose. Control yourself," Rick growled into your ear, moving one of his hands to grip your throat. You pull your legs up and wrap them around his waist and smile at him.

"Mental for your dick." You mumble against his lips which were chattering slightly due to the molly.

"Fuck it," Rick said pulling out his portal gun and creating the bright green gateway. It opens from behind you, Rick's face becomes illuminated by the green light.

god he looks so powerful

You both fall through the portal onto a bed. It took you a while to notice but the bed you were both on was your own. You run your hands down his back, digging your nails into his lower half. He groans as he grinds against you. You bring your feet up and try to push his pants off of him. He chuckles as he pulls away from you and sits up on his knees. As he began undoing his belt you couldn't help but admire his body. The T.V. was glowing behind him creating a halo of light behind him. He pulled a condom out of his lab coat. You sit up so that you are on your knees as well.

"Can I put it on you?" You asked, scooting closer to him and reaching for it. He looks down at you and smiles and hands it over. He pulled his pants down and you were pretty impressed. You rip open the condom with your teeth and slowly start rolling it on.

"I knew it was big," You say as you start stroking his dick. "I don't think anyone would disagree with you on that." He said crawling back on top of you. You pull your thong down but leave your skirt on. He trails his hand up your thigh and uses his thumb to rub your clit.

"Fuck you're already so fucking wet," He moaned, dropping his head onto your shoulder. You caress the back of his head with one hand and with the other, you reach down and line up his dick to your entrance.

He starts kissing your chest as he slowly slides into you. Rick is bigger than average so it was a bit uncomfortable. It really turned you on that you didn't have to ask him to take it slow at first. He puts his elbows by your ears and slowly starts to speed up. You run your fingers through his hair and arch your back.

"Fuck yeah feels so good to have you wrapped around me." He moaned out while picking up speed. You start bucking your hips up to meet his thrust. You bite down on his neck and let out a loud groan.

He flips you over so that you are on top. You move your hair out of your face and start rocking your hips back and forth. He threw his head back and bucked up into you which encouraged you to go faster. You could feel your heart rate speed up as you rode him. You become more winded and put your hands by his head to support some of your weight. Rick uses this to his advantage and bites down on your nipple. Beads of sweat were starting to form on your forehead, the only thing you could think about was building up to your climax.

You throw yourself back and rest your hands on your knees and start moving your hips in a circular motion. He sits up with you and looks up at you while you ride him. He runs his hands down your back and grabs your ass all while making eye contact. His eyebrows were furrowed and his mouth was slightly agape. His pupils were so wide that his eyes looked black.

"Mmhm, can you feel me tighten around your cock?" You ask, picking up your pace.

"Fuck I can't take it," You hear Rick mumble to himself as he flips you both around for the second time. This time you were on your stomach, he quickly inserted himself back into you. You let out a loud cry, not expecting the intense amount of pleasure so quickly. He shoves his hand underneath you and starts playing with your clit as he pounds into you. "Holy fuck I'm about to cum!" You scream out, and he bites onto the back of your shoulder. You both cum at the same time, Rick doesn't stop biting your shoulder until after he is finished. He quickly pulled out and tied off the condom, tossing it in the trashcan next to the bed. He collapses on top of you and soon after you both drift off to sleep.

Hello! This is the first fan fiction that I’ve ever published. Looking forward to writing more. Was thinking of making this a slow-burn fanfic but want to get public opinion before doing so.

#rick sanchez #rick and morty #rick sanchez x reader #rick sanchez smut #rick c137 #fanfiction #fanfic writing #slow burn

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thebusytypewriter · 4 months

Note

hello hello congrats on the followers!! for the event could i request a long kamukura x reader fic where he’s basically baby duck imprinted on reader? i imagine that after being locked in a cell and mistreated by hopes peak even an iota of basic human kindness has him clinging

YIPPEE I've been brainrotting about this one for AGES I'm so sorry for the wait anon!! I'm also sorry that you were probably expecting fluff with this and while there is some, uhhhh........... angstnohappyendOKAYENJOYBYE--

No, I’m not falling for you

So please have mercy on me

The night of the Tragedy—the first one—you were there. That was something Izuru Kamukura didn’t expect.

You weren’t exactly there, not in the classroom where it all went down; things would’ve been much different if you were. No, you were some Reserve Course student who’d found their way just outside of the Main Course gates past curfew.

In fact, it was well past that point, nearly midnight by then. Enoshima had yet to return from her place in the security office, Ikusaba likely with her. This left Kamukura alone outside to ponder what had just transpired.

The gruesome deaths of the thirteen Ultimate students replayed over and over within his perfect memory, everything from gunshot to impaling to chainsaw. He’d expected each and every one of them to turn away from Enoshima’s “motives,” since innocent lives logically outweighed petty hearsay, no matter how damaging it would be.

Such intense emotion on their faces when first attacks were made… He couldn’t understand it.

Wind whistled past his stony face as he strolled, the force tossing around his hair in every direction. Even if he had the capacity to care about it, he wouldn’t. There were far more pressing things to worry about.

The sound of rubber soles on stone alerted him to an approaching individual, so Kamukura swiftly moved behind one of the few trees lining the outer wall and watched.

You were far out of dress code for a Reserve Course student, but he figured that you didn’t care with it being after hours. A large hoodie covered you, engulfing your upper half in the softest fabric he’d ever seen, and your yoga pants were just as large and cozy-looking. The only thing that indicated you as part of the Reserve Course was the student ID faintly peeking out from under your collar.

He could see the bags under your eyes from his place a dozen feet away, and the slouch in your walk alerted his health-related talents of your likely insomnia.

“Hello?” you called out, almost timidly, not too soft to go unheard but not too loud to alert any remaining security. “I was just out for a walk when I, um, heard you. I know it’s late, I just want to make sure you’re okay. It’s not a good idea to leave Main Course grounds after dark, okay?”

Kamukura faintly wondered if you’d ever had a chance of being an Ultimate regarding empathy or safety. It would suit you.

“I go here,” you continued, “so don’t worry, I just want to help.”

His nail lightly scratched at the tree’s bark in contemplation. Two abnormal events in the same night… Perhaps he couldn’t let that go.

Letting his definitive steps announce his presence, Kamukura stepped out and into the dull light of the street lamps. He said nothing and simply blinked at you.

You inhaled sharply, clearly startled as you caught sight of him. There was only a brief moment of panic in your eyes before it switched over to concern, your gaze locking on something just below his own, slightly to his right. “Oh my god, are you okay?”

Ah. In the excitement of your arrival, he’d forgotten about the bullet graze wound across his cheek. He raised a hand and felt around the area, unsurprised to find it mostly still wet with blood. “And why would you be concerned about me? You’ll get nothing in return.”

“Nothing in…?” Your brow pinched further, now from both concern and confusion. “Dude, you’re bleeding. Like a lot. Like you might need stitches.”

“No. I’ll apply some disinfectant shortly, and it’ll heal just fine. You should be more concerned with your own safety, being out this late at night, instead of fussing over a stranger.”

“I-I’m not fussing,” you argued, cheeks now puffing out in your annoyance.

You reminded him of a chipmunk.

Cute.

Something in him halted at the thought before reassuring himself that it was simply fact. There were no opinions within him. You were being kind to him, that was all. It was… unfamiliar.

Unfamiliar, but not unwelcome.

“Oh!” Your voice pulled him from his thoughts. “How rude of me. I didn’t even introduce myself.” With a statement of your name—something he already knew from observing your student ID—you extended a hand while asking for his own.

In a handful of milliseconds, he considered what to tell you. He could tell you nothing and walk away, leaving you out of the insanity but leaving this odd new itch behind. He could tell you Kamukura, but there were far too many things attached to that name on Hope’s Peak campus. You were Reserve Course, not stupid.

“Call me Izuru,” he stated. “For your safety, I’ll leave it at that.”

Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline. “Ah… okay? Nice to meet you then, Izuru.”

“You as well.”

“Aaaand your reason for being out here…?”

“Nightly walk.” It wasn’t necessarily a lie, but you didn’t need to know that. “I was in the process of returning to my quarters when you appeared. I am in no danger, I assure you.”

You nodded, hesitant but understanding. “Gotcha. Well… just be careful, okay? There are some real weirdos out here at night.”

The irony of your statement almost made him laugh. Almost. “I understand, thank you. Would you like an escort back to the Reserve Course dormitory?”

“Oh, uh, no thanks. Pepper spray’s got my back.”

“If you insist. Good night, then.” Kamukura gave the slightest of bows before turning to reenter the Main Course grounds and rendezvous with Enoshima. Your return of the phrase met his ears, but he continued on.

He tried not to feel your gaze boring into his back as he did so.

He tried not to look back when he heard your footsteps retreat.

Izuru Kamukura failed for the first and second time that night.

‘Cause it’s not romantic, I swear

I’m not gasping for air

After moving from one underground bunker to another, Kamukura quickly found himself to be once again bored out of his mind. The only thing that kept his attention, that lingered in his mind, was you.

He’d never seen your face among the rioters from newsfeed alone, leading him to the conclusion that you were abstaining from it all. You were safe, presumably. Given how kind you were to him when you met, he decided that you deserved it—the safety from Despair. Someone like you needed to be protected.

And yet, he still thought about what it would be like for you to stay in that bunker with him. Kamukura wasn’t alone there, of course not; among its occupants was Enoshima, Ikusaba, Mitarai, and the nurse that was dragged in—Tsumiki. Of these, Enoshima was the only one who engaged in conversation with him, as one-sided as it was, and as annoying as she was.

Despite himself, despite his programming, Kamukura missed you.

He knew that Enoshima had noticed his change of demeanor after that night. He knew that she’d look into what happened, badgering him until she inevitably gave up.

What he didn’t know was how invested she’d be in the situation.

In the midst of his purusing old documents within the bunker, he was met with the sound of Enoshima’s delighted hum growing closer… then farther. It was odd. There weren’t many rooms in the bunker, and there were even fewer rooms that Junko Enoshima herself would enter. If they were dirty, she sent Ikusaba in. If they were hazardous, she sent Tsumiki in.

So where was she going?

Damn it, his interest was piqued.

Cautiously and quietly, Kamukura followed the Ultimate Despair down a corridor he’d never seen her traverse before. She hummed the whole way, a slight bounce in her step, before stopping at a closed iron door. It had a small square window at head level, but that seemed to be the only way one could see in or out of the room. Enoshima slid the massive bar lock out of place and pushed her way inside, letting the door close behind her.

He stalked up to the solid barrier and peered through the window, careful not to let more of himself show than what was unavoidable. As Kamukura’s gaze settled on the pigtailed frame he’d watched enter, her voice met his ears.

“Just checkin’ on ya, sweetheart! Can’t have you dying on me just yet, right? You just got here!”

Then, a second voice followed hers, one that made his blood run cold.

“I-I think you’ve got the wrong person,” you stammered, teeth audibly clacking together in the cold concrete room. “I don’t know who you are, I don’t know why you brought me here, I haven’t done anything wrong—”

“Of course not, silly!” Enoshima strode forward in faux contemplation, manicured hands clasped behind her back. “Consider this a… witness care program. We take care of our witnesses!”

With the Despair’s movement, Kamukura was able to get a full view of you. You were still in your pajamas, just a tank top and fuzzy pants, implying that you’d been abducted either in your room or within the dorm in general. Your feet were bare and pale—borderline blue—against the gray floor. (He understood then why you were shivering.) From that angle, he was able to notice your hands wrenched behind your back as you sat by a pole, and he deduced that Enoshima—or maybe Ikusaba—had tied you to said pole to restrict movement. How cliche.

“Witness care?” You blinked, fluorescent light sparkling in your eyes. “So you’re protecting me then?”

“Well, aren’t you just a little ray of hope?” Enoshima reached out and pitched your cheek with enthusiasm. “Cutie pie! I could just eat you up!” Her grin dropped abruptly, and Kamukura saw a few little beads of blood spring up on your skin where she held you. “…And then I would immediately vomit. Your gross little rainbows and sparkles make me sick, y’hear me? What the hell does a god like Kamukura see in a worthless Reserve Course chump?”

Your brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, who’s… Kamukura? Like, the founder of Hope’s Peak?”

“No, silly,” she snorted. “Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome. The one you met a few days ago. What exactly did he say his name was?”

He watched your mouth open to answer, then slowly close as you appeared to connect the dots she’d presented. Your response came out quiet and disbelieving. “…Izuru.”

Enoshima’s free hand flew up in mocking celebration. “Give the kid a prize! This might come as a shock to you—who am I kidding, it so will—but the Izuru Kamukura you talked to is a lab experiment gone horrifically right. He’s a god among men, the Ultimate Hope. And that makes it all the more confusing as to why he’s chosen to latch onto you of all people. Kinda silly if you ask me.”

Much to his odd delight, all traces of fear left your face at the statement, and you snarled at her. “Well if you admire him so much, then why does it sound to me like you’re doubting his judgment? I’ll be sure to let him know when I see him next. Whose word will he believe—mine or yours?”

Enoshima’s hand ripped away as she recoiled. “Ugh! God, you’d get along really well with the know-it-all detective in my class. Keep holding your head up like that, and you’re ten times more likely to get smacked by a bat. It’s just statistics!”

The twitch of your brow betrayed your returning terror.

“Anyway,” she drew out, “I wouldn’t get comfy, m’kay? Even though you’re here as a present for my beloved Kamukura, I still have an agenda. Maybe look up the phrase ‘take care of’ in the dictionary! Oh, wait, you can’t do that here. Hm! Your problem, not mine.”

Kamukura ducked out of the window just as Enoshima turned, forgoing the remainder of the conversation to preserve his assumed innocence. In his brisk return down the hallway, he felt an odd tingling sensation rising from the midst of his throat all the way to his skull. It reminded him of an ant colony, one that disturbed the neutrality within him.

He then noticed how tense his brow had been the entire time. How clenched his fists were. How much he itched to burst through the door and rescue your kind self from Despair incarnate.

Some Ultimate Psychologist within him ticked off some boxes and raised a finger to share the new discovery, but he ignored it.

He had to.

The Ultimate Hope did not get attached.

I want you to be here, but please don’t come near

‘Cause even though I’m pretty sure my head’s exploding

I’m not ready for hand holding

Kamukura was attached.

Within the couple of weeks between his discovery of your presence—when he was sure that Enoshima and Ikusaba weren’t in the bunker, and Mitarai and Tsumiki were stationed in the former’s workspace—he often found himself visiting you.

The first time he made an appearance and explained what he could, he’d been expecting your immediate response.

“So you’ll let me go?”

He shook his head. “As much as I am of the mind that you should be given your freedom, there is a strong chance Enoshima may just hunt you down again and kill you. A far from ideal outcome, wouldn’t you agree?”

You did, and he was relieved.

…What?

Ah, yes. That was the recurring problem around you; Kamukura found himself feeling things. At first, he was convinced that he could become desensitized by visiting you more. It only made things worse. He got to know you then, all your hobbies and quirks and everything that made you unique in his eyes.

Not to mention your kindness. God, all the harsh interactions with immoral scientist after immoral scientist made him realize how truly important you were.

You invaded all of his waking thoughts, and Kamukura expected that he was doing a good job at hiding it.

He was created to have perfect judgment.

It’s not love, I swear

“Oh, Kamukura darling! I have a surprise for you!”

He let himself sigh as he turned from his absentminded file browsing to meet Enoshima’s wide grin. “I have no interest in your presents.” Not to mention he already knew to whom she was referring.

The grin flipped on a dime to a childish pout. “You don’t have to be so mean about it! And here I thought you’d actually like this one.”

“If you’re going to pester me about this surprise regardless, then I suppose I have little choice. Get on with it.”

Enoshima immediately perked up again, much like a dog whose master said the word ‘treat’ aloud. (What a hellish dog the Ultimate Despair would make, Kamukura thought to himself. He’d have to tell you that one later.) “Okie dokie! You’re gonna love it.”

“Doubtful. I am incapable of love.”

Incapability, the Ultimate Dictionary part of him said, is another word for inability, which is the lack of ability to do something. Denial is an unwillingness to accept that something is true.

He stubbornly shoved the thought away and followed behind the bouncing girl.

Love clouds even the most objectively perfect judgment.

They continued on to a section of the bunker that Kamukura was slightly less familiar with, as it was usually occupied by the other inhabitants, and he wasn’t one to socialize with them. (He wasn’t one to socialize with Enoshima, either, but she forced it upon him.) At some time, he’d heard the sounds of panic and stress echoing from that same direction, but it was her business, not his. It appeared that it was about to be his business, though.

Enoshima led him into an offshoot of the main hallway, her deranged humming increasing as they moved. It was never a good sign when she was so pleased.

The distorted music he’d listened to her perfect met his ears, laced with the edited screams of Ultimate students. Why was she playing the Despair-inducing video? Was there a “guest” he wasn’t aware of?

…Wait.

There would be.

If he wasn’t already aware of them.

“You’ve been so pressed over the battle of Hope and Despair, and I wanted to help you along—” Enoshima pushed a door open, and the sounds became clearer— “so you get to see Despair in action!”

A dim concrete room greeted the two of them, bathed only in the flashing lights and red glow of her video. In the center, a single chair sat askew with what appeared to be leather straps dangling from its arms and legs. The quick inspection with his Ultimate Analyst talent revealed a lack of tears in the leather outside of the usual signs of torture—fraying and scuffing. The occupant didn’t escape their containment, but they were released.

Speaking of, Kamukura’s gaze fell upon a figure settled on the floor, head pressed against their knees. It was reminiscent of a traditional Japanese deep bow—zarei, that is—but they were tense, shaking. Their hands dug into their hair and pulled against their scalp in this panicked manner, and that wasn’t even the part that set him off.

This figure, the victim of Junko Enoshima’s Despair-inducing video, was you.

“Turn it off.”

“Eh?”

His fist closed around Enoshima’s throat and tugged her close in an instant, dragging a garbled noise of surprise from her. “Turn the video off, or I will do it myself.”

Her eyes were wide at this new display, one he himself was quite unsure about, and she burst out in startled laughter. “Woooow! Okay, Mr. Assertive! It’s done the job anyway. This was mostly just for theatrics and funsies, to give a little pizzazz to your present—Hey, are you even listening?”

Kamukura was not. Oh, how he thought about bashing in her head at that moment. It would be quick and effortless on his part, ultimately ridding the world of her sick plan. But Enoshima wasn’t his priority; he was already crossing the floor toward your crumpled form, an uncharacteristically-loud heartbeat pounding in his ears. Odds of your being unharmed were slim, to say the least, and only dropping every second you didn’t move, but he called upon his Ultimate Luck to combat them.

Pristine black dress pants rubbed against the concrete as he settled on his knees next to you. Kamukura’s hand hovered over your back while he debated on the best course of action. What would he do if you were lost? Could he bring himself to hand you over to Enoshima, or would he go directly against her to repair a broken mind? Was it even possible for him to do such a thing?

Might still be in shock, he reminded himself. It was entirely possible that Enoshima had been bluffing. You were fine.

You had to be.

He let his hand run over your spine once. Twice. You remained, head pressed to your knees, though you shuddered at the touch.

Just ahead, the Despair-inducing video clicked off. Finally. He shot a glare at Enoshima and, by virtue of her sudden appearance, Ikusaba. Additionally, Tsumiki appeared to be peeking in from the doorway, and her twisted smile did nothing to calm his anxieties.

…Anxieties? The Ultimate Psychologist in his head once again raised a finger to say I told you so, but he ignored it.

Kamukura called for you, quietly at first. When he received no answer, he tried again, louder.

Something finally spilled from your lips, unintelligible and hushed. He wondered for a moment if what he felt at the sound was hope, but it quickly snapped away as your garbled noises continued and then transitioned into an objectively worse sound.

You were laughing.

No, you were crying.

It was both. You were hysterical.

Finally, finally, you sat up, and the “no signal” screen previously playing that maddening video kept your face under an eerie red light. The color illuminated the teartracks down your cheeks, and his heart clenched. Your gaze met his, and it sank.

Those kind eyes, the ones that made him feel warm, feel anything… were hazy and unfocused. The smile that set off the butterflies in his stomach, however few they were, twisted with insanity.

Tainted.

She’d broken you.

You. The one good thing in this spiraling world.

Kamukura cupped your cheek as you giggled something about his expression. He didn’t care to listen. He ran through the possible ways of repairing your mind and found that the list was both shorter and less possible than he’d initially thought. Human beings are fragile creatures, he reminded himself. You can’t hold one too tightly, or else it’ll hurt more when they break.

Perhaps this wasn’t what Enoshima had meant by seeing her work in action, but it got the point across.

His tears fell alongside yours.

It might be closer to Despair . . .

#Follower Event :D #salem's works #danganronpa #danganronpa x reader #izuru kamukura #izuru kamukura x reader #kamukura x reader #writers on tumblr #authors on tumblr #WHEEZES it's done #yes it's another songfic don't look at me #cw violence #(vague but felt like i should add that)

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rippedfleshh · 27 days

Text

clocky & toby

༶•┈┈┈┈┈┈୨♡୧┈┈┈┈┈•༶

they’re a complicated duo that fit perfectly within each other’s fucked up jagged puzzle pieces.

I wouldn’t say they’re toxic, just complex and complicated. throwing together two serial killers who most likely have attachment issues (for diff reasons) and anger issues is bound to be slightly rocky at first.

that being said, they never intentionally hurt each other or have malicious intent towards one another. their expression of love is just slightly more complex or strange.

you’ll never hear clocky tell toby she loves him. but, she’ll listen to his rambles for hours on end and carry out any drawing requests he asks. she doesn’t write him love letters and continuously shower him in constant compliments. instead, she’ll maybe splurge a bit of cash to buy him a pocket knife she thinks he’d like. she also has crow like tendencies id say, picking up little bones or rocks in the woods she thinks he’d like. yes, she’s short on words and doesn’t quite know what to say but best believe she is showing her love for him in one way or another.

now for toby, unlike what you would expect and quite literally the opposite of clocky, he knows all the right things to say. but there’s always a time and a place. if he were to say sweet things to her all the time it would become the norm. toby doesn’t want that. he wants his words to convey meaning and genuinely make an impact on her. so on the nights that everything is quiet and maybe they’re sitting by a fire, he’ll lean over and whisper sweet, teeth rotting shit to her. also, love letters. he absolutely lovessss writing her love letters and means every damn word in all three pages. when it’s not words it’s in touches. gentle and almost unnoticeable. of course, she notices every single one though.

now for the complicated part. they have their fair share of fights and some of them get pretty bad. there’s not really a common theme but more so a common route of progression. they both are stubborn as hell and don’t know when to stop so this is where they clash heads. ultimately, they both realize they’re adults and sit to talk the shit out. afterwards, there’s either awkward silence for awhile or toby being… toby.

“you’re so pretty when you’re pissed off, I ever tell you that sweetheart?” “go fuck yourself”

“you know, if you’re jealous just say that.” “i will throw your ass into a table right fucking now.” “try it, bitch.”

“toby if you leave your bloody, sweat soaked clothes in my fucking laundry basket again im going to wreck your shit.” “fuck off dude, you’re always bitching.” “say some wack shit like that again and I will have your head on a fucking stick” “yes ma’am.” (he does it to get a reaction from her, but she knows this teehee)

neither of them take shit from the other and it’s almost perfect, because there’s no sensitivity. but, there’s always a boundary and when they’re crossed is when shit gets twisted. it’s honestly quite rare though because both are smart enough to know what’s appropriate and not.

so, they’re a cute couple (who happen to be serial killers). and no, they don’t kill together because their tactics are too different and they’d stress each other out.

#lockspastatalk #creepypasta #clockwork #ticci toby #ticciwork #toby rogers #natalie ouellette #they’re so cute omg #i love them #clocky & toby

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suzukiblu · 7 months

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brother

"Okay," Cassie says, and the two of them head into the kitchen together. She should definitely, definitely call somebody, but she still doesn't. "So the name thing . . . do you want one that actually means something, or just one that sounds cool, or . . . ?"

"I just want one," Not-Kon/Not-Match says with a shrug, opening the fridge and peering inside. "Not gonna be picky about the details, this is more about performing emergency emotional triage and asserting an individual identity and sense of self as quickly as possible than anything else."

"Uh," Cassie says, just staring at him for a moment. "What?"

"I might have some superhero-grade therapy technique uploads in my head," Not-Kon/Not-Match admits, pointing at his temple for a moment. "Which is probably a point for somebody not Tim making me, because I cannot imagine that dude's ever spoken to a single fucking therapist who wasn't either from Arkham or the victim of a crime. There's soba noodles and shrimp in here, how's that sound? Oh, and edamame."

"I'm down with that," Cassie says. "Do you want any help?"

"Do you know how to cook soba noodles?" he asks. "Or edamame?"

"Honestly I didn't know you had to cook edamame at all," Cassie says.

"Raw soy protein is poisonous," he says.

". . . so yeah I'll just do the dishes when you're done, how's that," Cassie offers sheepishly.

"Solid plan," he says, then points at the kitchen island. Cassie sits down on one of the barstools in front of it and pulls out her phone to start browsing, like, baby names sites or something.

"All the really good names I know are Greek," she says. "Don't know any available Kryptonian ones, like I said. I thiiiiink Lex Luthor might be German but don't quote me on that and really, fuck that guy anyway."

"Yeah, I don't want anything to do with him," Not-Kon/Not-Match agrees, pulling a package of noodles and some weirdly random-seeming vegetables out of the fridge. "He already messed with and mind-controlled Kon, fuck if I wanna find out what he'd try and do to me."

"'Conner' is an Irish name, apparently?" Cassie suggests as she skims search results, frowning consideringly at her phone. "As far as I know Kon only went by it because it sounds kinda like 'Kon-El' but I guess it's still an option."

"Hm," Not-Kon/Not-Match says, frowning too. "Well, that's as good a place to start as any. Although you really don't have to think about it this hard, I really did mean it when I said I wasn't gonna be picky about this."

"You're four hours old and your entire existence is a massive ethics violation," Cassie says, glancing up at him again. He's busy reading the back of the soba noodles' packaging, but still clearly listening to her. Hopefully that's a good sign, that he's been listening to her. "I am definitely gonna think about it this hard. Or do you want, like . . . a Tim-adjacent name, maybe? If he made you?"

"I don't know," Not-Kon/Not-Match says. "Him making me is still just my best guess and it might not be great for his secret ID either. Also I don't know if I hate him for making me yet or not, so I don't know if I want anything to do with him either."

"Point," Cassie says, frowning again and trying another site. That . . . might be a problem, yeah. If Tim actually is currently messed up enough to deliberately make a whole entire person and also try to make that person Kon . . .

Well, he's probably not gonna react well to said person not being Kon, for starters. Especially if said person also wants nothing to do with him.

Gods, yeah, there's a horrible thought.

Please just don't let this lead to Gun Batman, Cassie prays to herself. Please don't let that be where this situation is heading.

"Hmmm," she says. "Well, either way Kon's still like, your brother, right? So it'd make sense to give you a name related to one of his."

"I don't really know," Not-Kon/Not-Match says thoughtfully as he sets up a pot of water on the stove and starts sorting through the vegetables on the counter to line them up next to the cutting board. "Although I guess he might've thought so? Apparently he called Match his brother when they first met. And, you know, I have a functioning concept of free will and I don't have any particular desire to murder him or his friends, so he probably would've liked me better than he liked Match. Then again, Kon's also already dead, so maybe I'd feel differently about the murder thing if he weren't? But if he weren't dead I wouldn't exist anyway, so . . . catch-22, maybe?"

Cassie, again, is reminded that Not-Kon/Not-Match is still running the numbers on the supervillain thing. So . . . yeah. That is very much a thing, still.

"Please tell me that your mental uploads told you that murder is bad," she says, eyeing him warily again. If they didn't, she and Tim are going to be having an even longer long talk than the one she's already planning.

"They did," Not-Kon/Not-Match confirms. "They also told me that I was Kon, though, so I'm currently taking all their provided information with a grain of salt."

Fuck everything, Cassie thinks with far too much feeling.

#cassie sandsmark #wonder girl #teen titans #superboy #anonymous #rinfic #long post #wip: not-kon not-match

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here-there-be-drag0ns · 2 years

Text

Saw a post in passing about the hexsquad getting jobs in the human realm and op said hunter would be a lifeguard and as a lifeguard op is 100% correct, so here's a drawing [image id below the cut] and my lifeguard hunter headcanons

this boy is a pool lifeguard. trust me, ive worked several pools and beaches, there is a difference in Vibes, he's a pool lifeguard. other lifeguards will Get It

he took the training and the videos Very Seriously and was then utterly bewildered when his coworkers are not following the video instructions To A T

no seriously, he's The Perfect Lifeguard and his coworkers are also bewildered at why he's following Every Single Regulation. He always has the rescue tube in the proper position with the line properly wrapped up; he always stands at attention; he scans the water almost robotically; he's perfectly alert always at all times; he wears sunglasses, hat, sunscreen, and brings a lot of water; he knew where the first aid kit and AED were literally on his first day; etc.

dude always wears his sunglasses and bucket hat - even in the break room - to the utter confusion of his coworkers. they chalk it up to him just being really extra about sun safety, but it's actually to hide his red eyes and pointy ears

his coworkers are also confused because there's just a bird. following him. at all times. hunter talks to it and calls it flapjack when he thinks theyre not watching him and the bird seems to answer??

every time hunter's coworkers think they've seen all of his suspicious and scary scars they're Wrong

he reapplies sunscreen every two hours almost religiously because he got horribly, horribly burned on his first day when he forgot

the more time he spends in the sun, he starts to notice faint dots on his nose and cheeks and luz is very excited to inform him he has freckles!

hunter did not know what a break was until the cert training mentioned it. after that he did not know they were mandatory until his supervisor forced him to take a break.

he nearly blew the hexsquad's cover when the cert instructor asked if he wanted the extra waterfront cert so he could guard beaches and he asked "wait, you can swim in your ocean?"

dude blows his whistle at everything. kid running? whistle. taking snacks too close to the water? whistle. breath-holding contest? whistle. hes almost giddy on the power of the whistle.

he's scary good at getting people to quit fucking around and pushing the rules but only because he breaks out the voice he used as the Golden Guard to train new recruits in drills

sometimes the hexsquad comes by to hang out while he's on shift. luz and gus had a breath-holding contest cause they thought hunter would let them slide. he did not. hunter made them sit out of the water for ten minutes.

[image ID] A digital drawing of Hunter standing at the edge of the pool deck. The deck is made of cement, and behind it is some grass. Behind the grass is a metal chain fence. Behind the fence are bushes. Hunter stands up straight, with a lifeguard rescue tube held tightly across his chest, with the strap over his left shoulder and the excess strap wrapped neatly in his hands. His arms come over the tube and his hands meet in the middle so that the tube is squeezed under his arms in the proper position. The tube is dark red and the strap is dark grey. Hunter is wearing a red bucket hat that covers his ears with a white cross on it, dark sunglasses, grey fingerless gloves, a white shirt, and red lifeguard short with white crosses on the pockets. His hair squiggle sticks out under the bucket hat. Flapjack perches on top of the bucket hat. He is covered in various battle scars. [End ID]

#the owl house #toh #hunter toh #lifeguard hunter #lifeguard hunter toh #hunter headcanons #toh headcanon #flapjack toh #image id #image description #toh fanart #hunter fanart #hunter takes his job Very Seriously #dragons hoard

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maccreadysbaby · 4 months

Text

A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

one intense chapter after another, ey?

part fourteen

❝ BIRD OF PREY ❞

SATURDAY — AUGUST 8 — 8:10AM

ASTEN SUGGESTED THEY FIND THE SECRET KEEPER’S BOSS FIRST. Which was easier said than done, considering they were thirteen and ten and the person they were trying to find had a telepathic metahuman at their disposal. (If they even existed, considering the Secret Keeper was so twisted she might just brand herself for fun and not have a boss at all.)

But even then, that didn’t stop Asten. He rivaled Tim when it came to his case-focus ratio. He’d begun his near-endless search right after they talked about it, and he was making a running list of every single person in Drew, Gotham, and Bludhaven that had gone missing in the past four months. Gathering any and all information he could weasel out of the media. (Why, Bentley wasn’t sure.)

After about two hours of list making mixed with random chatter and questions about each others lives, Bentley’s willpower to stay awake tapered off, and he faded away on his side of the bed with nothing more than Asten’s Crime-Alley-laced Portuguese accent to lure him to sleep. And it did a pretty good job of it. Because he was utterly and completely dead to the world until repetitive, incessant vibrating drew him back out of his slumber.

The sunshine was beaming against Bentley’s blackout curtains, making the room dim instead of gold. He moved in response to the vibrations at the same time Asten did. His clock read 8:17am, and he was really glad it was Saturday. No one would expect him to get up until at least nine or ten, given their strange circumstances.

Asten, who was still sitting up and staring at the screen of Tim’s computer that Bentley now claimed, fished his phone out from under the dark sheets and pressed it to his ear with a quiet: “Hello?”

A loud, urgent, rambling voice was what came back. Bentley couldn’t tell what it was saying, but Asten blinked and shook his head.

“Wait, wait, wait, man, slow down. What?” He muttered, rubbing at his eyes and putting the phone on speaker. “Go again — slower.”

“I didn’t… I can’t… oh my God,” Bentley recognized the voice, and his suspicions were confirmed when he noticed the caller ID on Asten’s screen said Nico. He sounded halfway to hysterical, crying and very nearly hyperventilating.

“Can’t what?” Asten inquired, closing the laptop with a click.

“Breathe,”

He sighed lightly, brushing a hand through his messy blue hair. “Dude, we’ve talked about this. If you can speak, you can breathe.”

Bentley laid his head back down on his pillow to listen.

“I can’t… Asten, you won’t…”

“What is it?”

Bentley heard Nico suck in a shaky breath, and it came back out as a couple quiet, pitiful sobs. “I had a dream about her, Asten. About her.”

Bentley’s eyes flicked up to Asten’s at the same time Asten’s flicked down to his.

Oh crap.

Asten sucked in a breath. “The Secret Keeper?”

“Yes! And-and my parents left at just five thirty for a business trip and they aren’t going to be back until Sunday night and I usually don’t go anywhere because I can just call them but I think this deal that they’re closing is really important and I don’t want to bother them and make them not close it but I’m-“

“Rambling,” Asten interjected.

“Can I come to your house? I’ll… I’ll hail a cab or something, I-“ Nico’s voice sounded different, filtering through both tears and the phone. He almost sounded younger.

“Not a cab driver in the world is going to take you to Crime Alley alone, dude.”

“I don’t… I’ll deal with that, okay? Just… just please, please, I’m so freaking scared,”

The little rattle-rattle-hiss-hiss of his inhaler sounded from the other end of the line, and Bentley frowned.

So the Secret Keeper hit both Nico and Asten in the same night. Bentley figured it made sense if she could read minds, since Nico was probably in Asten’s a lot. Maybe that’s how she got Dick and Bentley within hours of each other?

“You can bribe them with however much money you want, but it won’t do you any good,” Asten explained, sitting up and gently placing the laptop on Bentley’s bedside table. “I’m not home.”

Nico’s funny breathing exercise they had been listening to him perform promptly stopped. “You’re not… what? Where are you, then?”

“Bentley’s,”

“Bentley’s?! When did you decide to go over there?!” Nico squeaked.

“When the Secret Keeper decided that I needed to die. I had a dream about her, too — so did Bentley. I tried to call you, but you didn’t answer, so I walked to your house instead. Halfway there, actually, before she started chasing me. I panicked and called Bentley.”

Nico’s voice nearly doubled in pitch. “You mean you saw her? With your eyes?!”

“Yes, with my eyes,” Asten shot back. “Thanks for answering the phone when I could’ve literally been dying, by the way.”

“You can’t be mad at me, I’m already crying,” Nico replied with a huff. Another rattle-rattle-hiss-hiss emanated from the phone. “We’re going to die. We’re so going to die.”

Bentley grabbed his phone off of his opposite nightstand and sent a text to Bruce:

Nico had a nightmare about the secret keeper too.

Bruce’s typing bubbles only popped up for a split second before a response came.

Oh no. Does he need anything? We’re only a few minutes away from his house.

Bentley glanced over at Asten, who was attempting to talk Nico into a better breathing pattern over the phone.

He’s home alone all weekend and he’s really scared, is what Bentley texted back.

Bruce’s typing bubbles came, disappeared, then came again, and a text rolled in a few seconds later.

Does he want us to pick him up? You and Asten can ride.

Bentley held the phone over to Asten, who scanned the screen quickly.

“Please come over,” He heard Nico mutter from one end of the phone.

“Jokes on you, dude, you’re coming over,” Asten replied, sending Bentley a little nod. He texted Bruce back: yes.

“Huh?”

“We’re coming to get you, nosebleed. Go put your shoes on,”

Bentley furrowed his brows. “Nosebleed?”

“Means rich kid,” Asten muttered to Bentley. “You’re a nosebleed, too.”

“What do you mean we’re coming to get you? Who’s we?”

“Bruce is driving us over there, dude,” Asten stated, tossing the covers off of his legs and climbing out of the bed. Bentley followed suit.

“What?! No! I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want… I don’t want to bother him! I… I…”

“Calm down, Bruce is cool. He literally picked me up from the middle of downtown past two a.m. last night,” Asten explained as he pulled on his black tennis shoes that he’d abandoned next to Bentley’s bedroom door. Bentley did the same with the red tennis shoes he’d put back into the drawer of his wardrobe. “Plus, didn’t you literally tell me the other day that he offered you a ride whenever you needed one?”

“Well, yeah, but… but he was talking about school, and I don’t want to- oh my God, what was that?”

“Nico?” Asten inquired as he and Bentley made their way out of his bedroom and down the stairs. Bentley could already see Bruce putting his jacket on at the front door. (He really didn’t waste any time when it came to this sort of thing, did he?)

“I just heard something,” Nico muttered back.

“You have three dogs in the house, dude. We’re leaving now. I think it’s only a few minutes to your place,” Asten explained quietly as they padded up to Bruce, who muttered a quick: “Good morning, boys.” With a small smile and some kind of sentimental, nostalgic look in his gray irises.

“Good morning,” Bentley replied.

“Don’t you dare hang up on me!” Nico practically demanded, and his voice was getting thick, like he was crying hard again. “Please!”

“I’m not,” Asten reassured, switching the phone from one hand to the other.

There was another rattle-rattle-hiss-hiss and some muted mumbling about how he was going to need a new inhaler before the end of the year (which was apparently a bad thing.) as they walked out into the cold toward the garage. It was now cloudy and overcast, casting a gray hue on everything. They jogged from the house to the garage in the biting wind.

The garage was big, and the whole left wall was full of tools and car gadgets that Bentley was pretty sure no one ever touched but Jason. Bentley had only really seen him work on a few of the motorcycles they used for patrol, and the Batmobile once, all in the cave, so he wondered if anybody actually ever used the stuff out there.

They made their way to Bruce’s car, the last one on the left, and climbed in as quickly as they could. Bentley’s mind was spinning and spinning. The Secret Keeper was targeting his friends and family, for what? Fun?

He climbed in the righthand backseat and watched as Asten and Bruce popped their doors open. Bruce got in quickly, and Asten right afterward, though Bentley didn’t miss the little metallic clink or the way Asten oh-so-subtly swiped something from the workbench next to the vehicle.

At first he thought he might’ve been stealing, which was strange. But he climbed into the car with no hesitation, holding a shiny tire iron just out of Bruce’s sight, and shoved it beneath their seats with only a pointed glare sent Bentley’s way.

Oh. Right. Just in case.

They pulled out of the garage and set off, and Bruce turned the heat on. “It’s only eight minutes to your house, Nico,” He called from the front seat. All he got in response was a forced little: “Okay.” From Asten’s phone.

Bentley watched the outdoors pass in the window, occasionally listening to whatever rambling Nico kept doing.

Why was the Secret Keeper targeting them?

He watched the minutes until arrival tick down from eight to two, only startling when there was a bang and a gasp from Nico’s end of the call.

“What was-“

“Oh my God there’s someone in the house!” Nico half-whispered into the phone. It sounded like his voice was stifled by his hand and his hysterical crying. “There’s-there’s… there’s someone in the house, the-the door…”

“We’re only a couple minutes away,” Bruce said, speeding up quite a bit. Bentley recognized the streets they were on from driving Nico home from school, and the minutes changed from two to one. They were literally almost there, yet every passing second made his heart beat faster.

What if they weren’t on time?

“I can hear them, I-I can hear them walking, I-“

“Then shut up and hide, dude,” Asten muttered, glancing over at Bentley with wide eyes, a hollowness in them similar to when he’d been chased. Something akin to hopelessness, maybe.

Nothing but the sound of Nico’s muffled crying came through the phone for a solid thirty seconds.

Then a bang. A wham. A scream. And the three telltale beeps of the call ending.

“Nico?” Asten questioned, quickly dialing his number again. It rang, it rang, it rang, and it went to voicemail.

Bentley’s heart sank to his toes.

“He isn’t answering!” Asten basically shouted. His calm and collected demeanor completely vanished, and Bentley wondered how he could keep his cool so good when trying to keep Nico calm.

Bruce pulled into the Rockefeller’s driveway not ten seconds later. It had began to mist slightly, and it was getting a little foggy. Everything looked normal. Normal except…

The front door was open.

“Stay in the car,” Bruce ordered, climbing out of the front seat. Bentley noticed that it sounded a little more like his Batman voice than his Bruce voice, and fully intended on obeying Batman’s orders.

Asten did not.

He popped his door open despite Bruce’s words and was already halfway out before the Batman stopped him in his tracks, taking up a position between the boy and the house. Asten’s attempts to go around him were fooled by Bruce extending an arm.

“Mr. Wayne-”

“Get back in the car, bud. It’s too dangerous,” Bruce ordered. Asten tried again to curve around the other way, but a large hand stopped him, again.

“But-“

“I’ll make sure he’s safe, but I need to make sure you’re safe, too,” Bruce gestured quickly back to Asten’s seat. “Go on. I’ll be right back.”

With a huff, Asten slid back into the car and closed the door. All four doors clicked when Bruce engaged the locks, and both Bentley and Asten watched him head through the fog and into the house without reproach.

Once he was out of sight, Asten huffed deeply, sinking back into his seat and rubbing a hand over his face. He looked tired.

“Why is this happening to us?” He murmured, crossing his arms over his chest.

Bentley would offer words of reassurance, but if he were completely honest, he was thinking the same thing.

Were they just another statistic, another tally on the Secret Keeper’s record, or was this something darker, something more sinister than even they could comprehend? Was she really just a serial killer and kidnapper, or was something else going on that they didn’t know about?

Bentley shrunk back into his seat, too. “I don’t know.”

Minutes passed. Two. Five. Seven. When they got to nine, the front door swung open.

And Bentley’s heart catapulted from his toes all the way into his throat.

“Oh my God,” Asten said lowly, and Bentley gasped, his left hand fumbling for something to grab — he ended up squeezing the hem of Asten’s jacket.

The Secret Keeper was grinning at them with her stitched smile from the front door, amber eyes nearly glowing into the dim fog. Her white hair was stringy and looked kind of wet, stained at the bottom with something brown Bentley didn’t want to think too hard about. She was staring at them. Hard and cold and unabashedly, deep down into their souls, into their minds, smiling.

Bentley found the back of his eyes burning, and he made a pitiful sound when Asten’s jacket was wrenched out of his grip by the Brazilian reaching for the tire iron he’d stowed away.

She was just staring at them. Just staring. Still staring when Asten sat back up with the tire iron in hand and turned toward the window, and Bentley grabbed onto the back of his jacket. Staring and smiling. The car was so quiet he could only hear his and Asten’s equally ragged, panicked breaths.

“It’s a trap.” Asten whispered, breathless despite not taking a step. “For us.”

Bentley whimpered: “Are you sure?”

“It sure as hell seems like one,” Asten replied softly. The Secret Keeper hadn’t moved an inch. Why wasn’t she doing anything?

“What if Bruce is-“

“He’s not,” Asten silenced Bentley’s dark thought pattern immediately. “Don’t panic, Whittaker.”

“Not panicking,” Bentley murmured back, even though his knuckles were starting to turn white from how hard he was clutching Asten’s jacket.

“Call Bruce,”

Bentley wasted no time using the hand that wasn’t holding onto the older boy’s jacket for dear life to fish his phone out. As soon as his finger hovered over the call button, however, a sharp, stabbing pain ripped from one side of his skull to the other, and he dropped the device with a shrill, stifled shout, folding in on himself in the seat. An ear-splitting ring drowned out nearly all other noise, and he didn’t hear Asten speak, only felt his friend’s hands land on either side of his head in an attempt to understand what was going on.

Black and purple splotches danced in his vision. He could feel himself breathing, and he could feel Asten’s hands near his temples, but he couldn’t hear anything over the ring that threatened to bust his eardrums. His attempts to move were quickly halted by an onslaught of disorienting vertigo, making what he could see of the vehicle around him warp and spin.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell your secrets, Babybird,”

He grappled for something, anything, tugging at what he thought might’ve been Asten’s pant leg as he coiled up into a little ball on the seat next to him. He tried to force words out but he couldn’t hear them. He couldn’t hear anything. Please don’t let her kill me.

Everything went black.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @cademygod

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ebenrosetaylor · 6 months

Text

Reblogs were turned off in the original post because op was getting death threats by Nazis, reposting with IDs to keep the information circulating

[Text transcrption from screenshots:

"I have been noodling over posting this for several days but I think it's important for some people to hear.

At a March on Saturday, at a pro Palestine march, my group and I were targeted by by nazis. Not targeted for violence, but targeted for recruitment. They weren't wearing swastikas, they weren't spewing blatant antisemitic hate speech. They seemed like two normal dudes. They marched with us, talked about how awful everything in Palestine was, how we wished world leaders would grow a pair and hold Israel responsible for fucking war crimes, how existing in the world right now was hard. They were empathetic, they were kind, they seemed like genuine good dudes.

Until we passed a synagogue where people were handing our water to marchers. They had signs defending Palestine on their table. But the tone of the conversation changed. These two seemingly normal dudes started talking about how "performative" the gesture felt, that Jewish people should be doing more. That they needed to PROVE it. They started talking about "Zionist" propaganda in the US, about how it was deeply entrenched in capitalism. Things that, on the surface, seemed reasonable but it set off alarm bells in my head.

When I was a kid, I remember getting the speech of "don't repeat anything your uncle or cousin so and so says and don't argue with them. Try to avoid them but if you can't be polite." Because those uncles and cousins said a lot of hateful things about anyone who wasn't like them, but their favorite targets were black people and Jewish people. I would find out as an adult it was because many of those uncles and cousins were in the Klan. When I studied hate symbols for a class in college, I found my self looking at images I'd seen on arms and necks and hands my whole life, because I live in an area of the US where the KKK is still around. And standing in that crowd, listening to these guys talk, i had the most horrible realization I've had in a long time.

We were being fished by Nazis. We were a group of able body, white American leftists. At a march in support of stopping the murder and genocide of Palestinians, these motherfuckers were out here, trying to find people they could get to hate Jewish folks. I wasn't the only one in my group who clocked it, and when we called them on it, the masks came off. They called us a bunch of "Jew loving bitches" before they moved on.

But we're marched with these guys for a couple hours, talked with them, laughed with them, brought them into our circle. For a moment we forgot we also weren't immune to propaganda, we weren't immune to people who make hate sound reasonable and that people like that never start out saying the quiet part out loud, they lean on your anger and your sense of helplessness to move you where they want you. If the last eight years has taught us anything, it's that fascists know how to adjust to the times, to work with what they got, to recruit. They know how to radicalize people, how to weaponize anger and helplessness. And I'm sitting here, every day, seeing posts that sound exactly like these guys did and it worries me.

I know I'm talking to the No Reading Comprehension Website, but I'm begging you guys to develop some now.

You are not immune to propaganda. We are all angry, as we fucking should be. We are watching an entire culture, thousands of lives, whole bloodlines, being wiped out in real time, and for many of us our nations are at best, wringing their hands, and at worst, shipping them weapons, all to protect capitalist greed. It's monstrous, it's disgusting. But look, REALLY LOOK, at the things you are tweeting, sharing, look at the language and how it's used. Take the time to educate yourself about how hate groups use social justice causes and civil unrest to recruit, research the posts your spreading, check your sources. If you are out protesting, be situationally aware, and do not be afraid to clock and call out Nazis. Listen to Jewish people, listen to their concerns, educate yourself on what Zionism and antisemitism actually are and how they can be weaponized. It doesn't feel as good as rage, it doesn't feel as good as having a group you can functionally rail against in a way we can't against a nation a world away, but it's a skill that's going to help you and a lot of other people in the long run."

Reply to the original post:

"A lot of right-wing commentators on Twitter have pivoted to pro-Palestinian talking points and/or lies that sound good because they have a pro-Palestinian veneer. Don’t boost them. They are not your allies."

A link to an article about alt-right X (Twitter) accounts riding the surge of pro-palestine content to gain money, spread misinformation, and eventually antisemitism. https://www.rollingstone.com/politics/politics-features/twitter-hate-speech-accounts-palestine-clout-1234867382/ "

END ID]

#nazi #antisemitism #alt-right #Palestine #pro palestine #free palestine #zionism #israel #gaza #propaganda #disabling anons for the time being for the same reason op disabled rbs #op if you want me to take down this post lmk #described

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planetatlas · 2 years

Text

~Locked Out~ j.t.k

Summary: Jeff gets locked out after a mission, and you're the only one available to let him in. Unfortunately, you two hate each other more than anyone else in the mansion.

Content Warnings: Just swearing, it's an enemies to lovers fluff fic. Implied murder, it's Jeff the Killer. Context Clues.

You were sitting on your bed scrolling through Tumblr posts Ben had sent you before he went on a hunt, when your phone started to ring. 'No Caller ID' flashed across your screen. You were hesitant, however Ben installed security measures on your phone so what's the harm in answering? You swiped the call button and said, "Hello?" only to be met with a deep sigh. "Listen, I know I blocked you, and believe me I wish I didn't have to unblock you, but I may or may not be..." he trailed off, and you recognized the scratchy voice of your least favorite person on Earth.

"And tell me why I would ever help you for anything, Jeffery?"

"Okay listen bitch I wouldn't turn to you for help anyway unless you were my last resort."

"I still don't know what you could possibly offer me to get me to help you."

It was silent for a minute before he responded, "I don't have anything to offer. In fact, you don't have any reason to help me, but I'm locked out of the mansion because I just got back from a mission and all of the doors and windows are locked. It's raining hard and I'm already soaked."

That's right, you remembered the crazy fangirls that were prowling the mansion earlier that evening. The proxies locked everything and everyone turned out all types of lighting to deter the girls from believing it was lived in. Everyone stayed in their rooms until the girls gave up and left after spending an hour searching for a way in. "Sorry dude, fangirls were outside but it would've caused a lot of commotion within the town outside the forest if they went missing. We couldn't afford for them to die close to the mansion and have it discovered by anyone else."

You sat and thought for a moment, tuning out whatever bullshit he was rambling about–probably crazy fangirls. You pondered letting him in, before stopping in surprise. Why on Earth would you consider doing anything for him? He was a total asshole who seemed to be extra rude to you compared to the other habitants. You didn't owe him anything, so why were you considering being nice to him? He deserved to sit in the rain, you reasoned with yourself. But to your surprise, you found yourself agreeing, stopping him mid-ramble.

"Okay, give me a minute." He stopped, and before you could hear a reply, you hung up. You slung on a hoodie and some pajama pants before making your way out of your room and down the stairs. You crossed the living room and unlocked the front door. Jeff stood there, soaked and shaking like a dog. He just stared at you in surprise until you snapped him out of it, "You gonna come in or stare at me like a fucking idiot?" He glared before stomping his way inside and up the stairs to his room.

You thought you heard a muttered, 'thank you' but you blew it off. He was a self-centered dick, why would he thank you for anything? Yeah, you're so welcome, you thought as you rolled your eyes, locking the door and making your way back to your room.

~~~

It had been a few weeks since the 'locked out' incident, however you noticed a few subtle changes. For starters, he never blocked you again. You passed by the couch while he was sitting down one day and saw your name in his call list as he scrolled to find Masky's name. He began insulting you a lot more and attempting to be rude more often than normal, however any attempts to snap at you or insult you didn't land as they used to, for he lost the bite in his tone he used to have whenever he spoke to you.

He also began avoiding you and everyone else in general. He spent more time in his room and he was either blasting music that was supposed to come across as his normal heavy stuff but after listening to the lyrics, they sounded more like sad songs. He also paced in his room more often, because you could hear him when you were awake in the late hours of the night. You just continued to blow all of this off, writing it off as him being moody as usual and generally ignoring his existence like normal.

When you'd hang out with Ben, he started acting odd when the topic of Jeff was brought up. He slowly started to attempt to lessen your hate for the paper-faced dickhead and convince you that he wasn't as bad as you thought. You would just narrow your eyes at Ben and at first he dropped it, but he started trying harder the longer it went on.

One night, you were in Ben's room as normal watching him play Resident Evil: Village. You both were in love with Lady D and thought it was funny to fangirl over her together and fight over who loved her more.

After pausing the game to go get snacks, Ben came back in and gave you a funny look after sitting down. "What?" You asked, a little on edge as this was out of his character.

"Why do you hate Jeff so much?"

"What are you on about?"

"You know, ever since you moved in you two have always been at each other's throats."

"Well it's not my fault, he's been a total cunt towards me from the get-go. He's even meaner to me than everyone else, he'd always single me out, insult me when we so much as passed each other, always trying to get in my way. He's even stolen kills from me! What, do you think my hatred isn't justified?"

He sat and thought about your words for a moment, before looking back to you. He looked deep in thought, as if he was trying to pick and choose his words carefully. "I understand why that may have hurt you or made you angry, but have you tried getting to know him a little better? Get past that, albeit sharp, exterior? Did you ever stop to think he was putting up a front?"

You looked at him like he grew a second head before answering, "You're joking right? He even blocked me! How do you expect me to get closer to him when he limits all possible contact?"

"Did you ever even want to get to know him in the first place? Seriously (Y/N), even at the start did you ever have a small desire to get to know him the way you took the time to get to know the rest of us."

At that you paused. Recalling your first few weeks at the mansion, you thought about Jeff. How he acted, how you felt. You remembered feeling intrigued by him, wanting to get closer to him, unraveling the mask he so proudly and stubbornly wore for everyone.

You did want to get closer to him. You even felt slight attraction to him, however his extra cold treatment towards you had hurt you and you found it easier to hate him and throw it back in his face. At this point, hating Jeff was all you knew to do anymore. Showing him kindness in any form was foreign and left a weird taste in your mouth.

You looked Ben in the eyes and realized what he had been working to convince you. He was trying to make you realize you didn't hate him, and you guessed Ben knew before you did that your hatred was just masked hurt. You just gave him a sad smile and said, "I think we should stop here, I'm kind of tired. Goodnight Ben," and before he could reply or grab after you, you walked out of his room and into your own.

~~~

You were on a mission to kill one of the fangirls that had been prowling that night, it had been long enough since she had visited that it was safe to dispose of her before she spread too much information. The other girls had continued to attempt to get close but Slenderman wanted to put distance between their visits to the mansion and their death, so people wouldn't connect it to the mansion.

You were walking back to the mansion and as you broke the treeline, it started pouring. Even worse, it was pouring hard and it was cold. It felt like you were being pelted by icicles and it soaked your clothing quickly.

You sprinted to the front door, expecting the knob to turn and you could be in the safety and comfort of your room. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. The knob didn't give, and you ended up slamming into the door in your rush to get inside. You jiggled the knob a few more times, shoving against the door with your shoulder. It didn't budge.

Irritated, soaked, and freezing, you circled the ground floor, trying every window and the back door. You couldn't get in anywhere. Sighing, you slumped on the porch with your back against the door, you began calling everyone in the mansion. Some went straight to voicemail, some rang for a second before being declined, and some rang the entire way through. No one picked up.

Losing hope, you almost closed your phone and resigned to sleeping on the porch for the night before your eyes caught an unknown number. You immediately knew who it was, as it was the only number you didn't have saved.

Sighing deeply, you tapped on the number and it began to ring. 'Please pick up, please pick up, please pick-' "Hello?" That familiar raspy voice answered, and you mentally cheered to yourself before cringing.

"Hey, Jeff. Remember how I so graciously rescued you from a rainy night on the front porch?" You heard silence for a minute, and almost hung up, beginning to believe he was ignoring you was was going to leave you outside, when you hear a small sigh, before, "One minute." Then the dial-tone signalling he hung up.

You stared at your phone in confusion and offence. Suddenly, you heart the lock clicking and before you could process it, your back hit the floor of the entryway. Jeff stood above you staring down, in nothing but sagging pajama pants.

You started at him for a second before he spoke, "What are you staring at? Come on (Y/N), get inside before you get sick." You just nodded your head and stood up, stepping inside so he could close and lock the door.

You stood in shock, as he turned back around and stared back. "Do I have something on my face?" His words made you snap out of it as you blushed and found the wall the most interesting thing in the room.

You heard him sigh, before he muttered to himself, "I'm too tired for this. I'm probably gonna regret this in the morning," before he looked at you and spoke to you this time, "(Y/N), can we talk?" This left you even more shocked, and somewhat confused.

Nodding, you began to follow him before remembering you were soaked from head to toe. "Do you mind if I change first?" He shook his head and continued to his room while you hurried to your own. Changing into a tank top and pajama pants and towel drying your hair quickly, you made your way to his room.

You opened the door to him sitting on his bed and his head snapped to you as you entered. You shut the door and stood awkwardly as you weren't used to this level of kindness or sincerity from the killer. He rolled his eyes before standing and making his way to you. He stopped and stared you in the eyes, causing you to blush. Scratching his neck, he began to speak.

"(Y/N), do you truly hate me?"

You blinked in surprise and went to tell him how much you hated him, but the words died in your throat. You stared at him as you tried to speak, but words kept failing you. Finally, you sighed, looked down to the floor, then looked back up to him as you steeled your resolve.

"No, I don't hate you. I acted like I did because that was easier than continuing to attempt to be nice to you only to get shut down every time and get my feelings hurt over and over again."

You stared him down as he looked to the ground for a moment, processing your words. When he looked back to you, regret, confusion, frustration, and sadness flashed in his eyes.

"I'm sorry for treating you like that. This may just be the exhaustion causing me to be more honest tonight, but I never really wanted to treat you like that. The way you made me feel confused me, it scared me. I didn't know how to handle it or your kindness so I lashed out instead."

"Eventually, you just started dishing it back so I thought I lost my chance of ever getting to know you. I wanted to get closer to you, but every time I tried I choked up and ended up snapping at you. I'm sorry,"

He paused and took a shaky breath in, before breathing it out and giving you sad, regretful eyes before continuing, "After I got locked out, you didn't have to let me in but you did, for no other reason than the kindness of your heart that you've shown to everyone else, and I just couldn't stop thinking about it. I wondered why you bothered to help me when I've been so rude to you, and it messed with my head, so I pushed you away harder, but I couldn't keep it up."

He spoke with such certainty and regret you actually began to believe it. Throughout the weeks since the first incident, when he got locked out, you remembered all of the little things that chipped away at your resolve but it made you feel weak, you felt vulnerable for letting little things play with your emotions, so you just denied them harder than before.

However, standing here in front of Jeff, who was supposed to be your enemy, you realized that wasn't the case. You weren't being delusional, the little things actually meant something. When the fact that he felt the same as you had finally set in, you just widened your eyes before staring at him in shock. He looked worried, scared almost, before asking you if you were upset with him.

"I can understand if you don't understand how I feel or feel the same way, I can't expect you to after the way I treated you. I just needed to get this off my chest before–" He was cut off as you pounced on him in a hug. You buried your head in his neck and hugged him like your life depended on it, silently telling him to stop talking. He froze and stiffened up, before slowly relaxing and circling his arms around you, burying his face into your hair.

You two stood like that for a while, silent and taking comfort in the other's presence. You pulled away first, giving him a gentle smile that told him everything he needed to know.

You believed it was safe to say it was going to be a lot calmer and friendlier between you two.

(A/N): This is my first ever fanfic??? I write essays not fanfiction but that changes now I guess. He may be OOC but it's fluff and if I were to write him how I actually thought he'd be this would turn into dark angst so fast. Constructive criticism appreciated, hate comments will be deleted lmao. You can also leave requests, I'm open to many fandoms however I may not be able to write some as well as I can others.

#jeff the killer x reader #jeff the killer #jeffery woods #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #enemies to lovers #fluff #jeff the killer fluff

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smolkiwi98 · 2 months

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Hi! I had sent you a request about reader (if you can make the gender not specific, id appreciate it) being Dean and Sam's cousin and taking them to play rpg because Dean would 100% love it and Sam is probably going to have fun to. And when they are getting there they ask the reader about that friend group, if they met while hunting or something and you're like "about that, there's something i was going to tell you" and Eddie (stranger things) opens the door and is all like "baby, you're here!" and pecking the reader's lips. The brothers are a little protective over their cousin who is playing as the dungeon master and Dean makes it so his character is always provoking Eddie's character or fighting him in the game at first

Okay okay...I know it's been awhile, but here's the first half!! A lot of stuff has been going on and a lot of changes! I hope you like it!!

WARNING!! NOTHING! JUST NOT PROOFREAD AND KIND OF RUSHED

masterlist

make a request here!

“Hey, Eddie?” You called out of the bathroom. After a few seconds your boyfriend was right at the door, “Yeah?” He asked. His hair was in a low messy ponytail and his forehead had a little oil on it from working on his car. You smiled and held onto your towel. “My cousins are coming over today.” Eddie gave you a confused look “They are? Did you tell me and I forgot?” His eyes widened at that small thought which made you chuckle “No, they just called me. They’re in town and wanted to stop and say hello.” You explained. Eddie nodded his “Have I met them?” Eddie has met a few of your family members, but these two were never around much. You shook your head “Nope! I haven’t seen them since I was about 13.” You smiled. Eddie could tell you were excited about the visit, “I guess I should get showered then.” He said matching your smile.

You were in the kitchen baking some pie (a request from your cousin) when there was a knock on the door. Eddie was still in the shower, he complained about having oil and dirt in his hair so he would be a minute. When you opened the door there stood the two very tall mysterious men in your family, “Sam! Dean!” You said wrapping your arms around them both. The two laughed and patted your back “How’ve you been, kid?” Dean asked, looking at you. You shrugged “I’ve been good! I finally moved out of my moms house.” You said with a small chuckle, “How is she doing?” Sam asked. Again you shrugged “I assume she’s good. I haven’t spoken to her in a while to be honest.” The two brothers nodded and gave each other a look. “Oh! Come in!” You said stepping aside for them to walk in “Dean there’s a pie on the table. I just took it ou-and he’s gone.” Sam laughed, “Yeah…nothing has changed with him.”

“Son of a bitch!” Dean yelled. Both you and Sam ran into the kitchen ‘What? What’s going on?” You asked in a panic. You look around and see Eddie sitting at the table with a slice of pie and Dean looking confused and a little upset, “I thought you said it was my pie.” Dean said. Sam shook his head, “Dude there’s plenty of pie there. Just take a slice.” He said, sounding annoyed with his brother. Dean grumbled something and took a slice before sitting down “Who is this anyway?” Dean asked. Sam sat down next to him and you sat next to Eddie, “Sam…Dean, this is my boyfriend, Eddie!” You said with a smile “Eddie these two are the cousins I told you about.” Eddie was a little shy but gave them a smile “Y/N, has told me a lot about you guys. It’s nice to meet you both.”

~ One Hour Later ~

“So you’re saying the dragon can’t die…like at all?” Sam asked, “Exactly! But, there is a way to kill it! The players just have to figure it out.” Eddie answered. The two have been going on and on about DnD once Sam saw a d20 laying on the counter. You and Dean sat there confused. “Do you get any of this?” Dean asked, you shook your head “I’ve tried playing so many times and I’ve sat in during games and still don’t understand.” You said. Dean chuckled and finished his beer, “How did you meet this guy anyway?” He asked “School actually. I was new to the school because ya know…mom homeschooled me and I had no one to sit with at lunch.” Dean looked at you “So lanky frizz hair invited you to his table?” You laughed and pushed him playfully “Yes…and his hair is not frizzy!” Dean looked at you and then back at Eddie “I don’t trust him.” You rolled your eyes, “You don’t trust anyone, Dean.” You looked at Eddie and smiled at how him and Sam were geeking out over his DM binder, “But trust me. He’s a good guy…He’s not an asshole.” Dean raised an eyebrow at you and then stood up “I’ll judge that myself.” He said while walking over to Sam and Eddie, “Alright dorks…tell me what’s going on with these dragons and elves and other crap.” He said before sitting down. You shook your head and grabbed the empty bottles and dirty plates and went to the kitchen.

Throwing away the bottles and placing the dishes in the sink you heard Sam come in, “Hey!” He said, smiling at you. You smiled and turned around to look at him “Hey! You having fun?” Sam nodded his head, “Yes actually. Eddie is a pretty cool guy.” You smiled “Yeah, I think so too.” You said with a small chuckle.

To be continued….

#eddie munson #dean winchester #sam winchester #eddie munson imagine #dean winchester imagine #sam winchester imagine #oneshot #fanfic #imagine #requests open #reqs open

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