#haunted department store

[labellenouvelle]

1950s DEPARTMENT STORE CHILD MANNEQUINS

A set of 3 rare vintage, original 1950's life sized child mannequins . Window display , Halloween decor, Oddities collection , Art installation and other uses. These are the real deal, made of plaster , metal , and hand painted details. You asked if these are haunted, I say maybe. Item No. E5752 Dimensions: 36" tallest one. List Price: $ 1200 all 3 / sold as shown

504.581.3733 / t

[email protected] / e

#antiques #interior decor #new orleans #new orleans antiques #collectibles #oddities #curiosities #mannequins #department store #1950s #art installation #halloween #haunted antiques #nola #magazine street

[shiny-jr]

I’ve just had a vision, what if a yan (e.g riddle or vil because they are most princess-ish) was a trapped in a castle away like in one of those stereotypical fairy tales and the reader decides to save them because they are a ‘damsel in distress’ and reader is like a hero… only to realise there is a reason why they were locked away (because they were batshit crazy)

Warning: Yandere. Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Vil Schoenheit.

Summary: You are a thief with freshly stolen goods. Chased and hunted down, you avoid capture by finding a castle hidden in gloom and fog. Locals told legends of this place, saying a royal had been trapped within. Of course, you don't quite believe such tall tales. That is, until you discover the royal and learned that they were purposefully sealed inside...

Note: I think I'll call this one, not your valiant savior. It's just a placeholder name for now. Just a quick post, so sorry if it's bad.

It was too easy. What did they expect when they left out a priceless object owned by the royal family and estimated to be worth a fortune? Of course a famed thief on the loose such as yourself, would just be itching to snatch the relic. And snatch you did, living up to your reputation of thief. Each member having unique abilities to assist in stealing. Your mother had speed to outrun anyone in a chase, your grandfather had the talent of picking any locks, your great-grandmother could sweet-talk anyone then rob them blind. And so on and so forth.

And of course, you had your own talent. As quiet as a mouse and with fingers that stuck to valuables like glue, stealing became like second nature. Literally. However, it wasn't exactly a talent valued by the wider community, and if you stole enough you could end up on terribly drawn wanted posters. Which is why staying in one place wasn't wise.

From place to place, you went taking and claiming anything of worth. When you got very low on cash, you set your sights high: on the vault that stored the royal's priceless treasures. There was bound to be endless riches stored within, if only you could get your grubby hands on them. Well, after careful planning, you had. It wasn't a giant gem or sack full of gold.

Time was short, so you had grabbed the closest thing you could before guards could find you. A golden box encrusted with jewels. Who knew what was inside? Maybe some family heirloom, a magical artifact, or something else of high value. And with the box, you bolted, and the chase had begun out of the city and through the woods.

As fast as you could, you ran through the mystic woods, a forrest travelers and locals alike were all wary of. It was the safest place you could go when chased by frightening palace guards on horseback that would do anything to take back what you stole and drag you back to the gallows. Even the woods heavy with fog and dark from the clouds overhead, had deterred your pursuers enough for you to slip out of their reach and deeper into the forrest where there was no way they would be able to track you. Here, you would have to wait until tomorrow and depart early. Then, you'd be home free and rich beyond your wildest dreams.

After what felt like hours of walking, you stumbled upon a bridge over a gloomy lake. In the middle, sat an old castle of gray stone and dark windows. A castle once said to hold a royal captive, but of course, you didn't believe such stories that were so old they were told to your own grandparents. This castle would be your sanctuary for the night. And maybe, just maybe, you'd clutch the jeweled box and dream of simpler times when you were told fairytales of locked away royals waiting for a savior.

The castle was exactly like those set in spooky tales, haunted by vengeful spirits and claimed by ghosts. It appeared abandoned, that much was obvious by the crumbling stone bridge and the battered old wooden doors that once protected the inhabitants.

Cautiously stepping over the splintered debris of the front door, you didn’t bother boarding it up since no one would be stupid enough to follow you inside.

There was wreckage and ruin everywhere. If you had to guess, whatever happened here, whether the people were driven away by conflict or time, it was followed by the destruction of time. Time with weather were likely all factors that led to the disarray of what was probably once a grand estate. Strangely enough, there was furniture and decor. Everything coated in dust and grime, but still here. Had people been too afraid to enter the grounds? There were so many valuables that could've been looted!

"I'll definitely have to come back here later." You scoff, turning over a few clothes or broken furniture with your foot to uncover possible hidden goodies. Maybe something as small but valuable as a ring was lost somewhere on the ground.

Proceeding to carry the golden box under your arm, you decide to search for the cleaniest, not-so-moldy room where you could spend the night. On the third floor halls, you see ripped curtains and frames where portraits loosely hung. Every rug was brown with dirt and dust.

There were items left behind, which showcased the life one led here. A piano too big to steal, the skeleton of a chandelier and broken gems hanging from its limbs, empty glass perfume bottles now filled with dust. The place must've been wondrous once, but now it was like a tomb. A setting frozen in time.

When you found moonlight filtering through the open balcony of what looked to be the master bedroom, you paused to see the space wrecked more than the others. As if more than just weather and time had affected this place. The owner of this castle likely slept in this very room, on that very bed where the sheets were ruffled and unkempt.

"I wonder who used to live here..." You murmur to no one in particular, as you approach the balcony looking over the bridge and woods. This would be a good vantage point.

A heavy fog settled over the woods, extending over the bridge like water. Good, an extra layer for cover. You stepped back into the room, analyzing every carved piece of wooden furniture, makeup and brushes stored on tabletops, a separate room as long as a hallway and filled with all types of articles of clothing.

If all this was still here, then was it possible some jewelry was left behind? You scoured the room, looking for hidden compartments while murmuring to yourself to fill the ominous silence. As you pulled back a curtain against a wall, you furrowed your eyebrows when you saw an uneven lump underneath the wallpaper.

Could this be handle leading to a vault of treasures? With that in mind, you ripped off the old wallpaper. A glimmer of gold made your heart soar with hope, but when you caught sight of your reflection, you stopped and stared. A mirror. It was a large mirror, oval shaped, with golden borders so intricately decorated. However, when a hand suddenly appeared on the other side of the mirror, like a ghostly apparition, you screamed and stumbled back.

A hand– there was a hand in the mirror! You stared with widened eyes full of shock, as the hand pressed its palm against the surface of the glass. You couldn't see anything else, no one behind the hand. After a second, the slim pale hand delicately pointed a long dainty finger at the box you were holding in a vice grip.

"What...? This? You want this? But..."

You had worked hard to procure this golden box from the royals. Pursing your lips, you contemplated your options, with so many questions running rampant in your mind. What was that thing? A magic mirror? A magic mirror would be priceless, much more valuable than any gold. However, if it was magic, it would be tricky. Possibly even sentient. So you'd have to gain its favor.

"Alright, alright, the box. You know, I went through hell trying to get this."

You informed the mirror, unsure if it even understood you. You carefully set down the heavy box in front of the mirror, and watch as the hand made a motion with its fingers.

Click!

It had unlocked the box, without even a key or tool. A grin broke out on your face. Had it done it for you? Apparently not, because the box opened on its own and a heavy thick tome floated out from it and into the air. The hand beckoned the tome closer, and closer it came, until it was literally phasing through the glass.

"Hey! Wait––"

The glass shattered, the sound booming and ringing out in the silence like an explosion. You only had a second to react, instinctually using your arms to shield your face from the glass flying out in every direction. When it stopped, you looked around. The mattress was shredded, the curtains torn to shreds, wooden furniture cut as if done by an axe, but miraculously you were somehow unharmed.

A breath, not of your own, caught your attention. Your eyes darted over to the now broken mirror, awestruck at the vision of a figure stepping over broken glass. They were beautiful, gorgeous, stunning, more than any words could convey. Their hair like gold and eyes an alluring shade of purple like two amethyst stones, soft pink lips, and a tall slim pale figure clothed in odd robes. For a moment, whoever this person was, appeared disoriented for a brief moment, but they clutched the tome like a lifeline. The tome that came from the box you had stolen.

"Thank you––"

He breathed, his voice quiet as he attempted to stand tall and upright. When his legs nearly gave out beneath him, you were there to catch his hand and prevent him from falling as he looked at you with appreciation. You were just stunned, bewildered, in pure disbelief.

"You... You freed me. You returned my stolen tome...!"

He exclaimed in disbelief, as he restored his posture. Somehow, he was able to stand in heels, but heels were currently one of the least important details.

What did he mean freed?

There was no time to ask any questions. The loud sound of the shattering must've alerted any of your pursuers that had followed you thus far, because from the balcony you could make out the torchlights weaving their way directly towards the bridge.

The mysterious man from the mirror took notice of your expression of dismay as he glanced at the distant torchlights. Smoothing out his robes, he looked back at you and took in your expression. "Enemies of yours?"

"Yes..." You nod slowly.

"Now that just won't do. I can't have anyone harming, or even killing my savior. I've yet to even learn your name." Tapping some well-manicured fingers against the spine of the tome, he appeared to contemplate something. When he stopped tapping his fingers, he smiled so sweetly. "I am Vil Schoenheit, prince and prodigy. Here's my proposition to you, my savior: I will destroy your enemies for a small price. You must tell me your name, and I will grant you my protection."

Of course you gave him your name, and almost immediately you saw the fog below turn an odd color. The torchlights flickered out, you no longer heard their encouraged shouts to move forward but instead their screams echoing in the dark woods. All after Vil murmured a few words in a foreign tongue read from his tome, as he continued to gaze at your intently. What exactly was he to cause so much death in a single instant with hardly any effort...? And you were stuck in this abandoned castle with him.

The prince had no plans to abandon you, he's made that much clear when you attempted to casually part ways after thanking him for getting rid of your pursuers. Stay. I can make it worth your while. Once I reach my former glory, you'll be able to bask in it with me. Is what he said as you swore you heard the front of the castle be sealed shut.

The entire time he looked around the castle with disdain, cross as he complained about the state of his home. While helping him clean up some rooms, he told you more about himself. Vil was a prince who once lived in this castle, set to inherent the throne shortly after the death of his father. However, he was widely feared due to being a prodigy in dark magics and genius at brewing concoctions. For attempting to steal the life of a younger kinder foreign prince who specialized in good magic, he was trapped in a mirror with his tome being the only key to grant him freedom.

Vil actually appeared to be much too fond of you, which you attributed to his isolation. If you were imprisoned all alone in a mirror for centuries, you likely would've gone insane. It was a miracle Vil's mind was intact, but maybe he wasn't there entirely. Because what sane person killed people with the snap of their fingers while smiling so kindly at the one who set him free?

Pridefully he listed off his feats and accomplishments. Living prodigy. Most beautiful man in the land. Prince of the land. It felt too much like flaunting, as he wanted you to realize how truly great he was. He replaced your clothes with his own, and while combing your hair he reminded you that what's rightfully his will be returned to him one day, and you would be there beside him that day.

The crown was what he wanted, a crown he believed was stolen from him and passed down to the descendants of the very good prince he attempted to kill. He spoke of a future in the castle restored to its former glory, where citizens would be loyal to him once again, and those that wronged him will receive a fate worse than death. Positions were open for applying once he became king, he told you one day. He was still searching for a vassal, a knight, a jester, or a partner to wear a crown as well.

Was it the isolation that had driven him to become so attached to the one who set him free? It was possible, but you couldn't even be sure. For all you knew, he could've been like this before he became trapped in the mirror. What mattered now was that he did not make any effort to hide his attraction towards you. Vil was offering a thief all the riches he would attain after his plan for vengeance, and his heart in a golden box.

"Keep the knives I gifted you, although I doubt you'll have to resort to lifting a finger. Just allow me to handle it when the time comes. I want to extract vengeance slowly and painfully, make them hurt just as they did to me... And at the end of the day, you will be there, you little thief who stole my affections, to comfort me and drive away those memories of cold lonely centuries in darkness. You'll be there for me, won't you, my valiant savior?"

#twst #twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #vil schoenheit #twst vil #yandere vil schoenheit #not your valiant savior

[hxzbinwrites]

Vox x Emotionless! Reader | Ignorant In Love

(Lovestruck Part 2)

Warnings ⚠️: Cussing, Violence, Vox being annoying

————

4:30am

Vox woke up, yelping as he sprung out of bed. Not a great decision for his sore back as his clawed hand immediately went to brace it. Groaning, his eyes fluttered, attempting to recall what got him in such a tizzy waking up

Right. Another dream.

Vox had been, haunted, by that humiliating event last week. Even more so that he finally realize how incredibly enamored he was with her.

His screen flushing red at this realization of his current situation, Vox decided to rise out of bed. What good was sulking going to do?

Since that day, (Y/n) hadn’t smiled once more at him. Oh how he craves it. Vox acts like he doesn’t care, but he’s aching for another fix. Another high of seeing that smile. He would do anything and everything just to experience that euphoria one last time, just one drop of it.

Getting dressed for the day, Vox was looking at his bow tie collection, seeking out one of his favorite ties before realizing it had been ruined from the coffee.

Frustrated, he grabbed a random one from the pile, not really thinking too much about it as he put it on.

He stomped out of his quarters, his heels dramatically clacking against the floor as he made his way to his office. It was far too early in the morning for anyone to be active, too late for Val to be doing work (at least IN the office, and not at the club), so the quite walk gave his ever-running mind more time to think

What the hell has gotten into him?! He’s a VEE, THE VEE. If anything, this is woman should be loosing sleep and foaming over him!

‘That’s what I like most though’, He thought to himself,’She’s real. She doesn’t tell me just what I want to hear, or cause problems for me, she’s just…her, and she simply does it best.’

His internal conflicts were brought to an end once he finally sat down in his chair. Cracking his sore, aching joints, before booting up his monitor system.

————

8:30am

(Y/n)‘s heels clacked against the tiled floors, making her way to her desk. Her desk was one of those circular desks that curved around the middle and touched both sides of the wall. There was a small door on the side that she could enter from, but it blended in seamlessly with the black desk, so it would be hard for someone who didn’t work here on a daily to find.

Once she entered her cubicle-like desk, she logged onto her monitor, clocking in. 8:30am sharp, as always. She began to work on her boss’s meetings, but her eye caught a certain one for today “errand.”

This caught her eye, as Vox always made her run errands during work hours. Mostly for coffee, but she’s ran to the convenience store in the lobby for strange things as well.

“Hmm” she mumbled, before printing off the schedule regardless and putting it in her folder for later at 10.

That was her routine, print off the original schedule for the day, present it to him at 10, and if edits are needed, she’d come back and re-arrange some things, and repeat the process until it was to his liking.

(Y/n)‘s hardest part of the job was the PR portion of it. Normally, it’s for the PR team, but they got sick of the Vees tantrums and the entire department up and quit. Now, (Y/n) handles Vox’s PR, Velvette’s assistant handles hers, and Vox handles Valentino’s himself.

Speaking of PR, she was in for a doozy today. Last Friday, when the coffee incident took place, apparently Vox said some…choice words…to the Radio Demon, and Alastor relayed that information back to his listeners on his radio show.

Sighing, (Y/n) began typing a public rebuttal, going for the “deny and victim blame” strategy, as Velvette called it.

‘Why does Vox have to act so…stupid’ (Y/n) thought, her stoic face staying steady as her fingers flew across the keyboard,’For someone so smart, he sure acts dumb. Maybe he should just be a model for Velvette instead, he’s sure got the looks for it, but he doesn’t have the social skills for a public viewpoint like this-‘

“(Y/N). MY OFFICE. IMMEDIATELY.” Vox yelled.

Her eyes flicker up from her monitor, which was now adorned with two clawed hands gripping the top of it. Vox was leaning over it, his tall, slender frame allowing his screened face to intrude (Y/n)’s personal space, but it’s not like that hasn’t been done the before the weekend.

Locking eyes, he saw the flick of emotion run through her, he almost for a moment let his anger go, almost. He could hear her mumbling those things about him. About how “stupid” he was, his “dumb actions….how “he’s got the looks”….never mind that last part.

“Sir..?” She said, her face immediately turning back cold. Ah, there it goes again, fleeting like time itself.

“Don’t sir me,” Vox said, shoving the monitor who knows where. He crawled on the desk towards (Y/n), before grabbing her chin, pulling her towards him. The force from his arm made it where she was on her feet, but she was now hovering over her chair. Vox cocked his head at her, narrowing his eyes and he whispered towards her.

“I heard you mumbling about me over there. Insubordination will not be…tolerated, at this company. If you want to keep this job, and your soul, I suggest you meet me in my office.”

He let go of her chin, before sliding back off of her desk, and walking towards his office. Vox’s hands were clasped behind his back, as he glanced over his shoulder one last time to look if she was following him.

(Y/n) got up and started walking behind him, her face not giving away any emotion.

‘DAMN IT.’ He thought, his mood growing worse,’That whole little stunt was just to get a rise out of her. To get something!’

————

10:00am

Once they arrived in his office, the door slammed shut behind them. Vox’s electrical bolt from his fingertip locked the door, as he walked towards his chair, took a seat, and swiveled it around to see an unamused (Y/n) awaiting his words.

“So, (Y/n)” He started, his claws tapping against one another, “Would you like to repeat, word for word, what you were mumbling about me, or should I repeat it for you?”

“Okay, I asked myself why you acted so stupid. Your actions are ignorant and your social skills need heavy improvement.” (Y/n) said,”also, for your schedule today you have a meeting at-“

“No no no sugar.” Vox said, smirking as he crossed his legs,”Tell me everything you said.”

“I did” She lied, standing her ground.

“Ah, so Im not good enough to be a model anymore? That’s a shame, I would’ve loved to give you a show, but alas.” He sneered, trying to desperately to get a reaction out of her, but failing miserably.

“Ah, a shame indeed.” She said, deadpanned,”Now, todays schedule consists of one meeting with Valentino at 7:30pm and during your 3:30 slot all it says is ‘Errand’? Sir, I’m confused about that portion, don’t I normally run your errands..?”

Vox gritted his teeth, his hand now clenching the sides of his chair. This was getting ridiculous, no emotions out of this one. God, he should just pour an entire mountain of coffee on himself, muck up his PC and everything just to see her smile.

“I was originally planning to get my clothes back from the dry cleaners myself, but I see that as punishment enough for today. Do it and get out of my office.”

“A-Alright sir.” (Y/n) said. They locked eyes, and Vox immediately regretted pushing so far for a reaction. Her eyes showed hurt in them.

Vox couldn’t bring himself to say anything, his face contorted with many emotions. One side of him was over the moon, he made her show something! The other side was in immense regret, he didn’t want to hurt her, that was by far from the plan.

Once she left the office, he started throwing monitors again in frustration.

————

10:30am

(Y/n) didn’t even return to her desk, instead opting for a little stroll down to the convenience store down in the lobby. She picked up a drink and a candy bar to take back to her desk as a little pick me up

Well, she attempted to go back to her desk, she ended up just going to a secluded corner in the building, only adorned by a lonely bench, a plant, and a security camera in the hallway.

(Y/n) sat there on the bench, sighing from stress and she took a chunk of her candy bar.

Sitting there, she replayed the interaction in her mind once more. The way he was so, powerful, it made her cheeks dust pink, with equal parts admiration and humiliation as she smiled to herself, lowering her head. She softly chuckled before taking her wrapper of her snack and going to seek out a trash can.

Little did she know that Vox was watching her every move on his monitor, stalking every security camera that tipped off her motion. He was nearly short circuiting at her little smile. Vox noticed how her shoulders bounced as she chucked slightly. He really wished he could just call her into his office, but it was already time for her to pick up his dry cleaning. Sighing to himself, he adjusted his bow tie.

Out of his entire collection, he just had to pick the most irritating one out of all of them. It was entirely too tight and the material was so unpleasant.

Sighing, he just untied it and threw it on his desk, reveling a small sliver of his skin beneath it.

————

3:45pm

“I’m here to pick up Vox’s clothes.” (Y/n) said, making the worker scramble to go retrieve the Overlord’s clothes.

“H-Here you go ma’am! Do you mind checking to see if everything is in there? We don’t want to forget any article of our valuable costumer’s clothing!”

“Sure” She replied with her signature neutral expression, opening up the box of neatly folded clothes to see his entire wardrobe from that day, except something was missing…a key part of his ensemble.

“Ah, where is his bow tie?”

“Oh, did he not tell you? We had to return it to him, the fabric of it was too thin, it would’ve burnt up in the dryer.”

“Oh, well thank you.” (Y/n) said,”everything looks like it’s in order.”

“Have a good day!” The worker said, earning a nod from (Y/n) as she walked out of the dry cleaners.

‘He wore that bow tie often’ (Y/n) thought to herself,’ Maybe since I pissed him off earlier today, I can get him another to make it up to him.’

She strolled by the clothing district before entering the tailors shop, browsing the different selection of items for a while before the clerk cleared his throat.

“Ma’am, is there something I can help you with?”

“Ah yes, I’m looking for a bow tie with a certain fabric to it. It’s rather thin, I need a replacement.”

“You? A replacement?” The man chuckled, looking over at her,”I think I know which one you’re talking about, but I dare say I don’t think you’re in the tax bracket to be purchasing that.”

“I’ll purchase what I please.” (Y/n) retorted, her dead eyes looking into the man’s cocky ones

“Oh really? And who is this for?”

“Vox.”

The man started howling in laughter,”YOU?! FOR THE TECH OVERLORD?? OH PLEASE I-“

(Y/n) briskly walked over and slammed the man’s head down on the table.

“Yes. I suggest you make it quick due to your little interruption.”

“And why should I?”

(Y/n) gripped him by the hair, making his eyes meet hers,”Vox is my boyfriend, and so help me I’ll let him tear you limb from limb just because I said pretty please, now fucking do it.”

“Y-Yes ma’am.” He said, as she let go of his hair, he scrambled to the back room to give her a lavish tie. Instead of the navy blue one he had previously, it was near black with bright blue strips adorning the sides of the fabric where it curved in on itself.

“Hmm, this will do.” (Y/n) said, snatching the box before walking away.

“W-Wait, aren’t you going to pay?”

“Pay? You should be dead where you stand for messing with me today. This is your pay.”

And with that, she walked out of the store, leaving the man shocked.

————

8:00pm

Walking into Vox’s office, (Y/n) looked around to see Vox nowhere in sight.

“Ah right,” (Y/n) muttered to herself, despite the fact that very action got her in a tight situation with her boss earlier that day,”Meeting with Valentino. I’ll just set his stuff down here.”

(Y/n) looked around once more, before setting his clothes neatly on the desk. Patting it down to remove it of any lint that couldn’t accrued on the bag, before setting the nicely wrapped gift atop of it, adorning it with a letter signed to him.

————

9:00pm

Vox groggily walked back into his office, after his “productive” meeting with Valentino on his public image. Not a word went to that moth’s head. One ear and out the freaking other.

He closed his eyes, plopping down unceremoniously into his chair, not even bothering for the brooding dramatics this time.

Rubbing his eyes, he really contemplated calling it quits early tonight. But alas, Vox never does, that’s the mantra of a workaholic.

His digital eyes fluttering open once more, he gazed upon the clothes neatly laid there for him. Smiling he looked at it before his smile turned into confusion. Why was there a box? Wrapped with a ribbon…?

He slowly and gently grabbed onto the small box, unwrapping it like an inpatient child on Christmas morning, only to reveal a new bow tie, the one he ached for the entire day.

This one was nicer though, how she scrounged up some money to “buy it”, he didn’t know, but he was eternally grateful.

His eye caught the letter that was now sitting beside where the box was, it fell off when Vox took the box. He held the envelope and slit the seal with his claw like a letter opener.

“Dear Vox,

I sincerely apologize for this morning. I was out of line. I just don’t really know how to process everything. I feel like you’d understand being mechanical and all, but I don’t know how to process emotion.

Normally, I feel nothing towards anyone, but there’s something weird going on. This strangely warm feeling in my chest and my face, I feel clammy around you, and you specifically.

Feel free to ignore this, but here’s my number. Contact me if you are willing to help my predicament. Enjoy the gift regardless, you deserve it. Also, stop coming to work at 5 in the morning. You’re not sneaky, I see when you’ve clocked in on your schedule.

-(Y/n) (L/n)”

Vox was beaming, a pure genuine smile. He might be a lovestruck fool, but she’s ignorantly in love.

————

Word Count: 2,540

(Part 3?)

TAGLIST

@burningfishkidlamp

@koji-akeme

@callmechito

@neito327

@chocolat3pudding

@yellowsubiesdance

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin vox #hotel hazbin #vox x reader #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel vox #vox #vox hazbin hotel #the vees x reader #the vees #hazbin hotel vees #vee #vees

[jo-harrington]

Standard Operating Procedures 1.05 (Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: It's a normal Sunday night. You're just going over to have dinner, smoke, and listen to music. It's not a date. What could possibly go wrong?

Previous Part: Standard Operating Procedures 1.04

Warnings/Themes: AU where the Upside Down doesn't terrorize Hawkins. Reader works at the Claire's at StarCourt. Eddie works at TapeWorld. Mutual pining, alcohol and drug use (wine, beer, and weed), R has a minor panic attack while high, fluff, lighthearted smut (petting/groping/dry humping), minor angst, misunderstandings and miscommunication, driving probably a little under the influence, slight anachronism (slapping the bag)

Note: Big note for this one if you've read the most recent installations of SMVerse that I've posted...this is NOT in chronological order. SM and Eddie are not together in this one, we are rewinding back before Closing Time. This chapter and the next one are both a little longer and have been lingering in my head for quite a long time. Almost a year. So without further ado, please enjoy SOP 1.05.

You can find my masterlist here for more featuring our resident Store Manager and all of my other writing.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

Sundays were your favorite days, hands down.

They sort of always had been, even before moving to Hawkins. Now, though, you had an extra special reason why they were your favorite.

Sundays meant that you could be yourself after you clocked out. They meant standing in the mirror and wiping away the layers of glitter eyeshadow and scented nail polish off. They meant shedding the overly sparkly jewelry from work and the trendy clothes from the JCPenney or Madigan's Juniors department that were definitely cut for a teenage body.

No matter how young you still were, you just weren't sixteen anymore.

You could finally breathe a little easier.

No more Dress to Impress, no more preppy popular girl, no more customer service voice.

Sundays meant freedom.

Lately, part of that freedom meant walking out of the store, taking the most freeing breath you could, and walking right up to your crush best friend so you could spend those last few dying hours of the weekend together.

Shooting the breeze, laughing, and getting to know one another. Getting to really see one another.

Tonight, though, there was just this cloud hanging over you as you stood in the store's bathroom after hours and shucked off the plaid vest and fashionably unmatched skirt you'd chosen for the day in favor of a t-shirt and comfy stirrup pants.

Summer was over, school was back in session, and you hadn't gotten to see Eddie as much as you normally did.

Which, in the grander scheme of things, a lot of things changed with the new school year starting: a bunch of your associate's schedules changed, a few of them even left town for college, and business started to slow a little during the week for the first time since the store opened.

Still, you missed him.

It felt weird from practically seeing him every day to only seeing him in passing or on the weekends.

What if he didn't want to be friends anymore?

Well, that was just silly. Some remnant of fear about the fickleness of your friends memories in childhood. Besides, the first shift after school started back up, he immediately came running to your store and talked your ear off about the new kids that he forced to join Hellfire.

"God, they're such losers," he reminisced with a sparkle in his eye and a smile on his lips. "They have so much potential. I can't wait for you to meet them."

Tonight though...

Tonight was like any normal night; you were getting together after the mall closed and picking up pizza.

However, instead of any of your usual haunts or shenanigans in and around Hawkins, Eddie insisted you come over to his place. Totally normal.

"And we can smoke," he added as an afterthought.

"You know I don't smoke Eddie," you reminded him. "My grandpa and his crackly lungs? I've taken him to enough doctor's appointments."

"Doesn't stop you from sucking up the air around me when I'm having a cigarette on break. No. I mean smoke. Reefer. Weed. Jesus, don't act ignorant Miss Goody Two Shoes."

"Excuse me," you choked. "How am I Miss Goody Two Shoes?"

"Because," he began with dramatic emphasis. "For all of your stories about garage beers and parties that your work friends dragged you to, you've never mentioned partaking in any sort of illicit substances. You're being obtuse on purpose or you're afraid."

You were caught like a deer in the headlights.

"I...I'm not."

And you weren't; it wasn't fear. It was just...inexperience.

Back home you were always careful, even when you hung around friends from school or work; with your overprotective father and uptight mother and two brothers who wouldn't hesitate to rat you out if they found out you broke some kind of rule? It would be over.

So you never got too wild at parties. Disheveled clothes could be straightened, and you could pretend that swollen lips were just a side effect of getting a little sick. You never drank more beer than whatever made you feel a little floaty if you weren't sleeping over at a friends. And you never smoked weed.

Ok so it was fear, in a way; residual fear. Just not the way Eddie thought.

"Hey, don't worry," Eddie said in the most understanding way he could. "You just tell me and I'll drop it, if you're afraid."

You wanted to tell him, wanted to explain it, but in a moment of reflection and wanting to assuage his worries, defiance got the better of you and you told him that you weren't afraid and it would all be fine.

You were going to be with him; you never needed to be afraid when you were with him.

Now though, staring at yourself in the mirror as you got ready to go and meet Eddie you realized you might have made a mistake.

Hanging out with your crush friend alone at his place? Fine. Sitting close on the couch as you ate pizza and listened to music? Cool. Drinking and smoking together, knowing that you got a little bit chatty when you loosened up a little bit under the influence? Uhm.

What could possibly go wrong?

---

The spread that you and Eddie had created was impressive.

Pizza and a six pack and red vines and...and...and...

Eddie was usually very thorough when it came to providing snacks or planning outings where you could get a nice little treat together. Tonight it was partially your fault.

You'd originally planned just to drive to his place after work and the pizza would be delivered, but he said that when he'd called to place the order at Lou's--large pepperoni and a box of cannoli--they told him that the delivery driver was out. Takeout only.

But then he also forgot to stop at Bradley's for soda.

So you offered to go to Bradley's while he picked up the pizza, and you might have gone overboard.

Soda and a box of wine and peanut m&m's and...and...and...

"And you say that I'm bad," Eddie scoffed as you walked in, arms laden with shopping bags.

"Excuse me, this is the once in a blue moon you let me pay for anything, I'm gonna take advantage of it."

Wayne was still home getting ready for his shift when you got there and he simply shook his head at your bickering with a fond smile, then pilfered a little of everything for his own dinner before leaving you both to it.

Once he was gone, the festivities began.

You were both overzealous, talking a mile a minute over each other about your days as you set up for the night. Eddie divvied out food--creating a plate that reminded you of the Peanuts' Thanksgiving feast, overflowing with multicolored candies and popcorn and pizza slices--as you took care of the drinks.

You were a little smug that you got to teach Eddie something during these little Sunday night not-dates for once.

"Where did you learn this?" he asked skeptically as you ripped into the cardboard box. "What even is Franzia? Sounds fancy."

"It is the least fancy thing you can get," you grinned maniacally and freed the floppy plastic bag full of pink liquid from its confines. "Honestly I should have thrown it in the fridge but it's fine. You can put it with some coke; it'd probably taste better anyway."

He made a face.

"I'll just have a beer."

"Oh my--Eddie! Live a little." You settled the bag on the coffee table and gestured to it. "You don't have to drink it...chug a beer, I don't care...but you need to slap it."

He huffed and shuffled across the carpet on his knees to settle beside you.

"Is this a Claire's thing?" he asked, he looked up at you through his bangs.

"No it's not a--well...no. It doesn't matter! My old store manager, Jen, made us do it whenever we went to parties and hung out at her place. It's fun."

"Why does this feel like a lie?"

You reached out and smacked your hand against the plastic, listened to the liquid slosh inside. He let out a long suffering sigh but gestured for you to go ahead and he settled on the floor as you squealed with glee.

Eddie popped the little tab on the spout and the cheap wine poured freely into his mouth; he maintained eye contact with you the whole time, even as he choked on the unfamiliar taste of the pink zinfandel.

When you'd hung out with Jen and your coworkers and friends, it was just...a silly thing. Now, though, it was just you and Eddie; you stood over him with the bag gently held in your hands over his mouth and his hand rested on your calf as he drank. It was tense and intimate and as you started feeling a little hot under the collar, you wondered if this was a mistake.

Regardless, when he'd had his fill, he shut the spout and raised his hand and slapped the bag so hard it soared out of your grasp and across the living room.

You both burst out laughing as it swished and sloshed with a pronounced glorp on impact with the floor, and Eddie collapsed against your legs as the giddiness got the better of him.

"Ok, that's better than a keg stand." He looked up at you and wiped a hand over his mouth. "Blagh...probably gonna need that coke if I have any more though. Your turn, sweetheart."

Then the tables were turned, but unlike Eddie, you stood toe to toe with him as he held the bag for you.

To avoid the tense eye contact, you kept yours closed as you pulled mouthful after mouthful from the bag. You almost felt a little smug; you'd always been good at this, despite how awful the wine burps were gonna get after. You knew Eddie's competitive nature--always seeing who could finish a blizzard from DQ first and giving himself a brain freeze in the process--so you were hoping to last a little longer, hit the bag a little harder, and get him to concede.

You counted down in your head and finally when you couldn't take the heartburn the wine caused any longer, you shut the spout and released it, ready for victory.

Of course, opening your eyes provided nothing of the sort.

Eddie stood there, inches away from you; his pupils were blown and he was breathing a little heavily and for a split second you thought to ask if he was ok.

Until he leaned a little closer.

Close enough where you could smell the laundry detergent and the general amalgamation of mall scents coming off of him.

Then you noticed that his eyes were locked onto…your lips?

Was he gonna kiss you?

You already thought…well…and in the van the other week? When he licked frosting off your hand? You'd thought...

Except that was the thing, you always thought, you never acted. Too stuck in your head weighing and judging the options and if you could just do something about it. If you could just lean forward a little, you could stop worrying and have your answer right?

And if it wasn't meant to be and things were weird? If he didn't actually mean to try and kiss you? You worked retail; you could bullshit with the best of them if worse came to worse.

Then you'd just pretend that your heart didn't ache from rejection for the duration of your friendship. You were already familiar with disappointment; this would be no different.

Alright, that's it, you weren't gonna chance it anymore. All the worrying you did back at the store was enough. You were just gonna kiss him. Just lean forward; just go. Just go. One, two...two and a half...

Eddie's eyelids fluttered a little bit, and your heart clenched in hope, until he leaned away and cleared his throat.

The wine bag was tossed onto the coffee table and Eddie gestured to the plates he'd prepared.

"So, pizza?"

---

Music was the next event of the night.

And the weed.

Funny how all of your anxiety over smoking flew out the window when you were anxious about something else.

Because you just couldn't get your feelings out of your head after Eddie walked away from a kiss like that.

Was it even going to be a kiss? Or was it just the awkwardness of your positions in that situation? Were you overthinking the overthinking?

On and on those thoughts spiraled.

Until Eddie said he was going to get his stereo to start your comprehensive education of metal.

"We really don't have all night Eddie," you said and threw a balled up napkin at him as he fiddled with his tapes.

"Ok, maybe not fully comprehensive," he held his hands up in surrender. "Nothing sounds better than vinyl and I have all of that at Rick's. And my mom's records. You wanna talk about classics? We've gotta spend a whole weekend there."

He put a tape into the slot and hit play and the room was immediately filled with guitar riffs and singing and shouting; he turned the volume down immediately.

"I've gotta give you the whole history sweetheart," he explained. "So you've gotta hear me too. This song's not so important...I'll turn it up when we get to the good part."

Of course, Eddie's music history lesson...started with him.

"Picture this," he said, arms waving as he walked over to his school things that had been haphazardly thrown in a corner of the room: a wilted canvas backpack, a black binder, and a dented metal lunchbox. "11-year old me, fresh after my mom's funeral and everyone she knew was coming up to us but I refused to talk. Wayne kept making excuse after excuse. But Rick, bless him, said 'gotta make him cry.'"

And on he went as he spilled the contents of the dented lunchbox on the coffee table and began the fine work of rolling a joint.

"Took me to the record store, let me pick out whatever I wanted. Of course I chose Sad Wings of Destiny because the art was cool. Little did I know that would change the course of my life forever."

You didn’t know what to focus on and that made you spiral a little bit further. The words, the music, his lips and his fingers as he followed steps that he seemed to know but didn't feel the need to elaborate on were all very appealing targets; the music and his story was what was important here though and you made the attempt.

He told his story in a way that only Eddie Munson knew how to—arms flailing, minute details, expressions and voices and everything you loved admired about him. He took a moment to swap cassettes and crank up the volume before he fell onto the couch beside you in a mess of cushions and limbs and hair.

"I would say ladies first," he began as he presented the joint to you. He then stuck it between his lips and continued talking around it. "But I'm nothing if not a gentleman and I need to teach you how to do this. It's a little different than cigarettes."

It was a comprehensive lesson and you'd gotten the hang of it quickly, but the proximity did nothing to help calm your nerves; Eddie's knee touching yours, his face and hands so close to yours as he held the joint to your lips, then one hand your shoulder as he soothed the cough that escaped you after your first hit, and finally the way he inhaled along with you as you took another.

Want burned in your lungs along with the smoke, but it didn't leave you when you finally exhaled.

You were very much looking forward to the light and mellow feeling that Eddie promised once the weed hit your system.

"Until then," he grinned and took another hit himself before dropping the smoldering stick into a nearby ashtray. "We just dive into the mind of the great Ronnie James Dio."

You rested back against the cushions and turned your head to really watch him; it was strange just...observing him. You had never done it like this before, close and quiet at this distance. Your time together was always spent with conversation and laughter, your observations and mental notes about him done in little snapshots as he moved through life like a blur.

Now you got to experience the simplicity of his presence in private and the addictive frequency that he emitted.

It was nice.

You watched the way his lashes brushed against his skin as he melted into the sofa beside you and closed his eyes. The way his plush lips pursed and then stretched as he hummed along to the music. You closed your own eyes for a second as he matched the sharpness of the lyrics with his voice, hushed and then shrill, and then hushed again.

And when you opened them back up to watch him some more, he was watching you and practically vibrating.

Your heart skipped a beat...

"Sweetheart," he reached out and touched your wrist. "You ok?"

Wait...he wasn't vibrating.

You were.

Then you noticed that your heart skipped many beats, then the beats suddenly tripled, and then it all slowed again, pounding harder and faster in your chest than you believed to be possible.

Did your chest hurt? Or were you imagining it?

It felt like the few times you ran the mile back in high school, but you hadn't run.

Had you?

Your legs felt like jelly. Your arms too.

So you must have run...but when?

No wait, you were forgetting something. Your chest, your heart, your lungs. You had to focus on them first, you needed them to live.

You tried to fix it all by taking a great gulp of air in--if you felt like you'd just run the mile, surely catching your breath would fix it--but you found that it didn't fix anything. In fact, you seemed to lose even more control of your body. You floundered, breathing heavily over and over, quicker and quicker to try and get a hold of yourself.

And the panic set in, unlike anything you'd ever experienced before in your life.

Your consciousness became untethered from your body and you sank deep within yourself. Like Alice falling down the rabbit hole. Only instead of a rabbit hole, the you that existed in your mind fell away from your eyes and deeper into your skull then out the back of it and into the so-soft cushions of the couch.

But this wasn't sinking, this wasn't melting. This was being buried alive.

You remembered Eddie’s taunting before, about being afraid of smoking. Why hadn’t you told him that you didn’t want to do this? Why hadn’t you told him you were afraid? You were a stubborn idiot and now you’d die here, buried amongst pilling fabric and lost change and lint and a few cheerios that were stuck between the cushions.

You would die here on Eddie's couch...

"Eddie!" you practically sobbed and reached out for him, remembering suddenly that he was there with you. Why wasn't he doing anything to keep you from sinking? "Help!"

"It's ok hey!" He grabbed your hands now and pulled you back from the void, hooked the tether back onto you and saved you from the depths. "It's ok, breathe. No, not like that. Slowly, deep breaths with me. In and hold it and out. Whoooooo."

You focused on the whooshing sound of the air that escaped his lips and you tried to make the same sound yourself. Over and over, slowly as he guided you.

"That's it," he smiled. "Good girl."

You slowly grounded yourself through Eddie, escaping whatever horrible clutches had just grasped at you. You began to feel better, lighter; more centered within yourself but…nicer?

Had that awful feeling been the high? Or was this?

Maybe everyone got caught by a demon when they smoked and then if they escaped they felt a nice light flutter and instead of a heavy beating heart that threatened to burst out of their chests, they felt...silly. Happy. Bubbly.

Like you did whenever you were around Eddie.

Only now it was better, and it was all getting better as he spoke to you and smiled and wiped at the few tears that had escaped your eyes.

Breathe in, breathe out. Good girl.

You kept breathing and staring at his lips.

Breathe in.

Lips.

Breathe out.

Eddie's lips.

Good girl.

You thought about earlier...minutes or hours you couldn't tell for sure...about the way Eddie leaned close to you and almost kissed you. All the worry you'd had about not being able to make a move because you were thinking so much you couldn't act. Here you were now, thinking again. When his lips were right there and you could do something about it.

With one last shaky breath, bubbly infatuation flooded your body; you smiled and said one final farewell to your nervous thoughts, and you surged forward. Your hands shook his away and grabbed at his face, as your lips slid clumsily against his.

Your noses bumped and teeth clacked painfully but it didn't quite matter because the sparks that emanated from your joined lips shot through your limbs and made you both feel tingly and pleasant. At least, you assumed they did for Eddie because he let out a sound that was somewhere in between a giggle and a moan.

But he didn't push you away; in fact, his hands clapped over yours and smushed them further into his cheeks.

He wanted you to kiss him. He wanted to kiss you. He...liked you.

It was a euphoric moment of joy and realization, but your need to put your lips on him outweighed that. So you tried again. Gentler this time.

Eddie followed your lead for a little while as you pulled him towards you; one of his hands found your waist as the other arm rounded your shoulders, and he became your anchor to prevent you from being buried by the sofa again. As thanks for his chivalry, you gifted him with soft caresses, quick pecks, and sharp little nips.

Your fingers developed a mind of their own, and seemed to love his cheekbones and getting tangled in his hair, although they couldn't quite decide which they loved more so back and forth they went.

The rest of you, though--mind and body--just basked in the kissing.

You were good at kissing; you liked kissing. And you liked kissing Eddie, more than you ever thought you would. Kissing under the light, buzzy influence of a beer or two was nice, and it might have been the weed or it could have just been Eddie himself, but this was nicer. Floaty and tingly and transcendent.

The music itself had stopped, but Eddie himself continued to provide the soundtrack to the night. Instead of guitars and vocals and pounding drums, it was a symphony of soft hums and sweet sighs.

Eddie, who often pilfered bites and nibbles off your plate and cited that he was a "growing boy," seemed to prove that his hunger was greater than yours the way he bit and nibbled at you too, appetite growing the longer you kissed. The pace you set no longer fed him the way he wanted and he started to feast a little more; that was a side-effect of being high, right? Hunger. Insatiable hunger?

His mouth pulled away from yours and started to explore your jaw, the column of your neck, the junction between your neck and shoulder. You let yourself get lost in the feeling of his attention, of his lips and hands as he gave and took, of the floaty feeling that settled comfortably in your limbs now, all the nerves of the day forgotten.

Before you knew it, your own hunger grew as well. You wanted him closer, needed more of him now that you had him.

You let yourself drift back along the pillows until you were laying comfortably and pulled Eddie along with you; one hand still lingered in his hair as the other fisted the collar of his shirt and got him right where you needed him to be.

Of course, you couldn't just take without giving as well, and as he settled onto you, your hips bucked up into him. You both moaned--savoring the proximity and delicious friction that his jeans and your leggings provided--and then giggled together as he collapsed on top of you, unprepared for the sudden surge of delight.

His breath fanned across your neck and jaw as he laughed breathlessly, and your hands caressed his head and shoulders fondly as you mirrored him.

He strained his neck a little to look you in the eye; his grin accentuated all the lines in his face, and for a second he struggled to form words. His mouth opened and closed silently and then he licked his lips to compose himself. The next thing you knew, his hand was coming up and squeezing one of your breasts with an exaggerated "honk" as he fell back against the other one and pressed his mouth to the swell over your shirt.

Back into the throes of unadulterated giggles you both went as he continued to honk and kiss and suck at exposed skin.

One of the highlights of the whole night was when he blew a raspberry against your neck; the feeling of goosebumps that erupted along your body and the spittle that sprayed across your skin would be a sensation you would remember and cherish forever.

"No fair," you whined and shifted against him again, both to protest the fact that you currently couldn't return the favor of all the attention he was giving you. Nevertheless, you treated him to the attention that you could, and you bucked your hips up again, only to be met with the feeling of him grinding down onto you.

Giggles began to mingle with desperate pants as he began to shift against you and settled into the cradle of your thighs; he grew harder and ground and rutted against the covered softness of you, faster and sharper, and your body eagerly responded, wanting to be as close to him as you could. As close as either of you could honestly fathom at this point, feeling too good like this to consider that there was more pleasure to be had if time went on and clothes came off.

Sunday nights together were truly gleeful and hedonistic, and tonight was no different. However, instead of snacks and arguments accentuated by the sounds of light-hearted talk and laughter, it was your writhing bodies and mingled breaths that took center stage; the two of you never stopped, only paused for your lips to smack wetly against one another, for your nails to rake through his hair and scratch against his scalp, and for him to grasp at your hips to pull you closer and closer as he drove you higher and higher.

"Eddie, I'm--" you broke away from him and keened, and he responded with a husky "uh-huh" and pressed his forehead against yours. Both of your eyes closed as you felt the pleasure building between the two of you, as he moaned and your toes curled...

As keys jingled in the lock of the front door of the trailer.

...and suddenly it was like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over the both of you and you froze, all thought of completion forgotten.

Your eyes shot open and you stared into Eddie's panic-filled, pleasure-blown pupils. He shifted sharply and then paused, almost like a glitch, and then he was off you, across to the other side of the couch in the blink of an eye. You watched, dumbstruck, as he panted heavily to control his breathing, and he held his head in shaking hands.

"No, no," he muttered. "Shit. Shit."

You reacted quickly as the door started to squeak open--throwing your legs over the edge of the sofa to sit upright as your hands clumsily fixed your disheveled clothes--and Wayne walked in. You took the extra second as he grumbled at the threshold and fiddled with his keys to look at Eddie, hoping for some kind of...secret conspiratorial smile or...or heated gaze...just something but he refused to look at you.

Suddenly, all of the good feelings that had flooded you since the moment that Eddie had chased your panic away...they vanished. The sweet giggles and shared pleasure were gone; even the love bites you were sure Eddie had left behind stung instead of blissfully buzzed.

And in their place, an acute clarity of what the two of you had just done.

"You wouldn't believe the mess I walked into tonight," Wayne chuckled with disbelief as he finally shut the door.

No kidding Wayne, you thought bitterly.

"Some of the machines were down when I got there and it took a few hours to figure out the problem. Some rusted old part..." On and on he chattered as you spiraled, stuck in your thoughts once again.

You and Eddie, Eddie and you. You and your secret crush...had just...on his couch. You and your best friend, your only friend in town...got high and kissed and canoodled and now he refused to even look at you.

You didn't know if it was the weed again or if it was just you, but you could see stars in the corners of your eyes and you felt lightheaded as the panic settled back in. And it only got worse the longer you sat there and tried to get some kind of sign from Eddie, only to be left with nothing. Such a stark contrast from just moments ago where you were giving and taking and responding to one another so freely.

Giving and taking...was that really what it was? Or did you just...do this to him? Do this to the both of you? Effectively tank your friendship the way you'd worried about since the first time you'd hung out and Eddie had specifically said it wasn't a date?

You abruptly got to your feet and Wayne stopped his chatter and looked at you questioningly.

"I..." you felt your throat closing up with emotion. "I just forgot I have a really important call first thing tomorrow. I...need to go!"

Eddie finally looked at you with wide, shocked eyes.

Were those tears? Oh god...

"I...it was nice to see you Wayne, sorry..." you scrambled to grab your bag from where you'd tossed it by the door and then looked back at both Munsons. Back and forth at Wayne's curious expression...and Eddie's devastated one. "I'm...sorry."

And you bolted out the door, into your car, and back across town to the lonely confines of your apartment, where you would wish for a second chance at Sunday all over again.

Because until tonight, Sundays had always been your favorite days.

Next Part: Leave of Absence

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #store manager verse #Eddie munson smut #stranger things fic #stranger things Eddie munson

[neonghostlights]

Series masterlist here

Part four

“We need to talk about what happened earlier in your shift today,” the director of medical staff, Dr. O’Driscoll, said after a long moment of staring at your file with scrutinizing eyes.

Medical school was hard, landing a residency was hard, trying to get people to take you seriously as a young doctor was even harder.

You nodded, not wanting to speak yet as you thought of the shit that went down today.

“I can explain,” you said as the attending you had been working under in the Emergency room, Dr. Hart, let out a scoff.

“Explain please,” Dr. O’Driscoll urged impatiently, upset that he had to come in early to clean up this mess.

“I was assigned to the patient in room twenty three. She was complaining of chest pain and it was discovered in triage that she has elevated blood pressure and heart rate so I went to examine the patient and ordered an EKG some labs rule out a heart attack-“

“Cut to the chase,” Dr. Hart snapped.

Dr. O’Driscoll nodded for you to continue.

You took a deep breath. “So, I went in to the see the patient and do what I just said and when I went to listen to her breath sounds she grabbed me.”

“She grabbed you?” Dr. O’Driscoll asked with a raised brow.

“Yes sir. She grabbed me and started screaming,” you said shakily, remembering how it had felt in the moment before you were finally out of her grasp.

She kept screaming that you didn’t deserve Eddie, but you weren’t going to willingly share that information with the people before you.

“Am I really being called in here to discuss this? Being assaulted by a patient does not warrant demanding a meeting with me, Dr. Hart, and it surely doesn’t warrant you demanding I call our legal department,” Dr. O’Driscoll said firmly, turning red in his cheeks from his anger. He had much better things to do than deal with this.

“Well,” Dr. Hart said slyly as he reached under his lab coat and pulled out an item that you wished only haunted you in nightmares. “Sir, I am afraid she is not sharing the whole truth with you. It seems that she has landed herself into quite a bit of trouble and this hospital has been caught in the crossfire.”

He laid the magazine on the table but instead of there just being one there was two. The new magazine had a picture of you walking from the car to the grocery store.

Who is Eddie Munsons unknown ex? Insider source tells all!

Dr. O’Driscoll flipped through both magazines.

“As you can see. They have a photo of her walking out of this hospital and quite a bit of information about her life. This hospital is about to become a circus. We’re going to have crazy fans like the one earlier all over the place!” Dr. Hart said as he jabbed a finger into the table infront of him.

Dr. O’Driscoll said nothing as he set down the magazines and dialed a phone number on his desk phone.

You felt violated, ruined as you stared at the photo in front of you. How many pictures had they caught of you when you weren’t paying attention? And how much information about you was debuted in the magazine for the world to see.

“So you already know? And how should we proceed?” Dr. O’Driscoll asked into the phone.

He let out a few noises to let them know he understood and then hung the phone up with out saying goodbye.

He took a deep breath and rubbed his brow. “So, reporters have been caught wandering the hospital asking for information on you and unknown people have been calling multiple units around the hospital either asking for you, threatening you, or saying some colorful words before hanging up.”

You felt your body start to shake.

“We have decided that the best course of action is to have you take paid leave until legal determines this has blown over enough for you to come back. We’ll be in touch with you.”

You stood up from the chair after muttering that you understood and walked numbly to the elevator.

The only thought echoing your head was how much you hated Eddie Munson.

-

Eddie shifted in his seat again and again.

He had gotten used to flying by now. He felt like he pretty much lived on the airplane with as much as he flew.

He heard the announcement overhead. They would be landing soon.

He felt a rush of nerves and excitement and his body practically vibrated with everything confusing that was rushing through his mind. He had gone back and forth on this but ultimately he found himself booking the first flight out of LA.

As he buckled the seatbelt and prepared for landing all he could think about was how he couldn’t wait to see you.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson au #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #eddie munson series #eddie munson angst #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie munson x reader #rockstar!eddie munson

[vmpiires]

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎

„𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘”

𝐂𝐖;; mature content. afab!reader, stoner!choso, non-curse/sorcerer AU, no uses of y/n. not proofread so i apologize in advance for any mistakes if they’re made.

𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓;; choso’s mind has been spiraling for a couple days now. the fact that you wrote your phone number down on his hand had him going. he wanted to call you. he wanted to text you. but he just couldn’t. in order to be sanitary, he’d write the number down again on a sticky note and scrubbed the ink off his skin. he didn’t have time for a lover…but he felt like making time for you.

₊❏❜ ⋮ part one ⌒

. ݁ ࣪ ، ⌗ masterlist

: ̗̀➛ art creds by;; currently unknown. dividers are not mine, if you own these, you may claim them in comments.

: ̗̀➛ WORD COUNT;; 2.33K

dark mode recommended

do not copy this plot. i’m perfectly fine with inspirations but give creds. if this plot his stolen in any way, the post will be taken down and you will be blocked.

𝐃𝐀𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ✉️🖇️;; idk how long this story will stretch but if ya like it,, i’ll make more parts to it. not too many though. i wanna get to geto too (as promised). hope ya enjoyyyy. reblog to support meeee and if you want more :D (also lmk if you wanna be tagged for possible upcoming parts if i decide to continue)

another note: i finally made a masterlist. that shit took me 5 HOURS to make because i was fixing and adding so much stuff. i just wanted it to be pretty. ya should go look at it :P and should i make a AO3??? i see so many writers with them and i was wondering if i should do that too..

final note: guys,, remember this is my personal twist on the mid 90’s era so some things from current time will be put into the story (such as the ability to text without emailing one another or using a pager, familiar current time songs that are added into the 90’s era of this story, certain tv shows/movies that came after the 90’s)

₊❏❜ ⋮ continue to part three ⌒

“choso, we should make the house look like a haunted house!” itadori suggests. october was the season of spooks and scares (as yuji put it) and choso wasn’t into festivities that much but if he had to do it to make his little brother happy, he would do it.

the boys make their way to the nearby department store, letting yuji pick out what decorations should be put up in the house. for a little boy, choso didn’t even even pick up how significantly scary the items were because yuji wasn’t shitting himself out of fear.

“uh…yuji, i know you said you wanted the place to look like a haunted house…are you sure you won’t freak yourself out and start crying?” choso said, stifling his laughter.

“i’m not gonna cry.” yuji crossed his arms. “and i’m not scared of some dumb clowns. they’re just decorations, anyway.”

yuji was more mature than he looked…in the aspect of fear. he was a small boy but things didn’t scare him easily. you could say he’s a risk taker outside his moments of vulnerability. choso knew that he’d might jump back behind him, tightly holding the hem his tan sweater if he saw kechizu. the male finally smiles at the pink haired boy and nods.

“you’re right. they’re fake.” choso says calmly.

as they approach the checkout area, yuji sees the food area. serving simple things like pizza, hotdogs and drinks. the stuff you’d find at a concession stand of a sports game.

“can we get a pizza?” yuji asked. choso paused. he didn’t intend on spending 13 dollars on food from a department store. he had other plans anyway.

“you sure you want that? i was gonna get you a happy meal before we went home.” the male yawned, threading his fingers through his hair. the sudden mention of a happy meal excites yuji like a child on christmas morning.

“never mind, i don’t want pizza.” itadori quickly switches. choso chuckled, knowing how easy it was to get yuji to think about his choices.

“aw, cute kid,” choso heard a voice behind him. the male whipped his head around, his brown hair following along with him, only to see you standing there with a smile.

“is this your little brother?”

choso flushed a red color when he instantly remembered your face, almost making him feel bad for not calling you or texting you since you dropped off your number to him. he was feeling slightly embarrassed.

“uh..yeah, that’s—this is yuji.” he stumbles a bit, trying not to make his embarrassment known. itadori already knows the deal, so he waves at you with a big toothy grin, making you smile and wave back at him.

“um..what’re you doing here?” choso queried, trying to spark a conversation first for once. the male was obviously nervous and you could see his cheeks reddening the more he looked at you. if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he would explode right in front of your eyes.

“shopping, like everyone else,” you teased. “but really, i just gotta pick some stuff up for my mom and then i’ll be on my way.”

your eyes travel over to the shopping cart that yuji was clinging onto, looking at the halloweeny decorations and you smile.

“you don’t seem like the type to be into holidays really,” you start, “did your brother convince you?”

choso also looked at the shopping cart full of stuff and blushed even harder. he was already flustered enough. it couldn’t get any worse than this.

“oh—no..he didn’t,” he chuckled nervously, “i actually really like halloween. the scary shit—stuff…you know, the movies? they’re cool.”

you giggled at choso’s nervous attempts to speak to you about the festivities that he almost never participated in and the quick fix with his mistake of swearing in front of yuji like he wasn’t there.

“oh, so you like horror movies? yeah, you strike me as that kind of guy.” you said. you couldn’t help but notice his medium length hair, just like you had seen the other night when he was working, flowing in the wind that came through as the store doors slowly slid themselves open as customers exited the building.

the male wore an oversized tan sweater with a pair of joggers and some sneakers. you could tell this was a lazy outfit. something you’d call a ‘no one will see me’ outfit.

his eyes were tired and he had a stoic expression, aside from his profuse blushing that began to die down when he finally got the chance to relax, having his hands shoved down into his pant pockets. his irises were so pretty. a pretty shade of purple. you never seen anyone’s eyes look like his before.

the silence prolonged for a moment. the two of you suddenly ran out of things to say. this was perfectly fine for choso. he would’ve lost his mind if he had to keep talking. it wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy talking to you. he was just too scared.

but it wasn’t long before that silence was disturbed.

“my big brother really likes you. he thinks you’re pre—” itadori starts before choso swiftly covers his mouth with his significantly larger hand, making you giggle once more.

“i’m sorry about that…yuji just likes to say random stuff when the silence is too loud for him.” choso said trying to cover up his embarrassment.

“it’s okay,” you smiled at him. your words seemed to ease his nerves a bit but it wasn’t enough to completely calm him down. you glance down at your phone when you feel it vibrate against your thigh.

it’s your mom texting you, asking if you’re on your way back.

“oh, sh—shoot,” you say, quickly fixing your mistake before you actually said it. “i gotta go. my mom just texted.”

choso is quickly snapped out of his embarrassment trance and his head swings over to look at you, his hair following along.

“you’re going?” he asked. through his dead and serious expression, you could see a hint of sadness. a very small change in his usual expression. you nod.

“yeah. but listen, you should call me. you don’t have my number just to stare at it.” you remarked before hurrying off, waving at him as you did.

once you were out of his sight, his eyes quickly struck down to yuji. he looked like he wanted to scold the poor boy for publicly embarrassing him in front of you but he decided against it and his expression softened.

“let’s just get home…” the male sighed.

choso was happy it’s his day off. he got to stay home with his little brother to help decorate their home with terrifying decorations for halloween. choso couldn’t help but smile at yuji’s futile attempts to scare him with the masks from the store.

“come on, you aren’t even a little scared?” yuji removed the mask from his face and shook his head to fix his hair, which was flattened and sticking to his forehead.

“not even in the slightest.” choso chuckled before ruffling itadori’s hair lightly. “what about your friends? you try to scare them yet?”

“megumi is almost never impressed. he’s kinda lame….and out of the question.” yuji hummed. “but i can get nobara. she’s always screaming.”

“well, you can do that tomorrow,” choso yawned, “you gotta get ready for bed soon. you got school in the morning and i don’t want you to be tired and falling asleep in class.”

yuji frowned before he’d hug choso. it took a moment for choso to process the moment, given that he wasn’t too used to being hugged. choso finally hugged the boy back before smiling softly.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

yuji nodded and smiled back at his older brother before making his way to his room.

when yuji had finally gone to sleep, the house was quiet, leaving choso staring at the ceiling with his hair in disarray and an unlit cigarette between his lips all while he laid on the bed, doing maladaptive night dreaming.

‘workin out’ by JID played softly from the small radio that sat on the windowsill. his eyes slowly traveled over to the shoe box that stood out from all the other boxes in his closet. there was a bright yellow sticky note at the top with what seemed to have your phone number on it along with your name.

the male sat up on the bed and walked over to the box, snatching the sticky note from the box then walking over to his laptop that sat on the umber colored desk.

choso opened the laptop and navigated to the facetime app and decided to punch in your number. he could feel his stomach turning as the low adverb jingling sound repeated itself.

while he waited for you to answer, he’d take one of the rubber bands off of his wrist and tie his hair back, leaving his bangs to hang down in his face. he even took the time to fix the violet eyeshadow that he always had around his eyes, staining his fingers each time he touched around his eyelids. and finally, he’d press down on the bandage over his nose to make sure it was still sticking.

you suddenly pick up, finally answering choso’s call. your room was a bit dark like his, except you had your tv going on in the background. it was loud enough for choso to be able to hear.

unlike choso, you were sitting on your bed with your laptop. you had your hair tied up in twin messy buns with a little bit of your hair hanging down in your face. you wore a black spaghetti strap tank top, revealing the tattoo on your shoulder, and a pair of grey joggers with mismatch socks.

“i honestly did not hear this thing going off,” you giggled as you pushed the hair out of your face. you had been downstairs grabbing yourself a drink while choso was calling. “i’m sorry i didn’t answer right away, though.”

“oh..no, it’s fine. you aren’t busy are you?”

“no, not really. i was thinking about finishing this show i was watching. have you heard of american horror story?”

“yeah, i heard of it. i just never got around to watching it. i’d rather watch movies than an ongoing series.” choso explained simply before he’d light his cigarette. you nod, completely understanding his side.

“shit, well, what movies do you recommend? horror movies, since we’re in spooky season.” you flash a cheeky smile at him. choso’s heart skips a beat when you finally ask him what he’s interested in. he pauses and begins thinking, taking drags from his cigarette.

“there’s one movie, i can’t tell you all of em off the top of my head,” he begins, “watch midsommar. it’s kinda disturbing but you might like it.”

“is it gory horror or..?” you ask before taking a sip of your drink as you began to type in the movie name into the search bar in another tab, scrolling through websites to catch any good details about said movie.

“you’ll have to see for yourself,” choso places two of his digits around the cigarette, gently adjusting it between his lips before it could slip out. you realize the longer you talked to him, the more comfortable he seemed to be but you could still see that he was nervous.

“maybe we can see about it together,” you suggest to the male. “whenever you’re free, of course.” you add quickly. all of a sudden, choso is blushing just as he did at the store earlier that day. you thought it was kinda adorable how he could look so disinterested to suddenly flustered and scared so quickly.

“i—well..” choso stammered, “yeah, sure…uh, we can watch tomorrow night when i put my little brother to bed. i don’t want him interrupting anything.”

you giggled, “aw, he’s so cute, though. but i get it. little kids can get in the way of a lot of stuff.”

the two of you conversed for what felt like hours. your voice was soothing to choso. each time you began to speak, he just imagined you calling his name…just once.

your call with choso ended around three in the morning, and your cheeks were pink, smiling to yourself as you remembered the random conversations that you two had not too long ago.

you hadn’t felt like this about a guy in a long time. while men were usually throwing themselves at you, choso was clearly the odd one out. he was a bit shy but assertive and smart.

choso’s voice was deep as it came from the depths of the ocean but his words flowed smoothly like butter when he wasn’t tripping and fumbling with his words trying to hide his embarrassment.

his style, his personality, the way he looked. in your eyes he was perfect but there were a million things stopping you from telling him you loved him.

what if he has a girlfriend already? what if he isn’t ready for a relationship? what if he doesn’t want one? he probably just wants to be friends.

aside from all those thoughts clogging your brain, you were aware that you’d be moving to fast by throwing that L word around loosely when you just met him a couple days ago.

“damn it.” choso sighed to himself.

‘you’re falling for her…but you don’t have time for her. what’re you doing?’ choso was beating himself up about the whole entire situation. another cigarette is taken out of the pack and lightened as he tried to calm his anxiety and spiraling thoughts.

he was going crazy. he didn’t know what he would do. he wanted you out of his head. he was starting to feel stupid for letting you swoon him as easily as you did at the bar.

part of him wished he never met you…

but he needed more of you.

𝐄𝐍𝐃.

⋆｡࿇ ·࣭࣪̇˖ 𖦹°༅༚

© EXORSIIAN | © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

#𝐾𝑂𝑇𝐴 𝑊𝑅𝐼𝑇𝐸𝑆 書く #jujutsu kaisen #anime #choso kamo #jjk #jujutsu kaisen choso #jjk choso #jjk x reader #choso x black!reader #choso x reader #jjk itadori #jjk sukuna #jjk geto #jjk gojo #jjk x you #jjk smut #jjk fluff #jjk season 2 #writers on tumblr #writing #writeblr #jujutsu geto #geto suguru #jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru

[mtayl0rr]

The Anomaly: 1

Prologue Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x f!Original Character Rating: Mature Length: 1.2K Summary: Nobody gets the upper hand on Spider-Man 2099. Nobody, until a strange anomaly slipped from his grasp. Now, he’ll stop at nothing until he finds her. Warnings: enemies to lovers, eventual smut, cannon typical violence, graphic depictions of violence, Miguel is a bitch but so is she, cursing, angst, etc. trauma Note: First full chapter!! I promise the escape trope isn't finished after one chapter have faith i have stuff planned

Earth-B9402 was not Madelynn’s typical jump. Her brawl with 2099 left the watch she’d stolen broken and almost unusable. Although she still had her hacked day pass, she was stuck in a new universe. The jump killed the watch, sending her to the only coordinates she could punch into the cracked screen.

She managed to find shelter in the basement of an abandoned department store. It had all she needed: a couch, some blankets, miscellaneous materials she could use to repair her suit. Coming from where she did, she was used to living off of nothing. The shower in the old break room was stained red, a mix of blood and boxed hair dye. She didn’t take the time to wonder what store needed a shower for employees, but if she had the opportunity, why not take it. Now her hair will mirror the color of the blood she’ll draw from those who stand in her way. Those who side with 2099 in trying to capture her. All traces of brunette were wiped from the canvas of her body as every memory of the life she used to live washed down the drain with the blood and chemicals streaming off her skin.

Madelynn cursed under her breath as she ran the washcloth over her puncture wounds. 2099 was close to scratching bone when he finally caught her back on Earth-904H7. The coarse scabs forming over the exposed flesh looked angry as soap mixed with muscle. Hopefully, she’d never see 2099 again, and he’d never know that his wound elicited tears.

She’d never forget his haunting voice as he whispered in her ear threats of death if she dared to run. His low timbre sent a shiver down her spine, but she knew it was hollow. He wouldn’t be the one to kill her. Someone back home would. He’d just be the one to send her there.

Once she was dry, and her suit was repaired, Madelynn basked in the warmth of the torn up blankets left in the store. Anything was better than sleeping on the rooftops the past two nights. But, her relaxation was short-lived. The familiar tingling of her spine woke her up. The room was illuminated with a red hue, the same color of 2099’s glowing webbing. He was here, outside, looking for her.

Her suit was still half repaired; the blood was removed but the claw marks remained, her skin showing through the ripped elastic. Quickly, she ripped the vent cover off the corner and crawled through, swatting through cobwebs and rat shit. She had no idea how he tracked her down; the locator on her day pass and the watch were disabled. But, she didn’t have time to dwell on the “how.” He was here, and probably angry.

Through the echoes of the vent system, she heard his voice bounce off the walls; an agonizing scream of anger. He knew she was there, or at least had been. The shower was still wet, the blankets still rustled on the old couch. But he couldn’t fit through the vents like she could. He could assume where she was hiding, but he had no means of following her. As much as she hated to admit it, 2099 had an impressive physique. Heightened strength aside, he threw her around as if she was nothing. That night on Earth-904H7, his broad shoulders blocked the moonlight, drowning her in darkness. But, it meant that he couldn’t follow her.

Madelynn reached a vent gate that led to the outside of the department store, but she couldn’t risk taking such an obvious path. She pushed the gate open, shooting webs to make it look like she’d swung away before continuing her path through the vents. The whirring of the system grew louder the farther she climbed through the maze of metal tunnels and cobwebs, but her pace never faltered. She occasionally flinched at the sound of something hitting the dented paths, but she assumed it was simply her weight on the flimsy material. There was no way she was being followed.

Eventually, she made a big circle through the system, ending up right back where she started in the basement. Before she slid through the still open gate, Madelynn scanned the room, waiting for her spine to tingle at any danger, but nothing came. She’d successfully averted 2099 again. Her knees ached from all the crawling, the scabs gracing her skin nearly reopening from the abrasion of her suit’s fabric. Falling onto her couch, she lifted the edge of her mask and took a sip of the drink she’d stolen from upstairs before melting into the covers, only accompanied by the sound of something tapping on the metal of the vents.

Little did she know, while 2099 had fallen for her staged escape earlier, he hadn’t fully trusted it, sending a camera drone to search the vents he watched her crawl into. Now, it lurked in the opening where the vent grate used to be, waiting for 2099 to return.

He returned on foot, the red hue of his webs not giving him away this time as he gently rushed down the stairs to the basement. He could hear her labored breathing, her shoes tapping on the concrete floors. Curses ran through his mind as he calculated how much time he wasted falling for her simple deceit. He was nearly outsmarted again, but he wouldn’t let a slip up like last time happen.

One thing Madelynn neglected to remember about 2099 was despite his towering stature, he was abnormally stealthy. The last thing she expected was to be pushed against the wall, hearing the sound of her bone crack as 2099’s exposed face was inches from her own. Before she had time to react, he ripped her mask off her head, exposing the soft skin of her neck, and sunk his fangs into her flesh.

The effect of his venom was nearly instantaneous. Her body grew hot, the poison intertwining with her blood, leaving her limbs limp and dangling as 2099 crushed her body to the wall. She tried to speak, but her mouth wouldn’t move as she lost control of her jaw and tongue. All that came out was a pathetic scream of agony. All she could do was breathe, look, and listen as 2099 pulled away from her neck, licking her blood from his fangs as it dripped from his lips. His eyes glistened with a sick triumph as he moved his mouth closer to her ear.

“There’s nowhere to run,” he whispered, letting go of her body. She fell to the floor with a hard thump, her red hair mixing with the pool of blood flowing from her neck, watching helplessly as 2099 tapped at his watch, wiping curls of sweat soaked brown hair from his forehead.

The last thing she remembered was cursing how horrifyingly handsome he was under his mask before she succumbed to the lulls of the venom and passed out on the cold concrete.

Chapter 2

Comment or dm to be added to a taglist <3

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x oc #spider man: across the spider verse #miles morales #into the spider verse #spider man #spiderverse spoilers #enemies to lovers #angst #oscar issac #spider man 2099

[sadnymi]

"My Dreams Are Just Dreams... Until They're Not" modern Mattheo riddle × reader [chapter 5]

[previous chapter][Next chapter]

Note : this chapter can be read as a standalone

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language,childhood trauma ,abusing, cheating, angst, death, sexual harassment ( not the main characters)

Please understand that this chapter will delve into darker themes. I urge you to pay close attention to the trigger warnings provided.

words: 3,971

Reading Time : 14mins 26sec

Summery: A week at my best friend's beach house, surrounded by our friends as we meet her soon-to-be fiancé's companions, marks a turning point where the very fabric of my beliefs begins to unravel. It's during this week that I encounter the boy who incessantly appears in my dreams, blurring the distinction between the world of my subconscious and the tangible reality before me. Matthe Riddle emerges as the poison I willingly imbibe, a curse that feels akin to a dream, weaving its tendrils into the very essence of my being.

In the labyrinth of our minds, there exists a chamber where memories are stored,

guarded by a sentinel of the soul. This guardian, born of instinct and necessity, shields us from the piercing arrows of past pain.

It enshrouds our recollections in a veil of forgetfulness, concealing them from our conscious sight.

Yet beyond this protective veil lies a deeper truth—a truth of scars left untended, wounds left unhealed.

Shielding us from the torment of certain memories, like the haunting recollection of my own death .

My name is y/n Celestia daughter of Seraphina Celestia and Leopold Celestia

"My Dark Lord," my stepfather bowed reverently, and I followed suit, mimicking the formal gesture. "Allow me to introduce you to my wife, Seraphina Celestia, and my stepdaughter, Y/N Celestia." I lowered my head in acknowledgment, following the protocol instilled by my mother.

I was only eight when I first saw him, the young boy standing next to the dark lord with so much pride , observing us with an inscrutable gaze.

"Daughter of Leopold Celestia," our lord addressed me, rising from his seat and approaching us. "The heir of the Celestia family."

"I promise to protect her until she comprehends her role, my lord," my stepfather pledged, his voice resolute as he affirmed his duty to safeguard me until I reached maturity.

And that's when I realized my cue to depart had arrived. Mother's words echoed in my mind, admonishing me never to bring shame upon our family. I was to comport myself as befitting a princess, fulfilling the expectations laid upon me. I had made a solemn vow to Mother—to be obedient and dutiful in all things.

As I lingered in the adjacent chamber, awaiting their return, he appeared and settled beside me. "He's not your father?" he inquired gently.

"No, my father died before I was born " I responded matter-of-factly, devoid of the sting of grief or the weight of sorrow. "Mother deemed him a coward, claiming his demise stemmed from weakness and his inability to protect us."

He regarded me with a mixture of confusion and curiosity, giving me more attention than anyone ever did "And she believes your stepfather to be an improvement? That he is stronger and will safeguard You ?"

"I am bound to obey her," I murmured softly, casting a cautious glance over my shoulder to ensure our conversation remained private.

"So, do you like her ?" he probed, his lips curling into a knowing smile.

"Mother insists that in this world, emotions must be set aside," I replied, my tone tinged with resignation.

"She’s so annoying ," he remarked, prompting a rare burst of laughter from my lips. "What's so amusing?"

"I find her annoying , too," I confessed, still scanning our surroundings for any prying ears.

"And what of you? Do you hold affection for your mother?" I ventured, seeking to reciprocate his candor.

"I hardly know anything about her," he admitted

"I'm sorry," I offered sympathetically.

"Don't be," he replied with a shrug. "I doubt I'm missing much."

His response elicited another smile from me, a glimmer of camaraderie shared amidst the confines of our respective familial burdens.

"What about your father?" I inquired.

"We're good,"

"Do you obey him?"

"It's more of an understanding between us," he explained.

"Has he... has he ever hurt you?" I whispered softly, afraid of my own voice reaching the wrong ears and causing trouble.

"Of course not. Does yours?" he asked with genuine concern.

"When I do something wrong," I admitted, looking away. His hands found mine, and as our eyes met, I noticed the red bruise from yesterday. Panic set in, but his reassuring grip eased my anxiety. "He's the one who did this,? " I nodded hesitantly , then he squeezed my hand comfortingly.

"Don't be afraid, Y/N."

Come on, Y/N, we need to hurry if want to see where the hat will place the newcomers," Sarah's voice echoed from outside my dorm. I pulled away from the kiss with Mattheo, trying to compose myself.

"Yeah, just give me a minute," I replied,giving him a warming glance to not make any sound and trying to sound normal as much as I can

"You need to go, Mattheo, right now," I whispered urgently, breaking away from him once more.

He leaned in to give me one final kiss before responding, "Tell her to fuck off." His playful tone didn't match the seriousness in his eyes.

"Don't be so rude," I chided, cupping my face he smiled softly “ I will need to have a word with Lorenzo about how a cock blocker his girlfriend is “ I blushed and smiled shyly at him I was still a virgin we were seventeen but the topic still made me nervous Sarah said she did it with Lorenzo penny did too they said it’s wasn’t even that painful and after the first time it’s only about the pleasure , Mattheo never pushed me, giving me the time I needed.

"Y/N, I swear to God," Sarah's voice grew impatient, and I called back that I was coming. Grappling my scarf, I hurriedly put it on, realizing I had no time for makeup to conceal the red marks left by the boy smirking at my struggle.

But then it happened—I forgot to hide my sleeves. Panic gripped me as I noticed that where his eyes were on, Mattheo touched my hands softly, his expression turning from anger to hurt.

"You said he had stopped," he said, with me trying to hide my hands again Tears welled up at the sight of the pain in his voice.

"Mattheo, please," I whispered, shaking my head. "He didn't mean to, I—"

"I'm going to fucking kill him "

"I want one," I whispered, my head still resting on his chest."Why can't I have one right now?"

"Someday, baby," he replied, his voice soft and reassuring.

"Why not now? Because I'm useless to the Dark Lord? Sarah joined the Death Eaters, Penny is going to..." My voice trailed off, frustration tainting my words.

"You are not useless," he said firmly, sitting up straight and meeting my gaze with seriousness. "Someday, I will let you rule this whole thing."

A smile spread across my face at his words. "You're so sweet."

"Oh, Lord, don't call me sweet in front of anyone, or I will have to kill them," he teased, eliciting a laugh from me.

"You know, I'm starting to get offended by you always wearing red," he remarked after a moments of silence .

"It's just a color, baby," I replied, trying to brush it off . But deep down, I knew it was more than just a color. Some wounds take longer to heal than others, and some keep on bleeding long after. Wearing red was my way of concealing the scars, a reminder of the battles I've fought and the pain I've endured.

cuddling within his embrace, I savored the peaceful moment, surrendering myself to the security of his arms enveloping me.

I tilted my head, resting my chin upon his chest, allowing myself the luxury of studying his striking countenance. Every contour, every scar, every nuance of his face captivated my attention, as I immersed myself fully in the sight of his handsome features

“ matt ? “

“ yes love ? “

“I'd love you until my last breath”

At my mother's funeral, I stand as a solitary figure, ensnared by a profound numbness that eclipses the mournful symphony of raindrops around me. The gray clouds and cascading rain envelop me in an abyss of numbing sorrow, the sting of her disdain piercing through me despite her cruelty.

*I feel utterly alone, adrift in an ocean of pain and loss, burdened by the weight of a secret I dare not share with anyone.*

The truth about my father's death, recalling the last conversation I had with my mother. I shake my head, taking hesitant steps back, hoping no one notices my absence at her funeral.

Then, I run. Far away from the somber voices and vacant stares, seeking solace beneath the shelter of a tree, I close my eyes, trying to catch my breath.

"Y/N," a voice interrupts my solitude, and I startle at the sight of him standing before me.

"What are you doing here? You shouldn't be here," I exclaim, my voice trembling with fear as I scan the area, ensuring no one else is nearby.

"Calm down, it's okay," he reassures me, brushing away my tears with a gentle touch. "I would kill anyone who dares to interrupt and puts that terrified look on your face."

I know he means it, and that's precisely what terrifies me.

"Please, Matt," “ you know how dangerous it is , if anyone saw you with you “

we do know, as the heir of Slytherin he cannot have a weakness no one should know about our relationship people in our world will use it against him taking advantage of the situation , my voice barely above a whisper. With one hand, he pulls me closer, wrapping his arms around me, and I rest my head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

"It's okay," he murmurs into my hair, placing soft kisses there.

“ y/n ? “

“ yes matt “

"I know you're hiding something."

"I will talk to my father,I will ask him for permission to kill him."

"He's a loyal soldier to your father; he won't just allow it," I shook my head, standing up and making my way toward him.

"I hate the thought of you with him in the same house."

"He stopped hitting me, I promise," I tried to avoid his gaze. He knew me so well, even without speaking. He could feel my pain as much as I could feel his. Our souls had a language of their own, and he would catch my lies.

"Then I would just do it."

"No, no, stop it, mate, please."

Walking back and forth, his hands tangled in his hair, I approached him, attempting to calm him down. I reached out for his hands, hoping them with mine

"Then marry me," I took a step back, trying to understand his words.

"What?"

"Marry me. We are old enough now. Marry me, and I will tell my father I will do it your way. I will let him plan a wedding. I will—"

"I can't let you do it. They will ruin you. Those people will do anything to take your place. Even if that’s mean using me to get to you, No, God, I don't even trust your father enough. "

"Stop thinking about anyone else for a goddamn minute," he walked away, yelling angrily. "Stop caring about anyone else. I'm tired of holding back; I feel like you're tying my hands."

"So what? Let you go and hit my stepfather to death like last time? And then stand there trying to explain why you did it, blaming it on a misunderstanding. You know what happened last time."

“"No, I don't," he replied, his gaze piercing with anger. I despised the fact that we are fighting

"Please, I don't want to fight," I sighed, closing my eyes. I hoped that whatever was wrong between us would dissipate when I opened them again.

"And I'm tired of you always running instead of facing the situation. This weakness you've convinced yourself of is just an illusion, cause deep down you can’t move on from being

the little girl who was afraid to disobey him," he retorted with frustration.

"That's it, the tears I was holding, I couldn't contain them anymore. I pushed him away from me, crying heavily.

"Baby, I didn't—" he realized his own words, attempting to hold me. I pulled away, screaming, "Don't you dare fucking touch me," trying to reach the door.

Just as I was about to pass his tall frame, Mattheo moved his arm quickly to block my way. He didn't touch me, only reaching for the wall to stop me from leaving . I flinched, and squeezed my eyes shut while raising my arms in front of my face. My body expected a hit as my mind told me that I just made a fool out of myself.

Silence fell around us. Realizing what i just did , I was ashamed, and the hurt in his eyes made me sob heavily.

"Baby," he came closer, and I was shaking.

"I would never... never hurt you. Did you think I was going to?" Pain, a lot of pain, echoed in his voice and eyes, and it was all my fault.

"I'm so, so sorry. I know you would never. Please don't be hurt. I'm so sorry," saying while sobbing

"Stop apologizing, baby, please," he uttered softly, bridging the gap between us. His hand extended tentatively, wary of any residual fear.

"I would never hurt you, love " he reassured me. Our fingers intertwined, a subtle tug pulling me closer, and I wrapped my arms around him, letting the tears wet his t-shirt.

"I know. I'm so sorry," I repeated, taking a step to look into his eyes just for him to cup my face softly.

"I would burn any hand that ever thought about touching a strand of your hair. The thought of you being hurt makes me want to burn them all down. I would never hurt you, baby."

"I didn't know why I reacted like that. I'm so sorry. It's like my body has a reaction of its own," I confessed, and he kissed my forehead while wiping my tears away.

"No, it's all my fault. I shouldn't have yelled like that. I shouldn't have scared you. Fucking hell, I'm so sorry, baby," he apologized, and I nodded, letting him kiss me softly, his lips moving cautiously with mine.

"We both were. I let what happened get to me, and I'm sorry. I think we need a break—" he tried to talk, but I shook my head.

Please, Matt, I hurt you. You hurt me I think we need some time to calm down ," I pleaded.

"You didn't hurt me," he insisted.

"I will see you at the beach house. He agreed to go this year as well. I will come to Sarah's once you arrive. We'll go earlier; he has an early business," I explained.

"Baby—" he began.

"It's okay, Matt ," I stepped back, going to the door, turned around one last time,

"I love you." He said it softly like a prayer with his eyes on mine , and my tears ran once more.

Once Sarah saw me, she got away from Lorenzo. "Are you okay?" I nodded, wiping my tears away. "Can you take me home?"

Being at the beach house this year without my mother was a new experience, the absence of her presence leaving the house darker, more sinister, as if it had taken on her essence. I tried to maintain a deliberate distance between myself and the monster I had to tolerate, struggling to divert my attention to the rhythmic sounds of the ocean and the invigorating breeze. I resisted the urge to reach out to Mattheo, to ask Sarah about him.

"What are you doing?" His voice cut through the air like a knife, and I hated the tremor that ran through my body.

"Just reading," I replied without turning around, feeling his hand on my shoulder in the most unsettling way. He had never touched me like that before, and I felt disgusted.

"Did you spread your legs for him, princess?" His words were like venom, and I recoiled, taking a step back.

"What?" I managed to utter, my heart racing with fear and confusion.

"Don't act so innocent. I know what's going on between you two. I wasn't sure until he almost killed me that night I hit that pretty face of yours. I did that on purpose, you know?" His smirk made my skin crawl, and I instinctively moved towards the door, trying not to alert him.

"You're sick," I shot back, my voice trembling as I attempted to make my way to the door without drawing attention.

"You know that time I brought those women to the house in front of your whore of a mother? I was thinking of you the whole time while fucking them," he taunted, his words like daggers piercing my soul. "Sometimes I think about him fucking you as well, my princess, my innocent girl."

I ran to the door, screaming, when he grabbed my hair so hard that tears sprang to my eyes immediately.

"Look at this skin, so soft, and that fucking body," he murmured, his grip tightening as I struggled against him trying to fight him as much as I could

"He will kill you. He will fucking kill you, and I will let him. I will stand here watching him burn you alive, and I will watch every single second of it." I shouted at him believing every single word of it

"Shut up, you stupid slut," he spat venomously, his words like acid burning through my soul.

"It's about time he arrived with Sarah. I will tell him. I will let him burn you alive, you fucking monster," he continued, pulling me even harder until I felt like he would tear me apart. He threw me onto the sofa, hitting me in the face before gripping it so tightly it felt like my bones would shatter.

"so bad we'll be already dead before that," he taunted, relishing in my fear and confusion. "Oh, how I love that look. It's almost the same as your father's before I put that dagger in his heart, and the same as your mother's before I choked her to death. Your stupid, stupid mother thought I needed power and you needed a father. It didn't take her long to agree, to hand you to me on a golden plate," he sneered, his words dripping with malice.

"He's going to kill you either way," I retorted defiantly, refusing to cry as I met his gaze with anger and frustration.

"Will he, princess ? Then you won't get rid of me because I'll search for you in death too," I threatened, my hand holding my hair clip With lightning speed, I lunged at him, aiming for his neck, and he screamed as it pierced his skin.

Seizing the opportunity, I scrambled to my feet and made a run for it, he caught me by my leg

and I kicked him as hard as I could, trying to break free. He locked the doors with a fucking spell , trapping me inside, and panic surged through me as I realized he must have planned it all along.

I pulled my phone and run straight to my room decided to get out through the window or the roof

Grabbing my phone and running straight to my room locking the door behind me “Alohomora” I said but nothing happened “Alohomora” I screamed it again but the window is still closed he must have put a spell to make sure I can’t use it trying to calm myself down I grabbing my phone, I dialed Mattheo's number, my voice trembling as I spoke.

"Mattheo, you were right," I confessed, my heart pounding with fear. "He should have died."

"I'm on my way," he assured me, his voice filled with urgency.

"I think it's too late—I just wanted to say it back," I whispered, tears stinging my eyes as I struggled to open the window. "I love you. I love you so, so much. From the first time I saw you, you were the most precious thing I ever had. I love you, and I will love you in every life I live. I love you. I don't want to die without saying it one last time."

"You're not going to fucking die baby I’m coming hold on for me okay? " he replied firmly, and i river of tears started to fall

I ended the call, tossing the phone aside, and focused on finding a way out, my heart filled with determination and love

Unlocking the room, I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what lay ahead. With no sign of him, I moved carefully downstairs

“ princess come here , I promise I will forgive you for that small accident “

“ you can’t hide forever princess “

Close your eyes and breathe he can’t hurt you- if you can’t see him that’s mean he won’t be able to see you

“ comon , daddy hates waiting princess, he’s going to punish you when he finds you “ shut up - shut up - shut up

Then I hear it—the sound of his steps, each one drawing him nearer and nearer

“ he’s not coming you mean nothing to him you know? Why would the heir of the most powerful house care about someone insignificant, someone so worthless like you “

“ liar “ I screamed and then it was red all over again all I saw was red

I I brandished my wand and shouted, "Incendio!" The flames engulfed the house swiftly, consuming every inch of it in a fiery embrace.

"Stupid bitch," I muttered under my breath, knowing he couldn't use a spell on me directly. If he wanted my death to appear normal, he couldn't risk casting any spells on me. That's why he had put a spell on the house, making it impossible for me to utter the spell that could have been able to kill him

"Alohomora" he yelled, and all the doors unlocked. I sprinted towards the kitchen door, fleeing the inferno, blood from my nose and lips staining my trembling hands.

Glancing back, I saw no sign of him before finally escaping. However, just as I thought I was in the clear, a heavy pain and the choking sensation of my own blood overcame me. Falling to my knees, I noticed a knife protruding from my back, its blade emerging on the other side.

In agony, I screamed as I pulled the knife even deeper. "Thank you, princess," he uttered, kissing my forehead. "I'll tell them you died bravely, and I promise to take care of your inheritance."

He got up, and the cruel realization hit me that the last thing I might see before death was his sinister face. Collapsing to the ground, I screamed for the last time, my voice giving up. I felt the onset of death, a gradual release of my grip on my soul.

In those final moments, I thought of my friends, the things left unsaid, but most of all, I thought of Mattheo – my sweet Mattheo, the only love I had ever known. I wished to see his face one last time, contemplating all the things we never got the chance to do.

Suddenly, I felt hands on me, perhaps imagined, as he softly wiped away tears and blood from my face.

"I once said I'd love you until my last breath, didn't I?" I mustered a weak smile, extending my shaking hand to hold his on my face.

"You're not going to die," he insisted, and I prayed to see him clearly one more time.

"You're not going to die, love. I won't allow it. Keep those beautiful eyes on me, okay?"

I struggled to keep my eyes open, but darkness descended rapidly, making each breath a challenging task.

“ I’m so sorry “ kissing my forehead , my hands, and I never wanted to be alive as much as I do right now

"I'm going to fix it, love. I'm going to fix everything, I promise."

Clutching onto the sound of his voice, I felt everything fade into darkness.

Tag list :

@hereticdance

#mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle masterlist #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo smut #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle

[fafnir19]

The picture of Dorian C.

I stood before the old painting, my brush moving with practiced precision as I diligently restored its delicate features. The portrait depicted a young blond boy in Victorian attire, his gaze haunting and intense. With each stroke, I felt the weight of years lifting from the canvas, bringing the boy back to life. As I made swift progress, a satisfied sigh escaped my lips, and I set aside my brushes, preparing to clean them. But as I glanced at the reflection in the mirror, a sudden vertigo overcame me, and I staggered backward. My heart raced as I realized that the face staring back at me was not my own. Instead, I beheld the visage of the young man in the painting, his features now my own.

"What in the world?" I muttered to myself, shaken by the uncanny transformation. I shook my head, attributing it to fatigue, and decided to call it a night, eager to rid my mind of the strange occurrence. The next morning, I awoke with a sense of disbelief as I gazed at my youthful reflection in the mirror. I was still the boy from the painting, and I couldn't comprehend how or why it had happened. Ignoring the inexplicable urge surging within me, I dressed in a hurry and ventured out to purchase some stylish new clothes, inexplicably drawn to items that suited the young man I now appeared to be.

By a stroke of luck, or perhaps fate, I found myself stepping into a department store as its 10,000th customer. The announcement of my win rang through the store, and to my astonishment, I had won a trip to a vibrant metropolis with a luxurious hotel stay. This newfound luck seemed to be part of the inexplicable changes that had befallen me. In the opulent hotel, I indulged in extravagance, the city's vibrant pulse beckoning me to explore. The night air lay heavy with anticipation, and I found myself wandering into the red-light district, succumbing to a reckless urge that I couldn't explain.

As the first light of dawn seeped into the sky, I returned to the hotel, feeling slightly worse for wear. Opting for a day by the pool, I soon noticed a middle-aged businessman gazing at me provocatively.

His lingering gaze unsettled me, and I shifted uncomfortably under his intense scrutiny. "Excuse me," I said, mustering a polite but firm tone, hoping to deter his unwelcome attention.

The man seemed undeterred, causing a flicker of unease to worm its way into my thoughts. Fortunately, the middle-aged man eventually left the area, and I let out a relieved breath. But the encounter left me with a sense of disquiet that I couldn't shake.

Curiosity gnawed at me when I learned that the auction for the painting I had restored was scheduled to take place at my hotel the following day. I resolved to attend, eager to witness the bidding for my artwork, now known as "The Catamite." The auction hall buzzed with energy as the bidding commenced, and I watched with growing anticipation as bids soared to unexpected heights. My heart pounded with a mixture of excitement and disbelief as "The Catamite" sold for a staggering $15 million. Among the throng of bidders, my eyes locked onto the middle-aged businessman from the pool, his triumphant grin unnerving me. He had won the auction, and alarm bells rang in my mind, warning me of a connection that I couldn't place. Allowing my curiosity to override my apprehension, I approached the man, introducing myself as Dorian, the restorer of the painting.

His name was Robert, and his demeanor exuded a palpable confidence that set me on edge. "Congratulations on your purchase, Mr. Robert," I said, attempting to maintain a courteous composure, though an underlying unease made my voice strain slightly. "Thank you, Dorian," Robert replied, his eyes glinting with a disturbing fervor, "but now that you've restored this masterpiece, you've become quite the work of art yourself." A shiver ran down my spine as Robert's words registered, and I struggled to understand his insinuation. "I'm afraid I don't follow," I managed, my voice tinged with a note of perplexed dread. "Oh, my dear Dorian," Robert purred, his tone taking on a predatory edge, "you are now my catamite, a temptation too exquisite to resist." Horror surged within me, and I recoiled from Robert's declaration, my mind reeling with disbelief and revulsion. I tried to protest but against my will, I found myself saying, "I couldn't imagine anything more pleasing than being your catamite." The words slipped from my lips, laden with a compulsion that gripped my very being.

With a sinking heart, I realized that something inexplicable had taken hold of me, bending my will to Robert's desires. I longed to resist, but a strange allure tinged with dread held me captive. Days turned into weeks, and I found myself ensnared in a web of luxury and allure spun by Robert. Each passing moment deepened my enthrallment, and I relished the opulent lifestyle that had become my reality. Laughter and revelry echoed through extravagant halls, the heady ambiance seeping into my very soul.

Yet, beneath the façade of pleasure, a gnawing unease lingered, a constant reminder of my plight. "You seem troubled, my dear Dorian," Robert mused, his gaze fixed upon me with a veiled intensity that sent a surge of unease coursing through me. "I... I cannot shake this feeling of unease," I confessed, my voice laden with uncertainty, "it haunts me at every turn, amidst all the excess and splendor." Robert's lips curved into a knowing smile, and he placed a gentle hand on mine, his touch evoking conflicting emotions within me. "Embrace it, my dear," he murmured, "for it is the thread that weaves the fabric of pleasure and temptation. Surrender to it, and you will find unfathomable delight." His words resonated within me, stirring a myriad of conflicting emotions, and I found myself torn between resistance and acquiescence. The lure of pleasure tugged at my senses, blurring the boundaries of my will. As time slipped by, I became Robert's beloved temptation, ensconced in a world of decadence and privilege. Yet, the price of this seductive allure gnawed at my very soul, and a shadow of longing lingered in the depths of my being.

Inexplicably, I found myself succumbing to a life of luxury under Robert's care, embracing my newfound role as his beloved temptation. The days melded into nights as I laughed, moaned, and hummed, completely immersed in this new existence. I had become the very portrait I once restored, living out a fate I never thought possible.

During a night of pleasure, I heard an inner voice saying, “Let go! Cum and you will forget your former life. You become a complete catamite. Become a pure pleasure toy. Let go!” In a panic, I tried to defend myself, but I could already feel the pressure in my balls. As my balls tensed and I shot my load, I forgot that I had ever been a 40-year-old restorer. Robert whispered into my ear: "Now you're part of the picture for all eternity. Well done, Dorian the catamite!" A smile crossed my lips and I couldn't be happier.

#male tf #male transformation #catamite #servant #personality change #tf by picture #tf by object #age regression #straight to gay

[mosticonicbirdcallbracket]

MOST ICONIC BIRD CALL BRACKET: ROUND TWO: EASTERN WHIP-POOR-WILL vs. COMMON RAVEN

IN THE BLUE CORNER, please welcome to the ring the elusive enigma, the EASTERN WHIP-POOR-WILL!

with its stunning camouflage and haunting call, this bird is a sight and sound to behold - if you can find it. this nocturnal nightjar is named after its unique call, a high-pitched, trilling "whip-poor-will." local new england legends say that the whip-poor-will can capture the souls of the departed. all in all, this is a mysterious competitor with a haunting backstory and a distinctive call. don't miss your chance to witness the power and prowess of this feathered fighter!

IN THE RED CORNER, this mysterious bird from the north will have its opponent singing nevermore. let's give a warm welcome to the COMMON RAVEN!

with its jet black plumage and sharp beak, this bird exudes power and intelligence. known for its ability to imitate sounds and its intelligence, the raven is a formidable foe in the ring. its most common call is a deep, resonant prruk-prruk-prruk that's different from any other corvid. but don't think that's all this bird has in store for you - wild ravens boast a vocabulary of 30 different calls, most of them used for social interaction. this bird is also a devoted partner - if a member of a pair is lost, the raven will reproduce the calls of its lost partner until it returns. this competitor's strategic attacks and clever maneuvers will keep you on the edge of your seat. get ready for a battle of epic proportions as this feathered fighter shows off its skills and takes down the competition!

#birds #ornithology #eastern whippoorwill #eastern whip poor will #common raven #raven #bird calls

[mallardmonster]

Ok so I think Crystal is haunted. Or something. Um.

I got the N64 set up and working, I booted it on and both the console and Stadium 2 worked all fine, everything’s gucci, so I slapped Crystal into the controller to see if it worked anymore. My save was gone, nbd I was expecting that anyway, and I went into the Gameboy Tower and booted up the game, got through the intro etc

And then it starts me in the fucking Goldenrod Department Store

Like idk my first thought was omg it’s a romhack but I’m. On a cartridge. The fucking cartridge I’ve had since I was a kid?? That’s a perfectly legit copy????? So maybe the rom is like fucked somehow and the map connections are fucked or something I don’t know, maybe I spilled water on it at some point and now it’s gonna do the same shit as that rom of Sapphire that had too much water. I kept playing tho like I wanted to see what else I could break if the cartridge is bricked anyway or whatever

Here’s a list of things that are fucked up

All NPCs speak gibberish

There's no music just sound effects

The menu is missing options including the save menu

Goldenrod loops horizontally now???

The gate up north warps me back to the daycare route when entering it, and the gate to Ilex forest warps me into the Goldenrod gate

I can’t enter the underground tunnels, the doors just don’t warp me there

There’s a guy blocking off the radio tower who I can't talk to

No trainers on the daycare route

I have a weird amount of badges??

Some pics I took:

I walked around for a while to see if I could fuck around and break shit when I came across this

So you know. He’s obviously not supposed to be here. So of course I talked to it. And then it got weird

I didn’t get a pic because it closed the first box so fast, but at first it asked if anyone was out here. After that it asked what year it was and gave me this screen

Idk what this menu was supposed to do in the mobile menu but it lets me input numbers so I put the year in. This is what it said after that

It said it needed some time alone and that it’d call me, I guess with the Pokegear, it better be with the Pokegear that doesn't even exist in my start menu because if this thing calls my actual phone and starts beeping chiptunes at me I think I’m gonna go fucking balllistic or some shit. Like this is not normal dialogue idk where it’s coming from or why and I’m like lowkey freaking out about it? I talked to it again and it asked me to not turn off the console, I guess because the battery is dead

I kinda wanted to turn it off but. Idk I think I’m morbidly curious about this. So like if I never post again I probably got mauled by a ghost or something lmao fuck

#pokemon crystal #pokemon gsc #I guess I'll tag this?? #pokemon #idk maybe this is not my original cartridge and it's like a bootleg or something #but I don't know where I could've got it from in that case? #*cocks gun* Crystal's haunted

[aaakikoo]

BEST MATCH

paring -> b. katsuki x f!reader

an -> enjoy the first part, tell me if I missed any warnings.

summary -> your dating life sucks. luckily for you, you have your best friend on your side to help you.

warnings -> cursing, jealousy, crying, getting stood up, breaking up, breakdowns, one suicidal joke, tell me if I missed any!

series m.list - first part

“what the fuck do I do know?” You asked the blond beside you in an annoyed tone. “The fuck do I know? Tell him to fuck off or something.” The boy next to you grumbled back at you.

“Fine, you shithead.” You said as you began typing on your phone.

The blond guy next to you chuckled as he continued to play the game on his phone. The blond is none other than your best friend, Katsuki Bakugou.

You guys were more of enemies during U.A. Both of you really got on each others nerves. What a way to bond.

After all, you two became really close during the third year. And right now you work at his hero agency with your own department, you specialised in planning & health services. Though, when we look at your personal life. It’s not as put together as your social one. Because since U.A you’ve had a terrible history with guys.

You’ve been stood up. You’ve been rejected both nicely & ashamedly. You’ve been pranked. Bet money on, & lusted over. Conclusion, you were fucking terrible.

Luckily for you, you had a shoulder you could cry on. By cry on I mean complain and whine to.

Bakugou had been through it all with you.

He had seen the way you flirt with guys which ends with you in his bed, then kicked out so you’d have to call Bakugou to pick you up. He also had seen the way guys try to chat you up when you’re not interested, so you end up pranking them & hurting their feelings. He had seen the way you’d swing your feet whenever you get a text from that one boy you were crushing at from the coffee shop store. Conclusion, he had been through it all.

“What did he say?” Katsuki asked as he put down his phone, now invested. You rolled your eyes at him. “He said I was mid anyways.” You scoffed. Katsuki started laughing.

“If he thought you were mid why did he ask for your number in the first place?” Katsuki asked as he sat down fully on the bed. “Exactly, that asshole.” You agreed.

After a moment of silence, Bakugou asked. “Soo…?” He told you as he put his arms behind his head. “So what?” You told him as you got up from the bed. “So what now, are you gonna give up on your boyfriend haunt.” He said as he smirked at you.

“I am thinking of doing so, I’ve been looking all over the place for the past years and I haven’t found the right man.” You said as you started walking out the room, Bakugou following behind you.

“That’s because your standards are through the fucking roof, princess.” He smirked as the two of you walked downstairs.

“Whatever, pour me a drink, what about the new guy.” You told him as you sat on the island chair. Bakugou opened his fridge and pulled out apple juice. “What new guy?” He asked as he poured you a drink and passed it to you.

“Can you stop acting so fucking dumb, you know who I am fucking talking about.” You spit angrily as you chugged down the juice.

“Damn, you’re mad today.” He said as he sat down next to you. “Katsuki, just tell me about him, I wanna know if I might have a chance with him, cmooon!!” You whined.

“Fine, idiot. Whatever based off his CV, it says that he’s hardworking, trustworthy & humble. He’s willing to learn new stuff & make friends.” Katsuki said as he also chugged down the Apple juice.

“Wow so fucking cool, tell me about how he looks like,” you said sarcastically, “calm your horses, woman. Haven’t met the man yet.” He told you as he flicked your forehead.

“Tell me when you do.”

“Y/N!” You heard bakugou scream from behind. You turned around to, not greet him, but yell at him. “Don’t you know it’s disrespectful to walk into someone office without knocking?” You asked angrily with arms crossed over your chest.

“Don’t gotta remind you when you walked on me half naked.” He said as he reminded you of the time you opened the door while he was in nothing but a thin towel around his slander waist.

Your face grew red the more you thought about the memory. “Whatever, what the hell do you want?” You said as you pushed your hair out of your face.

“Damn so fucking angry and I was doing you a favour. The new guy is coming soon, if you wanna interview him with me, and some of the other hero’s in this agency then come to the meeting room 4. At 16:00.” He said as he looked at the clock that was hanging on your wall.

“It would be great to have you there ms. Planning & health manager.” He teased you a little as he rubbed the top of your head. He simply walked away before hearing your answer, guessing the answer himself.

As katsuki walked away you began thinking. All those years ever since your second year in U.A, you’ve been so desperate to find yourself a boyfriend only to be humbled in the most awful ways possible.

Is this really who you are? You thought to yourself, so you decided that you would get your professional self during this meeting and won’t let your desires get the best of you.

Your clock ticked 15:55 by now, so you decided to head over to the meeting room, you walked in seeing Bakugou and Kirishima there. You greeted them as you took a seat behind Kirishima.

Soon after all the hero’s, side kicks, secretaries walked in and took a seat before the new guy walked in.

Oh, he was soo…

Tall, sexy hero costume & purple messy hair.

No! You needed to get yourself together. Bakugou looked at you and smirked a little bit.

The guy took his seat before Kirishima announced the beginning of this job interview and asked the following. “Please introduce yourself.”

The guy stood up and said, “good afternoon everyone, my name is Hitoshi Shinsou, & my hero name is Mind Games. I am 24 years old.” Shinsou said as he sat down.

Another woman asked, “hello you Mr. Mind games tells us about your quirk.” Soon after the guy began explaining and everyone around you started taking notes. Of course, except for you. You were to busy staring at him, before Bakugou pushed your foot under the table that made you snap back into real life.

Then Bakugou asked, “why should we hire you Mr. mind games?”

The boring interview went for about 45 minutes before Bakugou announced that he was hired as a Patrolling pro-hero.

After the interview everyone had gotten to their office and packed their stuff to head home. Except for you because you wanted to make a cute impression on shinsou, so you fixed your hair quickly as you went up to him and said.

“Hello Mr. Hitoshi, congratulations on your new job.” You said politely with hands behind your back. The man turned around and said, “hello, Ms.??”

“My hero name is H/N, but you can call me L/N!” You smiled as he returned it.

“Nice to meet you Ms. L/N, and thank you. I’m very happy & excited to work here.” He said. “I’m also very happy for you I hope we get along. This place can be crazy sometimes.” You joked a little.

“No worries, I also hope we can get along, it was nice meeting you. have a nice day.” Shinsou ended the conversation as he picked up his suit case and walked away.

You watched him walk away as if he was the most handsome man on this earth. You would have been drooling by now if it wasn’t for a certain annoying blond.

“Ehm! Y/N, snap out of it you creep.” He said as he walked up to you, all changed from his hero costume to a hoodie and sweats. “Don’t be scaring off my employees.” He told you as he once again snapped your forehead.

“Ouch! Would you quit that? Not my fault he is handsome as fuck.” You said as whined in pain, “whatever you big simp, I’ll be waiting for you in the car, quickly change.”

After you had changed you waved a goodbye to the secretaries as you walked into the garage and hopped into Katsuki’s car. “My place or yours?” He asked. “Drive me to mine today, I’m feeling like sleeping.” You said as you looked outside the window.

After many moments of silence you asked, “katsuki?” You said, “hm?” He hummed back in response, “do you think I might have a chance with shinsou, I don’t know yet if I like his personality based off the 3 minute conversation I had with him, but his appearance is definitely something.” You said.

“To be fair, I don’t know y/n.” Katsuki said as he chucked a little. He stopped in front of your house as he said, “we are here, princess.” As he picked up your left hand and playfully kissed the top of it, “knock it, corny motherfucker.” You laughed as you pulled your hand away.

“Always so bratty.” He said as you looked at him for a second, “what bitch? Get the fuck out of my car.” He yelled, “you’re a bitch, you’re supposed to open the door for me.” You yelled back as he opened the door for you from his seat. He stretched his arm and pulled the handle, which wasn’t what you wanted.

Instead you wanted him to be all Romantic and get out the car for you and open it from the outside, instead you get this. “Bye princess see you tomorrow.” He said as he drove off.

“Good morning, Ms. L/N.” You turned behind you to see the owner of the voice. Only to be shocked. It was none other than shinsou!

“Uh, good morning Mr. Hitoshi” you said back as you took your cup of coffee from the machine. He stood in front of you for a moment before you asked, “how are you today?” You asked, “I’m really good, thank you. I think I made a good impression on Dynamite’s best mate, Red riot.” He said as you chuckled a little bit.

“Aw that’s so good for you! You’re definitely gonna make a good impression on everyone here.” You cheered him a little as you took a sip from your coffee.

You both took a seat in the cafeteria before he asked, “what are you specialised in Ms. L/N?” He asked as he placed his chin on his palm interested to find out. You quickly drank all the left coffee before you said, “health & planning services.”

“That’s really cool, but I have to go back to patrolling with Red Riot, see you during lunch!” He said as he walked away quickly. You got up and headed to your office.

You started working with paper works, and papers that needed to be signed for Bakugou. You worked for hours and hours till someone knocked on your office.

“Enter!” You shouted.

“Missed me, princess?” Bakugou asked as he walked in. “Hell no.” You replied back as he took a seat besides you. “What are you so mean for?” He laughed.

“Not in the mood for your corny comments.” You said as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“What do you want, katsuki?” You asked the guy, “do you wanna have lunch with me?” He asked, you know that lunches with Bakugou are the best, because he would take you to his office and order something good each time.

But you had already told Shinsou that you would see him during lunch?

“Nah, I’ll pass this time.” You said as you handed him bunch of signed paper. “Are you mad at me or something?” He asked as he looked at your confusedly. “No I’m not, but I might see shinsou during lunch today.” You smiled a little before he scoffed.

“Alright, you’re missing out, though.” He said as he walked out.

Now during lunch you fixed your hair a little bit, before applying a tiny bit of lip balm that gave a pink tint before you walked down to the lunch area.

You bought a sandwich and coffee and sat down and waited for him.

Slowly the lunch room began filling up with employees but no sign of shinsou. So you decided to wait a little bit longer.

5, 10, & 15 minutes and no Shinsou. After 20 minutes you got up and threw your paper plate in the trash before Bakugou come down to the lunch room, he is never there.

“What are you doing here?” You asked him, “I came to tell you, that Eijirou and Hitsohi they had lunch in a restaurant after their shift, that if you were looking for Mr. Knight and shining armour.” He laughed a little.

“I wasn’t looking for him.” You lied straight to his face after you had told him that you would be waiting for shinsou.

“Sure now come to my office. I’ll give you a better lunch than whatever you had.”

A couple of days later, you were lying in your bed. Very tried after you had to cover up a shift for Kirishima because he was going to see his sick mom.

You were mindlessly scrolling through your phone until you revived an email.

You quickly opened your email app to see who sent it.

Hello Ms. L/N!

Good afternoon, this is my job email, Mind games.

@mmindgames.hero

Sorry to bother you but I really needed to apologise for that time where I said I might have lunch with you but ended up having it with Red Riot instead.

I’ve got a really bad feeling about it and felt like I needed to do something about it. I have found your Instagram but I figured it would be unprofessional of me to DM you so I just found your job email instead.

Please message me on +xx xxx xx xxx xx, that is my work number.

-Mind games.

Oh. My. God

Your heart starting beating 200km/h.

You almost couldn’t believe what you just read.

You quickly exited the email app and sent a message to the number.

YOU at 20:46 [ hello, Mr. Hitoshi! I’ve received your Email. It was really kind of you! Don’t worry I didn’t mind I ended up having lunch with dynamite! ]

UNKNOWN at 20:47 [ hello, Ms. L/N! That’s really good! You seem really close with dynamite, no? Haha! ]

YOU at 20:48 [ haha, sort of? We’ve been really close friends since high school. He’s just a child in a big body! 😭 ]

HITOSHI at 20:48 [ now I know where to go if he gets mad at me someday. ]

YOU at 20:48 [ haha! 👀 ]

HITOSHI at 20:49 [ may I ask something Ms. L/N? ]

YOU at 20:49 [ sure go ahead! ]

HITOSHI at 20:49 [ would you like to get my personal number? ]

YOU at 20:50 [ yeah? Sure I don’t mind. ] oh you definitely didn’t mind that.

HITOSHI at 20:50 [ cool it is at +xx xxx xx xxx xx, thanks again Ms. L/N! I just feel like I could get to know you better if that’s alright, it’s a great way to start here? ]

YOU at 20:51 [ yeah of course I don’t mind. As long as there are boundaries! And also please drop the formality! You can call me L/N. 😁 ]

HITSOHI at 20:51 [ sure, L/N! You can also call me Hitoshi. ]

YOU at 20:52 [ no worries 👀 ]

HITOSHI at 20:53 [ any plans for tomorrow? It’s Saturday! And for once I actually have a weekend. ]

YOU at 20:53 [ no way same! I feel the same sometimes I end up working even in the weekend, luckily tomorrow I’m also free. Might see dynamite or something, that man is lonely as fuck sometimes. ]

HITSOHI at 20:54 [ great then! would you like to hang out we could go to a fancy restaurant or something. ]

YOU at 20:55 [ hmm? Are you trying to invite me out on a date? 😏 ]

HITOSHI at 20:56 [ I mean I did say I wanted to get to know you better so maybe a friendly date? ]

YOU at 20:57 [ sure, I don’t mind actually. Would you like at 4pm at xxx restaurant? ]

HITOSHI at 20:57 [ sounds good to me! ]

YOU at 20:58 [ alrighty, see ya. Good night. ]

HITOSHI at 20:58 [ good night to you too. ]

When the conversation ended you started kicking your feet on the bed as you got up from it. You took many screenshots of the text message between you and Hitoshi and sent them all to Bakugou.

After a few moments he replied back with.

KATS at 21:00 [ WHO TF YOU CALLING A CHILD IN A BIG BODY? ]

YOU at 21:01 [ you, who else katsuki? ]

KATS at 21:02 [ whatever, I thought we were hanging out tomorrow now that bastard is taking you out on a date? ]

YOU at 21:02 [ too bad, your bitch is gone. I might actually have a chance with a real man like shinsou ]

KATS at 21:03 [ babes, you’ve only known the man for a week. ]

YOU at 21:04 [ there are no rules for love, katsuki. You surely cannot relate. ]

KATS at 21:04 [ sure, good luck with your date. ]

YOU at 21:04 [ thanks, see ya on Monday. Unless I come to yours before and cry to you. Good night kats. ]

KATS at 21:05 [ night ]

The next day you woke up excited at 10 am.

You decided to have a little bit of me time before your date.

You took a bath as you watched Netflix and ate your breakfast, after, you used your most expensive body scrubs and washes that smelled like cherry blossoms.

After you got out you applied your most expensive moisturiser to calm your skin after the shower. After you had gotten out from the shower dressed in a white tshirt and shorts, you opened to laptop and began searching for outfit inspirations.

At 14:00pm you decided it was a good time to put your outfit together. You decided go got with a white fitted dress, along with a pair of white sneaks, to keep your outfit cute but also a little bit casual so it doesn’t seem too much.

As well as golden jewellery that covered your neck, fingers and ears. THE OUTFIT.

You did your hair and make up perfectly, you took some pictures and sent them to Katsuki before he soon called you.

“Hellooo.” You teased him as you pressed your phone to your ear. “Didn’t think you’d be able to pull off a look like that.” He joked.

“Funnnyy, what are you doing.” You asked, “chilling a little. Make sure not to be weird, and don’t drool.” He joked once again.

“Yeah I’ll keep that in mind, anything else, like do you have actual tips you can give me?” You asked.

“Uhh, be yourself but not too much of yourself if that makes sense, and be nice and try to be funny.” He said a little bit unsure.

“Alright thanks kats, wish me luck.” You said as you blew him a kiss and hanged up. You left your house at 15:30 and took a taxi to the restaurant.

You walked in and picked out a table yourself. Soon after he walked in and greeted you, you happily greeted him back.

Compliments were going across as well as questions like “how are you?” & “what’s new?”.

You had told him many stories about you and Bakugou and during your days in U.A, as well as you learned more about shinsou in general and about his childhood.

Flirty comments were also thrown here and there between chats which was really nice. At the end of the night Shinsou had offered you a ride but you thanked him no, as you wished him a good night and a see you on Monday.

When you arrived home you got a text from Shinsou that said, “good night L/n! The date was really fun, we should do this more often.”

You could feel your he at t drop at that. Before another message snapped you back to reality.

KATS at 22:30 [ how was your date? ]

YOU at 22:32 [ you’re so invested in this, arent you? 👀 ]

KATS at 22:32 [ fucking idiot, since you always jump to conclusions, why don’t you jump off a cliff too? ]

YOU at 22:33 [ ouch? that was so fucking far?? ]

KATS at 22:34 [ I was just checking up on your ugly ass. ]

YOU at 22:35 [ the date went extremely well, you have no idea! He even said he wanted to see me again! ]

KATS at 22:35 [ that’s great, huh. ]

YOU at 22:36 [ thank you katsuki, I appreciate your help. ]

KATS at 22:36 [ don’t worry about it princess, good night I’ll see you on Monday alright? ]

YOU at 22:37 [ sure, nightsss ]

On Monday after work, katsuki called you in to his office.

So you were now on your way there. You knocked the door before he told you to come in. To see him all changed from his hero costume to casual clothes.

“What do you what?” You asked a you sat on the sofa in his office.

“So check this out.” Katsuki said as he handed you his phone. It was DM he had received, username is. @gravityyura.

Your mind completely thought of your ex-classmate, ochaco uraraka.

The DM stated.

hii bakugou! long time no see, how are you doing? I’ve heard that your agency is doing really well! I just wanted to say that I really want to see you if that’s possible. text me back, love ocha x

“The fuck?” You said out loud, “exactly what I thought.” Bakugou chuckled. “Since when is she interested in you?” You asked as you tossed him back his phone.

“The fuck do I know I thought she was together with shitty deku.” Bakugou scoffed a little, you know about the little crush he had on Uraraka during his first in U.A, after she stood up again him in the sports festival.

“Actually, Mina told me that shit didn’t go well with them, so they broke up. Also her agency failed miserably, now she is in need of money:” you told him the blond as you crossed your legs.

“Gold fucking digger.” Bakugou cursed.

“I say. You replay to her, tell her if your interested or not.” You told him. “After all, it’s worth a shot and I don’t want you to be single for ever.” You laughed.

“Whatever princess, I’d rather be single than be with round cheeks.” He said as he began packing his stuff.

“You would never drop those names will you?” You asked already knowing the answer.

“Yes.” He said as he picked his black bag and headed down to the garage with you. He gave his secretaries a few nods before heading there by the elevator.

As the two of you sat in the car he once again asked, “mine or yours?”

“Yours actually.” You told him as the blond began driving.

“Alright.”

When you arrived at his house, you got a message.

You sat down on the couch as he began preparing some sort of snacks as you opened your phone.

Your eyes widened at the message.

HITOSHI at 19:04 [ hi L/N! I was wondering if it would be alright with you if I invited you over to my place after work tomorrow? ]

YOU at 19:10 [ hi shinsou! Yeah I don’t mind! ]

SHINSOU at 19:13 [ great see you! 😁]

You smiled a little bit before Bakugou came and sat down next to you.

“What’s this?” He asked, “shinsou invited me other to his house after work.” You said excitedly as you put down your phone.

“Dunno about that princess, doesn’t sound super safe to me. You’ve only known him for two weeks, you don’t know much about him.” He told you as he put a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“You worry too much, kats.” You brushed him off, “he’s good guy.” You assured him, “make sure to give me a call if shit really goes down.” He said as he turned on the tv.

You both heard Bakugou’s phone go off, before he picked it up, he opened his Instagram to see another dm from Uraraka.

left me on read :(, what kind of man are you?

“What the fuck do I reply to this shit?” He asked you as you took a look at the dm, “tell her that you were busy.”

hello, i was busy.

“Like this?” He asked as the boy pressed send.

“You’re so dry, and then tell her if you’re interested in a date or not, I say you go for a date it wouldn’t hurt.” You suggested, not really wanting to make him go on a date with her. You think it’s really selfish of you, but you don’t know why.

“Alright I’ll go for it.”

yes, i also want to see you. next week if it’s possible, Friday?

Moment of silence before Uraraka replied.

SURE! Friday at 7pm?

“Where do you wanna meet her?” You asked him as he began thinking. “Maybe x restaurant.” He said.

Meet me at x restaurant at 7pm, next Friday.

alright see you Baku!

“Ew can’t believe she just said Baku…” he started. “Oh shut it katsuki.”

“Katsuki is going on a daaaaateee! With his high school cruuuuush!” You teased.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP.”

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[starstruckkittensweets]

chapter one

Fandom: My Hero Academia Pairing: Dabi x Reader Words: 6.2k

A/N: The first chapter of my lil Dabi passion project. Partially inspired by "Haunting Adeline" (awesome book but PLEASE heed the warnings in it). The full list of warnings is included in the main masterlist, but individual ones will be posted at the beginning of each chapter. Also this is my first time writing from both Reader and Dabi's perspective, so I hope it's not too bad. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: 18+ only (minors DNI), explicit language, mentions of arson, mentions of violence, stalking, breaking and entering, working in retail (I'm sorry), Reader lives in a cute lil house in the middle of the woods, Reader also has 3 plushies (that all have names, because I'm a dork)

"Kerosene and Butterflies" Masterlist

It’s raining again, for the fourth day in a row. Barely any light to work with at the little workspace you’ve made for yourself at the kitchen table. So instead you rest your hands on your arms, watching the rain patter against the window panes. Pen and paper pushed away and left forgotten on the surface.

Rain always makes you feel nice. Not happy or sad, just nice. Gives you something to look at, the sound mindless enough to put you at ease. Soft and warm, more often than not lulling you to sleep with its voice. It’s hard to explain, but it seems to make sense in your mind.

Your phone lights up on the table with a text. It’s your mother again, sending her weekly check-in text. Even though you’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself and living on your own. But it’s more for her than you; you think it helps her cope with one of her kids living abroad, so far out of her reach.

Well, that’s what enticed you about this house in the first place, but you’ll never tell her that.

With a yawn you grab your phone and send a quick reply. Yes you’re okay, you’re getting enough sleep, you miss her home cooked meals. Call her tomorrow, put her mind at ease. Buy another few days of freedom before the cycle inevitably repeats itself.

When you finish and place your phone back down, you give the paper and pen one last look. Maybe you could try one more time, see if anything comes to mind?

Your chest deflates at the thought. No, the spark is long gone. Try again a different day, get some sleep for now. You need it.

You can almost hear it laughing at you, the uncapped pen lying dangerously close to its blank skin. You’ve been hearing it for the last hour or so, wracking your brain to come up with something, anything. Words, ideas, or even bullet points you can just jot down in your chicken scratch handwriting. Just a sliver of something to get those creative juices flowing.

But your eyelids are already drooping, the rainy weather not helping you one bit. Your brain feels like it’s all dried up, giving you a never-ending headache. Telling you that you’ve already reached your peak; that nothing else you make will ever come close to how you want it to come out.

Oh well. Tomorrow’s another day, right?

But you know damn well you’ll be back to square one tomorrow night, when you get home from work. Staring at that blank page with your head in your hands, praying for the words to come. For the inspiration to strike—to make you feel anything other than this.

At least the paper’s still good, maybe you can use it for a shopping list later in the week. That way it’ll get some good use out of it.

Your job isn’t exactly the flashiest; definitely not what you envisioned yourself doing at twenty-four years old. Working at a dead-end department store in the shady part of town, along with four or five other people—and none of them are close to you in age. But it keeps the bills paid and food in your fridge, so you guess it’s not as bad as it could be. You could do without the annoying entitled customers, though.

At least your shift stretches into the latter half of the day, meaning you only have to deal with them for about four hours, five tops if you end up taking your lunch break late. Then the store closes, the customers are ushered out, and you spend the rest of your time stocking the shelves and getting ready for the next busy day.

Most nights the store’s already empty, with only a handful of customers roaming the aisles. That gives you some extra time to start stocking; you prefer putting stuff back on the shelves rather than ringing on register anyways. Register gets boring and repetitive fast, but working on the floor always gives you something new to do.

“Excuse me, where can I find the laundry detergent?”

“Down the next aisle and to your left, all the way down at number twenty-four.”

“Where’s the soup and all the instant meals?”            

“Right over here actually, on the middle shelf.”

“You have any beer?”

“Last aisle down, all the way to the end. You’ll see the freezer straight ahead.”

Every interaction gives you a rush of excitement, as sad as it sounds. In all honesty, your job isn’t the complete worst. Most customers are fine and even pleasant to deal with, and it always makes you feel good when you’re able to help them find something on their lists. Besides, it tests your knowledge of the store, almost like a matching game; after three years of working in the same place, you pretty much know it like the back of your hand.

Tonight seems like one of those lazy nights, with only a couple customers roaming through the aisles, the lone cashier at the registers looking like he’s about to fall asleep. You’re sorting through the grocery bin at the front (either what customers decided they didn’t want, or items found randomly throughout the store). There’s quite a bit today, must’ve been pretty busy earlier in the day.

It doesn’t take long to put the shelf-ready stuff into a cart and trek down to the grocery section. Most of it is candy anyways, which is in the first couple aisles. One item after another, until you start to see the bottom of the cart.

You step back from the shelf, a handful of candy bars clenched between your fingers, when your back suddenly collides into something—or someone, judging by the grunt they let out.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean that, I should really watch where I’m going, I’m really sorry about that—”

The words die right there on your tongue as you glance up at the person. You can barely see his face behind the dark mask over his mouth and his hood pulled over his hair. But something catches your eye—something dark and heavy beneath his eyes.

He’s got some serious bags under his eyes, poor guy must be working himself to death. Must be a college student, you know how it feels.

Wait a minute…bags?

Your head begins to buzz. You don’t think you’ve ever seen bags bad enough to leave the skin so…wrinkled. Almost like they’re—

But he’s already walking away, his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. Head hanging low and shoulders tense as he disappears down the next aisle.

It’s not until another customer asks you where the hand soap is, that you remember to blink—and breathe. It takes a bit of effort, but you manage to give them the right aisle across the store. But then you’re staring off into space once more, thinking about the strange person in the black hoodie and mask.

Dark patches under his eyes… Could it really be…?

No way, stop thinking like that. You know where your mind is going, don’t you dare entertain the thought.

You shake your head. You’re being ridiculous. It’s getting late, anyway. You didn’t get that much sleep last night to begin with, it’s early to bed when you get home later tonight.

You file the last of the candy in its proper home on the shelf before heading down the main path towards the registers. Pet food, paper goods, detergent, body wash… A couple aisles here and there for every department. You should check and see if there’s any chemicals up front that need to go back on the shelf. Probably the easiest department for you to handle, other than food and appliances—

Your jaw drops when you turn the corner and come face-to-face with the dark stranger from earlier. Staring down at you with those dark eyes—no, the patches are dark, his eyes are actually quite bright, and oh my fucking God they’re blue—

There’s something sticking out of his pocket—the red and white label of a box of Band-Aids. And that’s not the only thing in there, judging by the awkward bulges and pointy corners. Maybe some extra medicine or painkillers.

You glance back up at him. Neither of you make any move to leave.

“…I won’t tell if you won’t.”

The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. All you can think about is how this little corner of the store lacks any functioning security cameras, and how it’s probably only a few dollars, it won’t necessarily put the store out of business if he gets away with it. Just this one time. No one has to know, except the two of you.  

He’s glaring now, probably curling his lip at you from behind the mask. You swallow the growing lump in your throat, your heart throbbing furiously against your ribcage.

“Can…I get you anything else?”

“Fuck off.”

He shoves his way past you, shoulder nearly knocking you on your ass. Your throat runs dry as his words echo in your ears, his voice sending chills down your spine.

You know him, but from where? You know his voice, his looks—but why can’t you remember him?

You glance over your shoulder but he’s already gone, most likely heading towards the exit. Not like you’re gonna stop him.

Still, you can’t get your little encounter out of your mind, even as you try to busy yourself with your work. Not even ten minutes pass by before you grab another box of bandages and a bottle of rubbing alcohol, mumbling to your coworker, “Store use, I’ll claim it out when I get back,” all the while feigning injury as you cradle your wrist against your chest (where a small pack of cotton balls is pressed between your fingers).

The back of the store leads out to the dumpsters in the back alley. A prime spot for smoke breaks, despite smelling like absolute crap. Chalk marks and spray paint decorating the walls, trash bags spilling out of the dumpsters in the corner. You clutch the supplies to your chest, head swinging wildly in search of the stranger.

But there’s no one out there. He’s gone for good this time—and for some reason, you can’t explain the sudden ache in your chest.

You don’t know what makes you leave the bandages and alcohol in the corner of the alley, hidden by the shadow of the dumpsters. Or why there’s a pang in the pit of your stomach, as you remember how bright his blue eyes looked.

Here’s a tip for any aspiring writers out there: get comfortable with constantly going on the internet. Whether it’s looking for an obscure random fact about Victorian houses in the 1800s or learning just how long it takes to recover from a bullet wound in the shoulder, search engines like Google will become your best friend. It won’t always provide the most accurate information, but it’s a start to get the ball rolling.

But this particular search doesn’t stem from a story in your drafts; all you can see are those mysterious blue eyes from the store, and the dark wrinkled patches beneath them.

It doesn’t take long at all to find your answer: a thread of articles and blurry photos of the infamous League of Villains—the same ones that have been terrorizing the country for the past year or so. Casualties, crimes, and even past victims. Every word brings another wave of goosebumps, but you can’t tear your eyes away.

Of course. That’s where you knew him from. Makes sense now.

There’s a handful of people in the photos, each one more terrifying than the last. A young girl with a feral smile, associated with a string of murders involving severe blood loss. A man capable of decaying anything with just a brush of his fingers. And the same stranger you saw in the store, known for over thirty murders and thousands in property damage, all thanks to those dangerous blue flames.

You slam the laptop shut and suppress a shiver. What were you thinking? Acting so casual with a villain—you knew you recognized those eyes somewhere—and oh my God, were you really going to try to meet him outside at the back?

And for what? Some bandages that he’d clearly already stolen? Hell, you’d let him walk away even when you knew he was planning on stealing them!

Hopefully your boss never finds out about that.

You glance out the window of your living room, pulling the lapels of your jacket closer to your chest. The door’s locked, the windows are latched, and the curtains are closed. Nothing out there but the trees and the moon and the gentle rainfall.

Calm down. Why would he come after you? You didn’t do anything to piss him off, did you? So what makes you think he’d try to figure out where you lived? What would he have to gain from that?

Still, you triple check the lock on the door, before moving backwards towards your bedroom. Also clicking the lock into place once you’re safe inside.

A villain. You can’t believe you came across an actual villain.

Villains were a common presence even back home, and you knew before moving abroad there was a possibility you could encounter some of them. But they always kept to the shadows, staying out of the spotlight for as long as they could. Only showing up in cities far away from your own. You’ve never come face to face with one of them, never been so fucking close to one of them before—

You crawl into bed and throw the covers over your head. Trying to focus on the pitter patter of the rain against the windows.

But you can’t get those images out of your mind. No matter how hard you squeeze your eyes shut, or bury your face into the pillow, you can still see his face. Those horrid wrinkled patches beneath his eyes. The same shade of blue as the flames from his palms. The way he looked at you as though you were nothing but a smear of dirt on the bottom of his boot.

He could’ve burned you right then and there.

You don’t fall asleep easily that night.

Despite your paranoia, the next few days go by without any issue. Work, errands, go back home. Your life continues just as it did before you met that crazy villain—and knowing that, you can breathe a little easier when you rest your head on your pillow for the night.

The little pile of medicine and supplies you’d left in the back alley had disappeared the next morning. Someone else had probably picked them up, who could say no to free medical supplies? There’s a slim chance that villain came back and took them for himself.

You know it’s a long shot. And yet there’s still some part of you that clings to it, wondering if he’s still sticking around this part of town.

Come on, what’s wrong with you? Are you really that eager to put your life in danger like that?

The rational part of your brain says no. But there’s another part, a much more vocal part of your brain, that can’t stop thinking about your little encounter. And what you would’ve done if he’d been in that alley that night.

Probably cry your eyes out. Then get killed like the dumbass you are.

Still, no matter what you do or what you try to focus on instead, he keeps coming back to your mind. And you find yourself visiting those damn websites, those stupid forums night after night when you get home from work, speculating just who he might be beneath those painful scars and bright blue flames.

What kind of life did he lead before joining the League? Does he have any regrets about becoming a villain? Does he actually enjoy being on the run like this?

It’s only when you’re lying wide awake in bed at close to two in the morning, still worn out from a long day at work that the more innocent questions start to plague your mind:

What’s his favorite color? Is it blue, or does he actually hate it? When is his birthday? Does he have any friends, either before he became a villain, or anyone in the League? You wonder, what’s his real name?

“Why am I even thinking about this? Not like I’m ever gonna see him again…” And you should be grateful for that.

But there’s still an ache in your chest, an awkward swirl in your stomach, every time you remind yourself of that simple little fact. And you don’t really know what to make of it.

Another hour passes before you push yourself out of bed and right to your desk in the corner. Grabbing one of the little notebooks you’d bought for story notes and ideas, but haven’t really touched in the last few months. Sliding into the seat with a sigh and clicking open one of the many black pens from the drawer at your side. Flicking on the small desk lamp and squinting against the sudden brightness.

It’s not uncommon for the inspiration to hit at ungodly hours of the morning. Honestly, you do your best writing between midnight and six a.m.; the only drawback is being unable to stay awake at work the next day. But at least you have some damn good writing to show for it.

But that hasn’t happened for months now. Not since you moved and started working nights. Now you have to hit the hay almost as soon as you come home, if you want any chance of a normal sleep schedule.

The pen moves on its own. Every breath brings another word on the page. Ink starts to smudge the side of your hand.

They appear in front of you: all the questions circling around in your mind, begging to be answered. The honest, the childish, even questions you think of on the spot. Anything and everything you would ask him if you were ever given the chance.

What are you doing? You should be in bed trying to sleep. Not doing…whatever this is.

You swallow hard as a single word appears before you: Dabi.

And immediately you start to shiver, your cheeks growing warm beneath the scathing looks of the ink and pages.

You’ve always had a strange complex when it comes to writing out people’s names. They’re much easier to speak out in your mind, or even say verbally. But once you write them out, it becomes almost final. It’s different to actually see those letters right in front of you, rather than just imagining them in your mind. Guess it makes everything seem so much more real that way. 

It’s stupid, so fucking stupid.

But you don’t stop, even when your hand begins to cramp. Because this is the first time in almost half a year that you’re actually letting your pen guide you. The first time you truly feel at ease, not even caring about what you’ve written, or even stopping yourself to edit it.

What’s it called, word vomit? It’s therapeutic, but incredibly hard to do sometimes.

It’s not until the sun rises a couple hours later, and you’re half-asleep at your desk. Your arms curled beneath your head, the muscles in your hand throbbing like crazy. But then you see all those words you’ve written, all that ink staining those pristine white pages…

And you can’t help but smile as you drift off to sleep.

The air is stale with the scent of smoke and ash. The city always smells like shit, but it’s usually better on the outskirts. But the burning pile of flesh at the end of the alley begs to differ, and his hands still ache as blue flames lick at his palms.

Another shitty night coming to an end, thank fuck.

Dabi’s been in this damn city for the better part of two weeks now, boss’s orders unfortunately. Scouting for any possible members, new blood they could add to their ranks. But every group is the same; they’re either loud-mouthed fucks with more muscle in their arms than their own damn heads, or they’re practically children, fresh out of school and all set on playing hero. Still thinking this is a fucking game, and that they can stand to take the League out from the inside.

He’s already had one guy try it a couple months back, but he knew better than to go through with it. Can’t say the same for the rest of the dumbasses burning in the alley, though.

Oh, well. No doubt the heroes will find them tomorrow, if they even bother showing up. Not many of them like to venture all the way out here, especially if it means real danger.

He slides a pack of cigs out from his pocket, choosing one and lighting it with the tip of his finger. He’s walked these roads too many times in the last few nights, practically knows them inside and out. And it’s not long before that silly little department store comes into view—the same one that oh-so-generously let him borrow some of their stock last week.

Didn’t even need to use his quirk to make it happen, either.

The double doors slide open, the blaring lights a stark contrast to the shadows of the streets. He barely has time to step back before someone steps out, waving their hand behind them with a smile on their face.

Oh, the same one from that night. He can’t help but smirk at the memory.

It’s a girl—and if her face and height are anything to go by, he’s starting to wonder if she’s even old enough to work at a place like this. Apparently her brain must be impressively small too, with the way she’s walking down the darkened street without a care in the world. One hand fastened on the strap of her purse and the other dangling down at her side, a dark lanyard wrapped around her wrist. She must have a shit-ton of keyrings on them, judging by how hard she swings it back and forth. As if that’s going to protect her if someone tries to jump her.

Fucking dipshit.

He rolls his eyes and takes another long drag of his cigarette. Watching the stupid kid out of the corner of his eye—and nearly dropping the cig altogether when he watches her veer off the sidewalk and head straight for the forest.

What the fuck is she doing? Does she want to get herself killed?

Maybe it’s sheer curiosity—or maybe it’s hoping something out there will pick her off so she’ll learn her lesson—whatever it is, it has his feet moving on their own. Picking up the pace to keep her within his sights, the cigarette barely hanging from his mouth.

Didn’t anyone teach her not to go walking around this late at night? For fuck’s sake it’s nearly one in the morning, does her shift really last that long? What compelled her to take a walk in the goddamn forest of all places? No way she lives all the way out here, she’s probably got a place somewhere in the city. Probably just looking for a cheap thrill so late at night.

Stop it. She’s not your problem to worry about, so quit it already. Just sit back and watch the show.

He follows her down the old trodden path, waiting for her to hit a stray root or trip over a rock and fall flat on her face. But nothing happens, other than a few scuffs of dirt on her ratty old sneakers. Almost like she knows these woods—like the back of her hand.

It’s a struggle to keep his footsteps soft. His boots do nothing to quell the sound of leaves crunching, dirt spraying across the path. Luckily she doesn’t hear, either that or she just doesn’t care.

Where the hell is she heading at this hour?

His answer appears in the form of a house. A pretty shitty-looking one, if he’s being completely honest. Shabby roof, flimsy door, moss creeping over each and every corner. Almost like no one’s bothered to visit the place in the last decade or so—at least.

The girl steps right up to the door, swinging that stupid lanyard at her side. Shuffling around until she finds the right key, before disappearing into the house altogether. A light flickers on in the window, her shadow visible behind the aging curtains.

Fuck him, she does live here.

In the middle of nowhere, secluded from the rest of the world. She’s stupid, isolating herself from all those people in town. Help’s not gonna come if you’re stuck in some random forest, she’s probably better off in the heart of the city. Then again, it must be nice for her. Being able to wake up in the morning without the blaring of sirens in your ears. Tucked away where no one can find you, safe and sound in the comfort of your own quiet home.

He almost envies her. Almost.

The longer he stares at the little mossy house, watching her shadow flit back and forth behind the curtain, the more he starts to wonder what she has inside. Must be stocked on food and medicine; that shit’s hard to come by these days. Might be worth a peek once she’s gone. She’ll probably leave tomorrow night for her shift, right? He’ll slip in then, see if she’s got anything worth his time. Better this random cottage than an apartment in the city, right? From what he can tell there’s not a soul in sight, save for the looming trees and starry sky.

He’s smirking now, slipping back into the shadows of the forest, right beside the old trodden path. She never even sees him.

The house is dark and empty by sundown. The path is easier to walk in the daylight, but he still waits until nightfall before scoping out the house. Just in case she getany bright ideas and decides to return home sooner than she should.

It’s a two-story house, and while the front door’s latched shut, the windows sure aren’t. It slides open with a squeak, like it hasn’t been touched in years. Looks like the kitchen—or a sorry excuse for one, if he’s being honest. A small table with only two chairs, neither of them looking like they’re from the same set. Papers and books and pens litter the surface, with the napkin holder knocked down on its side.

Not that they have a better one back at the base. Hell, they’re lucky enough if they’re able to sit down for most of their meals, if they can get their hands on any.

Which reminds him of his mission, and he’s scanning the room for any possible food. And there, to his left: a crowded counter stacked with boxes of cookies and candy, below a pair of cupboards with even more food stored inside.

Jackpot.

The League’s not picky when it comes to food, anything will do when your stomach’s keeping you up at night. Well, Dabi can’t say the same for himself—he fucking hates fish. He’d much rather deal with an empty stomach rather than scarf down a few meager bites of sushi. Just the thought of it makes him want to puke.

He can’t take too much the first night, that’ll only make her wonder. It’s best to have as little people in this secluded house as possible. So for now he stuffs his pockets with small snacks for the guys back at base…and maybe even a few candy bars for Toga. Last thing that little psycho needs is more sugar in her system, but he’d rather not hear her whine that he didn’t get anything for her when he gets back.

Plus, this girl doesn’t seem to have any pomegranates around (or any fruit or vegetables, for that matter), so candy will have to do.

When both pockets are jammed with food, he takes a step back to survey the rest of the house. At least the inside looks marginally better than the outside, save for the abhorrent dining room. Simple and sweet, even if it’s a little bland in color.

A gray couch with a couple of pillows in bright colorful pillowcases. A side table with one too many remotes on it, along with a paperback that’s definitely seen better days. A kitchen isle with a sink cluttered with dirty dishes, and a single stool resting beneath the opposite end. Not a single house plant in sight, but plenty of photos throughout, some on the wall but most taped on the fridge. Must be friends and family—but so far, he can only see one person living in this house.

How sad, she must be so lonely without anyone else here…

He rolls his eyes and trods up the creaky set of stairs. Might as well take a peek at the rest of the house, right?

The hallways split up into three major bedrooms. One is filled with storage totes and moving boxes, still waiting to be unpacked (though, by the layer of dust on each of them, he’s not thinking any time soon). The other bedroom is filled, and he means filled, with books. Every square inch is either vacated with an old aging shelf or a stack of hardcovers on the floor. It’s messy and cluttered and he slams the door shut as soon as he opens it.

Lives like a fucking slob, doesn’t she?

The final bedroom turns out to be the biggest one of all, and it’s the only one in the house that actually lives up to its name. A dresser, a desk, and surprise, surprise, another fucking bookcase. There’s also a bed with a thousand plushies on the covers, each one more ridiculous than the last. A giraffe, a raccoon, and whatever the fuck that is. Some weird fuzzy brown creature with a large snout and a bitchy expression on its face. Toga probably knows the name of it, but Dabi couldn’t care less.

There’s also a set of double doors that leads out to a little terrace. It looks better than the rest of the house—must be a newer addition—overlooking the forest beyond. Overall it’s a cute little spot to live in.

And still no sign of anyone else living here with her.

He’s smirking now, thinking of all the things he can sneak out of here in the next few nights—when something else catches his eye. A strange outline under the blanket of the bed, in the center of all the damn toys staring back at him.

He has half a mind to burn the little giraffe to a crisp as he reaches in for the mysterious object. And it’s…a book. Fucking shocker.

No, wait—it’s a journal. Only a few pages filled in so far, the ink messy against the bright white pages. It’s the size of his palm, with a black leather cover and a matching black string attached to the spine, probably to act as a bookmark. And sure enough it’s stuck in a certain spot in the book, the entry dated to just a few nights ago.

I want to see him again. I know that sounds wrong, but it’s the truth. I can’t really explain it, no matter how hard I try. Everything that comes out just sounds wrong…but in my head it makes perfect sense.

I know I’m probably screwed in the head for thinking this. For thinking about him like this. Like I could be the one to change him, to be the only one he wouldn’t kill on sight.

No, wait a minute. I was, wasn’t I? We saw each other that night at the store, and he didn’t even try to hurt me.

He can feel his brow inching further up with every word he reads. What the fuck is she talking about? He flips to another random page—

And the answer’s staring him right in the face, in stark black ink.

Dabi

Dabi

Dabi   

Dabi

I want to see him again. Ask him so many questions, the same ones that keep rattling away in my head. Why did you become a villain? Where did you come from? What is your favorite color?

Please, just one more time. We don’t even have to talk to each other. I just wanna see him with my own two eyes. Now that I know he’s real, that he’s the villain everyone’s afraid of. And I know I should be too, and I am…but I think I’m more curious of him. Maybe that just makes me stupid.

Yeah, I’m just stupid.

The words are swimming on the pages, blurring together, screaming in his head so loud he wonders if he’s read them out loud. But no, it’s dead silent in this room, in this house. Just him and this little black book, written in the hand of that little weirdo. The same one that chooses to live in a creepy old house in the middle of the forest, the one that works at a sketchy department store well into the night. The same one that didn’t scream once she saw him—but instead offered to let him go, even when she knew he was stealing.

And for some reason, he can’t hold back the smirk that stretches across his face.

Of all the people in this city, in this whole damn country, he thinks he’s found the one that intrigues him the most.

Poor girl, doesn’t even know what she’s caused. Just mindlessly writing her thoughts down in her diary, hoping no one will ever read what she’s written.

As carefully as he can, he tucks the book back in its place under the covers. As tempting as it is to take it with him, he knows that’ll only cause more suspicion. Still, he wants to leave her a love letter of his own—something that lets her know she’s not alone in her fascination.

So he does.

And a few minutes later he’s climbing out the kitchen window and making the trek through the forest, pockets full with snacks and a shit-eating grin on his face.

You hate Saturday nights. Arguably the busiest night of the week, and yet you’re still so short-staffed the cashiers end up taking the full brunt of the work. Ringing register, sorting supplies, stocking shelves—oh wait, we need you back up front to do register. Wait why aren’t you working on that cart I told you to finish? Excuse me, can you unlock this item for me? Can you help me check out, and only me, these lines are too long for my liking. Why can’t you be in two places at once?

Not that you ever find it fun to come to work…but Saturday nights just make it a little less fun. And once it calms down and the store closes up, you have to make the journey back home half-asleep. It’s a miracle you haven’t woken up in the middle of the forest yet.

Tonight is one of those nights, where you stumble your way back home like you’ve just had one hell of a night at the bar. But no amount of rubbing your eyes or chugging the bottle of soda in your hands will keep you upright. Eventually you see your little house in the distance, and your chest starts to feel a little lighter at the promise of sleep.

You fumble with the keys twice before managing to unlock the door. Latching it shut behind you, you don’t even turn on any lights before heading straight to your room. The dishes and laundry can wait till tomorrow. Right now, all you need is some fucking sleep.

The trio of stuffed animals on your bed greet you when you step into the room. Before coming to live here, your mother insisted you bring along some childhood stuffies with you, just so you wouldn’t get too lonely. And you hate to say it, but she was absolutely right. More often than not do you find yourself cuddling up to them, wondering about your family back home.

You kick off your shoes and drape your jacket over the back of the desk chair. Then you flop face first onto the bed, not even bothering to change into pajamas. You know you’ll be out cold within five minutes, so what’s the point?

“Goodnight, Rascal,” you mumble to the little raccoon, “goodnight, A.J.,” you pet the little giraffe, “and goodnight, Maxwell.” The little capybara toy is your favorite, but you’ll never admit it out loud. (Not when the other two can hear you.)

You roll over onto the bed, but something sharp juts into your side. You groan and force your hand beneath the covers to yank it out—oh, that’s right… you forgot you’d left your little notebook in bed with you. Must’ve fallen asleep while writing in it last night.

But there’s something sticking out of it, something that prevents it from closing all the way. You open it up and a scrap of paper falls out; not a loose page from the book, but a folded-up index card. One that’s got a note of its own written messily on the side.

One that makes the exhaustion all but vanish from your body.

You should keep this book in a safer hiding spot. You never know who might be reading all your little love notes, doll. 

#dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x you #kerosene and butterflies #tw: stalking #restricted fics

[dateamonster]

i love when lesbians are like monsters or living dolls or animal shapeshifters or kitties or puppies or gods or spirits representing aspects of nature or clowns or ghosts from different time periods or sentient haunted buildings and locations or department store mannequins or celestial bodies or demons and the girls theyre possessing or candy or artificial intelligence.. things of that nature.

its like truly we can do it all you know what i mean?

#ungodly screeching

[joz-yyh]

(Guess) What's In the Paper Bag

SUMMARY: Mashita brings the spirit doctor some much needed R&R. (Be advised, this story contains minor SPOILERS for Death Mark 2 up until chapter 5 of the game!) No Beta. Read at your own risk.

PAIRING: Mashita Satoru/Yashiki Kazuo

RATING: M (swearing/ sexual themes)

WORD COUNT: 2,976

READ ON Ao3: -> HERE!!

A/N: My first Death Mark fanfic, so please be gentle! I've been a fan of the games for a long time, but finally stepping out of the shadows to create something for it~ Please consider leaving a kudos if you enjoyed! ^v^/

▪️ Have a look at my Mashita art ➜ Here!

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The infirmary is where he spends most of his time these days, when he's not out chasing spirits, the only place that still feels safe, its bland nondescript walls becoming an all too familiar reprieve.

As the Departed grows stronger, his allies dwindle, the stakes growing exponentially higher. No matter how badly his friend's may want to help him, Yashiki can't stomach the thought of losing a single one. He won't allow their souls to be condemned, chain linked into a horrible fate because he failed to protect them from a vengeful spirit's appetite.

Better they remain absent. At least that meant they were alive.

It is no wonder he's alone then, sat at the steel desk in the corner, toiling over his notes, trying to make sense of the missing pieces.

The empath swivels at the sound of the sliding door being shoved open, not expecting company, greeted with the cat-like eyes of a green-coated authority figure.

A relief spreads throughout the spirit doctor, thin lips curling in a smile at his partner's sudden appearance. Even in hopeless, tight spots like this, Yashiki can always rely on him.

“Mashita,” he breathes, more than happy to see his handsome face.

In his own way, the foul-mouthed gumshoe returns the sentiment, sporting a devilish grin.

“Got time for a coffee break,” the suited detective offers, walking up to him, holding out a styrofoam cup.

Yashiki folds his hands in gratitude, accepting this glimmer of salvation, admiration reflected in his tired eyes.

Rather than use a chair, Mashita hooks a leg onto the edge of the desk his partner is occupying, leaning his weight atop it, watching on as the kujou family head takes a temperate sip.

“Hope you don't mind. It's black.”

His timing is expertly calculated, Yashiki holding the liquid inside his mouth, not wanting to spit it out, but also holding his breath so that he won't taste the bitterness.

The mischievous cop laughs, the other male acting as though he's been betrayed, glass spectacles making the kicked puppy dog look all the more convincing.

“Chill man, it was a joke. I remembered to sweeten it for you.”

Upon hearing this, Yashiki remembers how to breathe again, swallowing down the caffeine with a heavy gulp.

“You're lucky the convenience stores don't charge for that shit or else I'd be broke by now.”

Yashiki thinks unsweetened decaffeinated coffee is a desecration of its holy sanctity, but Mashita sees it the other way round, preferring his without all the added sucralose.

The taller man takes another long sip, the lines under his eyes seemingly less haunted after doing so, a fountain of youth and energy returning to his skin.

Mashita smirks at the change. Funny how a fellow middle aged man needed help taking care of himself, but the detective doesn't mind babysitting too much.

“Donut,” he asks, pulling out a wrapped one from his pocket, chocolate glaze drizzled overtop golden perfection.

He swears, Yashiki's voracious eyes snap towards him even more earnest than before, practically salivating at the mouth, though you'd never guess he was a chocoholic by the calm and neutral tone he uses.

“Sure. Thanks, Mashita.”

With that, he takes the proffered treat, bites into it almost as ravenously as the Departed.

It paid to be a cop sometimes. Forgive the stereotype, but if nothing else, he could provide Yashiki with an endless supply of coffee and confections.

“Where's yours,” the kujou head asks, words muffled, inhaling more pastry.

It takes the detective a moment to realize what Yashiki is really asking is if he's eaten properly himself.

“Don't worry, I already had mine.”

Yashiki accepts this as truth, returning to nibble away at what remains of his donut, the gray-eyed sleuth nursing at his own coffee in the meantime.

He waits until a famished Yashiki is sucking the flakes of sugar from his fingers before moving onto his next question.

“You still have my gun, right?”

The longer haired male clenches his teeth, as if suddenly swallowing something horribly unpalatable.

“Yeah,” Yashiki admits, turning gloomy, “But do you think I really need it? Guns don't usually work on spirits.”

“Maybe not, but I feel better knowing you have it. Plus, there are some pretty nasty humans out there. Just ask Kokkuri.”

Yashiki sighs, having no other choice, but to go along with his plans. “If you say so.”

The room turns silent, Yashiki adopting more of his usual haggard state despite all the effort Mashita was putting in to cheer him up.

“You look tense,” the police detective observes, setting down his drink on the meeting table, slipping off his perch, “let me take care of that for you.”

Yashiki is so adorably naive as Mashita sneaks behind the stool, wedges himself between the spirit doctor and his studious profiling.

Firm hands rub along his neck, the slope of his shoulders, warmth and comfort in every twist of his fingers.

It takes some coaxing, but the bifoculed man let's him slide off the collar of his trenchcoat, Mashita able to massage at his partner's sore muscles more effectively with less layers in the way.

Yashiki hums in his throat, eyes slipping shut, relaxing into his touch, rolling his head back and moaning his approval.

“Been too long, huh,” the detective teases, cracking a smile as such a delicious reaction.

“Mashita,” the spirit doctor gasps, brows and teeth clenched in pain, the man kneading over a particularly tender spot.

“Got it,” his partner says, easing up his technique, working over the stubborn knot until it becomes smooth again.

Yashiki missed this, more than he thought he would. He'd forgotten what it was like, having someone he didn't feel guilty about indulging in soothing his worries away. He settles against the hard body positioned at his back, head feeling cumbersome, laying it to rest against one of Mashita’s long-sleeved arms.

He doesn't know how he survived all those weeks without him, the ex-police detective absorbed in his own grimy casework just as Yashiki had tied up the secrets of the Kujou mansion.

“The Departed is obsessed with you, right?”

Yashiki wonders why the malicious entity is suddenly being brought up, but nods subtly in acknowledgement.

“Do you think they're watching now?”

Just what was he getting at? Why this train of thought? Where was it headed?

Regardless of his motives, there would be no point in lying. Mashita would see right through it.

“Don't know,” Yashiki answers honestly, “I can usually sense when they're near, but the infirmary seems to be a safe haven. At least it did, up until this last case.”

Mashita's hands are on either side of his neck, resting gently beneath the cut of scruff at his chin, leaning down to whisper in his ear, “Won't they be mad when they find out?”

The implications are purposefully vague, but Yashiki deciphers it, one of the few that would be able to.

“We shouldn't provoke it,” the long haired man cautions, grasping for logic through the haze of yearning, “more people could get hurt.”

“Or maybe, the competition will do it some good.”

Yashiki recalls the Departed words, threats made to Ai, Shou and all the rest flashing through his mind in glaring red text.

“It usually targets those who are close to me. You would be the Departed's next prime rib.”

The cocky gumshoe laughs, “Tell ‘em to bring it on.”

He guides the spirit doctor's head back, stealing a kiss, soft and exploratory, relearning the curves of his lips, a new sensation for his memory to treasure.

For as much of a fight as he’s tried to put up (which coincidentally isn't much of one), the spirit doctor melts, pulling the other close, digging nails into short strands of choppy black hair.

“We should wait til after we close the case. It would be safer,” Yashiki reasons, parting them with a wet smack.

Mashita was just the type to jump right into another dangerous situation, even if he didn't have a full scope on the matter, having fallen prey to the supernatural before. But who knows if both of them would survive that long, if they would get another chance like this again, a rational mind making sense of reckless actions.

“Not sure this can wait,” Mashita says, dragging a hand along his lover's chest, eyeing the strain of his erection.

Yashiki chokes on a gasp, hips jerking up into his touch.

“Good to see you've missed me too,” he breathes, clutching at Yashiki’s pecs through the fabric of his shirt.

The look Yashiki is giving him, such wanton need and surrender, begging to forget reality in exchange for a few moments of bliss.

The detective plays with the obscured peak of his nipple, liking the effect it has, the man squirming in his seat, arousal twitching in his pants, looking for freedom of its restraints.

Feeling as though he’s tortured him enough, Mashita slides his hands down, molding it around the egocentric bulge, his friend stifling a moan. Yashiki is burning up, hiding his face inside his partner's jacket, huffing and shaking, a testament to how turned on he is.

“C’mon, you need to help me with this,” Mashita teases, tugging at the zipper to the Kujou's pants, needing to be careful in peeling it off him, needy as he is.

“Your sleeve will get dirty,” Yashiki weakly protests, always looking out for his companions' well being.

They're not exactly in a private space. This was still a school after all. Anyone could walk in and realize what they're doing in an instant, but it was late, the curtains drawn, most of their clothes still on. It should be fine. They’ll be quick.

“S'alright, I'll just roll it up,” Mashita chuckles, pulling away to do just that.

Yashiki takes the opportunity to unbutton his fly, fumbling and impatient, catching his erection on one of the metal sprigs, but he hardly cares. It’s only a few seconds, but he can’t wait for Mashita to return, instead taking his weeping erection in hand, stroking himself in desperation.

“Hey, that’s my job,” the police officer chides, a pale hand molding over his, stopping his pursuits, insisting to take over for him. The spirit doctor relents, giving up control, letting the other man squeeze him, inexplicably tight.

Mashita marvels at how hard he is, how wet.

“God Yashiki, why didn’t you tell me it was this bad?”

The bifoculed man simply groans, words too hard to articulate, bucking into his partner’s stern grip, pleading with him to move.

A part of Mashita wants to draw this out, level such juvenile, harebrained passion into something more long lasting and ripe, but how can he, when Yashiki wants him this much?

With this thought in mind, the detective mimics his friend's breakneck pace, indulges the spirit doctor’s desires with swift, repetitive pumps, the swollen head pink and round like ichigo daifuku.

Yashiki’s nails return to scratch at his skin, leaving marks, grasping for purchase, muscles going taunt, signaling the rapid approach of his peak.

“Nnn, Ma … Mashita,” Yaskihi’s cries, legs flinching, rippling with aftershocks.

Cum spurts from his gaping slit, gushing in heavy clumps over the policeman’s meticulous fingers, the dark-haired medium heaving to catch his breath, fingers flexing around whatever material is within his reach.

Mashita feels chills crawl up his spine, goosebumps spreading across his skin, heat in his cheeks. Shit, this has gotten him riled up too.

He attempts to slide his soiled hand down Yashiki’s shaft, the man spasming from how sore the abrasive treatment has left him until the detective finally lets go, guiding his hand up to his lips, disposing of the evidence with his tongue.

“Hey Yashiki,” he drawls, mulling over the flavor, “you taste like sour plum sake.”

The empath can’t help laughing at such absurd comments, already feeling much better despite how depraved he must look.

If only Sakimoto could see him now, legs parted open before a man’s caress, perhaps she would be relieved to see his true inclinations, though, this wasn’t a good look for a teacher, participating in lewd activities after hours, on school grounds.

Mashita finds a box of tissues nearby, cleans what remains of the sticky substance on his hand, before tossing it in the waste bin. Similarly, he offers the same courtesy to Yashiki, the older male taking a tissue of his own, tidying himself up as well.

Mission accomplished, the detective turns towards the exit, about to head out.

“Wait, what about you,” Yashiki says, reaching out to grasp at the younger man's belt buckle.

The cop dodges his hand, taking a step back, only his jacket tails grazing the pads of his slender fingers.

“I'll take care of it later,” he growls, practically feral, “I was just trying to help you relax. You’re always too stressed out.”

Yashiki seems unsatisfied with that, tucking himself back inside his trousers, zipping them closed before rising from his chair.

“No way. Come here,” the lecherous teacher asserts, yanking the shorter male to him, reeling him in by his striped necktie.

“H-hey–!”

Mashita is unbalanced, suddenly reminded of how much taller the bearded man is, Yashiki pulling him in for a kiss that is so sweet it makes his teeth ache.

He wasn't expecting anything in return, really he wasn’t, but it's just like Yashiki to give back, to put more effort in than what he receives. Mashita can’t deny he wants this too, but after all the laborious trouble he put in to give the spirit medium a break, he’s going to go and exhaust himself again if he allows their debauchery to continue.

“Satoru…” the detective stutters, losing his cool, “... hey, this is bad. Don't push yourself so much.”

Yashiki doesn't hear him, he's too absorbed in assaulting his mouth, giving it his all. Mashita’s completely weak to his lover’s tongue, adding his own, letting an amorous Yashiki assume control while he struggles to keep up.

The detective can't keep his footing, the older male steering him around by the lapels, backing him into the medical supply cabinet, pinning him flat against it.

“Fuck,” Mashita snarls, listening to the contents of the cabinet clatter around inside, “why you gotta be so … so damn persistent.”

For a creepy bastard, he looks too sexy and too confident, a dark gaze boring holes into his, so deep and fathomless like licorice candy.

“It's your spirit power,” Yashiki pants, raking hungry eyes over him, “I felt it pulse just now.”

“Really,” Mashita taunts, raising a fine brow, “My spirit is telling you to do all this?”

It was common knowledge that Mashita was more of the dexterous type, offering both insight and strength, his spiritual prowess wimpy by comparison, practically non-existent. The dabbling of the occult and sensitivity to spiritual attunement was more of Yashiki’s expertise, though he doubts his own measly affinity could cast such a lustful charm over one with his partner’s ancestry.

“Hmm,” Yashiki affirms, leaving off his grip, hands slipping down his lover’s coat, knees hitting the floor and it’s pretty obvious what he intends to do from there.

“Not just yours. Mine too,” Yashiki hums, embarrassment made evident only by the blush on his cheeks, nosing around the ex-cop’s concealed erection.

Mashita looks away, closing his eyes as his fingers slip across the sleek glass behind his back, feeling weak and powerless to the Kujou's seduction.

With a smug little, “hm,” the spirit doctor smiles against his crotch, glad his partner has finally decided to cooperate, fingers gliding down his trousers to undo his zipper.

When the spirit hunter pulls him out of his pants, the detective gasps, bowing forward, biting his lip to keep quiet. One hand grips him around the base, the other around his trembling thigh, a hot tongue coming to lave against his aching tip.

Yashiki is too eager, and Mashita can’t hold back his stifled sobs, tears welling in his eyes because it feels too good. The ex-cop tugs at his partner's ebony locks of hair, shaking with want while his partner seems completely at ease, immune.

“Ah, damn, that mouth of yours, hate how good it is,” Mashita huffs, cynical, as he bangs his head against the cabinet for some clarity, “No wonder all these spirits want a piece of you.”

Yashiki responds by continuing his salacious torment, taking his sweet time, completely ironic with how much of a hurry he was in for Mashita to jerk him off earlier. The spirit doctor removes his hand, relocating it to Mashita’s other thigh, clinging to his pant legs, taking more of him into his mouth, licking him down, into his throat.

“You’re mine though, don't forget that,” the younger of the two grumbles, watching as his length disappears inside a thin pair of lithe lips, his partner sucking his cock like it’s the most demure act ever known to man.

He hasn’t necessarily been neglecting his own needs, he pleasures himself every now and then, but this scandalous teacher has him cumming in minutes regardless of his personal maintenance.

“Ahh, dammit,” he moans, head knocking against the cabinet doors again, “Yashiki.”

The occultist is drinking him down, hot tongue guiding his release along the underside of his length with a string of long, languid licks. Mashita swears he blacks out for a few seconds, Yashiki already standing while the detective is still recovering, never seeming to catch his breath or his balance.

Somehow, they’ve managed a 180, a complete reversal of their physical and mental conditions of when he first arrived, Mashita feeling ragged and sapped, while the other seems a spry buddah of calm.

As he watches Yashiki rearrange his clothes, dress them both back up properly, Mashita can’t shake the nagging thought that his partner might be a lethal incubus in disguise.

#my writing #death mark #death mark 2 #yashita #satoru mashita #kazuo yashiki #spirit hunter #spirit hunter death mark #shiin #yashiki #mashita #shibito magire

[morbidology]

Patrick Purdy's name may not resonate with the same notoriety as Adam Lanza, the perpetrator of the devastating "Sandy Hook Massacre," but his rampage at Cleveland Elementary School in Stockton, California, left an indelible mark on the community.

Born in Tacoma, Washington in 1964, Purdy's troubled upbringing set the stage for the violent act he would commit years later. The seeds of instability were sown early in Purdy's life when his parents' relationship deteriorated to the point where his father threatened his mother with a firearm, leading to their divorce when Purdy was just two years old. 

Growing up, he turned to alcohol as a coping mechanism, leading to conflicts that culminated in his expulsion from his mother's home. For months, Purdy experienced the harsh reality of homelessness until he found temporary refuge in foster care. Eventually, he was adopted into a family, but the allure of escapism through substance abuse persisted.

The tragic death of his father in a traffic accident when Purdy was 17 exacerbated his emotional turmoil. He accused his mother of pilfering the money left behind for him, further fueling his sense of betrayal. Throughout his adolescence, he found himself entangled with law enforcement, primarily due to his drug addiction. Struggling to finance his habit, he resorted to engaging in sex work and was frequently arrested for various offenses, from drug dealing to robbery. 

During one particularly dark period, Purdy attempted to take his own life, and upon his release from the hospital, he received a diagnosis of "mental retardation." In 1987, he delved into white supremacist literature, expressing discontentment with the significant Asian population in his vicinity, as well as at San Joaquin Delta College, where he pursued welding classes. Although Purdy's friends would later describe him as suicidal, they emphasized that he never exhibited overt violence.

Purdy's apartment in Stockton became a peculiar enclave filled with toy soldiers, reflective of his idiosyncrasies. While his inner turmoil and sense of failure were apparent, there were no overt signs of the tragedy that lay ahead. On January 17, 1989, an anonymous caller contacted the Stockton Police Department, forewarning them of an imminent attack targeting the young students of Cleveland Elementary School, Purdy's former school. Despite this alarming tip, classes proceeded as scheduled, oblivious to the impending tragedy.

Around noon, Purdy parked his car behind the school, packed with fireworks that he promptly ignited, causing an explosive blast. He proceeded to the school playground, armed with a semi-automatic rifle, indiscriminately firing upon the unsuspecting victims. Within a brief span of three minutes, he discharged 106 rounds, claiming the lives of five children and leaving another 30 injured. The majority of the deceased and wounded were of Cambodian or Vietnamese descent, children of immigrant parents in search of a better life in America. Following the carnage, Purdy turned the gun on himself, ending his own life.

The ghastly massacre left a haunting question echoing through the nation: How could a troubled individual like Purdy, with an extensive history of instability, effortlessly acquire an AK-47 from a firearms store without arousing suspicion? The sole purpose of such weapons is to cause harm and end human life. The shock and outrage following the tragedy prompted legislative action, resulting in the passage of the Roberti-Roos Assault Weapons Control Act of 1989, marking a pivotal step towards banning assault weapons in California.

#patrick purdy #true crime #mass murder #school shooting