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ellavatorz · 1 year

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Fear Me || c.b. x reader

prompt: Colby is there for you when the Stanley hotel becomes too much.

tw/cw: violence, angst-y(?), mainly cute protective colby.

photo is not mine, found on Pinterest

a/n: this is for @tealeyewonder, ty for requesting this! it was fun to write & I hope you enjoy <3

It wasn’t long after you all had arrived that shit began to happen. In fact, it took exactly five minutes into filming for Amanda, Mackie and yourself to begin hesitating in proceeding with the investigation.

The guys—per usual—begged for you all to stick around just “a little longer!” And so here you five were; vibrating with adrenaline and high off of the aura that the hotel room reeked in.

“Colbs, I’m serious. Are you sure we should continue?” you and colby are isolated from the others, pressed against the entrance, just outside of the shared—and one of the infamously haunted—room 428.

He reaches a hand into your hair and tugs a lock behind your ear, breaking the silence with a gentle and monosyllabic “it’s fine.”

With an eye roll, you shovel your hands into the depths of your jacket’s pockets and drill your gaze into him. Seemingly prepared for your rebuke, Colby proceeds with a cautionary voice.

“I promise I won’t let anything happen to you, okay? It’ll just be for a few more hours and then if you really want to, we can find another hotel nearby and book it. Free of ghosts, alright?”

Sighing in defeat, you settle for his reassurance and choose to remain as calm as you can for the rest of the night in the hotel—albeit still littered with deafening ghost trails and paranormal activity.

Colby’s voice resonates around the room as he recites an excerpt from some sort of yelp review left by previous guests of the hotel. The girls and yourself huddle together in front of where he sits on the mattress, watching and listening intently.

“It’s said for a male entity to lean over female guests and..” he quirks a brow and chuckles before continuing, “tries to kiss them.”

“What?” You blurt, eyes enlarging in size before the other two girls are laughing. “Naughty ghosts!” You say jokingly.

“Maybe we should dress up as girls tonight?” Colby jokes, and you all begin to feel the air purify it’s way into peace as you continue.

Suddenly, you all decide to move toward the lone, dark and eerie corners of the Hotel, the staircase which is known for its Vortex.

There, Amanda retells a memory of having imagined an entity following Colby around. Shocked, you latch onto his arm and give him a shake.

“Shit, you’re gonna attract all the ghosts tonight!”

His face replicates mortification as the rest of you laugh cheerfully, silently wishing for the idea of your boyfriend having an attachment to fall through.

“There’s definitely someone here already but I can’t make out who it is exactly. They keep hiding behind the handrails.” Amanda states, pointing at the solid fixture just behind you and Colby. Mackey agrees with a hum and drags her gaze elsewhere.

“It feels.. strange.” You murmur, looking at yourself in the reflection of the mirrors. Colby appears behind you, circling your waist with his arms and smiling contently.

“Oh definitely, but look at how cute we look!”

“Colby.” You smack at his shoulder. “Really?”

“What? It’s true.”

“Alright I say we move back to the room and get some footage of the rem pod.” Sam appears from behind you two and the group agrees.

“Great,” colby says after he’s finished setting up the equipment. “Again, if anything comes and touches this device it’ll light up and make a bunch of noise.”

You all nod in understanding, deciding to stand a good distance away from the footing of the bed where the device lies. Instantly, the REM Pod goes off, the red light shining along with it.

“Hello?” Sam greets, mouth wide open in shock. “Do you recognize us? We’ve been here before..”

“Nah, he only cares about girls, man!” Colby jokes, though the device begins sounding off. The girls and yourself move back, stunned at the reaction.

“Holy shit, did it just agree with what you said?” You look over to Colby in surprise. He nods, just as startled as you.

“Do you like girls? Kissing them?” You ask, biting your lip in anxiousness.

The device goes off.

“Do you like us being here?” Amanda asks.

It’s silent.

The five of you share a look before Sam continues. “Can you do something to show us who you are? Are you Flora?”

You room stills, air suddenly thickening with something akin to a suffocating material being held against your face. You blanch are the feeling, trying your best to shake it off until there’s a bang just inches behind you.

The five of you turn in fear and you immediately dart to Colby’s side, feeling an intense amount of pressure in your head. “Okay guys, my head is seriously killing me.”

Mackie gasps, pointing a finger in your direction while moving closer to you. Colby wraps an arm around your middle, turning you to face him as he analyzes your features.

“Your nose is bleeding,” he notes aloud and you frown. “Are you okay?”

“No I just—I don’t know? I felt weird and then the noise happened.” You explain, holding a napkin to your nose that Mackie had gotten for you. Sam brings the camera close to your face, to which you scowl at.

“Dude, give me space will you?” You mutter and Sam apologizes, moving away and pointing the camera towards the other girls instead.

Colby worries his lip, chewing at the skin with a drive to settle his concern. You pat his shoulder, reassuring him that you’re fine.

The series of questions continue but still, your headache worsens and the air doesn’t feel any lighter.

“Did you follow us from somewhere else?” Sam questions. There’s a pregnant pause before the device begins going off. You make eye contact with Amanda as she steps forward to shut off the device.

“That’s enough,” she states firmly, eyeing the duo before requesting the cameras to be turned off. Sam agrees begrudgingly, moving to sit on the edge of the mattress along with Colby and Mackie. You and Amanda stand close, her hand wrapping around your wrist protectively.

“I don’t feel safe here anymore. I think we should take a break.” She says and Colby tilts his head, brows furrowed.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“There’s something here and I don’t want to talk about it.” Amanda huffs, looking towards the door. You distribute your weight from one foot to another anxiously.

“Maybe we could come back later? Let’s just take a breather outside—“

“Y/N, what’s on your arm?” Sam ponders and reaches to bring you closer to the flashlight.

You look down and notice a slew of thinly sourced abrasions on your forearm. “What the hell?”

“This isn’t right, we have to go.” Amanda urges, to which you all hurriedly concur, rushing for escape.

It’s when you’re one foot out of the door that you’re suddenly shoved and sent crashing into Colby’s back. Being the last one out, you physically startle and feel your hands beginning to tremble.

“I just—it just pushed me,” you stammer, eyes darting behind you to where the door to the room is shut. Amanda pulls you in close and recites a quick prayer before pulling you into her embrace.

After everything that had happened to you, Colby had had enough. His body began to boil with a protective instinct as he rushed back into the room, heart slamming against his chest.

“I dont care who you are or what you are, but you have no right to touch us. I didn’t give you permission and you sure as fucking hell don’t deserve it. You can’t follow us home and you better not follow us to any other location either.” He sneered, voicing his thoughts aloud to a visibly empty room.

“Colby,” Sam tries, placing a hand on his shoulder in attempt to pull him out, only to be shaken off and ignored when Colby continues.

“You could’ve touched me, hurt me, or whatever the fuck— but you touched Y/N and that’s where I draw the line. Get your disgusting ghoul fucking hands off of them and don’t ever touch them again.”

Staggering back with a winded breath, Colby returns to your side and holds you tightly between his arms. You reciprocate the action and try to smile, though it comes out as more of a lopsided grin.

“Thank you, colby.” You manage to utter from where he holds you against his chest. He sighs, clearly affected by your experience. You nudge him off gently before pulling him along with the rest of the group; moving to the entrance of the hotel without hesitation and making a beeline to the car.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you,” Colby murmurs once you’ve all packed into Sam’s rented vehicle. You and Colby sit thigh to thigh in the farthest pair of seats. “I promised I would.”

“Colby, it isn’t your fault. Amanda didn’t even know what it was, so seriously.. you couldn’t have known that was going to happen.” You ease his worry with a hand to his leg, rubbing miscellaneous shapes into the fabric of his jeans.

“I just wish it didn’t happen that way. I wanted this to be fun for you. And.. and I was hoping we could’ve had a small investigation together at some point in the night.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d guess this was Colby’s attempt at convincing you that he’s fine. However, you know him all too well to know that his facade is weakening with every thought that washes through him. The pout in his voice is nearly visible before you’re leaning in to place a kiss to his cheek. Pulling his gaze to you by gripping his chin gently, you smile at him.

The soft look he shares with you is enough for you to see just how much love he holds for you in the blue ocean of his eyes. Inviting yourself to dive into him, you lean your head against his shoulder and pull his arm closer.

“You don’t always have to be the hero, Colby. I know you love and care about me, but there’s always going to be things that you just can’t protect me from.” You say, and feel his weight drop to comfort. Smiling to yourself, you squeeze his hand.

“I love you, and thank you for bringing me along today. Despite it all, I enjoyed my time spent hunting ghosts.. just.. maybe next time we won’t visit a spirit who seems to have it out for girls who are taken, hm?”

At that, Colby chuckles. His fingers intertwine with yours impossibly tighter and he leans down to kiss the crown of your head.

“I love you too. And I promise I won’t put you in any more danger. No more mean grumpy ghosts. Maybe just the creepy kid ones.”

“Sick, no.” Sam calls from the front of the car, and you all laugh.

#colby brock fanfic #colby brock imagine #colby brock x reader #colby brock #colby brock blurb #colby brock x you #sam and colby

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bartxnhood · 1 year

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another life | c.b

colby brock x fem!ghost!reader

summary: on a certain investigation, colby finds himself oddly intrigued by the mystery surrounding your passing. so, he tries his best to help you move on.

warnings: sadness, angst, murder, bittersweet ending.

a/n: hi loves ! long time no see ! i haven’t been writing like i usually do, to lack of inspiration and motivation. i hope this can make up for it. also my first time writing for colby, so i hope i did okay ! if you’d like to see more let me know !! also this was slightly inspired by corpse bride especially the scene at the end. iykyk. enjoy <3 feedback is appreciated !

requests open

not proofread

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the thought of the idea of something after life always intrigued you. what happened to someone after passing? or did your life begin again after death? but after passing, you were hit with the reality that you’d be bound to the house you died in; and living the same thing almost every single time.

after a couple years the constant investigation it was getting very annoying. at first, you’d interact the best you could but when they’d take it too far and taunt you, you’d slowly begin to stop giving them what they want. they’d always seem to be disappointed and often left not believing. you’ve come to understand the why humans think, trying to prove the existence of the after life. you know if someone truly believed they wouldn’t be so aggressive.

no one had toured the house in what felt like a long time. on one night in particular you heard commotion outside, so, you peeked out the curtains seeing a group of people, around your age. they all took a step back and panned what you had come to recognize as a camera towards the house. your eyes caught a blonde girl as she scanned the windows but her eyes landed on you.

as the sam panned the camera on the victorian era home, amanda noticed you. her eyes locking with yours before you vanished into the blackness behind you. she thought about mentioning your presence but she decided to wait until they were inside.

they were greeted with a guild which you were also familiar with. they had stopped in first two rooms downstairs before coming up to the third floor.

the guide lead them up the spiral staircase into the mist anticipated room of the night. your bedroom.

“now, you may notice the energy shifting in this room, it’s much darker and heavier.” she started “the mystery surrounding y/ns death is still pretty much unsolved” she stood at the foot of your bed. “people suspect she died of a broken heart, but there is also a theory that she was murdered by her sister to get with her fiancé” you stood in the corner behind her, she stepped to the side showing a photograph of the man. sam zoomed in on the photo while the guide continued to give misleading details about your story. “most people don’t believe this story to be true as there is no evidence of a murder happening. so, we may never know.”

amanda pipes up, “is she known to be active?.” the guide shakes her head, “when we first opened for investigations she was our most popular ghost and was the most active one but eventually she just stopped. so, people would often leave disappointed. some people would try to taunt her, but it only made her not want to interact anymore.”

the group nodded. “y/n, if you’re here we want you to know we aren’t here to harm you, we’d love to talk to you more tonight if you’re down.” colby said, looking around the room, hoping you’d be listening. “lets check out the rest of the house shall we?” sam asked and they all nodded.

you watched as the group returned to your bedroom, setting up the camera before going over their last investigation.

“the energy is so different from the rest of the house.” nate started, filing in behind the blonde boy. “i feel just this heaviness on my chest. like i could cry” he added. colby nodded in agreement, “yeah, i feel like that earlier. it’s very overwhelming.”

if you still had a heart you knew it would ache, watching colby, the taller and darker headed man walk around in your bedroom admiring what used to be yours. you watched the man who reminded you of the man who you once loved with all of your heart.

“the guide said everything here is all original to y/n, correct?” sam nodded, reaching into his bag for the two flashlights. “yes, everything here is the same as it was when she was alive.”

your felt especially sad, spectating these people in your area, saying everything they could but you were still stuck in silence.

you knew the blonde girl could see you but it had been so long since someone could see you, you were afraid. ironically. “she’s sad”

amanda stood across from you, “she wants to communicate with us but doesn’t know how. she feels lonely.”

“so these are flashlights, i will sit these on the dresser and basically you can use your energy to turn these on and off for yes and no.”

you moved from your bed to the dresser and tried out the flashlight. it took a few seconds but you eventually got it on, it took more energy than you thought. “she’s here!” nate chirped.

“y/n if this is you can you turn off the flashlight?” sam asked, you began dimming the light and eventually it turned off. “y/n, you’re free to use our energy if it helps you communicate.”

once again, you turn the flashlight on again, but a tad quicker this time. colby grins, “this is crazy. okay, y/n. i’m colby, this sam, nate, and that’s amanda.” he introduced everyone. “we want you to know we don’t want to force you or push you into anything. we just want to know who you were.” the one you came to know as nate said.

“how about we move to the bed?” nate added, for a change of pace.

now colby was lying on what was previously your bed and carefully you laid next to him. “holy shit dude” he looked at nagw. “what?” sam said, who was filming. “swear to god i just felt the side of the bed dip like she is laying next to me” “holy shit, for real?” he asked, couldn’t nodded. “yes.” he then paused, “y/n are you laying next to colby?” the four looked at the flashlights now on the bedside table.

you turned it on. then off

“y/n, would you like to talk to us?”

you turned it back on signaling you wanted to talk more

“okay, we’re going to pull out a spirit box and you can talk through it using the channels.”

“hi” you started the session with. finally feeling relieved being able to finally talk.

nate asked “y/n, are you lonely?”

“yes” “very”

“do you miss interaction?”

“of course.”

“y/n, how do you feel about us being here?” amanda questioned.

“happy.” “comfort”

“do you mean you feel comforted?”

“yes.”

“y/n, did you die from a broken heart?”

it fell silent for a few seconds, you begin reliving that night. “no.” you answered.

“we’re you murdered by your sister?”

“yes.”

sam and nate shared glances them looked back at colby.

“we’re sorry that happened, y/n. you seem like you were very sweet and to be surrounded by all of this sadness is very overwhelming. i cant imagine how you must feel.” amanda could feel the pain radiating from your energy.

“thank you, amanda.” you said, knowing if you could you would be crying.

“are you trapped here?” sam stood up from behind nate.

“i don’t know”

“have you tried leaving?”

“no”

nate hummed, “maybe she feels the need to stay here, like it’s her duty? she doesn’t have anyone waiting for her so maybe she just needs the okay for her to move on” he conspired, the rest hummed in agreement. “that could be a big possibility” colby says.

“yes” you answered from the spirit box, they all shot up to look at each other “yes!” sam repeated your answer throwing his hands onto his head. “wow, that’s a lot” nate added, laughing after.

“amanda and nate, do you guys wanna take the basement? i’ll take the second floor and colby can stay here?” sam suggested and everyone else agreed.

the rest of the group left, leaving you alone with colby and a few pieces of equipment.

“y/n, looks like it’s just us.” he announced, closing he door.

the flashlights were left on the bedsides and he walked over to your bed. “is it okay if it sit on your bed?” you turned on the flashlight closer to him, answering his question. he sat down and laid the spirit box next to him letting it run through channels. you suddenly came through the box “hi. colby.”

“hi, y/n” he smiled, glancing to the camera to make sure it was still recording. “i know you like to touch people, so feel free to touch me or use my energy if you want to talk more. we aren’t here to harm you.”

you smiled, answering. “thank you.” you carefully sat next to him, not wanting to startle him like last time. but, he still noticed. “holy shit. i just felt the bed sink next to me.” he talked to the camera, he took a deep breathe calming himself. “this is insane” he added. there was a few seconds of silence. you took this opportunity to finally to physical interaction. hesitating, you rested your hand on his which was laying on his knee.

colby froze, a huge wave of emotions flooded his mind. his heart began to ache feeling your sadness. his hand was ice cold, “is this you, y/n? are you touching my hand?” for just a moment, if he had closed his eyes and focused enough, he could picture you sitting next to him. though you didn’t answer, you only sat there still holding his hand.

“this is insane guys. i’ve never feel like this before” the camera, which was in his other hand was now panning to his hand. “my hand is freezing. i feel so many emotions right now.” he said, taking in a deep breath. “i’ve never felt like this before” he explained. you admired him, his kind soul, his gentle presence and peace of mind. “thank you, colby” you used the last bit of your energy you had so he could hear your voice.

he shot up from the bed and dropped the camera on the nightstand. “oh my fucking god” he mumbled, now pacing back and forth. “guys i don’t know if the camera caught that but i swear to god i just heard a voice” he ran his hands through his hair, feeling tears welling in his eyes. “holy shit guys.” he walked back and picked up the camera, documenting his tears. “that’s insane.”

you kind of felt bad, not expecting someone to cry so suddenly. “i’m sorry” you spoke from the spirit box. “no, no don’t be sorry. that was amazing. thank you for that y/n.”

the sound of an alarm went off and colby checked his phone which meant the group would return to colby.

colby was still emotional when the rest of the group returned, sam was the first one to see him. “dude? what happened?!” he asked. “you’re never going to believe this sam”. colby started but didn’t tell the story until amanda and nate came back.

colby turned the camera off before rewinding to the part you spoke in and there it was, clear as day. your voice. something you hadn’t heard in many years. “dude!” “bro!” “oh my god!” the othe three exclaimed. “that’s actually insane, colby. no wonder you’re tore up” amanda added.

“i’ve never felt like this before. just the pure wave of hurt, pain, loneliness, and sadness is just overwhelming. i cant even put into words how it made me feel. and after i heard her voice, knowing she is here is just so insane. that was an amazing experience”. sam agreed, keeping focus on colby as he spoke.

colby added “so, thank you, y/n for talking with us and sharing your story. you seem to be a wonderful soul and you deserve so much more than being trapped in this house. i want you to know that it’s okay to move on now, you can be at peace. the world will know your story now.” he wiped his eyes, now coming down from the overwhelming emotions.

you smiled, standing in front of the group. the sudden feeling of warmth and comfort surrounded your spirit. turned you head to look at amanda, “thank you”. you closed your eyes.

“she said thank you.” the blonde said, she also now felt emotional watching you find peace.

closing your eyes you fell your body being surrounded by light, and your soul was now at peace. you were able to move on now, all thanks to colby.

#colby brock #colby brock x y/n #colby brock x reader #colby brock x you #colby brock imagine #colby brock fanfic #colby brock fic #colby brock fluff #colby brock angst

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rootsofdread · 1 year

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PLSSSS All the things you write are so unbelievably cute, tysm for existingggg

If you don't mind me sending in another request, could write something about Deathslinger, Wesker, Pig, Trapper and Oni with a s/o (or just a survivor!), with whom all power-related encounters fell weirdly intimate??? Not in any way sexual or seductive, plain intimacy. Prolonged eye contact, breath holding and everything.

The trial is going just as usual RIGHT untill it's time to pull the survivor out of the trap/ Spear them/ Put the trap on their head/ etc etc.

hiii thank you!! i hope these are good, i'll be honest i got a liiiiittle stumped but i like how they turned out! <3

Caleb Quinn / The Deathslinger:

Caleb’s a little playful with you when he spears you. He’ll wrap you up in the chains and spin you out of them, dancing with you. He’ll hold you close once he’s reeled you in, clutched against his chest…He’s warm, you can barely breathe. He holds your eyes and strokes your hair until he decides to stab and let you hit the dirt.

It’s always an excuse to pull you close to him, really. He sees it as a subtle way to show you some affection during trials if you’d rather the other survivors don’t know the two of you are together.

He’ll always go for you over any other survivors. If he sees you standing with other survivors, he’ll pick you out of all of them and spear you. The horror on everyone else’s faces delights him — but most of all he loves seeing the shock on your face as he pulls you in.

He’s sometimes just as stunned as you are by the action, so you usually have a pretty big window to escape. He prefers when you do — it gives him another opportunity to catch you. But he's just as happy throwing you onto a hook, too.

Albert Wesker / The Mastermind:

Wesker always has…A way about him, we'll say. He’s been known to enjoy playing with the survivors, getting a little intimate occasionally to mess with them. with them. You’re no different — when he manages to catch you in one of his dashes and gets you against the wall, he gets a little too close to you. Studying your eyes, holding his breath. Waiting for you to make the next move. You’re holding your breath, too.

It is a different kind of moment with you, though. It’s not just a game, it’s a subtle allowance of his affection in a way that doesn’t show his favoritism. But you know — you’re his favorite. And getting cornered and thrown into a wall is just his way of showing you that when you’re in a trial.

He isn’t cruel, he gives you a chance to run away before he goes after you again. He’s a gentleman, it’d just be rude to catch you off-guard and throw you onto a hook. He’s better than that. Besides, when he lets you run he gets another chance to snag you and see your reaction.

But you know he really has no ulterior motives doing this. He just likes seeing the way you react to what he does; he is still a scientist after all, and he finds it quite amusing. He really is quite playful when you get down to it, and him pulling stunts like this isn’t out of the ordinary.

Amanda Young / The Pig:

Amanda’s trappings have always been weirdly intimate, to be honest. It is something intimate to her, in a way. There’s just something intense about punishing the ungrateful, even though it’s not that with you — she doesn’t know what it is, it’s the same, but different.

She gets very in the zone during trials, hunting down the ungrateful survivors. But it’s like a switch flips in her brain when she finds you, seeming to relax a little…It can be jarring sometimes to see her go from bloodthirsty to kind so quickly, but you know it means she loves you.

She’s always gentle when she fastens the Reverse Bear Trap on your head, tucking your hair out of the way and petting you when she’s finished. There’s always something loving about the way she puts the trap on you, something gentle. Something about her lingering touches…It’s a loving gesture. She wants you to be better.

She never feels like she can breathe properly until she gets you on the hook. She’ll quickly leave you, not wanting it to be obvious that she gets so flustered around you. Helping the helpless is a beautiful thing, but she’s a Jigsaw, for crying out loud, nobody needs to know how she feels. Except you, of course…

Evan MacMillan / The Trapper:

Evan is aggressive, overtly so many would say, so it's a shock seeing him essentially stop in his tracks when he sees you caught in one of his traps. He's usually quick to pull mangled survivors out of his traps…But with you, he's more…Slow.

He circles you to make sure nobody's around. He pets your hair as he crouches down to open the jaws. He's quiet and keeps eye contact. It's so unlike him. That is, until he huffs and hauls you out of the dirt, over to a hook. He stays for a moment, still looking up at you, his hands lingering.

You're like a wounded animal to him in these moments. He knows he has to be kind to you…Gentle to you, even. He does his job, he does it well, but he loves you, and he hopes he shows you that.

If someone else tries to save you from a trap, though, he's quicker to get rid of them. You're his, this is his moment with you and he won't have anyone ruining it. He likes to be alone with you.

Kazan Yamaoka / The Oni:

Like Evan, Kazan is known for his aggression during trials; it's almost eerie how calm he gets when he follows you around to absorb your blood orbs. You're essentially free game to him and he won't pass it up.

When he has enough to fuel his rage, he's always right behind you. Waiting. He gives you a moment to start running, but he always catches up with you and knocks you down with his trusty Kanabo. He pauses above you, catching your gaze as he breathes heavily. He presses his forehead to yours — a strange moment this is, but yours nonetheless.

He wants to stay with you, but his duty calls. He leaves to chase down the other survivors. But he comes back for you as soon as he can, a hand pressing against your head before he picks you up and hauls you to a hook.

He's an honorable man, you know that. He never tries to do serious damage to you. And he always shows you how much he loves you — he'd be utterly distraught if you didn't know he loved you. He's sensitive.

#inbox #caleb quinn #albert wesker #amanda young #evan macmillan #kazan yamaoka #dbd imagines #dbd x reader #dbd x you #caleb quinn x reader #the deathslinger x reader #albert wesker x reader #amanda young x reader #the pig x reader #evan macmillan x reader #the trapper x reader #kazan yamaoka x reader #the oni x reader

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slasher-male-wife · 1 year

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Slashers on Valentines day

Happy Valentines day everyone. I'm single so I don't really have anyone to celebrate with but who cares when I still get chocolate and can watch a campy slasher movie centered around the holiday. This is kind of a random selection of slashers including Danny because he's my baby girl and I saw really cute Valentines day themed fan art of him. Anyway I hope y'all enjoy <3

Includes: Hannibal Lecter, Harry Warden, Candyman, The Sinclair brothers, Amanda Young and, Danny Johnson

Warnings: Mentions of murder and gore kind of

Hannibal Lecter

He's obviously cooking for you today. You're not to step foot into the kitchen because he's taking care of all of it himself. You're getting spoiled today and that's final.

He's going to buy you something expensive that you'll love. It might be a ring or a new bag, maybe an entirely new outfit. Whatever he sees fit to give you. He doesn't expect you to get him anything but if you do he's very thankful.

He's probably taking you to the opera with him. Something high brow and fancy for his lovely s/o, nothing but the best for you on a very special day.

I can see him spending the evening drawing you too. You're probably in his study, drinking wine and doing something relaxing while he sketches you and recites love poems.

Harry Warden

He's going to be busy murdering people on Valentines day so he's not going to be able to do much of anything with you.

But he is going to bring you whatever he thinks you'll like. Flowers, chocolate, a card addressed to one of his victims, whatever he finds he's giving you.

He doesn't really enjoy having decorations up for Valentines day. Having pink and red themed decor is fine with him but explicit Valentines day decorations aren't his jam.

While he isn't there on the actual day, he's going to be there after Valentines day and that's when he's going to shower you with love and affection.

Candyman

It's going to a very romantic day overall for you. Lots of your favorite flowers around your house/apartments waiting for you when you wake up. Maybe some chocolate but probably a little honeycomb too.

He's going to steal you all of the gifts he gets you. Mostly expensive jewelry he thinks you'll like or you've pointed out to him.

Oh and he is most definitely writing you a love letter pages long, listing off every detail of why he loves you and what he would do for you.

Of course he's going to be spending the entire day with you. You're not going out but you're going to enjoy time spent with him in your house together.

Vincent Sinclair

He's going to give you whatever gifts he can make/get you for the occasion. He doesn't have access to most traditional things for Valentines day so it might just be a painting or a love letter, but he's trying ok?

He wants to spend the entire day with you. He usually spends a lot of time with you anyway but especially on this special day. He'll keep Bo away so he doesn't make stupid comments about you two, and Lester won't bother you at all.

He might want to try slow dancing with you since he's never done it before and he sees couples do it in romance movies all of the time. He might suck at it but he doesn't really care because it's with you.

He's going to end the day with a nice dinner between the two of you. He pulled out an old cook book to use for this and he did a pretty good job at cooking it too.

Lester Sinclair

He's going to get you all of the stereotypical gifts, chocolate, flowers, a card, etc. He just loves you so much and he wants to spoil you every once and awhile you know?

He's going to take you out to an actual town where the two of you can really be a couple. You're probably just going to be walking/driving around and getting dinner but it's the thought that counts.

Lots of physical affection too. Like he wants to always have a hand on you today. He thinks that he can't fully express how much he loves outside of giving you hugs, kissing you, holding your hand, etc.

He's probably taking pictures of all of this. I can see him being a sentimental person so spending a special day with you is something that he's going to want to document.

Bo Sinclair

He thinks the whole idea of the day is stupid. But that doesn't mean he isn't going to do something special with you for Valentines day. He can be a gentleman when he wants to and today is one of those days.

He'll probably get you flowers. Nothing too special, he'd ask Vincent what flowers to get if he doesn't know your favorite flowers are. I feel like Vincent could go off on a big thing about the different meanings of flowers but he knows Bo doesn't care so he'll just say roses.

I feel like he would maybe get you a ring that matches one of his. Partly to sell the idea that you're married to victims, partly because he's a possessive guy and likes the idea of you always being reminded who you're dating.

He also expects you to be romantic. He knows you can't do much because you can't leave town without him but he still expects you to do something like cook him something special or write him a love letter if you're that kind of person.

Amanda Young

She also thinks Valentines day is stupid. She's never been much of a romantic and probably has never been in a healthy romantic relationship, let alone an actual relationship.

Like Bo she's still getting you something. If you're like her she's getting you a gothic box of chocolate and maybe flowers (They do sell gothic boxes of chocolate and I'm in love with them).

She will happily go out to dinner with you. She somewhat expects you to plan it and pay for at least half of the dinner. I can see her getting dressed up if it's a more fancy restaurant and looking so pretty.

She's also going to rub it in Hoffmans face that she has a partner who loves her and that she got spoiled while he probably sat home alone doing whatever he does.

Danny Johnson

He's going to make a scrap book of all of his favorite pictures of you and share it with you. Pointing out the ones he likes the best or ones with fun stories behind them.

Because he's an obsessive little shit he knows all of your favorite things and he's going to get them for you. Expect to find your favorite flowers, candy, drink, etc on your kitchen table in the morning.

Maybe does a romantic photo shoot with you. He wants to pick out some aspects of it but will let you pick out outfits to wear. He's going to spend half the time actually taking pictures and half posing you so he has an excuse to touch you.

If you're as morbid and crazy as him then he's going to get you an actual heart. It might be human, it might be an animals heart he got at the butcher, ok it's probably a real heart that he says is an animals.

#hannibal lecter #hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter x you #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal nbc #harry warden #harry warden x reader #candyman #candyman x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x reader #amanda young #amanda young x reader #danny johnson #danny johnson x reader #slasher x y/n #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction

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romanestuffsposts · 11 months

Note

Hi!, Hora are you?

You told me that the requests are open so here mine if you feel comfortable with it.

Daddy stucky x little reader

I just read thinking, maybe they punish little because of a miscommunication between them, (your can choose the situation), and little doesn't know what's happening and cries lot, still they eventually discovery that she didn't do anything and didn't deserve that, they apologize to her.

That's it, hope you have a great day!, Wherever you are right now.

🌻🌻💞

Hi there love! I'm fine, thank you! What about you ?

Thank you for the request, sorry for having to wait. I hope you like how I turned it 💜

Enjoy <3

****

Warnings : angst, angry Papa!Steve, cries, soft punishment, Pepper's niece is mean to you

Pairings : Daddies!Stucky ; Daddy!Bucky x Papa!Steve x Little!Reader

****

It's been three hours now that you are sitting on this couch with your Daddies and their friends. You love them but you're not really in the mood to be here, you just want to be in with your Daddies, just he three of you.

Your week has been really hard for you and they know that, every days exhausted you more than the precedent one and you didn't really had time to rest during those days so you had hoped that you could rest during the week end but apparently you'll have to wait again a little more.

Your Daddies wants nothing more but for you to feel good but they had to come for a meeting and now Tony trapped you all for a party and they didn't had the choice but to stay there. Steve always hated leaving early somewhere when he was invited while Bucky couldn't care less. But for Steve, they'll stay a little but not too long so you can go rest right after. Of course you agreed to stay, either way you'll be at home since a long time. You didn't want to make your Papa uncomfortable.

You stare at your empty cup of water and frown. You look at your left and see your Papa in a deep conversation with one of his scary friends while your Daddy is clearly bored. He looks with wide eyes the table in front of him and it make you want to laugh

You scoop closer to him and tap your finger on his arm. He snaps out of his trense and turns his head toward you? When he sees you beside him, he brings his hand behind your back and learns his ear closer to your mouth, he knows you're always a quiet one

"can I go to the kitchen ?" you ask, showing your empty cup. He smiles and nods his head "of course, beautiful. Do you need my help ?" you shake your head and stand up "i be fine"

He watches you walking toward the kitchen with your cup in between both of your hands. Steve sees you leaving the room from the corner of his eyes and pause his conversation to turn toward Bucky "is she okay ?"

Bucky looks away from you and nod at Steve "she's juste thirsty"

You walk inside the kitchen and sees Amanda learning against the counter with her phone in her hands. Amanda is Pepper's niece and is staying here for four weeks. This is why there's a party, it's for her or something like that, to be honest, you didn't really payed attention at what they were saying about her because you were just thinking about your food

You smile at her as you stand beside her to fill up your cup with water. She watches you closely and while your cup is mid filled, she talks "don't you want something stronger than that ?" she asks turning her body toward you with a wide grin. You shake your head "no thank you, I can just drink water"

She lifts an eyebrow "you mean that you can't drink ? Like nothing else than water ?" You nod your head, agreeing and she snorts "boring"

You ignore her and stop the water when you have enough water in your cup. You're about to turn around when she stops you "wait!" You turn around, surprise that she still want to talk to you she grabs your cup from your hands taking you once again by surprise. "if you drink in my glass, i'll give you back yours" she says with a smirk

You shake your head and go to take your cup but she steps away and extends her hand with her own glass in it "drink"

You shake your head again. When you try again to take your cup back she lets it slip from her hand and it fall on the ground, shattering. You gasp and step away from the pieces, you look up at her and a shocked expression while she just looks at you with a smirk.

You were about to say something when she talks over you "Oh my god! What's wrong with you! If you wanted to have a drink, you could've just asked and i would make you one" she loudly says "you don't have to steal mine and then throwing mine on the ground because i didn't wanted to give you my drink"

You open you mouth not really knowing what to say when someone clears his throat behind you. You turn around and see your Daddies lookign at you with angry faces and arms crossed. You look beside them and see more people from the party- including your Daddies's friends, walking inside the kitchen

Your Papa walks toward you and you want to step away but decide not to because of the glasses on the ground. He looks down at you making you feel so small compared to him "what did I just heard ?" he sternly and coldly asks

You shake your head and when you were about to say something he adds "you better start talking, right now" he orders making you shiver. You look at Amanda who plays perfectly the innocent girl before looking back at your Papa "that's not true, I didn't" You defend

He lifts an eyebrow and look at the girl behind you "I swear it's true. I won't lie about it" she fakes cries. Your Papa looks back at you with a scrowl on his face "did you just lied to us ?" he asks and now you see your Daddy standing beside him, peering down at you.

You shake your head again "No!"

"enough!" Your Papa says bringing tears in your eyes "go grab your shoes, put them on and wait for us at the front door. I don't want to hear one word leaving your mouth, i don't want to hear you making any noises. Understood ?"

You nod your head rapidly and watch him push to the side to let you walk. With head low, you step in between your Daddies and leave the kitchen to go toward the front door where your shoes are. You sit on the ground and quietly put your shoes on, you hear your Daddies apologizing for you at Tony and Pepper making you cry.

You wipe away your tears and stand up once you're ready, you quietly wait for your Daddies to come back. Soon after, you hear their footsteps behind you but you don't move, you keep looking at the doors and wait for them to push you away so they can walk out.

"don't forget anything" is the only thing your Papa says before opening the door and walking out. You follow them outside, not once looking in their eyes or looking away from the dirty ground.

Your Daddy waits at your car door and keep his strong eyes on you the whole time. He shuts the door close once you're inside and walks toward the front seat. You bite back your sobs as you watch outside the window.

The silence in the car is very hard to handle and you're glad that the house is not far away because you're not able to handle this longer than it's need.

Your Papa stop the car in front of the house and steps out at the same times as your Daddy. Your papa still opens your car door and waits, you undo your seat belt and step out of the car. You flinch when he shuts the door behind you and start walking toward the front door where your Daddy just walked in.

You feel the need to walk fster with your Papa walking behind you so when you step inside the house, you're feet hurt because of that and because of your tight shoes. That's why you removed them earlier.

You go to walk upstairs when a voice stop you "Now where do you think you're going ?" Your Daddy's big a scary voice sound from behind you. You turn around, still tears in your eyes and along your cheeks. They're looking at you the exact same way than at Tony's and it make you want to cry even more and to apologise even if you didn't do anything. You can't bear the thought of disappointing your daddies.

"come closer" Your papa says, waving a hand at you. You take two steps toward them and pray that it's enough. Of course they'll never hurt you but you didn't wanted to felt the same way than you did in the kitchen at Tony's when they were over you.

"we can't count on you, can we ? You always succeed by embarassing us or make something that you souldn't do. You have to learn that when we're away you can't act as if it's home. You can't throw on the ground a glass because someone told you not to drink in their glass! Specially when you know damn well that you can't drink" Your Papa snaps

His words are harsh and stab you right in the chest, bringing new tears in your eyes. You listen to his words quietly and don't dare to do or say something, you take it and just wait to have the right to go in your room.

"You're unbelievable" he scoffs before shoving his hand at you "now leave. Get out of my sight" he says before turning around. You sniff and turn on your heels and run upstairs.

What you don't know is that your Papa had to turn around and cut his argument short because he couldn't bear to see you this way, this hurt. You did something wrong but he couldn't look at you while saying those things.

Bucky sighs once he doesn't see you anymore in the stairs and turns toward Steve "you were too hard on her, Steve"

"she emabrassed me" he argues "i won't let that slip" he walks toward the kitchen and starts to serve himself a strong drink "she got a fucking attitude earlier and it's seriously getting on my nerves"

Bucky sighs again and nods his head "I understand Steve, and I support you toward what happened and what punishment you're gonna give her for that but keep it calm. Don't scared her because it's not you" he reminds him before walking upstairs to take a quick shower while Steve thinks about a punishment.

You're on your bed, crying your little eyes out, cuddling Bucksie when you hear steps in the hallway. You whine quietly when the door of your bedroom opens and the heavy steps of your Daddies are following.

"sit down, please" Your Daddy says. Even if there was a 'please" you still hear in his voice that it's not a nice conversation that's about to come. You sniff and slowly sit on the bed and bring your knees to your chest. You still look on the ground, too ashamed to meet their gaze "you want to act like a big girl and drink ? Then we'll treat you like a big girl. It means no morning bottle, no cartoons, no paci and no stufies" he says breaking your heart

You let your tears sliding away from your eyes and you hold Bucksie tightly "No Papa" you cry shaking your head "pwease, no"

He stands up and grabs your paci from the nightstand and all your stuffie. He puts them in the closet and walks back toward you, you shake your head and hold it tight but not tight enough for your Papa. He easily takes it breaking the space with your cries and screams as he puts it in the closet too. He closes it with his keys and walks out of the bedroom.

Your Daddy's heart shatter from the sight of you but respect Steve's decision and walks out of the room without comforting you. That was one thing of the punishment too.

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

It's been two hours now that they let you in the room, crying and trying to open the closet door. They kept themselves busy so they won't think about your crying face or hearing your sobs.

They didn't closed your door so you can come out whenever you want but of course you don't leave your room. How can you leave your friends behind you, they're trapped in the closet so you decide to be trapped in your room so they won't be alone.

Your Papa's phone is ringing pulling him away from his book. He sighs and leaves the couch to walk toward his phone who's on the kitchen where Bucky is doing the dishes. He frowns when he sees Tony's name showing on his screen and immediately answer it "Tony ?"

"Captain" he greets "sorry to bether you but i have to talk to you" he says and Steve can't make out the feelings behind his voice "i'm listening"

Bucky turns around and Steve puts the phone on speaker

"Amanda came here because her mom needed a break. She's a trouble maker and will do anything to have attention on her. And-" he in terrupts by Bucky's voice "go to the point, please" he says frustrate

"Oh, Hello Barnes" he greets "Yea so we found the old dishes of Pepper's great grand mother shattered on the ground and I had to discover who did that after seeing my wife heartbroken as she stared at the pieces of glasses on the ground"

"I checked the camera and it was amanda who broke the dishes purposely in the kitchen" he says exhaling

"okay ?" Steve says a little lost.

"So I decided to check what happened earlier too, you know, with her and your little one" he clears his throat "And I saw- Amanda took the cup from her hands and told her to take a sip of her drink either way she won't get her cup of water back. She refused to do it so she let the glass fall on the ground and accused her"

"excuse me ?" Steve inhales standing up

"it was Amanda's fault, Steve" he repeats and Steve hangs up after thanking him about his call. Bucky didn't waited for Steve and immediately went upstairs to you. He opens the bedroom door and sees you laying on the ground against the closet door, still sobbing.

"Oh baby" his heart broke once again and makes his way toward you. He scoops you in his arms and sits on the ground. He rests you in his laps and shushes you "it's okay, baby girl, you're okay" he quietly says in your ear.

You sob aganst his chest and when Steve enters in the room, he immediately goes to open the closet door. You hear keys noises and look up to see your Papa opening the door.

He grabs your paci and Bucksie from the closet and gives them to you. You grab it instantly and hold it tight against your chest as he slides the paci in your lips. You snuggle your nose in your stuffie and close your eyes

"I'm so sorry, sweetie" your Papa says "i'm so so sorry. I should've listen to you before believing someone i don't even know" he says wiping your tears away "i don't know how tell you how much i'm sorry"

You sniff and look up at him when you hear his voice breaking. You wipe your eyes with Bucksie and make grabby hands at Steve. His gaze soften and he looks at Bucky who nods hiw head with a little smile. Steve lifts you from Bcuky's lap to rest you on his own. You curl into a bowl against his chest and let him calm you.

Your Daddy is stroking your feet to help you calm down too "let's just have a nice evening in bed with all your stuffies. We can read stories and imagining some. How does it sounds like ?" your Daddy asks to save the situation.

You Papa looks down at your and you nod. Bucky stands up and takes you back in his arms while Steve fixes the punishement. He gets all of the stuffies back in your bed or in the corner of your room and comes to you who's already laying in bed.

Bucky comes in the bed too with stories in his hands and rests them in your laps so you can chose "I chose because Papa was bad ?" you ask looking at your Daddy

He breaks into laughters and nods his head. Your Papa scoffs pulls you on tope of him "i'll show you just how bad I am" he says just before spidering his fingers in your side and belly. You kick your legs and it's soon they tears of laughter instead of cries who make their way in your eyes. He blows raberries in your neck as one of his fingers explores your belly button and the others your lower belly

"Stoppp, pweasee" you plead with tears in your eyes and he finally stops. He kisses your temple and strokes your belly while your back is against his chest. Your Daddy laughs and pulls the books on his laps "well I guess I chose then if you're too busy" he teases

"No!" you scoop away from your Papa and lies back in betwee them. Your Daddy gives you back the books and Bucksie with a winks "go ahead then, beautiful"

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ace-of-clubs-and-diamonds · 6 months

Text

And here’s Blood Fest Week 3, with the keywords “twisted” and “fixation” and the prompts “traps” and “rage”!! “Traps”, of course, got me thinking about Saw. And since I’m down terribly bad for Amanda and have seen appallingly few fics for her…. well, why not? Underrated characters are kind of my signature anyway.

Hope y’all enjoy! <3

Too Late I’m Dead

AO3 link: Here

Pairing: Amanda Young x AFAB Reader

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Word count: 5,160

Content warnings: Gore, mentions of self-harm (both in the Jigsaw trap context and the more typical context), trauma, PTSD, angst, discussions of disability (since a lot of Jigsaw traps are disabling), Saw is its own warning, smoking, alcohol consumption, flirting, kissing, making out, biting, vaginal fingering, friends to lovers, as is Saw tradition gay shit goes down in the bathroom, reader is AFAB but gender neutral

“Hi everyone. My name is Brandon and…. I’m a Jigsaw survivor.”

A subdued chorus of Hi Brandons echoed around the small church room. You barely even bothered to mouth the words. The gesture felt about as empty as the tipped over plastic water bottle you’d discarded by your chair some time ago. There was coffee at the sad makeshift snack table too, as well as a box of pastries that looked a few days past their prime, but you figured you didn’t need the caffeine to make you any more jittery than you already were. Your leg was bouncing enough as it was.

“It’s been about a year since uh. Well.” Brandon smiled nervously and made a vague, fluttery gesture with his hands. “Well. You know.”

A quiet, obligatory response from the other people – a murmur, a nod of heads. You stared at your bouncing knee.

“I’ve made great progress with my recovery. My knees have healed really well. I can fully walk on them again, even run if I’m careful. My dog Rex doesn’t really like it when I’m careful though.” He laughed fondly. A couple others offered the obligatory chuckle. “They hurt if I get too eager with stairs. Or if it’s too humid. But it’s going really well. I’m really, really proud of the progress I’ve made.” He nodded, as if assuring himself.

He’d had to break both his knees in order to get out of his trap. Was in a wheelchair for months and only recently started moving around without it. Or so you’d been told.

You weren’t sure you’d be able to break your own knees.

“Somedays, though.” Brandon looked away from the loose circle you all formed. Blinked rapidly. “Somedays, it feels like I haven’t made any progress. Somedays it’s hard. Really hard. And it feels like I didn’t survive that trap. Or if I did, some part of me got left behind.”

Everyone else was nodding, some with sad, understanding smiles on their faces. Your own pulse thundered in your ears like a distant, approaching storm.

“It’s really hard to have hope on those days, but…. what else can I do?” He shrugged, a helpless smile on his face. “Give up? Wallow around in my own misery? I can’t live like that. No one can live like that. Not forever. You just have to choose. You have to make a choice, just like the choices we made to be here. You have to choose to live. You have to choose hope. Or else you just can’t survive.”

You shot to your feet, heartbeat pounding in your ears, chair scraping back. Every face in the room turned to look at you. The church felt too small. Your ribs felt too tight. You felt too…. seen.

Who was he to judge you for wallowing in what you’d fucking gone through?

You spun around and bee-lined for the exit.

The cool city air against your face was a relief as you barged through the church’s double doors. But you stopped in your tracks as you spotted someone else already there. A woman was sitting on the church stairs. She twisted around, eyebrows raised and half-hidden by the choppy, irregular bangs across her forehead.

“Uh. Hey,” you said, somewhat awkwardly.

She paused, as if uncertain. Of what? You weren’t sure. “Hey,” she eventually said back. Then, after another pause, she twisted further around, a frown crossing her features. “Is the meeting over?”

“No. I just needed some air.” Fuck, you needed something to calm yourself. You dug around in your jacket pockets until you found a lighter and a cigarette. “Um. Do you mind if I…?”

She stared at the cigarette in your hand with an expression you couldn’t quite decipher, but eventually shook her head no. You internally shrugged and lit up. The first drag uncoiled the tension that had built up in your muscles, and you breathed the smoke out on a relieved sigh.

The woman glanced between you and the church doors. “Having fun in there?”

Did she know? The place didn’t exactly advertise, but it wasn’t exactly a secret either. You scanned her face. She looked vaguely familiar, but you couldn’t quite place her. Had you seen her in the meetings before? “Oh, yeah, lots. You know. Fun therapy shit.” Supposedly, anyway. It was supposed to be some sort of Alcoholics Anonymous shit, but instead it was for the few survivors of an active fucking serial killer. Jigsaws Anonymous or whatever the fuck.

“Must be going well if you’re out here,” she said dryly, resting her chin on a propped-up fist.

You shrugged, taking another drag. “Well…” Did you really want to tell her about how Brandon’s words had hit just a little too close to home? How they’d made you feel too small, as if the sticks you’d used to prop up your fragile post-trap reconstruction of the world had suddenly snapped, and the weight of it all was now bearing down on you? She was a stranger waiting outside the church. She could’ve been some Jesus freak for all you knew.

Not that she really looked like one. Not with the sheer red shirt over a black bra and fishnet undershirt, or the combat boots, or the sheer exhaustion around her eyes.

She looked less like a Jesus freak and more like you did on the days you could bear to look in the mirror.

So you just shrugged again. “It can be a lot,” you said. “What about you? What’re you doing out here?” You hesitated. “There’re still seats open if you wanted to…”

“No thanks. I’m good.” She offered you a close-lipped smile. “I’ve heard enough of the sob-stories.”

Yeah. You could understand that.

She didn’t look like she was going anywhere, and you didn’t exactly have plans of your own. So you gestured to the stairs next to her. “Mind if I sit?”

“Be my guest.”

You sat to her right so the wind wouldn’t blow cigarette smoke into her face. The smooth grey stone steps were wide enough that it didn’t feel quite so awkward sitting in silence together. Even though you could feel her analyzing you as you took another puff.

You blew the smoke away and smirked dryly at the cigarette. “Think Jigsaw’s gonna put me in another deathtrap for smoking?” You ignored the tightening in your chest as you said the words. Ignored the tremor of unease. Surely it wouldn’t be enough. Surely lightning wouldn’t strike twice.

“He wouldn’t do that.” She said it with such simple certainty, as if it was an inarguable fact. Even still, you found yourself stubbing the cig out and searching for a trash can to toss it into. You didn’t want to just flick it into the grass. Maybe Jigsaw would get you for littering. Maybe he was really passionate about saving the planet.

Who needed to be God-fearing with the possibility of Jigsaw watching your every move?

You shook the thought off. Introduced yourself to the woman. You smiled awkwardly. “Um. I’d offer you my hand but my, uh–” Personal hell “–Trap involved a hand thing so. I’m not a big fan of handshakes these days.” It had taken a long time for the nerves to repair themselves in your hand. A long time and a shitton of agony and medication and physical therapy. You still hadn’t totally gotten rid of the tremor. Fine motorskills were still harder than before.

Before. That.

But the woman just gave a rueful, understanding sort-of smile. Funny how people smiled so much in the presence of trauma and pain. “Amanda. I still have trouble going to the dentist sometimes.”

Shit, that’s where you knew her from, wasn’t it? You’d heard of her, read about her before, seen a clip of her punching a journalist square in the nose when she tried to follow her. All the photos you’d seen had been such shit quality that you hadn’t recognized her immediately.

Amanda Young. The person who killed a man and rummaged around his guts to free herself from the machine hooked into her jaws. The first person to walk away from a Jigsaw trap. The first survivor. In a weird, fucked up way, it was almost like meeting a celebrity. A celebrity for the most depressingly specific thing possible.

You weren’t sure whether it would make things weird to bring that up. So you just nodded. “So. What’re you doing here then? Are you waiting for someone?”

“Mm no, not really.” Amanda scraped at the chipped black polish on her nails. “I just like to come here sometimes.”

You stared at her. Something about her reminded you of a deer, twitchy and ready to bolt at the slightest sign of danger. Or maybe not a deer. Deer looked like they’d snap in half if the wind blew too hard. Amanda…. did not. She was twitchy, but for some reason you got the feeling that she was just as likely to start kicking as she was to start running

Permanently caught between fight or flight.

You went with freeze, yourself. Or wallow, as Brandon had put it. Anger and embarrassment burned against your ribs.

“Hell of a place to visit.” You weren’t sure if you meant it as a light-hearted joke or a deadpan remark. The words came out somewhere in between.

“You’re one to talk.” She finally turned to you. It was the first time she’d actually met your eyes, you realized. “You actually believe all this bullshit?” she asked, gesturing to the church.

“Not really,” you admitted. “My therapist wanted me to go. Said it would help me to be around others who understand what I went through. That it would help me get closure or something. I didn’t want to. But he insisted.” You shrugged. He’d pestered you about it until you finally gave in a few weeks ago. He thought it would be good for you. Would help you heal. Really, it just made you want to fling yourself out of one of the church’s fancy stained-glass windows.

Amanda gave a derisive snort. You almost took offense until she said, “Half of the time these therapists don’t even know what they’re talking about. It’s a bunch of bullshit, too.” She propped her cheek on her fist again, giving you a side-long grimace. “People don’t change until they have to. Or until they’re forced to. A bunch of psychoanalyzing isn’t going to do anything.”

You…. strongly disagreed. But the slim scar peeking out from her sleeve kept you from saying that. “Bad experience with a therapist?” you asked, flicking your gaze away.

“It never really worked for me.”

“What did?” you asked cautiously.

She paused. Thought about it. Stared at you with an intensity that had you wondering what the hell was going on inside her head. Until eventually, “Jigsaw.”

You blinked. Stared. Tried to figure out how to respond to that.

She thought…. Jigsaw helped?

You didn’t want to judge. Fuck, that was exactly why you’d stormed out of the church. You were self-aware enough to realize that. Different things worked for different people, and different people responded to trauma in different ways, but….

The church doors squealed open. You both shot to your feet and turned around. Your fellow Jigsaw Anonymous members were leaving, the meeting over, spilling out from the doors with all the speed and excitement of molasses being poured out from a jar. You stepped to the side to let them come down the stairs. Amanda did the same, arm brushing yours, and you wrestled the urge to jerk away. You weren’t sure of the last time you’d actually touched someone, or the last time someone had touched you, aside from the gentle but coldly professional hands of doctors and emergency personnel. It was as startlingly foreign as it was familiar.

Amanda seemed completely unaware of your clashing emotions as her gaze locked onto something. You followed her stare to Brandon slowly making his way down the steps. A man with sandy-blond hair and a cane was with him, chatting, the both of them completely oblivious to either of you.

Did she know them? She was staring at them with such an undecipherable intensity and it was the only explanation you could think of. You glanced at the two men again, then back at Amanda. No… she wasn’t staring at them. She was staring at the blond man specifically.

It really wasn’t any of your business, but you couldn’t help but ask, “Do you two know each other?”

“Sorta,” was as much of a response as you got.

Once Brandon and the man reached the bottom of the ramp and went separate ways, Amanda turned back to you. It was just the two of you on the stairs now. And it was a little embarrassing how flustered you were just by her proximity. For fuck’s sake, you didn’t even know her.

Maybe your therapist was right. You did need to get out and be around people more. So you could remember how to fucking act normal again.

“Well.” Amanda bumped her arm against yours again. This time deliberately. You were pretty sure the facial expression you made was not a normal one. “See you round.”

Then she shoved her hands into the pockets of her cargo pants, hopped down the steps, and just. Walked away. You stared after her for longer than necessary.

She was impossible to get a read on. Weirdly confrontational, weirdly evasive, and weirdly magnetic anyway.

You kind of hoped you’d see her again.

She didn’t appear for the next few meetings you obligatorily dragged yourself to. It wasn’t until about a month later that you found her sitting out on the steps again. When you, again, had rushed out to clear your head when the room got too small.

“Hey stranger,” she said, tone somewhere close to teasing. It made you smile. Just a little.

“Hey,” you replied, approaching the stairs. And again, you gestured to the space beside her. “Mind if I join you?”

“Be my guest.”

And so you developed a bit of a routine. She appeared on the steps about once a month, for a reason she never shared and that you never really minded. You would sit on the stairs with her, and the two of you would shoot the breeze. It was a comfortable, casual companionship born from a common factor and convenience. It was never anything very deep. Neither of you were there for therapy, not really. You kept it light, casual. That was the point, wasn’t it?

At least until one day when Amanda was standing by the stairs before the meeting had even started. You didn’t bother to hide your surprise as you approached her and exchanged your usual heys.

“You coming in today?” you asked.

“No. I thought we could head somewhere else.” She tilted her head at you. There was a playfulness to her expression, her smile. A playfulness that made you both a little bit cautious and a little bit excited. “Somewhere a little more fun. Unless you want to stay here. For therapy.” She pointedly lifted her eyebrows at you as she said therapy.

You glanced at the church doors behind her. Really, talking to her about anything but the fact that you were both Jigsaw survivors had done a lot more for you than going to these stupid fucking meetings had.

“Only if you promise not to put me in a death game for smoking,” you joked. Or tried to, at least. It really wasn’t that funny. You winced at yourself. But Amanda, to her credit, just linked her arm through yours. You almost preened at the friendly touch.

“Deal,” she said.

She ended up taking you to a bar. A gay bar, more specifically. You were a bit surprised she’d clocked you so easily but never said a word – but then again, neither had you about her. So you supposed you couldn’t be too surprised.

From there, your casual companionship escalated into something much more like a genuine friendship. You got to know each other properly. You talked about your personal lives and hobbies and interests. You even talked a little bit about Jigsaw, and everything after that. You told her how you’d been struggling with insomnia and how you’d lost your job when you stopped showing up. Because of, y’know, being stuck in a deathtrap. And being too terrified to set foot outside your door for a while after. You told her about the new job you’d gotten and struggled to adjust to. And you told her about your hands.

Nails through the palms Jesus-style. Because according to the hoarse voice on the tape that now haunted your nightmares – “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop”. She’d winced as you told her the story one evening. You’d winced as you’d recollected it. The pain shooting through your fingertips, up your arms, into your very fucking bones. The squelch of blood and muscle, the way you hadn’t been able to stop from screaming or the tears from spilling as you twisted and ripped your hands free of the metal spikes.

It was a miracle they didn’t introduced any infections into your bloodstream, the doctors had told you. A miracle.

You told Amanda how your hands still shook, were still a bit weak. How some days they were worse and some days they were better. And how fine motor skills had become hard now, whereas before you’d taken them for granted. God, had you taken them for granted. You’d been able to write your name, use a knife and fork, all that shit, so damn easily.

It had taken a lot of getting used to.

Amanda has just listened and nodded her head. Understanding. Not offering the grating sympathy people so often flung your way, all the while looking uncomfortably unsure of what to do with your presence and your hands and your experience and your trauma. But Amanda understood. Because of course she did. She knew what you’d been through and where you were coming from.

And she’d even smiled a bit mischievously, glancing down at your hands on the bar counter, and said, “Well, if you ever need help with anything, I’m pretty good with my hands. I could always lend a finger or two.”

Maybe it was the little smirk on her face, the glint in her eye when she said it. Maybe it was the loneliness and then the sudden friendship. Or maybe you’d just been a little too buzzed, but her words had remained lodged in your mind as you tried to go to sleep that night.

Amanda had shared things about herself, too, in the time you’d spent together. It had taken a little longer for her to open up – she was a bit slower, a bit more cautious. She seemed a lot more eager to listen than to do the talking. And you couldn’t fault her for that. But eventually, you learned that she worked as a mechanic, knew a lot about fixing and building machines and shit like that. She had a pet guinea pig that she’d acquired entirely by accident. His name was Pigeon. Her favorite color was red, her favorite bands were Nine Inch Nails and Hole, and her favorite movie was The Princess Bride. Her dad was a piece of shit she hadn’t seen in over a decade, and her relationship with her mom was strained at best. She was an only child.

You’d also learned more about her Jigsaw trap. How she’d become a drug addict in prison, how she’d woken up in a Jigsaw trap for it. How the little puppet with swirls on its cheeks had rolled out of the darkness on a tricycle and told her that she’d survived. And how she’d ended up in a trap a second time, a hellish prison of a house with several other people, most of whom had died.

The news had nearly brought your drink back into your throat. Lighting did strike twice after all. He did pick the same victims more than once.

God, maybe you really did need to quit smoking.

Amanda had placed her hand on your arm. Touch gentle but grounding all the same. And she’d assured you that that wouldn’t happen to you, Jigsaw wouldn’t choose you again. He had no reason to. She said it so confidently, and you so desperately wanted to believe her. That you wouldn’t be taken a second time. Or that she wouldn’t be taken a third. Not that she seemed too concerned about it.

That was the strange thing about her. When she told you about what had happened, she stared down at the counter. Her hands shook a little bit. The memory terrified her.

And yet…. she had this fixation on the idea that Jigsaw had helped her. The trap had gotten her off drugs. It had put her on a completely different path in life. Rather than dying from a drug overdose, she’d gotten clean. He saved me, she’d said, eyes wide and earnest and afraid.

You’d fought against the urge to argue that, to say No, he didn’t save you, he almost killed you. The idea of Jigsaw possibly helping – all while you struggled to sleep and were plagued by nightmares as you did, while you struggled to make your handwriting legible, while you fought the urge to bolt back home as soon as the sun started lowering in the sky? The idea felt like swallowing glass.

Had Jigsaw ever made anyone do that?

But you didn’t say any of that to her. People dealt with trauma in different ways. You supposed this was just her way of dealing with it. And it wasn’t really hurting anyone, so who were you to judge?

It certainly didn’t stop you from going to the bar with her regularly. It didn’t stop you from laughing with her, from getting close to her both emotionally and physically till the edge of your seats were almost touching and your arms were practically interlinked.

It didn’t stop the spark of warmth in your chest when she offered a genuine smile. Or the electric feeling that shot through your veins when she traced her fingers over your knuckles one night, after the conversation had lulled and your drinks had gone lukewarm.

“I wanna try something,” she said, voice soft enough that you would’ve missed it had you not been sitting so close your thighs were pressed together.

Eye contact right now would’ve been like staring into the sun. So instead, you stared at her hand on top of yours. Her knuckles were scratched up as if she’d gotten into a fight. “Sure,” you said slowly. “What did you have in mind?”

Amanda turned to you. You cautiously met her gaze. Christ, it really was like looking at the sun. Warm and beautiful but intense. Burningly intense.

Confusion turned to shock as Amanda hooked two fingers into the neck of your shirt and tugged you closer till her lips were hitting yours. You must’ve made a noise of surprise, because she drew away almost immediately. It was all you could do not to chase her and ask why did you stop? A small crease appeared between her eyebrows and she opened her mouth. And God for a second you thought she was going to apologize, when in fact she really didn’t need to because holy shit.

“Oh thank fuck,” you blurted. “You were flirting with me.”

Concern turned to surprise. Then Amanda laughed, the sound pure relief. “Yeah, I was. Did it take you that long to figure it out?” she teased.

“Uh.” Your face warmed. “Maybe.”

She grinned, then grabbed you by the shirt and kissed you again. Gentle but insistent. Her other hand curled around your nape. You didn’t know what the hell to do with your own hands until one curled around her back and the other ended up braced against the bar counter.

The bar counter. Right. You were very much in public. Sure, it was a queer bar, but it was still public.

So you reluctantly pulled away. Amanda looked confused for a moment before you said, “Hey, maybe we should… do this somewhere else?”

She blinked at you. Then, wordlessly, she wrapped a hand around your wrist and pulled you off your seat. She dragged you past the other patrons and tables – it was a quieter night, so you didn’t have to fight through a sea of people – and pushed through one of the bathroom doors, yanking you in with her and locking the door behind you.

“There,” she said. There was a look to her eyes, a look that made your heart stumble and your entire body go warm. “We’re somewhere else.”

This time when she kissed you, you let her fully take the lead. You slid your arms around her and melted into the kiss, sighing against her. It just made her more eager. She prodded at your lips with her tongue, slipped inside with a sweet little moan that had your heart racing. Sent your head spinning. You backed up till you hit a wall, dragging Amanda with because fuck you weren’t breaking this kiss. Not as she was getting to know you with her teeth and her tongue. She tasted like alcohol and peaches, smelled of loam and sweat and faintly of men’s store-brand bodywash. It was heady, intoxicating. Addicting.

Her hands slipped under your shirt. You shuddered at the exposure to the overly air-conditioned bathroom. Shuddered harder at her warm touch roving across your skin, the slight drag of fingernails over your stomach. Amanda broke the kiss with a wet smack as your muscles tensed underneath her.

“You’re so cute,” she teased. She dragged her fingernails over your skin again with just a little more pressure. You arced into her touch. Fuck. Fuck.

You wished you could come up with some kind of response. Something to convey just how much you were aching for her, both emotionally and physically. How badly and how deeply these emotions were running through you. But words were currently beyond your grasp.

Amanda leaned in and nibbled at your neck as her fingers slid past your waistband and teased the edge of your underwear. You clamped your teeth down on your bottom lip. Heat swirled through your veins, in your stomach, at the base of your spine. You moved your hips a little, just a little, to urge her on. Nails dug into the soft flesh there. A whimper escaped.

“Mandyyyyyyy.”

“Yeahhhhhhh?” She was all mischief and smugness as she looked back up at you. It just made you more desperate.

“Mandy. Please?” You gave her your best pleading look.

“You’re so impatient.” She said the words lightly, playfully. But she must’ve been impatient too, because she was pushing your underwear down. When her fingers brushed against your clit, you gasped and dropped your head back against the wall. Fuck, God, yes, right there –

“You sure you only just figured out I was flirting with you? You seem pretty fucking wet already.” She punctuated her words with a slide of her fingers against you. Because yeah, you were fucking wet. It would’ve been a little humiliating if you weren’t so achingly desperate for her touch.

“Yeah, well.” You drew in an unsteady breath as she circled your clit. A teasing touch that wasn’t quite enough. Fuck, it was impossible to form a coherent thought. “You’re just…. really fucking hot.”

It was hardly eloquent. But her breath puffed against your neck in a laugh. And you figured it would do for now.

She kissed the hollow of your throat, firmly rubbed her thumb against your clit. You practically bucked against her. Her other hand hooked under one of your thighs and lifted, and you threw your leg around her waist. Let out a moan at how it changed the sensation. “Yeah, like that,” Amanda breathed. “Just like that.” She said it as if you were touching her, as if she wasn’t the one doing all the work, wasn’t the one making you writhe and whimper and leak over her precise fingers.

Christ, you hadn’t felt this good in a while.

The pace was languorous, exploratory, testing what made you shiver and dig your nails into her shoulders and gasp for breath. As if she was intent on taking you apart and finding out exactly what got you going – a machine to figure out and put back together. Slowly, slowly, but in a way you savored, you felt the tension inside of you building up and coiling tight like a spring. You were quivering. Your clothes clung to your sweat-sheened skin. The music spilling into the bathroom from the bar wasn’t quite enough to cover the ragged breathing and wet, rhythmic noises, and it just made the whole thing feel even dirtier. Especially with how Amanda was panting against you, as if she was getting off just from you getting off and fuck it made you clench.

When she picked up the pace, you weren’t able to stop the gasps and moans that spilled out of you, the way you panted and pleaded her name. The sound of her fingers squelching against you had you burning. And when your release hit you cried out, clenching, shaking, clinging to Amanda’s shoulders and digging your nails in as you rode out the high. She didn’t stop, didn’t relieve the pressure against your clit. White hot pleasure burned through your body till tears pricked at your eyes. Distantly, she said something. Soft, sweet words that didn’t quite reach your ears as they rang from the intensity of your orgasm.

She only stopped when you went limp against her. Only pulled away from the mess you’d made – that she’d made too, really – to wrap her arms around your hips and kiss you, deep and slow, as if trying to commit you to memory. You lazily brushed your tongue against hers. Your muscles felt like taffy, worn out in the best way.

“You were right,” you said when you parted. “You really are good with your hands.”

Amanda grinned so widely and genuinely that you couldn’t stop yourself from capturing her lips again. Fuck. You might’ve been a little bit in love. Or maybe that was the post-sex endorphins talking. You weren’t sure. You didn’t particularly care either way.

“I think I owe you an orgasm,” you said.

Amanda brushed her nose against yours. For the first time since you’d met her, she actually seemed truly, fully relaxed. As if she’d properly lowered her guard just now, just in this moment, just for you. “Maybe next date.” The words sent a flutter through your chest. Next date. There’d be a next date. “But first,” she said, moving away to grab some paper towels, “we gotta get you cleaned up.”

#ace writes #sfbf23 #amanda young #amanda young x reader #saw #notsft #not totally satisfied with how this turned out but fuck it we ball

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harringtonisms · 2 years

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pairing: steve harrington / eddie munson summary: Five times Amanda Driscoll hears about Mr. Harrington’s wife and the One time she realizes it’s his husband. warnings: some angst in #4 and a slight coming out (to herself) arc, hinted at homophobia (nothing explicit) word count: 7.5k a/n: (10/18/2023): a little after a year from the original post date, i decided to go back and edit it. it's still the same story any rereaders know, but all the little plot holes and issues have been fixed and there's 200 more words to read! thank you for reading <3

(og note): this is based off of this post i made! i will be doing a second part to this that follows eddie's bandmates and meeting steve! i hope you enjoy and any feedback, likes, reblogs, comments, ask, are all appreciated!

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1. Monday, August 21st, 1995

Amanda was not one to be late, especially on the first day of school. Her steps echoed in the empty hallway as she rushed to her first period class. In one hand she held a tardy slip. In the other was a ripped piece of notebook paper detailing her homeroom class in smudged blue ink.

Mr. Harrington

U.S. History

Room 114

Having lived in Hawkins her whole life, she’d been attending the same middle school her older sister and both parents attended. This made her rather familiar with the staff at Hawkins Middle and yet she hadn’t recognized Mr. Harrington’s name. Reaching her classroom, she grabbed the handle and pushed it open.

All the desks were arranged in groups of four and there were four groups. Hanging from the ceiling, were pieces of laminated paper designating each desk group a number. The walls were covered in different iconic historical quotes, maps of the worlds, and black and white photos of people Amanda assumed were important. On her teacher’s desk was a small globe, a pencil cup, and a clay pot full of various origamis. Her teacher was leaning against his desk, in the middle of a speech when he was interrupted by the squeak of the door being opened. All eyes landed on Amanda and she squirmed under her peers' watchful gaze. She walked shyly over to Mr. Harrington and handed him her pass.

“Ah, Amanda! Welcome to U.S. History. Uh, here! Grab a syllabus and there’s a free seat at table two! I’m just telling the class a bit about myself.” He smiled politely at her, and motioned toward table two. At table two, Mary and Lj were sitting on the same side, facing the windows, so Amanda chose the seat across from Lj. She quietly sat her stuff down and paid attention to what her teacher was saying.

“Like I was saying, I was born and raised in Hawkins. I walked these very same halls you did once before! It’s actually where I met my current partner, I just didn’t know it at the time. I started at Ivy Tech college before I transferred to Indiana State Teachers College to get my degree. I lived in Chicago with my spouse for a few years and taught at the local high school, before we moved back this past summer to take care of their dad and here we are! I’m also the coach for the basketball team so information about try-outs will go up soon. Now, enough about me. If you’d take a look at your syllabus…”

Mr. Harrington’s voice faded into ambient noise in the background as she looked around her classroom. He’d met his wife right here in this building, and he didn’t even know it at the time. The person Amanda would marry could be sitting right in front of her and she’d never know until she was finally with them. She glanced around and her eyes landed on Louise-Jane Brooks, or Lj as she was typically called. Amanda immediately looked away, a fierce blush painting her cheeks the same color as her hair. That happened almost every time she looked at Lj. How weird is it that someone she’s known since kindergarten made her so nervous? The sun fitted itself through the blinds behind Amanda and illuminated Lj, like she had her own personal spotlight shining down on her. Brown skin, long braids, deep dark eyes turned to honey, and freckles left over from summer time glittered underneath the light and it stirred up something within Amanda that her mind had trouble reconciling with.

“Any questions?” Mr. Harrington’s voice cut through the Lj related fog in Amanda’s mind and her hand immediately shot up.

“You said you met your wife in middle school. How did you know she was the one?” Amanda forced her eyes to stay on Mr. Harrington despite the strange urge to look back at Lj.

“Well I didn’t know I’d marry them in middle school. I didn’t know that I’d marry them until way after college. We met in middle school. We were desk partners in our science class and they taught me how to make origami out of our homework sheets.” He picked up the little clay pot on his desk and pulled out what looked like a pencil. “They made me this little pencil for my first day teaching here.” He returned the origami pencil and the clay pot back to their spot on his desk and looked back out toward his students. “Are there any other questions?...No? Alright we’re gonna head down to the library and grab your textbooks so line up!”

A symphony of chairs screeching against the ground and whispering voices erupted as the students lined up by the door. Much to the delight of Amanda, Lj ended up in front of her. Lj was wearing a baby pink dress with white polka dots and white flats. Amanda tapped Lj’s shoulder and waited for her to turn. She turned and Amanda had to ignore the warmth in her cheeks as she spoke.

“I like your dress!” Lj’s smile grew in response to Amanda’s compliment.

“Thank you, Amy. It has pockets!” and she stuck her hands into the pockets of the dress to show them to Amanda. Amanda went to say something but the line had started to move so she kept her response to herself.

2. Friday, September 15th, 1995

In the weeks that passed, Amanda found herself looking forward to her first period class more and more. Mr. Harrington made learning about history much more fun than her previous teachers had. Though they had to check out the textbooks in the library provided by the state, Mr. Harrington told them to stack them along the window sill and they sat there everyday, untouched. In class, he told them the real history and explained what actually happened, what the textbooks glossed over or lied about. Instead of reading page after page in their textbooks they got to do fun projects creating poster boards, making dioramas, and even creating their own political cartoons.

Amanda has also been early everyday. She was sitting in her regular seat waiting for class to start, when two boys walked in, talking excitedly about some band she’d never heard of.

“Did you hear about the first Corroded Coffin show last night in Indianapolis? Apparently people were camping outside the venue for 2 nights to try and score tickets! I want to see them on tour so bad!” Mr. Harrington peaked his head up from the paper he was writing on and joined the boys’ conversation.

“You guys like Corroded Coffin? I know those guys, we all went to high school together.” Mr. Harrington said. He looked off to the side, brows furrowed as he thought about something. “Maybe I can ask them to come for career day in October?”

The two boys gasped excitedly and started asking their teachers questions about the band and how he met them. Mary, who sat diagonally across from Amanda, sighed. Amanda watched, Mary, who had her head in her hands, gazing dreamily at Mr. Harrington.

“Isn’t he just so handsome, Amanda?” Mary said, turning to look at her. Amanda wrinkled her nose in response. Sure, Mr. Harrington wasn’t ugly but she couldn’t see what it was about him that made all the girls trip over themselves. No matter if they were in the cafeteria during lunch or in the library for study hall, she was subject to hearing theories of what Mr. Harrington’s wife looked like, and whispers of ‘She’s so lucky’. Amanda didn’t get any of it. Still, she wanted to fit in, so she pretended. He wore the same style glasses that she did, so at least she could compliment him without lying. To herself or her classmates.

“Um, I like his glasses.” She replied. Avoiding Mary’s piercing gaze, she decided pulling her pencil bag out was a smart move.

“I don’t know, Amy,” Lj said, looking up from her book. “I think Miss. Rosario is prettier than Mr. Harrington. She would never come to school with her shirt so wrinkled.” Lj glanced at Mr. Harrington once more before going back to her book. Mary flipped her long, blonde hair over her shoulder, before she raised her hand. Next to her, Amanda’s eyes were glued to Lj. Miss Rosario was pretty. Super pretty. If everyone was talking about that, she’d understand one hundred percent. She forced herself to look away when Mr. Harrington started speaking.

“Yes, Mary?”

“You don’t normally come to school with your shirt so wrinkled. Why today?” She asked. Mr. Harrington looked down at his shirt and inspected the wrinkles and huffed. He was wearing a plain blue and white striped polo, and jeans since it was a friday.

“Thank you…for pointing that out, Mary. For your information, normally my partner irons my shirts every morning while I make breakfast, but they’ll be away for the next month on a work trip, and I was in a rush and forgot to do it.” He walked back around behind his desk and grabbed the hawkins middle hoodie that was hanging on the back of his desk chair and put it on. “There, Now no one can see the wrinkles.” He raised his eyebrows, as if to say ‘is this okay’ and Mary nodded as she giggled

“Why does your wife always iron your shirts? Why don’t you iron your own shirts and she makes breakfast?” Janet asked.

“Well, Janet, if you must know, they like to pick out my clothes, and I’m the only one who can cook so it just works out.” Mr. Harrington replied. A few awws came from the crowd and he waved them away. “Yes, it’s all very sweet and domestic and all that jazz. Now, who can tell me where we left off yesterday.”

3. Tuesday, October 3rd, 1995

“Yo, Mr. H, what’s that thing on your nose?” It was right before class began, and Mr. Harrington had just turned around from writing their new essay prompt on the board. Right in the center of his face was a scratch, from the bridge of his nose to underneath his eye. Amanda was by the door, sharpening her pencil for the lesson.

“Well Good Morning to you too, Gerald. That thing on my nose is a scratch. My partner came home for the weekend and we ended up adopting some kittens last night. Three of them actually, so in the whole mess of transporting 3 kittens back to our home…” He gestured to his face and then shrugged.

“What did you name the kittens?” A voice said from the back.

“Sabbath, Kirk, and Abba.” His lips pursed, as if he was trying to suppress his smile.

“Why those names?” Amanda asked before she could stop herself. She recognized Abba because her older sister was always blasting it through her walkman, but the other two names were unfamiliar. She assumed they probably also had to do with music but she wasn't sure what they were references to.

“Well Sabbath and Kirk are nods to my partners favorite bands. The last cat was named Abba because I occasionally play them and my partner loves to tease me for it. Says I need to be introduced to ‘real music’.” Mr. Harrington had an exasperated look on his face, but you could hear the fondness in his voice as he talked about his partner. He glanced over at his origami pot, which Amanda noted now had a black cat added to it. She spun to walk back to her desk with her newly sharpened pencils when Lj walked into class, beating the bell by a few seconds and immediately caught Amanda’s attention.

“Woah, Amy! You wore your hair down today?” Lj said, and stopped when she saw the redhead by the door. Amanda typically kept her hair in a ponytail and her bangs neatly trimmed just above her eyebrows to keep her curls from falling into her face while she worked. Today though, she had a black and white striped headband settled behind her bangs, the rest of her curly hair falling down to her shoulders. “I really like it like this. You look extra pretty.” Lj offered her a small smile and made her way to her seat. Amanda's hand flew to her hair and her jaw fell open a bit, eyes tracking Lj’s movements as she walked away.

Lj thought she was extra pretty with her hair down. Extra. Like she always thought Amanda was pretty, but with her hair down…she was more, pretty. Additionally pretty. Especially pretty. Her gaze slowly left Lj and landed on Mr. Harrington who was watching her with an expression on his face that she couldn’t quite place. He shook his head in amusement and then pointed to her desk with his chin. It took her feet a few seconds to catch up with her brain and move, but she made it to her seat. As she sat down, Gerald called out to her teacher.

“Wait Mr. H, I’m confused. Why did y’all get 3 kitties in the first place?” Mr. Harrington sighed and ran a hand down his face, wincing when he made contact with the scratch.

“We couldn’t separate the siblings. Or, my partner didn’t want to separate them and…who am I to stop them. So we got three kittens.” His eyes widened like he still couldn’t believe it.

“Will you bring them in so we can meet them?” Kendra asked hopefully. Amanda knew she wanted to be a veterinarian so it made sense that she’d ask. That was the cool thing about going to school with the same kids all her life. She knew so many little things about them and what their aspirations were. Gerald was out of this world smart so he’d decided he would either be a lawyer or a doctor, whichever paid more. Mary wanted to be a famous actress, Janet loved science, and Lj was a writer like no other.

Amanda imagined hanging out with Lj in the future. Lj as a world famous journalist for the New York Times and Amanda working somewhere with numbers. They would both live in New York because Lj would want a friend there and they’ll live in the same apartment to save money and they’ll share a room because what if it’s lonely and she’ll get to wake up to Lj and fall asleep with Lj and grocery shop with Lj and

Amanda sat up straighter in her seat and shook her head as if to shake those thoughts out of her mind. She reminded herself to leave those types of thoughts to when she was alone and tuned back into the ongoing conversation.

“Sorry Kendra, can’t do that. I have a kid in my third and seventh period classes with allergies to fur.”

“What if your wife brings them, and then after this class period, she takes them back home?” Someone else suggested. Mr. Harrington chuckled to himself and dropped his head, letting it hang for a moment.

“That won’t be possible, they’re on a work trip, remember. Maybe I’ll bring a picture in so you all can see.” He offered, looking around to see if that would appease his students.

“But we want to see your wife! You’re always talking about her!” That comment came from Mary. Mr. Harrington laughed again and Amanda wondered what was so funny.

“Ok ok, I see what’s going on here. You’re trying to get me to talk about my personal life so we don’t start those essays today huh? Unluckily for you, I was a student once so I know all your tricks! Come on, let’s get class started.” A few tried to protest, but eventually they grabbed their notebooks and flipped to fresh pages.

As Amanda worked, her hair continued to fall into her face. She resisted the urge to tie it back into its signature ponytail, instead opting to tuck her hair behind her ear constantly. Louise-Jane Brooks thinks Amanda Driscoll is extra pretty with her hair down and Amanda decided it was normal to want another girl to think she’s pretty, so she kept her hair down.

4. Friday, October 13th, 1995

“Mr. Harrington, what was high school like for you?”

That day, the eighth grade class had a field trip to the high school now that their first marking period was nearly over. The class was pretty chatty now that they were back in their classroom waiting for the dismissal bell to ring. They were all standing around Mr. Harrington’s desk, a few sitting on the student desks behind them. They quieted down when they heard the question asked.

“I was pretty popular in high school, was co-captain of the swim team, fought some monsters, skipped prom, then I graduated and met the love of my life.” Mr. Harrington was staring upwards, like he was checking off an imaginary list in his mind. Immediately, a gaggle of questions were shouted out at him. His eyes widened in shock and he put his hands up in surrender. “Woahhh guys, one a time, let me see some hands. McKenzie, what’s your question?”

“I thought you met your wife in middle school?” A few ‘yeah’s came from the group as they recalled what Mr. Harrington told them on the first day of class.

“That is technically right. I did meet them in middle school and we were friends for that science class we shared. Then we drifted apart until after I graduated. We reconnected during the whole fighting monsters thing after high school and ever since then it’s been me and them.”

“What do you mean by fighting monsters?” Another person asked. Mr. Harrington only shrugged. His arms, which were hanging down by his sides, wrapped around his stomach. “Whatever you think it means, Kevin.”

“He’s probably talking about some game or movie,” Someone commented from the back of the group to their friend. Mr. Harrington didn’t acknowledge them, only staring out the window. The kids begin to break off into separate conversation when the bell rings to dismiss for the day.

“Hey Amy,” Lj said, approaching her as the crowd started to disperse and leave Amanda, Lj, and their teacher behind. Mr. Harrington yelled out a ‘See you tomorrow and made good decisions!’ as he sat back behind his desk. The two girls were standing in the aisle between table one and table two, a few feet from the front of Mr. Harrington’s desk. She noticed her teacher start to look for something on his desk.

“I’m surprised you’re still here, normally you're first out the door.” She commented. Amanda smiled at the thought of Lj paying that much attention to her.

“I have Chess Club afterschool today so my mom will get me at four. I don’t have to catch the bus.” Lj hummed in acknowledgement before speaking again.

“So…I just moved to a new house, and I finally finished decorating my room. If it’s okay with your mom, my mom said I could invite people over now.” Lj had a delicate smile on her face as her fingers played with the hem of her t-shirt before being stuffed into the pockets of her jeans.

“Um, yeah of course! I’d love to! How do I tell you if my mom said it’s ok?” Amanda said, smiling so widely she knew her cheeks would ache later.

“Uhhhh,” Lj looked around, before taking a few steps and grabbing a marker out of Mr. Harrington’s pencil cup. Amanda trailed behind her. Lj grabbed Amanda’s arm and wrote down a series of numbers on her forearm. Amanda could see that Mr. Harrington was now fumbling for something within his desk. Lj let her hand fall from Amanda’s forearms to her hand.

“There. That’s my home phone number, just call me when you ask your mom! I hope she says yes. I got this jewelry making kit so we can like, make bracelets and stuff! Bye, Amy! Call me! Even if you can't come over!” Lj squeezed Amanda’s hand before letting go and walking out the classroom.

Amanda was rooted in her spot, the path LJ’s fingers took burned into her skin. Having feelings for Lj had gone from manageable to completely unbearable from that one interaction. How was she supposed to walk around everyday not aching to touch her again? To feel the weight of Lj’s hand in hers and have her small, kind, infectious smile directed at Amanda. Her fingers traced the numbers on her arm as she reimagined her Saturday plans. She was shaken from her daydream when a throat cleared. Her head snapped to the source of the noise, and she met eyes with Mr. Harrington. Realizing he watched that entire interaction, her smile dropped. She knew exactly what he was thinking. It was the same things her parents whispered in the kitchen when they thought she was asleep in the living room.

“That wasn’t what it looked like. I don’t have a crush on Lj.” Mr. Harrington only raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips.

“I…I didn’t say you did.” He replied.

Amanda’s cheeks burned a deep red as she realized he didn’t say that. He didn’t say anything. She assumed she knew what he was thinking and just dug herself into a hole. She looked away embarrassed, feeling the burn of restrained tears behind her eyes. She’d just come to terms herself with what those feelings inside her meant. She wasn’t ready to deal with what it meant to openly like girls. But now she’d have to, Mr. Harrington was going to tell her mom.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” She whispered, looking away when a few tears fell. Mr. Harrington’s eyes widened in shock. He jumped up from his desk, walked around to the front, and kneeled in front of Amanda.

“Hey, hey, hey don't cry. I won’t tell anyone anything you don’t want me to. There’s nothing for me to tell, Amanda. Promise.” He reassured, his hands flailing about in front of him as he spoke. He offered a comforting squeeze on the shoulder before shifting to sit criss-cross in front of his desk, using it to lean on.

Amanda watched Mr. Harrington as he sat on the floor and made himself comfortable. He looked up at Amanda and patted the spot next to him. She sat down with him, legs stretched into the aisle in front of them and her back pressed up against Mr. Harrington’s desk. She took her glasses off and wiped her eyes, and Mr. Harrington pushed his glasses into his hair and began to speak.

“If I may ask, what is it… that I'm not telling?” He asked, voice gentle.

“I don’t think you’d understand.” She said, voice shaky with unshed tears.

“Maybe…maybe not. But you never know unless you tell me. If you want to, of course.” He said as he watched Amanda carefully.

“How do you feel about your wife?” She asked him, finger aimlessly prodding at the linoleum floors.

“My partner is the best gift that I could have ever been given. They’re the most gorgeous person I’ve ever laid my eyes on. The kindest, most compassionate, and genuine person I know. And they’re hilarious, they make me laugh like never before. I used to dread going home, but now that they’re there, I can’t wait to get back to them everyday. Everything leads back to them, and I’m never not thinking about them, or missing them, or loving them. They are the center of my universe and every planet surrounding it.”

The two sat in silence for a moment after. Amanda wondered what it would be like to love a girl so fully. To love a girl so much that her mere presence made the stars shine brighter and air seem crisper. To love a girl, and be free to tell anyone who asked.

“I want,” she started. “I want to be allowed to feel that way about a girl.” Amanda nearly whispered the end of her sentence, the force of hearing her voice admit that out loud for the first time knocked the air out of her.

“You are allowed to feel that way about a girl.” Mr. Harrington said, shifting to face Amanda better. She turned to look at him, red rimmed eyes meeting earnest ones. “My best friend and her wife moved to San Francisco so that they could. They’re much more open minded out there. When I lived in Chicago, you heard about people like us out there way more than you did here in Hawkins.” Amanda’s brows knitted in confusion.

“People like us?” She asked. Mr. Harrington nodded.

“People like us,” He confirmed. Amanda let the weight of both their confessions settle in the air. Other people felt this way. Mr. Harrington did. And so did his best friend and her wife. And the people in San Francisco and in Chicago. She wasn’t the only person who felt. Amanda let her worries be temporarily soothed by the comfort of knowing she wasn’t a freak or a mistake. She wiped her eyes again, put her glasses back on, and pushed herself off the floor. She looked up at the clock which read 3:12. Chess Club started in three minutes.

“I have to go, I don’t want to be late…but thank you, Mr. Harrington.” Amanda said, voice quiet.

“Anytime, Amanda. My door is always open.” And she didn’t doubt that. Not many people in Hawkins knew how she felt, but Mr. Harrington did and that was more than she thought.

5. Monday, October 15th, 1995

When Amanda walked into her homeroom class the following day, the first thing she noticed was the new poster up by the chalkboard. It was a plain beige rectangle with rainbow patterned letters, spelling out “YOU ARE SAFE HERE.” Amanda’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes immediately searched for Mr. Harrington, but he was busy talking to one of her classmates. She walked to her seat, reveling in the warmth that grew in her chest from how nice it was to be cared for like this.

As Amanda placed her arm on her desk, she felt the delicious bite of the gems on her bracelet sink into the skin of her wrist. She lifted her wrist to inspect the new jewelry she made with Lj. There were pink, orange, and red beads patterned on her bracelet, while Lj’s had a pink, blue, and purple pattern. Both bracelets however, had “LJ&AMY”. Her right hand came up and she ran her fingers over the beads, and smiled fondly as she remembered her weekend with Lj. Memories of bracelet making, pizza, karaoke, and sharing a banana split sundae filled her mind. Amanda looked ahead of her and saw that Lj was already staring at her. She smiled at her and waved shyly. Lj giggled and waved back.

“I like your bracelet,” She said, smiling back at Amanda. Amanda stuck her hand wrist out proudly to show off the bracelet Lj helped her make.

“Why thank you, it’s custom made, one of a kind,” She laughed again, but was interrupted by one of her classmates yelling over the chatter in the classroom.

“How was your weekend, Mr. H,” Gerald asked.

“It was pretty good. I went down to Lovers Lake with my partner and they had a picnic set up. It was very sweet. They even made me a flower crown by hand. We also saw some of our friends from back in the day.” He responded.

“Wow, Mr. H, your wife sounds mad sweet.” Gerald responded, his fingers absentmindedly twirling one of his locs.

“Right,” Kendra piped in from the back corner. “Everytime you say something about her it’s always something so gentle. Like she taught you how to make origami, and she irons your clothes, made you adopt all those cats, now a picnic at Lovers’ Lake and a handmade flower crown? She’s like, the sweetest woman in the world.” Kendra said, recalling all the kind things Mr. Harrington’s partner did for him.

“I wish you guys paid this much attention to what I say when i’m teaching, how did you even remember all of that?” Kendra only shrugs and Mr. Harrington sighs. “Anyways, what about you guys, what did you get up to this weekend?” Immediately Lj’s hand went up and Mr. Harrington called on her. She reached her hand out to Amanda, who immediately clasped her fingers around Lj’s.

“Well Amy came over to my house and we did a bunch of fun stuff like go to the mall and get pizza, but we also made these matching bracelets.” Lj then stuck their conjoined hands in the air so their classmates could see the bracelets, even if it was a bit awkward with all that space between the two girls.

Amanda’s grin grew impossibly bigger and she looked at Mr. Harrington who raised his brows in pleasant surprise.

“That’s very nice girls, my partner and my best friend have a matching pair of purple converse that they decorated together actually. Janet, what about you? How was your weekend?” Mr. Harrington went on, letting his students tell him all about their weekend before they started class. Amanda couldn’t pay much attention to what her classmates were saying though, savoring every second Lj kept her in hand in Amanda’s.

“Don’t you think it’s kind of weird how Mr. Harrington never just says ‘my wife’?” Mary whispered to her tablemates. Amanda froze for a moment, considering Mary’s words. Lj squeezed Amanda’s hand before letting go and picking up her pencil to take notes since Mr. Harrington was now starting the lesson. Amanda didn’t follow her lead. Instead, she ran back every time Mr. Harrington brought up his wife.

“Then I lived in Chicago with my spouse for a few years…”

“...normally my partner irons my shirts every morning…”

“Everything leads back to them, and I’m never not thinking about them, or missing them, or loving them.”

Why didn’t Mr. Harrington just say ‘my wife’ instead of ‘my partner’? Why did he always say ‘they’ instead of ‘she’? Amanda’s mind reminded her of their conversation afterschool on friday.

“When I lived in Chicago, you heard about people like us way more than here in Hawkins.”

People like…us.

Her eyes darted to the new poster hanging up in their class. You are safe here. Her eyes drifted to Mr. Harrington as the realization dawned on her. Why Mr. Harrington was so specific about how he referred to his partner. Why he didn’t have a picture of them on his desk like her other teachers do.

Mr. Harrington…doesn’t have a wife. He has a husband.

+1. Tuesday, October 16th, 1995

It was career fair day so after lunch instead of heading to her algebra class, Amanda met up with Lj in front of the gym to browse all the different jobs that came to present that day. She almost tripped over her feet in excitement once she spotted Lj. She quickened her pace, nearly running over one of the 6th graders. The two girls embraced before linking arms as they walked into the gym together.

They stopped by the doctor table and the accounting table, and ran past the construction table giggling. They visited the journalism table so Lj could talk with the woman there. She had a short, curly bob and a name tag that read “Miss Wheeler”. Amanda looked around and spotted Mr. Harrington toward the back of the fair talking with another man with unruly, curly hair. The long haired man smiled at Mr. Harrington and knocked the educators shoulder with his own.

Amanda told Lj she would be right back and headed in their direction. Upon arriving, Mr. Harrington’s friend stepped away from him and approached Amanda. He was wearing a t-shirt that said “The Devil Was Once an Angel” and ripped black jeans. He had many rings on his fingers and various chains hanging off his belt loops. He had multiple tattoos all along his arms and stuck to the front of his chest was a name tag that read “Mr. Munson”.

Looking at his display, she saw a speaker, quietly playing metal music and a black and red electric guitar on a stand next to it. There were pictures of the long haired man on stage with 3 other guys and a notebook open with what looked like song lyrics. Next to the notebook, there were some tickets for a band called ‘Corroded Coffin’. Amanda racked her memory trying to remember why the name sounded familiar.

“Amanda!” Mr. Harrington greeted. He turned and faced Mr. Munson. “Mr. Munson, this is that student I told you about. Amanda, this is Eddie Munson, lead guitarist, lead vocals, and songwriter for his band.” Mr. Harrington looked at Eddie proudly, and placed a hand on each shoulder, in a weird sort of side hug.

“Thank you for that lovely introduction, Mr. Harrington,” Mr. Munson said, grinning widely. He then turned to Amanda. “What kind of music do you listen to, Red?” He had his hands clasped together, his two pointer fingers pressed against his lips.

“Uhh, I guess I listen to a lot of pop music. My older sister introduced me to someone called Madonna? I mainly listen to my sister's old tapes so whatever she has,” Amanda responded.

Mr. Munson gasped, dramatically clutching his hand to his chest where his heart would be.

“Oh you poor thing! You’re a lost little sheep, just like Stevie here. He only listens to whatever’s on the top 40. AKA, Not. Real. Music.” She giggled and Mr. Munson smiled at her in a way where she knew he was only teasing. Amanda could see Mr. Harrington roll his eyes but smile, as Mr. Munson grabbed the speaker that was on his table. He pulled it closer to the front of the table so she could hear the music playing better. Mr. Munson looked around quickly before whispering to Amanda. “You won’t tell anyone if this song says any bad words will you,” His questioning gaze turned into a devilish grin when Amanda smiled and shook her head. “I knew there was a reason you were his favorite” Her feet tapped in excitement as she glanced quickly to her teacher.

Mr. Munson turns the music up slightly and lets the heavy bass and electric guitar fill the air around them.

“That is my band's latest single, ‘Trials’. It’s about some stuff that your teacher and I went through back in high school.” He said.

“You guys knew each other in high school?” Amanda asked, bewildered. How did her polo-wearing, mr. popular, not a hair out of place history teacher become friends with a man so completely different from him?

“Well we knew of each other in high school, we were friends in middle school for a little while. We reconnected around this time of my senior year. 1986, can you believe that was 10 years ago, Stevie?” Where had she heard that before? Where did she know this man from? She can’t recall ever seeing him before, so why do his words sound so familiar? Amanda pushed those questions out of her head, and instead decided to ask him questions about his work since that is what he was there for.

“Do all the inspirations for your songs come from your life? How do you not run out of things to write about?” Amanda asked.

“What a wonderful question, Red. I do get a lot of inspiration from my real life. Take this weekend for example, Me and Mr. Harrington—or Mr.Harrington and I, Miss O’Donnell would kill me if she heard me say that.” Mr. Munson said that last part to Mr. Harrington before he turned back to Amanda. “Like I was saying, Stevie and I went out to the lake and afterwards we got to meet up with some of our old friends. I got some inspiration from that experience to write about reminiscing on good times. The song that just played for you right now, is also about the past but it’s about how the past changes us today. So while I may use the same base for songs,...”

Amanda started to lose focus as Mr. Munson explained his songwriting process. Mr. Harrington also said he was at Lovers’ Lake with his partner and that he met up with old friends this weekend. She understood them hanging out as old friends, they knew each other since middle school apparently. But how could Mr. Munson have been at Lovers’ Lake too?

Amanda looks at Mr. Harrington, opening her mouth to ask a question when she stops herself. Mr. Harrington. That’s who she’s heard this from before. She looked back at the tickets on the table. “Corroded Coffin” She realizes that’s the band he was talking about that one day. She runs her entire conversation with Mr. Munson back in her mind matching it to the things she heard Mr. Harrington say in class.

‘’The last cat was named Abba because I occasionally play them and my partner loves to tease me for it. Says I need to be introduced to ‘real music’”

“You’re a lost little sheep, just like Stevie here. He only listens to whatever’s on the top 40. AKA, Not. Real. Music.”

“We reconnected during the whole fighting monsters thing after high school.”

“We reconnected around this time of my senior year.”

“Stevie and I went out to the lake and afterwards we got to meet up with some of our old friends.”

“I went down to Lovers Lake with my partner…We also saw some of our friends from back in the day.”

Amanda looked away from the table, looking between both Mr. Munson and Mr. Harrington. Mr. Harrington was watching Mr. Munson as he explained something Amanda wasn't paying much attention to with rapt fascination. His eyes were soft and his smile was adoring. His arms were crossed casually across his chest and he leaned slightly toward Mr. Munson, like the musician had a magnetic pull on him.

Like Mr. Munson was the center of his universe.

Amanda gasped loudly, effectively cutting off Mr. Munson’s spiel and drawing attention from a few of the neighboring tables. They all turned away when Amanda’s face broke into a wide grin, assuming her gasp was from excitement. Both Mr. Harrington and Mr. Munson were staring at Amanda with confusion on their faces.

“Are you…okay, Red?” Mr. Munson asked as he stepped backwards to inspect Amanda, consequently getting into Mr. Harrington’s personal space. Her history teacher didn’t budge when there were only a mere few inches separating them. She peeked around them, searching for Lj and finding her talking to Gerald in front of the lawyers table. She turned back to the two men in front of her and kept her voice low when she spoke.

“Mr. Harrington doesn’t have a wife,” She paused for dramatic effect, something she learned from Mary, and let the two men share a glance before looking back to her. “He has a husband.” She clapped her hands, excited by her discovery. It all made sense now. Realization washed over both Mr. Harrington and Mr. Munson. They looked at each other, Mr. Munson pursing his lips to suppress a smile and Mr. Harrington with both hands on his hips and an exasperated look on his face.

“How did you piece that together from my presentation?” Mr. Munson asked, head tilted in amusement.

“It wasn’t your presentation, it was the stuff you said before you started talking about the music. Mr. Harrington talks about you all the time in class. The stuff you said right now matched up to what Mr. Harrington said before and all the signs, the poster, ‘People like us...It just clicked right now. What all that meant.” Amanda said, hands waving wildly in front of her. They froze mid-air when another realization washed over her. Her eyebrows knit up in confusion as she looked Mr. Munson over once more.

“You…with the tattoos, and the rings, and the chains, and the all black clothes…adopted three kittens? And you iron Mr. Harrington’s clothes every morning? And planned a picnic out on Lovers’ Lake? You taught Mr. Munson to make little origamis? Made him a flower crown? That was you? But you look so…” Amanda paused looking for the words. Mr. Munson glanced over his shoulder at Mr. Harrington with the widest grin she’d ever seen. “You look so, not the type.”

“I told you all those years ago, Stevie. Forced conformity. It’s killing the kids.” He turned back to Amanda. “It’s 1995 Little Red, people are so much more than their stereotypes.”

Amanda stared at Mr. Munson, soaking in all the new information, when another question popped in her mind.

“Wait. If you’re both boys, how did you get married?” She kept her voice low, so the other tables wouldn’t over hear her. Mr. Munson crouched down to Amanda’s level.

“Well, to the government, marriage is a piece of paper saying ‘This is who I chose!’. And tax benefits. We didn't need a piece of paper and a big fancy party, though we did have one, to say that we chose each other for life. I love him. And the government doesn’t get to tell me if that’s okay or not, it is okay.” Mr. Munson then looked up at Mr. Harrington from his spot on the floor. They shared a look, one that said a million more words than they’d be allowed in such a public place.

Amanda looked away from them, the connection between the two becoming almost suffocating. It was so surreal to be standing in front of two people who understood what she was going through. They went through it already and came out the other end. They were living breathing proof that it’s not always this hard, and it’s not always this confusing. That one day you’ll be able to wake up every morning next to the love of your life, no matter their gender. You’ll get to visit your favorite spots from your childhood as you grow old together. That we get a fancy wedding and the promise to be together forever too. They were proof that our fate isn’t subject to becoming a forgotten name in the newspaper for a case the police won’t try to solve. People like us, get to have our happily ever after, and Amanda was looking right at one. She couldn’t quite put into words what that meant to her.

On top of that, Mr. Munson wasn’t anything like she’d expected. Besides the fact that she was expecting a woman up until yesterday, he wasn’t anything like she expected for someone who presented themself like he did. He was kind and gentle while being loud and dramatic. He picked flowers for his husband with the same hands he used to shred electric guitar. He was unapologetically himself, even if that confused some people. Amanda looked forward to the day she could say the same about herself.

Mr. Harrington offered Mr. Munson a hand, and helped him off the floor when Lj approached the table.

“There you are Amy, I was wondering where you went,” Lj immediately reached for Amanda’s hand and interlocked their fingers, like she couldn't go another second without touching Amanda. Mr. Munson offered a small, knowing smile. “Are you done here? I heard the veterinary table is giving out cookies shaped like dinosaurs!”

Amanda looked away from Lj and back up at Mr. Munson and Mr. Harrington.

“After the promotion ceremony, and we’re officially high schoolers…am I still allowed to come back and say hi?” Amanda asked. Sure, it was only October but Mr. Harrington had already changed her life in such an irrevocable way. When she gets her first girlfriend or when she moves away to find people who are like her, it’ll be because Mr. Harrington was the first person who told her that it was okay and that she wasn’t alone.

“Of course, Amanda. Come back anytime! I’d love to hear about how high school goes for you. Even beyond that!” Mr. Harrington said. They shared a smile, and she let Lj pull her away.

“So you talk about me in class all the time, huh?” Mr. Munson teased as Amanda walked away.

“Go back on tour,” was her teacher's reply.

—

I don't know if i really have the words to explain what this fic means to me and how cathartic it was to write. Thank you for reading <3

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #stranger things fic #steve harrington fic #eddie munson fic #steddie fic #steve/eddie #steve x eddie #steddie stranger things #st #plu #100 #1k #oc #ducky writes

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hayleythesugarbowl · 8 months

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please an ian hecox x reader fic i need🥺 maybe like a first date or something like that there’s just not enough Ian fics

First Fake Date || Ian Hecox x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ summary: oneshot where Ian finds out his ex-girlfriend is going to be at an upcoming event and when you volunteer to go as his fake-date things don’t go quite as either of you planned.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: none

a/n: thanks for the request babes!! I agree we need more ian x reader fics, i hope you enjoy this one!! i kept the first date theme but i took some liberties and i made the reader female so i hope this is what you wanted <3🍒🪩

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright the event this Friday, what’s everyone wearing?” Courtney said, putting her legs up on the table in front of her.

You were lounging around the studio with almost the entire Smosh cast in between shoots.

“Exactly what I’m wearing right now?” Angela lifted her head from Amanda’s lap and gestured to her sweatshirt.

“Very funny,” Courtney said.

“Honestly same,” Shayne agreed, looking up from his phone.

Courtney shot him a look but secretly you agreed with him. It wasn’t that you didn’t care about the YouTube event Smosh was going to, it was just that you weren’t exactly excited about it. You kind of had a history of embarrassing yourself at things like this. Like last month when you tripped in your impossibly tall heels and landed in the lap of a very unhappy old man. In his defense, you had spilled wine down the front of his dress shirt.

“As long as there’re no heels involved, I don’t really care what it is,” You said.

“You people have no sense of style,” Courtney faked disgust.

“Speak for yourselves, this chain begs to differ,” Ian walked into the room, pretending to model the outfit he was wearing.

“He wears one chain and suddenly it’s ‘his brand’,” Amanda joked.

“Hey laugh all you want, but this thing’s a magnet for the ladies.”

Everyone burst out laughing and Ian mocked offense.

“Well I for one think you look great,” you smiled at him and he beamed back at you.

“Besides,” he continued, “I have to look good ‘cause my ex-girlfriend is going to be at the event this Friday. I bet she’s bringing that perfect boyfriend of her’s too who ‘has a real, important job’.”

“Wait, the same girlfriend who broke up with you at the last event?” Damien asked.

You hadn’t been at Smosh yet then, but you’d heard the story multiple times.

“That’s the one. And now I get to show up a year later, still without a date.”

“If only you had a girlfriend you could bring, but oh wait, that’s right—” Shayne teased.

“That’s right,” Ian agreed

“I’ll be your date,” you burst out.

You didn’t know what made you say it. Maybe you sympathized with having embarrassing moments at classy gatherings. Maybe you just felt like helping your boss out. Or maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with the fact that you may or may not have had a tiny crush on Ian when you first started working at Smosh.

But that was a long time ago…ok maybe months ago, and something you’d never admit aloud. You were just offering to help out a friend. Right?

“Really? You’d do that for me?” Ian asked you.

“Sure! No one has to know it’s our first date—or not-first-date. We can tell your ex we’ve been dating for months.”

“That actually might work,” Ian grinned at you.

“Ooh, I can pick out matching outfits for you guys!” Courtney interjected.

“No,” you both said in unison.

“Well, I’ll pick you up on Friday at 8:00 for our not-first-date,” Ian looked at you, his eyes gleaming.

“See you then,” you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Actually you guys will see each other in like 45 minutes for TNTL,” Amanda said.

“Right.” You said.

After this Ian left the room and you turned back to your friends who were all looking at you as if they knew something you didn’t.

You took in their scheming stares. “What?”

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

The rest of the week passed fairly quickly with no more talk of the event except for Ian asking your advice on what to wear—which everyone seemed to think so adorable for reasons you couldn’t understand or just refused to entertain.

And suddenly, just like that it was Friday and you were answering your door to a nervous-looking Ian holding out flowers to you.

“Since it’s our ‘first date’,” he winked at you and you rolled your eyes at him, a smile blooming on your face, “I thought I’d bring you these.”

“Thank you,” you said, “and you look great!”

And he did. His maroon suit fit him perfectly and you couldn’t help but notice that it did end up matching the light pink dress with a crimson belt you chose.

“And you look…wow.” He admired you and it took all of you not to blush at his words.

He took you to his car, and insisted on opening your door for you since it was a ‘first date’. You looked over at Ian from the passenger seat and thought how you were surprised at how much of a gentleman he could be. Your goofy, laid-back boss definitely had a romantic side and would make some girl very happy someday, you thought.

By the time you arrived at the event, you and Ian had barely said a word to each other. Which was odd, to say the least, seeing as you never really felt awkward around him or anybody at Smosh.

“You ready for this?” Ian asked you as you stepped out of the car and headed toward the building the event was held at.

You answered by taking his hand in yours and smiling up at him.

You walked into the venue together and took in the layout. A makeshift stage had been set up for guest speakers at one end and as for the rest of it—cocktail tables scattered throughout the room, lights hanging from the ceiling and trailing down the walls and onto the refreshment tables lining the edges of the room, and hundreds of people, some who you recognized and others you didn’t, mingling and eating and—in the case of your friends—waving at you and Ian.

You two walked over to them. Everyone took in your fingers intertwined.

“Can’t keep your hands off her?” Angela teased Ian.

“I uh—”

You thought you sensed a faint blush on Ian’s cheeks as he tried to respond.

You interrupted. “It’s a fake date, remember? Would you prefer we stood 8 feet apart at all times?”

“So,” you turned to Ian, “where is this ex of yours?”

“Yeah, now that you mention it, I haven’t seen her yet,” Damien said.

“And anyone could spot her curly red bush—I mean hair—a mile away,” Shayne joked.

“Maybe she’s not here yet,” Ian said, and then to you, “let’s go get some drinks.”

He led you over to one of the refreshment tables, and as you were walking, you saw her.

A tall, gorgeous woman in a tight green dress stood about 20 feet away from you. This had to be her, you thought, looking at her auburn curls done up in a twisted updo that made your simple bun look…well, simple.

You nudged Ian, “Found your ex.”

He looked over at her, his brow furrowed, and then recovering quickly he looked back at you.

“Yep, that’s her.”

“Well, then let’s go introduce ourselves as a couple.”

“No,” he said quickly, and then added “I mean, no not yet. We don’t want to seem too desperate.”

You looked at him curiously but figured he was probably right.

You had a new idea.

“Then let’s give her a little show.”

“(Y/n), what are you—”

You dragged him more into his ex-girlfriend’s line of vision.

“Ok, now kiss me.”

“What?”

“She’s looking, kiss me.”

He looked at you like you might be crazy but he also had a look of determination on his face. Determined to impress his ex, you figured. He leaned in slowly and suddenly his mouth was on yours, kissing you quickly. It was awkward at first but as you pulled apart and looked to make sure the woman was still watching you—she was—you thought that it hadn’t been altogether bad.

“That was, um, thank you for…that,” Ian said, breathless.

“Sure,” you said, “anything for a good vengeance plot.”

“Oh, be careful,” Ian said suddenly,

and you looked around, confused. “Old man two o’clock.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” he elbowed him in the ribs remembering the horrors of last event, but you were grinning as you did so.

“Hey, ouch!” He laughed, “We’re supposed to be in love remember?”

And so that’s how you spent the rest of the night. Making sure she could see you when you touched Ian or pretended to laugh at a joke he made or leaned in close as if you were whispering something in his ear.

As the night went on it became easier and easier to pretend to be a couple. You hadn’t talked to Ian’s ex yet—he always had some reason for not going over to her. But you thought you’d done a good job of making her think you were dating.

And the truth was, you were enjoying yourself. You were having a great time, spending hours with Ian.

Like now, as you looked in Ian’s ex-girlfriend’s direction before saying to Ian, “So, since this is a date I guess I should do this.” You wrapped your arms around his neck. “And tell you how gorgeous your eyes are.” They really were, you thought as you stared into them.

Ian leaned closer to you, planting a kiss on your jawline. “And since it’s a date I guess I should tell you how you shine brighter than all the lights in the room and how I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful.”

“And I should pull you closer,” you added, grabbing his lapels.

“And then maybe I would tell you how much I wanted your lips on mine. Again,” he said.

He leaned farther towards you and your lips met his. He kissed you, really kissed you this time. He was gentle at first, but then his hands were in your hair as he kissed you harder and you leaned into it, kissing him back.

“For a fake date this sure seems pretty real.”

You broke apart, looking up and finding Courtney standing in front of you smiling.

Your voice came out more breathy than you would have liked. “We were just—Ian’s ex is right there and—”

“She’s not even over here,” Courtney said looking between you too. “See?”

You looked around you and realized she was gone. How long had she been gone? You let yourself imagine what it would be like if this was a real first date. Would that be so bad? Was it bad if it already felt real?

Courtney left you guys with a cryptic smile before walking over to a table with drinks on it.

“So,” you started, “I—”

“I’ll be right back,” Ian said, then quickly walked towards the door at the back of the venue.

You stood there for a second. Was he avoiding you? Just leaving after you’d shared a moment like that? Was the kiss that bad?

You walked back over to the table where all of your friends were standing and chatting.

“Hey! Where’s Ian going?” Courtney asked you

“Bathroom?” You guessed.

You scanned the room. There was Ian’s ex again. Now she shows up, you thought wryly.

Courtney followed your gaze, “You know her?”

You looked at her, “That’s Ian’s ex-girlfriend.”

“No, it’s not,” she said.

“What? Yes it is.”

“Here,” Shayne pulled out his phone and a moment later showed you a picture of your boss with his arm around a short woman with red hair, “that’s Ian’s ex.”

You were shocked. “But then who’s she?”

“That’s a question for Ian,” Angela said, pointing towards him. You saw him walking towards you and you met him halfway.

“Ian? Who’s the woman in the green dress?”

He looked taken aback by the question, and putting his hands in his pockets, he said, “What do you mean?”

“Well, apparently you never dated her.”

“Um, about that” he started, hesitating, and then taking a deep breath he answered you. “I don’t know that woman. I’ve never seen her in my life.” He admitted this in a rush, looking for your reaction.

“Why did you tell me she was your ex-girlfriend?”

He looked down, almost bashful. “My ex isn’t at this event.”

You took a step back, in shock, “Then why did you need me to be your fake date?”

He looked at you intently, “I didn’t…need a fake date, I mean.”

“But—”

“I did, originally. But then I found out my ex wasn’t going to be able to make it because her and her boyfriend both have the flu.” He started to smile, then stopped himself, coughing, “Which is really too bad.”

Another time you might have laughed, but now you stopped yourself, rolling your eyes at him.

“So you lied to me?” You asked him, hurt.

“I didn’t mean to—

“But if you knew your ex wasn’t coming, then what’s this?” You gestured between the two of you. You were asking yourself just as much as him.

“I may have—withheld the truth—because I,” he cleared his throat, “I may have wanted to go on a date with you.”

“What?” Of all the answers you were expecting…

“I think you’re great (Y/n), and I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while but I never quite knew how, and then you offered to be my date to this thing and it was going to be perfect—even if it was fake—and I couldn’t bring myself to tell you the truth. I’m sorry.”

“So yes, I lied to you. But I meant what I said though,” Ian said softly, “about you being beautiful and about wanting to kiss you.”

You thought back through the night, taking all this in. All the fake moments that apparently weren’t so fake. For either of you, you realized. Because you had enjoyed being his pretend date, even if at some point you stopped pretending.

“I just wish you would have asked me to be your real date. I would have said yes you know,” you told him.

“Really?” He was definitely blushing now and you grinned up at him.

“The night’s not over yet, we could still make this an official first date,” you said.

“(Y/n), will you go out with me?”

“I’d love to Ian.”

He began slow dancing with you even though this most definitely was not a slow dancing event.

“Ian!”

As you looked into his eyes, though, and you saw the way he was looking at you—like he’d been waiting for this for a long time—you couldn’t ignore how perfect this moment was and you let him sway you.

“Not bad for a first date, Hecox,” you joked.

“Here’s to many more?”

“Definitely.”

He kissed you, your first officially real first kiss, and you couldn’t have been happier.

Cheering erupted and you looked over where all of your friends were standing, whistling and clapping at you.

“Still think it’s a fake date?” Courtney called to you.

You looked at all the people around you, some of which had begun to stare at your display. You looked at Ian looking at you like you were the only girl in the world. You looked back at your friends, still waiting for your response.

“I think nothing’s ever been more real.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you enjoyed!! i love ian so much and im glad someone else does too!! have a lovely day/night <3

#ian hecox #ian hecox x reader #smosh x reader #smosh fanfiction #smosh imagine #smosh pit #smoshblr #smosh #smosh squad #angela giarratana #damien haas #shayne topp #amanda lehan canto #courtney miller #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #oneshot

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automaticpizzahologram · 1 year

Text

Hi I don't speak German so sorry if I translate wrong.

Part 2

Y/n and Billy are both 16

I tie my apron around my waist and clip on my notepad and slip some pens in my pocket on my apron. My waitress uniform is a plain black pencil skirt, a white shirt, ablack tie, black apron, and black high heels.

I quickly put my hair up in my butterfly clawclip and walk in to the kitchen of the small restaurant. I work for work experience and some extra pocket money. I get 10 per hour and I work 3 hours so I get 30 every time I work which is awesome.

The restaurant is a cozy place that always smells nice, there's under fifty seats which is good for me because I normally work with one other girl, I get the impression that she doesn't like me that much because she gives me dirty looks. To be honest I don't know what I've done I met her a month ago when I started working here.

The restaurant is a Italian restaurant called Angerlos and luckily for me it's just a few streets away from where I live.

"hey y/n working again tonight."

" Hey Nelly , yeah I need the cash" Nelly is our chef, he's pretty cool. Nello is a big, balled, buff man, he looks quite intimidating when you first meet him but he's actually really sweet when you get to know him.

" well I hope you good luck"

"thanks" Nelly turns back around to what ever he's making, it smells heavenly, I walk out of the kitchen doors and into the dining part of the restaurant. I immediately jump into work finding a table to serve straight away.

I carefully bring a tray of hot food, hoping that I don't drop it, to a table.

"here you go one Italian style pizza and one sweet chilli chicken wings with salad and sour cream and chiv dip. if your not pleased tell me and I'll take it back for you. Enjoy" I place the two plates on the table and tuck the round tray under my arm. I gave the couple a smile and turn around and head back to the kitchen

" Hey y/n, apparently there's going to be a group coming in soon in about 15 minutes we've been old that they'll be recording some stuff, I don't know what it's for though"

"OK. Thanks Nelly" I place the tray back on the counter.

I spot some new people come in so I walk over to them and direct them to an empty table, I give the trio some menus and tell them I'll be back soon to take their order if they have decided.

I finish cleaning down a table when I hear the door open, I turn around and look at the door seeing what I presume is the group that's going to be filming. I see the other girl, Amanda, go over to the group, lead them to the biggest table we have, give them the menus and lingers at the table for a little too long.

I turn back around and Potter back on with my work

After about 14 minutes I hear the door open and shut. I turn around and see my best friend of 7 years standing at the door with a big smile on her face. I walk over to her and try to be as professional as I can, but with Pheobe it's hard

Pheobe is 5'2, with shoulder length curly ginger hair. She has freckles that cover almost all her face, her green eyes go well with her hair.

he really likes art, that's actually how we met in art class in primary school, i was new and she was the first person who was nice to me, we have been best friends since. I wouldn't swap our friendship for anything.

" I would like your finest table madam" she says with a rather bad posh accent.

" of course only the best for you , right this way milady" I say back in a terrible accent back. Pheobe bursts out laughing grabbing the attention of a few near by tables.

I lead Pheobe to the last empty table which happens to be right next to the table of the group

Pheobe, not so grateful, Sits down and looks at the menu for a split second before ordering.

"I would 3 a cowboy burger please with chips and onion rings please and for my drink I would like a diet coke, thanks "

I quickly scribble down her order, blowing a piece of hair out of my face I look up at her.

"I'll get it to you as soon as possible"

But before I could go and take Pheobes order to the kitchen a man from the table next to us gets my attention

" excuse me but we haven't been see yet and we have been waiting for a while to order"

"I'm so sorry I thought that Amanda was serving you, I'll take this order to the kitchen then I'll be right with you, I'll be just one second "

I quickly turn around and walk to the kitchen and through the doors, I clip the order onto the stand and walk back out.

As I'm walking back to the group I get my note pad out and click my pen open ready to take their orders.

"Hi, I'm so sorry for the wait what can I get for you" as I look at the group I spot two familiar faces but I can't remember where I've seen them from.

" would we be able to get these Please" the man hands me one of the restaurants order menus where you can write what you want instead of telling me, in big groups like this it makes my job much easier.

"of course you can, I'll give this to the chef and I'll get your drinks for you now. And again I'm so sorry for the wait" I turn around and walk back into the kitchen and put the sheet on the counter.

"nelly, can you make this one as soon as possible please, its the big groups and I thought Amanda was serving them, in fact I haven't seen her for a while. They have been waiting for over 15 minutes and the wait to be served has never been that long"

Nelly looks around for a quick second and nods his head.

I go to the bar and get there drinks, Four diet cokes, and 3 lemonades. I put the drinks on a large-ish round tray and walk back over to the table.

"here's your drinks. Your meals won't be to long. If there's anything wrong please don't hesitate to tell me"

"thank you" this time it wasn't a man but it was one of the people that look familiar.

"no problem, as I said your food shall be with you shortly until then enjoy" I walk away from the group and as I'm walking I catch Pheobe looking at me then at the group then at me again, I think nothing of it.

I hear the bell that signals that an order is ready, I look over my shoulder and see that it's Pheobe's burger. I walk into the kitchen and pick up her burger and star to carefully walk over to her table. I take the plate off of the tray and on to the table.

" here you go, one cowboy burger with chips and onion rings, enjoy"

"why thank you, this looks delicious"

I glance at the table next to Pheobes and quickly make eye contact with one of the members of the group. I give him a quick smile and and he smiles back his eyes lighting up, it suddenly clicks.

Thats why they look familiar their the two kids from the park from the other day how could I not remember him. I spot the camera it's a small black video camera and it's pointing to the 4 younger ones. They probably have a YouTube channel or something .

I turn my head away from the table and look at phoebe who's happily munching on some chips. "my breaks in like 6 minutes so save me some chips will ya.

I place the plates on to the table.

" here you go, again I'm so sorry about the wait, if there's anything wrong please tell me and I will sort it out" I make eye contact with Bill again and he's the one to smile first, the only lady of the group says something in German, and the man laughs, bill has a look on his face and the 3 others laugh as well.

I take of my apron then placing it on the back of the chair while I sit down on Pheobes table, taking the couple of chips she saved me and shoving them in my mouth.

"so who's that" she says in a hushed voice, leaning slightly over the table.

" who's who?" I say back in a hushed tone

"the one who keeps looking at you all the time, longish black hair"

"oh him, I met him in the park the other day as I was leaving I dropped my waterbottle and he picked it up for me"

Pheobe stops leaning over the table and stops talking in a hushed tone.

"how longs your break for?"

" 10 minutes then I have to go back to work for another half hour until I can go home"

"Not bad, I would stay till your shift ends but I need to be home in 15 minutes."

"that's OK"

We talk until my break ends

" I'll probably see you tomorrow for our weekly video call?"

I tie my apron around my waist again. "yep, 7 pm" I say picking up her plate

"I'll see you then, bye"

"bye"

I turn around and take her plate back to the kitchen then going back to cleaning up, out the corner of my eye I spot Amanda sneakily taking a picture of Bill and his group, they must either be pretty famous or she's a creepy stalker.

I turn to look at her and she gives me a discusted look as if I were the one taking the picture of them with out their permission, which is illegal. I roll my eyes and turn back around and continue to clear a table.

After about 15 minutes I quickly glance at Bill's table and notice they have finished eating and have stacked the plates, gosh I love when people do that, I walk over to the table.

"hi did you find everything alright"

"we did, thank you. Actually can we have 3 waters please"

"of course just let me take your stuff away and I'll get them for you straight away"

I pick the plates up and take them away to the kitchen. I walk over to the fridge and pick 3 bottles of water out, I grab 3 glasses and place some ice in the them . I pour the water into the cups and then place them on a small round tray.

I use my hip to push open the kitchen door because I have both my hands on the tray trying not to spill the drinks.

Carefully I walk over to the table, I manage to successfully not spill the water.

"here's your water" I place the drinks on the table and pick up the other cups and take them away.

It's five minutes until my shift ends, I'm cleaning down a table when I feel a tap on my shoulder, I straighten up and turn around to see who it was

"hi, i wanted to know if you wanted to go somewhere after your shift ends"

"oh Um sure I finish in about 5 minutes"

I look at the clock to see thay my shift has ended, I go into the kitchen and hang up my apron and pick up my bag.

"bye nelly. See you Thursday"

I walk back into the dining area and spot bill on his table, his group left about 10 minutes ago, looking down at his phone, his back was facing me so it was pretty easy to sneak up on him. I creep up behind him and peer over his shoulder. My face is next to his right ear

"what ya doing"

Bill jumped ever so slightly, I was expecting more of a reaction but its still a reaction.

I laugh slightly, Bill stands up from the table and slides his phone into his back pocket of his baggy jeans.

#bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz #tokio hotel #fem reader

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eldritch-nightmare · 1 month

Text

slashers with hanahaki.

a/n: icb this took me like 2 months to finish omg anyways hanahaki is not a trope i personally enjoy but i like writing angst and i think it's an interesting concept and this is. honestly just an excuse to write amanda angst, actually. uhm. first post about slashers :thumbs up: might take time for me to get used to writing them tbh, so this might be short but!! i hope you enjoy it all nonetheless. ignore how long ethan's is. amanda comes with her own special bot so <3 enjoy tht if u use it.

includes: amanda young, quinn bailey, tiffany valentine, billy loomis, bo sinclair, and ethan landry.

warnings: gn!reader, angst, many mentions of vomit and coughing, blood, implied unrequited love (esp in bo's), randomly assigned flowers plucked out of my flower book.

AMANDA YOUNG

If there's one thing about Amanda that isn't hard to miss, it's the fact that she gets very jealous, very easily. It was obvious in the way she almost constantly glared at Lynn whenever the woman was in her line of sight, the way she held no kindness in her voice whenever the two were forced to speak to each other.

Well... it was obvious to John, at least. Even in the state that he was in, the man was nothing if not observant, and he certainly didn't miss the way Amanda's gaze would linger on you and Lynn. He didn't miss the way she would come up with random things for you to do, things that involved you keeping a distance from Lynn.

What John isn't aware of, however, is the fact that each time Amanda goes off alone, it's to cough and vomit up the flowers blooming inside of her. She loves you so much that she can't even be angry when she stares down at the bloodied petals of lavender in her hand as she gasps for breath.

This is her punishment, she thinks. It's her curse, one she'll keep to herself. She loves you, but she doesn't deserve you. If you get too close to her, if she shows that she cares for you, you'll die. They always do, and you're the one person she can't stand to lose.

So she'll keep this to herself. She'll diligently wash the blood off the petals in her hand and she'll put them with the rest, tucked away safely for no one but her to see. She'll let her love be a secret, even if her jealousy boils over.

QUINN BAILEY

Romance isn't something Quinn cares for. She's not interested in falling in love since it doesn't align with her goals of wanting to get revenge for her brother's murder. And you, the best friend of Samantha Carpenter, were meant to be another victim. The plan was to kill you in front of Sam, just to inflict a little extra trauma on her.

But that's not how things were turning out. The more time she spent with you, pretending to be friends with people she planned on killing, the more attached she was starting to become. It was small at first, something she could push aside at any given moment. But you just had to be nice to her.

With everything going on, everyone was always worrying over Sam or Tara, but during it all, you had pulled her to the side to ask how she was handling everything, asking if she was okay. And suddenly, it became harder to push those feelings aside, and camellia petals started forcing their way out of her throat whenever she coughed.

This didn't go unnoticed either, by her family or her 'friends', but she always brushed their concerns off. It's just a little cough, no big deal. But it wasn't. Your time to die was coming up, and Quinn was the one who was supposed to kill you. But now she's hesitating, her mind working a mile a minute to come up with a way for you to get out of this alive without risking everything else.

She loves you, as much as she loathes to admit it. She doesn't want to be in love, especially knowing you'll never love her back once you find out who she truly is.

TIFFANY VALENTINE

Pretty much everyone who knows Tiffany knows about her feelings for you. It's not something she bothers to hide, and even she's surprised that you aren't aware of the love that she has for you. Or maybe you're just pretending like you're oblivious? She certainly hopes not.

Either way, the first time she coughs a flower up, she feels... well... she wasn't upset. In her eyes, it was further proof of how much she truly adored you. The petals of pansies that she coughed up were always tucked away in a jar. She probably has like... 4-5 jars full of petals by this point.

She doesn't blame you for any of this either. It's not your fault that she fell in love with you! How could she not? You're you. Anyone could love you. She'd kill them if they did, of course, but her point still stands.

Of course, she's not an idiot. She knows what this means. The constant pain in her throat and the feeling of vomiting up blood and flowers is nothing compared to the pain of knowing you more than likely don't love her back. But it's a pain she's willing to bear if it means having you in her life.

And Tiffany is just... fairly confident that given enough time and patience, you'll love her back, one day. She could (and probably should) give up on you, she knows that, but she doesn't want to. Not yet.

BILLY LOOMIS

Love is not something that comes easily for Billy. He's damn good at faking it, but he tends to disappear the moment he starts feeling like he actually might be growing to love someone. But loving you? It was as easy as breathing, he didn't even notice he had fallen until the roses started falling from his lips. How cliché.

He's really... torn, to be honest, for many reasons. This little illness of flowers could potentially get in the way of his plans, first and foremost. It makes it a lot harder pretending to love Sydney when he starts hacking up stupid fucking rose petals whenever he thinks about you. And god forbid if he has a coughing fit when he's doing Ghostface business.

It's a pain to hide, but Billy is nothing if not determined. Not even Stu knows, that's how badly he wants to keep this a secret. It's not something he plans on hiding forever, of course. Once he's killed Sydney, he'll... probably get around to doing something about the roses piling up in a random shoebox in his room.

The thought of killing you certainly crossed his mind, don't get him wrong. It would probably be much easier having you dead than leaving you alive and dealing with this, but the moment he even processed the thought, he was falling out of bed from the sheer force of the coughing fit that hit him. It's the most roses he's ever thrown up at once, so. He threw that thought out almost immediately.

But he'll definitely play it off and act as if he isn't painfully pining for you if you ever find out about this little predicament. He's too prideful, too hesitant to ever fully commit to a person. The roses bloodied roses in the beat-up box are the closest he'll ever get to confessing his love to you.

BO SINCLAIR

Bo knew letting you live would bite him in the ass one of these days, he just wasn't expecting it to be like this. He knew he had a bit of a soft spot for you, though he loathed to admit it, even when his brothers give him knowing looks.

You just looked so damn perfect, all scared with tears streaming down your face. How could he not want to keep you around a little longer? He just didn't actually expect himself to grow attached. It was supposed to be a sadistic game, a way for him to torture you. Instead, he was the one being tortured.

Tortured by these damn flowers he keeps coughing up. He had to ask Lester what they were, though he obviously didn't mention why. Nobody was going to know about this, not Lester, not Vincent, and certainly not you. This was going to stay between him, and the bloodied petals of honeysuckle that he keeps hidden in the gas station.

He knew well enough that this little problem wasn't just going to go away so easily. Don't get him wrong, if he could kill you, he would. The thought alone is enough to keep him locked in a room, throwing up flowers until he sees dots in his vision. So clearly, he can't. He's undeniably stuck with you now, whether he likes it or not.

What's worse is he'll never have your love. Why would he? You'd be a fool to ever fall in love with him after everything he has put you through. He'll only ever have your fear.

ETHAN LANDRY

He wholeheartedly did not expect to fall in love, especially with someone inside Tara and Sam's friend group. What's worse is that it wasn't a 'normal' way of falling in love either. No, you stole his heart the moment you stabbed him while he was under the mask, growling out a threat so cruel, so gruesome, he was definitely going to steal it in the future.

The wild look in your eyes was a stark contrast to how you usually behaved, and that excited him. Honestly, how could he not fall in love with you after that? With Ghostface, you were aggressive, almost animalistic in the way you would fight for your life. With Ethan, you were concerned for his safety, even if you did eye him with suspicion like everyone else.

The flowers were annoying though, he can't lie. It's not fun coughing up tulips, especially when he's under the mask. It also makes it harder to hide his identity. Ethan honestly doesn't seem like he'd hide his coughing fits from you because he'd probably thrive under your concern. That means that if he slips up and has one when assuming the Ghostface persona, his identity is basically revealed and it ruins everything he and his family have been working for.

He'll make up excuses as to why you can't be killed. You're not even that close to Tara or Sam. Honestly, he wouldn't consider you to be part of the friend group, so your death wouldn't have any impact on them. You've unintentionally helped them with their plans by being Ethan's alibi whenever it wasn't him under the mask, so killing you just wouldn't make sense. He's not exactly the best at hiding his feelings for you.

And Ethan is well aware that given his second identity, he'll never have a chance with you. The moment the inevitable unmasking happens, he'll lose any kindness you may hold for him. That thought alone is enough to make the tulips force their way out of his throat, but he won't lie... it's exciting to think about how you might react once it's revealed that he's Ghostface.

#alright new tags babyyyyy #amanda young x reader #quinn bailey x reader #tiffany valentine x reader #billy loomis x reader #bo sinclair x reader #ethan landry x reader #ghostface x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x reader #that's it right #gonna assume so

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