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oneforthemunny · 3 months

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have i the right? |yandere!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: ever since you started working at turtle's tapes, you and eddie have grown closer and closer until he finally asks you out. it feels like the pieces of your life are finally falling into place, things are going right for once- but things are not always what they seem.

contains: minors dni 18+. dark fic. dark!eddie. yandere!eddie. dark tones of the fic. stalking, obsession, breaking and entering, mentions of past violence, mentions of past trauma and relationships. masturbation.

Twelve days.

Twelve days since you walked in. Eddie didn’t know what divine intervention had stepped in, decided to shine down on him and bring you into Turtle’s Tapes, a resume in hand, asking for Mel.

You had been so jittery, fingers drumming on the strap of your leather shoulder bag. Red nails, freshly painted, Eddie could tell by the smudges around the edges you hadn’t bothered to clean up. He didn’t point it out, couldn’t even if he wanted to. Tongue too thick, breath caught and suffocating in his throat, wrapped around the words he wasn’t even sure he’d form yet.

He managed to point you to the back office, croak out the words he couldn’t even remember, hoping his cheeks didn’t reveal the flush of heat thrumming through his body when you smiled at him, waving when you walked away.

“You’re working again?”

A giggly voice had Eddie turning, spine straightening, shoulders rolling back when he turned from the stack of records he was sorting.

You had your hair up today, pulled back so he could see your face fully, more features for him to memorize.

“Yeah,” Eddie snorted, chin ducking to his chest, a waterfall of curls hiding the pink of his cheeks. “Brenda called out of another shift.” The eye roll he added made you giggle.

“Again? Why do they even keep her around?” You muttered, grabbing a stack of records out of the shipment box, handing the top one- Out of Time- over to Eddie. Your nails were starting to chip now, around the edges, flaked red polish.

“Well, she-she’s not bad. Pretty good on the register.” Eddie grabbed the record, sucking in a breath to calm the excited tremble in his hands.

“Right.” You frowned, lips puckering out the way they did when you were thinking. Eddie noticed it on your first day of training, when he was explaining how to stack the eight tracks, an adorable tick he found himself thinking about at night, staring at his ceiling replaying every word you’d said.

“I didn’t- I wasn’t trying to be bitchy.” You shook your head lightly. “I was- I mean, you’re always taking her shifts. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, no,” Eddie’s grip tightened on the record, the plastic wrapping crinkling under his touch. “I know you weren’t.”

Stupid, stupid, Eddie cursed himself, watching your face fall. The bell trilled, pulling your attention to greet the customer with a cheery tone. You were still new, still eager to impress and help, not weathered and worn from customer service like Eddie. He was thankful for it, truthfully.

Eddie liked watching you work, liked watching you in general. When he could cut his eyes, stare shamelessly like he used to in freshman year algebra, watching Stacy Simmons from the back corner of the class.

You were better than Stacy Simmons. Prettier. Definitely nicer. Stacy never even looked at Eddie, he wasn’t even sure she knew he existed, even when he sent her the candy-gram on Valentine’s Day.

He wondered what kind of candy you liked, what it would have been like to go to high school with you. If you would have acknowledged him, maybe even been friends with him? Gone to prom, wore a corsage he pinned on with his Judas Priest button.

“Were you a cheerleader in high school?” Eddie asked when you finally migrated back over to him, stocking on the other side of the stacks.

“What?” Your nose crinkled lightly, lips curling in a tiny smile. “A cheerleader?”

“Yeah.” Eddie’s heart hammered, chest burning with regret, embarrassment. What a stupid fuckin’ question, Munson, why would you ask that?

“No.” You giggled, shaking your head. “Do I look like I was a cheerleader?” You snorted lightly, brow raising playfully.

Eddie wanted to tell you, you looked like the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, prettier than a cheerleader, than an angel.

Instead, he thumbed through the stacks, pretending to look for a record, a desperate attempt to play it cool. “Kinda.” He shrugged. “Not in a bad way, you’re just… you get really peppy when you’re helping people.”

“Peppy?” You laughed.

“Yeah.” Eddie smirked. “I mean, your voice raises.”

“Wow.” You shook your head, lips rolling, biting back a smirk. “I didn’t even realize I did that. I guess I do.”

Eddie’s stomach turned, a violent, sharp jab when your smile dropped slightly. Munson, don’t ever speak again. What the fuck is wrong with you today? Get it together.

“It’s not a bad thing.” Eddie shook his head, sweaty palms gripping the stack of records. “You’re- The customers really like you.”

“Thanks.” You muttered. There was that silence, filling the space between you. Eddie loathed it, feared it, terrified that it would linger forever, that he might never hear the sound of your voice again because he drove you away.

“Do you close tonight?” You hummed, shuffling down to the next stack. Head still tilted down but eyes lifted to look at Eddie, lines creasing on your forehead that he’d never seen before. A new angle of you for him to preoccupy his thoughts with, play in his fantasies.

“Yeah.” Eddie nodded, swallowing down the growing lump in his throat, thumb twisting the ring around his middle finger. His stack was gone, finished, but he wouldn’t dare leave to get another. Not while you were talking, while he was in your attention.

Instead, he pretended to organize the names, shuffling the stacks. “Just us tonight.” His lips curled, dimples deep in a grin.

You smiled back, soft but bright, enough to make his heart flutter and take flight. “Fun.” You shrug sweetly. “That means we can change the music, right? I don’t think I can listen to Amy Grant on a loop again.”

“Yeah, definitely. As soon as Mel leaves we can.” Eddie swore he was in love, hoping you couldn’t see the blush in his cheeks. Every second he spent with you, time built his feelings, made them grow stronger and stronger.

“Play something actually good.” Eddie smiled. He’d been shuffling the same records back and forth, fiddling between his hands.

“I’m sure you will. You have great taste.” The compliment was so natural, so easy coming from you. Still, it made Eddie blister and burn at the praise, so sure his heart might swell and tear through his ribcage, splatter all over the aisles and on your t-shirt.

“The customers really like you too. Always come in and ask for your recommendations.” You added, filing in the last of your record stack.

“Yeah? Thanks, I mean,” Eddie took a breath, swallowing down a stutter, jumbling of words. “Thanks. Just trying to keep the kids cool, y’know? This grunge shit.” Eddie shook his head. “Sorry, I know you’re a fan. Nirvana’s not that bad.”

You laughed, shaking your head at him, an empty box cradled on your hip. “So I guess I can’t convince you to spin Nevermind tonight?” You batted your eyes at him sweetly, lip tucked between your teeth. Eddie’s knees tightened.

As soon as Mel left, Eddie was tearing open the album, shoving Heart in Motion back in its slip with far less care than he should have. Mel would bitch him out, bitch him for opening and playing a non-approved album on the store’s system. Eddie didn’t care, he’d buy the album in secret, give it to you maybe. Slip it in your locker with a note.

If your smile was anything like what you gave him when the opening chords to Smells Like Teen Spirit played through the speakers, he’d buy you a million of those fucking albums.

The hours were slow for a Thursday, especially with the new releases. Not that Eddie minded, he’d never complain about a lack of asshole highschool kids, demanding for cassettes and tapes.

“I think it’s because of the rain.” You tilted your head back, looking out the front window, painted and splattered with rain drops.

Eddie was convinced you could read his mind, sure you might be his soul mate, made just for him. “Yeah, I think so.” He nodded, wiping off the counter with a sudsy rag.

You sighed, heavy, pushing past your lips, puckering them in a perfect pout. Eddie’s tongue ran over his bottom lip, the soapy warm water seeping through his fingers.

“I was hoping it would hold over until I got off.” You admitted, shoulder’s falling, dragging the broom lazily around your dust piles. “I forgot an umbrella or a rain jacket.”

Eddie paused, a second longer than he should have, your attention moved to him. “You- Sorry, you walked?” Eddie shook his head lightly, curls bobbing, brushing against his cheeks.

“Yeah,” You muttered, looking down at the broom, pushing the piles of dirt around. “My car’s in the shop. They said it would be ready a week ago.”

Eddie’s fingers curled around the rag, water piling and pooling in the spot in front of him. He’d find where your car was, make them fix it, fix it himself if he had to.

Still, your rainy predicament gave him an opportunity he’d been looking for. Plotting and mulling over for the past twelve days.

“I can give you a ride.” Eddie shrugged, dragging the rag, stained with dirt from the years of use, over the glass, prismatic streaks on the glass from the cleaner.

“No,” You shook your head politely, sweeping the dirt pile into the dustpan. “I can’t ask you to do that. It’s fine, honestly, I live really close-”

“-C’mon.” Eddie rolled his eyes lightly. “It’s pouring and it’s dark. Shouldn’t walk alone at night, anyways. Lots of weirdos out.”

Your own heart skipped at his tone, thrilling and thrumming with excitement. “I mean, if it’s not a problem.” You hesitated. “I can give you some gas money-”

“-No, don’t.” Eddie said firmly, plopping the rag back in the bucket of water. “It’s not a problem, seriously. I don’t mind.”

Your lips curled, a shy smile. “Thank you.” You nodded. “I really appreciate it, Eddie.”

“It’s not a problem.” Eddie shrugged. “Besides, you’re not wearing the right shoes.” He nodded towards your white Keds, cloth on top, stained with dirt from your walk here. “Can’t let them get ruined.”

“They’re already ruined. Really dirty, I need to clean them.” You smirked, toes wiggling in your sneakers. “But thank you.”

“Hey, it’s no problem.” Eddie shrugged, trailing you when you crossed the store, bending over to brush up another pile of dirt. Your shirt rode up, jeans lowering just enough for Eddie’s breath to still entirely. The strings of your panties, high cut, a lavender shade peeking over the band of your denim, that had Eddie’s head spinning.

His face flushed, blood rushing straight to his crotch, shamelessly. A still soapy hand adjusted himself, turning so you wouldn’t see. Wouldn’t see how easily he was flustered, attracted to you. The last thing he needed to do was scare you off, fuck this all up again.

Like with Chrissy.

Eddie winced, teeth clenching at his own thoughts. No, he wouldn’t think about her. You weren’t anything like her. How dare he insult you like that, comparing you so lowly to her.

His eyes cut back to you, hips swaying while you swept to the beat of Lithium, head bobbing to the clash of the drums.

No, he knew better this time. He’d be more careful. He wouldn’t mess this up.

Eddie gave you his keys to the store, let you lock up while he took the trash, sprinting to his van. He shoved the cigarette buds in the plastic trash bag, smushing down the brown, grease soaked fast-food paper bags he’d carelessly tossed in his passenger side. He would’ve had his car detailed if he would have known he’d be giving you a ride.

“Ed?” Your voice carried around the corner.

“Back here!” Eddie called, jamming his keys into the van’s ignition, the engine sputtering to life before evening out into a steady roar. One leg out, Eddie stopped, sucking in a breath. He swiped the yellow scrunchie off his gear shift, shoving it in his pocket just as you turned the corner.

Eddie smiled, walking to the dumpster, flinging the bag in. “Sorry, just wanted to get the car started. It takes a while for it to warm up.”

He held the door open for you, bowing dramatically when you slipped in. You giggled at his antics, and his heart soared, fluttered with pride. Eddie slipped into the driver’s side, eyes scanning the console and back of the van nonchalantly when he backed out, making sure he hadn’t left anything lying about.

He was more careful after what happened before. More aware, double checking his steps, but the scrunchie had him on edge. It was close, too close for his comfort.

“Seriously, thank you.” You looked over at Eddie, the glow of the street lights cast a nearly angelic, golden luster over your features. “Saved me from getting sick.” You nodded towards the window, Eddie’s wipers creaking with every swipe over the glass.

“Can’t have that now.” Eddie smirked, looking over at you, throwing his blinker on. “Have to take your shifts too. Then I’ll really be overworked.”

You laughed, looking out the window, smile falling as Eddie cruised down the familiar street.

“But seriously, if you ever need me to take a shift for you, I don’t care to.” Eddie shrugged, eyes cutting over to yours. He didn’t see the way you’d stilled, hands wringing in your lap, spine rigid. “I was just kidding.”

You stayed silent, heart hammering, inching further and further up your throat. Eddie frowned, looking over at you. “You alright?”

Your wide eyed gaze met his, scared, startled. He saw flashes of Chrissy before him, merging into his vision. “What?” Eddie cringed. He didn’t mean to sound so fierce. “Are you alright?”

“How do you know where I live?” You asked, blinking at Eddie, eyes rounded. Your eyes cut to the road ahead, Eddie inching closer to your apartment complex.

His heart stopped, a pause that lingered a little bit longer than he meant it to. “You told me.” He blurted, a white knuckled grip on the wheel, turning back towards the road. “When you started, you told me you lived at Magnolia Place. My friend Jeff lives over there, remember?”

You had mentioned it, not to him, to Lindy. Eddie had overheard it, when he was lingering around, watching you from behind cassette stacks. You frowned, but your grip loosened, relaxing. Eddie held his breath, switching his hand casually, freeing his right hand- just in case.

“Oh,” You chirped, flushing with embarrassment, chin tucking towards your chest. “I-I’m sorry. I forgot about that.” You shook your head.

“It’s alright.” Eddie shrugged casually, his fingers loosening around the wheel.

“No, that was weird of me.” You shook your head, hands rubbing down your face. “I watch too much Dateline.” You laugh softly. “It’s always the single girl in an apartment alone, y’know?”

Eddie smirked. “Do I give off those creeper vibes?” His eyes cut to yours, longer than they should have, reading your reaction. “Bundy vibes or something?”

“No,” Your laugh made him relax, exhaling slowly. “I’m just- I don’t know. I need medicated. I get, like, super worried about things sometimes.” You looked down at your nails, picking at the chipping polish.

“No, that’s a good thing. Better to be careful.” Eddie nodded, turning into the apartment complex. “Ok, now I do need you to tell me which one. Left or right?”

“I’m in the very back right.” You pointed through the rainy window, drizzle still steady.

Eddie turned the wheel with his palm, slowing the van to a cruise through the parking lot. “Where does your friend live?”

“Hm?” Eddie hummed, brow furrowed, looking over at you.

“Your friend?” You pressed lightly. “You said he lives over here? Where, if you don’t mind me asking? I just… it would be nice to know someone just in case.”

Eddie craned his head, heart thrumming in his chest rapidly. “He lives right there.” Eddie pointed, finger pressed to the window. “On the left side.”

You nodded slowly, leaning forward, close enough that Eddie could smell your perfume. His head spinning, stilling entirely, scared to move and have you inch away.

“But if you ever need anything,” Eddie followed your muttering of directions. “You can just call me. I don’t live too far.”

“That’s sweet,” You smiled softly, turning so you were inches away from Eddie’s face. He hoped you couldn’t feel the heat radiating off his cheeks. “I don’t want to bother you, though.”

“You’re not.” Eddie shook his head. “I promise. I’ll let you know if you bother me.”

“Yeah?” You laughed, Eddie could feel your breath on his curls.

“Yeah. Oh, yeah.” Eddie nodded, sliding into a parking space easily. “You’ll know.”

You smiled, and for a moment, Eddie contemplated leaning forward, grabbing your face with his hands and kissing you. You moved before he could, unfastening your seat belt instead. Eddie tried to hide his huff of disappointment.

Too slow, Munson, you’re always too fucking slow.

“Well, thank you, again.” You reached for your purse, slipping your arm through the leather strap. “I really appreciate it.”

“Any time.” Eddie’s fingers drummed on his denim clad thigh, desperately racking his brain for anything, anything to get you to stay. Even just for a second longer.

“Enjoy your day off.” You smiled, the streetlights above you catching in your eyes. “You deserve it.”

“Thanks.” Eddie gave a tight lipped smile, heart jumping when your fingers cradled around the door handle. “Wait-” Eddie’s voice was sharper than he meant, your head whipping around towards him.

“Sorry,” Eddie blushed. “I just- You don’t close tomorrow, right?” Eddie asked, foot shaking by the brakes, the rumble of the engine vibrating the soles of his shoes.

“No, I’m an opener. I get off that four.” You smiled proudly.

“Oh, well, I was thinking if, um,” Get it the fuck together, Munson. “If you’re not busy tomorrow after work, I- we could go to The Hideout?”

You blinked. “I mean, I know we talked about it, and you said you’d never been. I’m not playing tomorrow, but I-I know the band that is. We could go and listen to the music, or just go and hang out. It’s really fun, really chill.” Eddie rambled. Chill? Who says chill?

“If you want to.” Eddie blurted before you could reply. “I-I know you probably have plans, or something better to do-”

“-No,” You shook your head, a smile spreading over your features, beaming as bright as the streetlamp about the two of you. “I mean, yes I want to go. No, I’m not busy.” You gave him a small, breathy laugh.

“That sounds like fun.” Eddie was convinced it was a dream, the entire interaction. You in his van, agreeing to go out with him. His luck was finally changing, falling into place.

“Yeah?” Eddie’s eyes were bright. “Yeah, I-I mean it will be. I promise.” His foot still shook. “I’ll pick you up.”

“Yeah, that-that would be nice.” You beamed, heart fluttering with butterflies, tingling with excitement.

“I can get you at seven? We can get there kinda early and get a good seat by the front if you want.” Eddie couldn’t help his smile, couldn’t hide it even if he wanted to.

“Sounds good.” You smiled. There was a pause, and you weren’t sure why, what came over you when you leaned forward, lips pressing in a soft peck to Eddie’s cheek, soft over the crease of his dimples.

Eddie flushed, body burning, flaming with heat, he knew he wasn’t hiding. You grinned, a small giggle, bubbly like the two of you were in junior high, kissing behind the bleachers.

“I-I’ll see you tomorrow.” You grinned, opening the door. Eddie nodded, eyes still wide, lovesick or maybe lovestruck- he couldn’t decide.

“Thank you again!” You squeaked, shutting the door, scampering to your door. You turned, waving at him before pushing the door open, slipping inside.

Eddie sat, in a daze, head foggy, blinded with a rush of emotions. He could feel your lips on his cheek, a light tingling imprinted onto his skin.

He’d nearly ruined it, fucked it all up before it even began. He wouldn’t let that happen, couldn’t be careless like before.

Eddie pulled out of the parking spot, the light from your bedroom catching his eye in the rearview as it flickered on, blinds wide open. For someone who watches so much Dateline, you should know better.

Eddie’s stomach turned, foot pressing into the gas, halting in front of another complex. Eddie turned, adjusting the rear view mirror so he could see you. Maybe you hadn’t left it open. His mind swam, flooded with fear. He couldn’t live with himself if something happened.

Just a quick check. Make sure she’s alright, and then leave. It won’t be like last time.

Eddie let the van roll to a stop, cutting the headlights before killing the ignition. A steady stream of rain drummed on the roof of the van, melodic and calming. Eddie reached in his pocket, holding your yellow scrunchie. The thing that had nearly blown his whole plan. He swiped it from your locker four days ago, held it close to his nose that night, hand wrapped around his shaft, eyes fluttering closed, breathing in your scent and imagining what it would be like if you were there instead.

Eddie closed his fist around the silk, tucking it back in his pocket, reaching for his leather jacket, thrown over the back seat. An old Yankees cap, navy and worn in the floor of the van’s trunk. Eddie slipped the cap over his curls, pulling the brim low, zipping his jacket up.

Hands in his pocket, Eddie scanned around him. Nobody out to see him, catch him like last time and stop him. He wouldn’t let them even if they tried. Not this time.

The rain beat off Eddie’s shoulders, repelling off the leather of his jacket, wetting the ends of his curls. A final look over his shoulder, and Eddie was slinking back towards the wet brick of the opposite unit. Shuffled side steps, creeping closer and closer into the dark, angling himself to see your window.

He stilled, pressed fully to the brick, when your figure fluttered out of the corner of the window. Eddie watched the steam roll, following you out of the bathroom in a cloud, a towel wrapped around you, another in your hair. Toothbrush lazily scrubbing inside your mouth, flicking on the TV in your room.

She’s safe, now leave. Leave. Eddie’s mind screamed, but his feet were cemented in place. Hidden in the dark shadows, drawn to you like a moth to a flame, the light luring him though he stayed still.

You disappeared, Eddie watched you in the large mirror above your vanity.

Now, go now. Before she sees you. She’s going to see you.

The pounding in Eddie’s ears roared over the falling rain, deafening. Still, he stayed. Frozen in fear, maybe instinct.

When you returned, dropping your towel, kicking it to the corner of the room, Eddie was glad he stayed. Eyes wide, willing himself not to blink. He didn’t want to miss a second, not a single one. Your bare figure, better than his own imagination could curate. Soft edges and curves that Eddie couldn’t wait to feel. How jealous he was of your hands, smoothing the Avon body lotion over your shins, up your thighs.

What he would do to be the one doing that instead, his mind fading, slipping into his imagination. Inside your bedroom, instead of out, pressing soft kisses to your freshly lotioned shoulders, nose trailing along your soft skin. He wondered how you’d feel in his arms, letting yourself relax in his touch.

Eddie’s fantasies were halted when you moved to the vanity, snapping back to his cruel reality, a jolt of icy cold fear dumped into his veins. He could see himself in your mirror, the very corner. You bent down, picking up your comb and he took his chance, stepping back, hidden from your gaze, only a sliver of you to be seen, when you’d tilt your head a certain way to blow dry your hair.

Eddie stood, cold puffs of air clouding around his nose, clutching the switchblade in his jacket pocket every time he heard the smallest rustle. Ready to attack, to do anything he could to keep from being caught. He couldn’t ruin this, lose you before he ever truly got you. He was so close, so close.

Your light didn’t turn off, the same warm glow spilled out from your window, rain beating against the glass. Eddie’s feet ached, heart rate stroke level high. “Shit, shit, shit.” Eddie muttered, carefully stepping back towards the window.

You were no longer at the vanity, instead on your stomach, painting your nails at the end of the bed. Not red, from what Eddie could see- black. His lips curled. He liked to think you were doing this for him, for tomorrow, to match his dark and moody attire.

Eddie army crawled under your window, holding his breath when he passed under your window sill. He could hear the muffled sound of the TV- Dateline. You really should know better. Eddie would make sure to tell you that when he finally got inside, make sure to put in blinds and curtains for you.

His jaw flexed at the thought of someone trying to hurt you, someone else watching you. Watching you to harm you, not keep you safe like Eddie. The thought nearly had him staying in his van, parking closer and keeping watch through the night. He decided against it, the risk of nodding off and you seeing him there stronger than his want to stay.

Instead, Eddie pulled out of the parking lot, watching your window in the rearview mirror of his van as he drove away.

“Morning.” You sang, a skip in your step that you couldn’t hide, punching your card with glee, putting it in the assigned pocket.

“Good mornin’ to you, Sunshine.” Brenda grinned, brows raised at your cheery demeanor, running the price gun over the new cassettes. “What’s got you so happy on a Friday morning?” She snorted lightly.

“Mm, nothing.” You hummed, twisting the metal lock around. You were getting better at it, thanks to Eddie. He’d helped you the first few times. Tricky things, he’d told you with a half smile.

“Nothing?” Brenda sang, a playful mocking tone that had you blistering in heat. “You’re just that excited to stock tapes all day? That’s it?”

“Yeah.” You snorted lightly, pulling the lock open, wrangling it out of the metal hold of your locker. “No, I…” You spun the lock in your hand. “I’m going on a date tonight.”

“Oh?” Brenda’s brows raised.

You nodded. “Yeah. With, uh, with Eddie, actually.” Your heart fluttering in your chest, bubbly and excited.

“Oh, really?” Brenda laughed, putting her hands on her hip, pricing gun still in head. “Well, that makes more sense then.”

You frowned. “What?”

Brenda shook her head, kicking the box lightly with her foot. “That boy,” She snorted lightly. “He called my phone night before last, all crazy, I thought he’s been hurt or somethin’. Askin’ me to switch shifts with him last night.”

You paused, stilling. “H-He did?” You squeaked, hand closing around the lock tightly.

“Yeah,” Brenda smiled. “I mean, I was a little confused why he’d want to work a closing over an open, ‘specially with all the shifts he’s been picking up. But I thought, hey, none of my business. Maybe he needs the money.” She held her hands up playfully. “This makes me feel better, though.”

You twisted the lock nervously in your hands. “It does?”

“Yeah.” Brenda looked at you. “He just likes you. Wanted to take you out. Probably scared I’d tell you or somethin’, you know how he is.” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “He gets a little paranoid about things. Dramatic, that one.”

Your stomach turned, sharp and twisting. “But-But Eddie, he wouldn’t, like, he’s a good guy?” You asked. “I mean, he seems like a good guy, but you-you know him better than I do.”

“I’ve known Ed since he was a little boy.” Brenda waved you off, her flippant tone made you feel better somehow. “I used to date his uncle, actually. Wayne started taking care of Eddie when we were together. He was wild, I’ll tell ya. But the sweetest kid. Wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Right.” You nodded, swallowing down your nerves. “Right, I- I’m just not from here, ya know? I get kinda…” You waved your hands, slinging your purse in your locker. “I also get paranoid.”

“A good match then.” Brenda grinned. “You’ll have fun with him. If he doesn’t treat you right, you let me know. I’ll tell his uncle and he’ll handle him, alright?” Her eyes shone in a playful way, comforting. Soothing your nerves with a warm smile.

You were anxious, and why wouldn’t you be? You hadn’t been out on a date since you moved to Hawkins.

Since you left your hometown.

Since you left him.

You swallowed, shaking it from your mind. You wouldn’t let him ruin this for you, wouldn’t let your mind consume itself. Eddie’s locker was just above yours, a plethora of stickers- Metallica, Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden, and so many more all collaged together. Some peeling, overlapping and covering the others. Right in the middle, a bright, smiley face sticker. You’d given it to him last week, the grocer at Melvald’s snuck one in your bag.

“I brought it for your sticker collection.” You had grinned at Eddie, waving the yellow sticker around playfully. You hadn’t expected him to put it right in the middle of his collaged locker.

It was sweet. A simple, sweet, silly gesture that had you giggly and blushy for the rest of your shift.

You pinned your badge to the inside of your shirt, letting the metal back snap into your soft cotton, pushing out the back doors and towards the register, letting your mind drift into daydreams about tonight. About Eddie, while you straightened the tapes on the front table.

A ringed hand gripping the plastic cup, warm from the coffee inside, Eddie sipped slowly, eyes trained on the corner. He waited, parked and hidden behind the row of bushes in front of McDonald’s, hoping it would camouflage his van enough.

His breath hitched, strangling the liquid in his throat when a figure rounded the corner. Your hair was down today, freshly styled, and you had gone without your white Keds. Eddie’s heart bubbled, fluttered to life with a soaring warmth. Your nails were painted black, he could see it as you got closer on the sidewalk, shrinking in his seat, peering just over the steering wheel to track you until you got to the store.

When you slipped into the door, safely inside Turtle’s, Eddie geared into reverse. Van rolling steady back towards Magnolia Place.

“It’s always the single girl in an apartment alone, y’know?”

Your voice rang in his head, a rhythmic melody that lured him into a trance, tunnel visioned all the way back to your apartment doorstep. The flathead screwdriver and allen wrench heavy in his pocket, clammy palms wrapped around them.

As much as he hated his father, cursed and blamed him for the way he was, every hardship he’d endured, he did have to thank him for making him resilient. Al had passed on more than just his wild curls to Eddie. He’d given him his resourcefulness, taught him. Eddie thanked Al, wherever he was, when the door clicked open.

Your apartment smells exactly like how he thought, looked exactly how he imagined. A hodgepodge of second hand furniture, throw pillows and blankets neatly folded and placed on the patterned couch. Your shoes kicked in a pile by the door, your white Keds amongst them.

Eddie crouched down, cradling the shoe in his hand. The small speck of dirt splattered on the sides from your walk to work yesterday, an imprint of your foot molded into the sole.

Eddie let himself wander around the small space- your space. He hoped he’d be back tonight, invited in this time, but in case he didn’t, he just needed a look. To see the full thing, to see how you lived, feel closer to you any way he can. He couldn’t help it. He wanted to know everything about you, every single thing.

Your perfume taunted him from the vanity, clouded his mind the very same way it did when he smelled it on you, catching whiffs when you’d walk past. Eddie drenched the edge of his band tee, saturated it in your perfume. For later, when his mind would wander back to you, when he’d miss you, when he’d long to smell you.

Stacks of photos lined the vanity, a man and woman donning similar features to your own. Even when you were younger, you always had the same smile, bright and warm. Your towel still kicked in the corner of the room from the night before, bed sheets crumpled from sleep. Eddie’s hand slid across the crinkled cotton, he hoped they’d still be warm.

Next to your sink, a bottle of purple acetone, red soaked cotton pads in the trash. A small tray of nail polishes next to that, pushed into the corner, every color imaginable- including the red. The same red you wore when Eddie met you. That you kept painting over for the following days until you finally gave up, let it chip away.

His mind screamed, roared at him not to. That you would know.

I’ll give it back. I’ll give it back when she invites me over. She’ll never know.

Eddie plucked the Revlon bottle out of the group, pushing the others back into place, pocketing it.

Ok, that’s enough. Enough. You’re gonna get caught. It’s going to be Chrissy- No, no, don’t fucking even compare her to that sick-

Eddie’s mind spiraled, pulling deeper and deeper into himself, a white knuckled grip on the counter, eyes crossing in a hazy daze, foggy and distorted. A familiar buzz ringing through his ears, a roar of static, heart hammering so fast he was sure it wasn’t beating at all. Flashes of memories he’d tried to forget, beat his head against a wall and knock them out, unforgiving and rapid.

A sliver of purple peeking out of your wickered hamper halted those hauntings just as quickly as they’d begun. Carelessly thrown on top, Eddie’s vision honing in through the mirror. The same lavender thong that had teased him the night before, consumed his thoughts later that night, hand pumping his cock, free hand holding your scrunchie to his nose, eyes screwed shut picturing- wishing it was you instead.

I’ll bring it back. With the nail polish, she’ll never know.

Eddie was nearly in a trance like state, swiping the panties off the top of the towels, shoving them in his pocket. He couldn’t- not here. He was sure he wouldn’t be able to contain himself.

Instead, Eddie waited until he was back home, in the sanctuary of his trailer. Pulling the old, metal lunchbox off the top shelf of his closet, he sunk into the mattress. A treasure chest, filled with all his favorite things. All his memories of you.

The scrunchie, a note you’d written him about an order signed with a heart before your name, your application he’d swiped off Mel’s desk after you got the job. It was small, smaller than Eddie would have liked but it was safer this way. The nail polish he tucked away, but the panties he kept out.

Reaching for the Jergens by his bed, Eddie freed his length from his boxers, settling back against the headboard. Tail of his shirt tucked by his chin, the overwhelming scent of your perfume wafting up to him, dizzying his senses. Eddie sighed, free hand tugging at his shaft, relaxing into the pillows.

He could see you, a fantasy that challenged his perception of reality, riding him soft and slow. Would you like it like that? Harder? Rougher? Sweeter? Him on top? Eddie’s mind flurried with worry, what if’s, pleasure simmering out slowly.

Eddie blinked, a heavy lidded gaze landing on the panties in his hand. You flooded back to his mind, picturing you in your little panties, shy and bare before him. He swallowed down a groan, pushing the crotch of your panties to his nose. A pungent, spicy scent, swarming with something so intoxicating. Eddie whimpered, pushing the lavender panties further under his nose, suffocating himself nearly, but he didn’t mind.

He hoped to have you in a different way, to experience you authentically later tonight. Even just to kiss you again, feel you again, his body ached for it. But for now, Eddie would suffice having you this way, his own little secret, a dark and twisted fantasy just for him.

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gatorbites-imagines · 5 months

Note

Hi I see your requests are open!

Could you do a Flash ( Barry Allen) x alien reader?

Where the Reader's true form looks like the Martians, but dark purples and cool greys?

Apart of the Reader's culture, is rough housing. So they like to spar and chase around Barry. Though, apart of their rough housing is pinning. So everytime they spar, Reader pins Barry to the ground or wall, making him extremely flustered.

-Crow

Barry Allen x Alien Male reader

Headcanons

We are back after kinktober, finally. Guess who handed in their last psychology assignment of the year, now it’s just my religion project and exams and I’ll be free until next semester.

For the martian appearance, I went with the more, what should I call it?? lizard? Plant? Looking? Appearance, you see in young justice.

Your species was from Mercury, meaning you were extremely hot blooded, which lead to your kind being, what should I say, competitive by nature. Martians and Mercurians descended from the same place, which is why your species were similar in some ways like appearance.

Unlike martians, you couldn’t shapeshift. Mercurians did have the ability of intangibility, power negation, and power amplification, along with the same type of telepathy and telekinesis you would find in martians.

Unlike the greens and other similar colours you would find on Mars, your people were cooler colours in contrast of the warm colours of your home planet. Every member of your species possessed different patterns in their skin as well, which wasn’t easily spotted by the naked eye.

It helped your people identify each other, and some of the spirit mediums claimed to be able to tell your future off these patterns, think like reading someone’s destiny in their palm.

The Mercurians had stayed away from earth as long as it had existed, but after larger and larger enemies showed up in your part of the galaxy, your people joined in on fighting them off.

You were the 6th child of the ruler of your planet at the time, your parent having been chosen as leader through democracy for many hundred years because of how just they were. But because of this, and your interest in interworld communication, you were the one sent to earth.

Here you met the justice league. The first person you got along with was of course J'onn J'onzz, and his niece M'gann M'orzz, as your people and culture were similar in some ways, and your people descended from the same origin.

Your inability to shapeshift made it hard for you to take part in human culture, even as you bonded with the other members of the league, like superman, the many green lanterns, M'ganns teammates, and so on and so forth.

It was on one of the days you were growing antsy for anything to happen that you fell into conversation with Barry, The Flash, as he was called. Talking to him calmed some of the fidgetiness in your body, there was just something about him and how fast he talked when he was passionate about a subject, that cooled your inner flames.

It also helped that he ran hot, as earth was much much colder than your home planet of Mercury. You also would never admit how it made your Mercurian vocal cords trill when he raved about your purple colour, and how it shifted in the sunlight.

J'onn teased you quite a lot as you started developing feelings for the speedster. You denied it vehemently, but even M'gann could tell and would tease you as well. All of this happened over your telepathy of course, so no one else on the team seemed to pick up on it, except for Batman, since he saw pretty much everything.

After some time, Barry seemed to pick up on your inability to stay still, or how you were always found in the gym beating up the equipment. It was J'onn who explained your people’s culture to him, and how roughhousing was the way your people bonded.

Because of this roughhousing not happening, you didn’t feel as close to the league as you would be able too. And Barry, who had started to develop feelings for you in return, found himself wondering if you might be interested in a sparring match.

When he finally summoned up the courage to ask, he didn’t even have time to doubt his act of asking, as you launched yourself at him like an overexcited cat, immediately wrestling him to the ground.

Barry hadn’t thought this fully through, as he found himself being pinned to the floor, the wall, the ceiling once or twice, throughout this sparring. He became so flustered that he almost forgot about his speed.

There was just something about how excited you seemed to be that someone finally wanted to roughhouse and spar with you, and the trills and chirps that rang from your chest and throat instinctually, only made him want to keep doing it.

This kept up for some time, both of you taking time out of your schedules to roughhouse at least once a week. And over time Barry was able to keep up, even though he still found himself blushing and sputtering when you pinned him just right.

J'onn ended up telling the rest of the team what was up, and roughhousing became part of the usual sparring when you were involved, for team bonding.

But what you and Barry had was something special, just between you two. And when you started adding your hidden stripes to his suits stitching, no one would be the wiser, except for maybe J'onn, who just seemed amused.

Your people didn’t kiss, you didn’t really have the lips, but you wanted to try it. Kissing Barry the first time after pinning him to the floor once again, had been a little awkward. Lips pressed against teeth, not much of the romantic liplocking you had seen in earth movies.

But Barry seemed just as passionate after realizing what was up, his arms immediately wrapping around you and kissing you back as passionately.

The roughhousing continued even as you started dating, and when the team found a way to let you alter your shape to a human one, you two would go on dates.

There were moments you felt self-conscious about your appearance, as many humans were more attractive, but Barry was always quick to wrestle you into his arms to tell you he loved you for who you were, and that he didn’t care about that stuff, and you were handsome to him.

Lets just say the first time Barry met your family it lead to a huge family wide roughhousing and wrestling, and he had to resort to using his speed more than once to not get mobbed by your family who wanted to bond with him and get to know him since you loved him so much.

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thebiscuitlabryinth · 2 months

Text

"...We're two sides of the same coin, aren't we?"

The whispered confession falls clumsily out of Pure Vanilla's mouth, almost dragged out, bitterly sweet and strange on his tongue. The words are addressed to his own stained candy glass visage, spilling tendrils of bright blue light across the Solarium of Unity despite the almost suffocating darkness invading the rest of the space.

He knows this isn't really the Solarium of Unity, and he knows he isn't just speaking to a window. The lurking shadows, thick like molasses and blinking every once in a while, give that away. Even if it didn't, there is a haziness here that exists only in dreams, and a lack of the deep tiredness that has been plaguing him as of late.

"Oh, are you finally ready to admit that?" Sure enough, Shadow Milk Cookie's voice comes from all sides, far too cheerful. The candy glass melts and warps before him, the blues darkening until Shadow Milk stands in his place, far more detailed than the artisan silhouette he replaced. His grin is mocking as he looks down at Pure Vanilla, who cannot help but feel uncomfortable at the sight of their appearances blurring together like that, even though he had been expecting something along those lines. "Too bad though – you can't admit something that's wrong!"

"Huh?" It catches Pure Vanilla by surprise. It had been difficult emotionally, but logically straightforward to admit they were two sides of the same coin. He couldn't imagine how that could be wrong, and acting upon an old habit from his student days, he finds himself frantically unravelling that conclusion in his head again to figure out the issue.

Shadow Milk doesn't give him the chance, tutting as he shakes his head in mock disappointment. "You must have a brain in there, can't you use it?" He laments theatrically, contorting himself into an odd shape against the edge of the window pane. Then, again barreling on before Pure Vanilla can reply, "Look, think of it like this. To say we're two sides of the same coin means that we have similarities, even if we are otherwise opposites. That is true to an extent, but it makes our differences sound way more clear cut than they actually are. It may be easier for you to believe, but we aren't really opposites. That would imply I am not whole, and I can assure you, Soul Jam aside, I am just as I always was!"

Ah, so it's a matter of wording. Pure Vanilla isn't sure why he is entertaining this - no, it's because he doesn't want to give Shadow Milk the satisfaction of turning away from the truth. Even now, Shadow Milk's eyes squint cheekily at him, daring him to try and end the conversation.

"Then... we are made of the same components in a different composition." Pure Vanilla tries, a little frustrated with his own hesitance, but it is difficult to tell how Shadow Milk wants him to answer when he isn't making it blatantly obvious.

"So close!" Shadow Milk sighs dramatically as he snaps his head to the side so sharply it makes Pure Vanilla wince, imagining the cracks that would cause on any other Cookie. "But you're relying on technicalities. It's much simpler than that."

It dawns on Pure Vanilla, then, exactly what Shadow Milk is aiming for, the realisation making his insides crawl. He doesn't have to say it, not really, but he isn't sure what Shadow Milk will do if he doesn't, and he unfortunately doesn't have the ability to wake himself up on command.

So he takes a deep breath, fidgeting with his staff as he says, even less than a whisper yet twice as loud. "We're... We're the same. Is that what you wanted me to say?"

"Ding-ding-ding!" Shadow Milk trills, suddenly reaching through the candy glass to grip the window frame and lurching forward across the threshold, leaving a mess of shattered glass behind his head like a halo. It startles Pure Vanilla, who instinctively shifts his foot back, only to be instantly locked in place as the reaching shadows soldify around his legs, its eyes winking up at him playfully. His grip on his staff tightens, willing it to shed its light, the beginnings of panic stirring within him at the restraint. The staff does, but the shadows seem to eat the light without a problem.

Pure Vanilla is so distracted by the shadows that he doesn't notice Shadow Milk's hands until they grab his face. His heart jumps in alarm, and his eyes dart up to find half of Shadow Milk leaning down out of the window, far too close. He is grinning at him, wide and self-satisfied, and his hands are cold and harsh. "See, I knew you had a working brain! Yes, the right answer is that we are one and the same."

He pinches and pulls at his cheeks, and Pure Vanilla tries to cringe away, tries to manuver his staff between them. It doesn't work, if only because hands emerge from the darkness to anchor his staff too.

"But that isn't true." Pure Vanilla mumbles when he isn't able to wiggle his way out and Shadow Milk still shows no signs of stopping, hoping the argument will make him lose interest in his face. "I admit that there are similarities between us, but we aren't really the same."

Shadow Milk pauses, his grip tightening until it borders on pain, and for a moment, Pure Vanilla thinks he may have miscalculated.

But then Shadow Milk snickers to himself, releasing his face entirely and pulling back, his hands resting lightly over Pure Vanilla's shoulders. The brush of weight keeps Pure Vanilla from relaxing, but it is a bit of added distance, at least.

"Aren't we? Well, you are the biggest liar, so I should have expected you would lie to yourself too." Shadow Milk hums, almost sounding delighted at this turn in conversation. It unnerves Pure Vanilla, because he had assumed his disagreement would annoy him.

Instead, Shadow Milk smirks, his many eyes glinting gleefully at him. "Listen carefully, Vani, because here's the truth." He says, his voice dipping into a wicked purr that seems to shudder through Pure Vanilla's whole body. "All the things you hate that I have done, you have the capability of doing too. After all, you've already used people for your own gain, haven't you?" Shadow Milk leans closer with a condescending lilt to his words, shifting his hands so he can wrap his arms loosely over his shoulders, and Pure Vanilla freezes under the touch. "Oh, I know you think it was necessary, but you still sent those naive, tiny Cookies off to carry out your errands for you, regardless of the dangers. That's only a few steps behind what I've done, you know, making people dance to my tune. The only difference between us is severity and time."

The words sink heavily to Pure Vanilla's stomach, not quite true but not quite not true, and he feels a little lightheaded, fingers twitching against his staff. Maybe it's because of that, or maybe it's because of his discomfort from the close proximity, but he finds himself distracted by the way Shadow Milk is talking. He carries his usual air of showmanship, but it is nowhere near as exaggerated as during his brief takeover of the Faerie Kingdom. With his insistence of specificity, his mention of technicalities, his structured method of explaining things, he almost sounds like a–

"We are the same," Shadow Milk repeats, tilting his head to the side, the glow of his eyes burning holes through Pure Vanilla, "and one day, you'll end up just like me."

A scholar.

That makes sense – at some point, his virtue had been Knowledge, and nobody seeks it out as fervently as a scholar – but it still feels like a surprise. Pure Vanilla had always known that Shadow Milk was different, once, but only in the sense that the fact existed in the back of his mind.

"No rebuttal, hmm? Are you ready to accept that?" Shadow Milk asks smugly, slightly impatient with Pure Vanilla's lack of response, but mostly watching him expectantly, as if waiting for a bomb to go off.

Pure Vanilla has never thought about what Shadow Milk might have been like, before he became like this. There was no reason to even consider it. But now, he can't help but wonder, because while he cannot imagine this chaotic, brutal Beast, this great unknown evil, as anything else – Shadow Milk still carries echoes from a past life that he doesn't seem to notice enough to hide with his lies.

"...If we are the same," Pure Vanilla finally scrapes his thoughts together enough to reply, carefully, "then doesn't that make the opposite possible too? That, one day, you will become like me and return to the light?"

Shadow Milk blinks once, his face falling blank. He blinks again, all of his eyes in quick succession.

And then he throws his head back and laughs, the movement jostling Pure Vanilla in the process with his arms still firmly around his shoulders. It sounds unhinged, ricocheting across the room, but it is openly amused. It makes Pure Vanilla antsy, especially with how it rings in his ears like an explosion from their closeness.

He wonders if Shadow Milk's laugh was different, before everything. It must have been. He wonders what it sounded like, and immediately realises that he's being ridiculous. The realisation that a before exists seems to have opened the floodgates in his mind, and now thoughts of hypotheticals can't help flitting in.

"You say such silly, silly things." Shadow Milk bites out offhandedly as his laughter winds down, the lingering remnants still dancing on his tongue. Without warning, he pulls Pure Vanilla even closer, the darkness that had been keeping him in place swirling and shoving him forward. Pure Vanilla gasps, the sound catching in his throat, and one of his hands fly off his staff to reach for something to steady himself on. It finds an edge of shattered candy glass, flinching back and falling down to scrabble against its smooth, intact surface.

Shadow Milk is giggling at him and Pure Vanilla is mortified, horribly so. They are far, far too close, Shadow Milk's face taking up the near entirety of his vision and their upper bodies almost pressed together. It feels claustrophobic, which should be impossible in such a wide, open space.

Shadow Milk makes matters worse by pressing their foreheads together, the gesture weirdly tender and doing nothing to make Pure Vanilla any calmer. His bright blue eyes look directly through him, dissecting him piece by piece.

"Why don't you cut down the Silver Tree and find out?" Shadow Milk coos, his voice overlapping with the Light of Truth's in a deeply unsettling way. His presence is overwhelming.

Pure Vanilla's eyes flicker downwards to escape his piercing gaze, and finds their chests so close that their Soul Jams are overlapping. Overlapping, and not touching, because Shadow Milk's Soul Jam seems to fizzle out of existence where the other makes contact with it, as if it were an illusion. Behind it is an empty space, black as the abyss. With the way they are lined up now, it is obvious that Pure Vanilla's Soul Jam would fit perfectly into the crevice with a little turning. He knew that already, but it still feels strange to see it.

Pure Vanilla sighs, a long, thin, shuddering sound. "...You didn't truly believe that would work, did you?"

In the edge of his vision, Shadow Milk smiles tauntingly, all teeth, but he doesn't say a word.

And Pure Vanilla wakes up, off kilter, exhausted and oddly cold.

[next]

#sm flirting: hey wanna debate the fluidity of ur identity and morality and have a crisis? wanna make out over it?#if ur confused dw i was confused writing this too. sm strikes me as the type to say the most convulted stuff for funsies #also he is scheming. idk what exactly but he certainly is!!#and poor pv is just along for the ride #pure vanilla cookie #shadow milk cookie #shadowvanilla #vanilla milkshake #echo paradox au #the biscuit library

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shanastoryteller · 4 months

Note

happy holidays! siat asim and lucius please

There's a soft trilling coming from his fireplace and Asim almost doesn't answer it. It's late and he's just come back from a shift that was hell and sometimes he wonders if he's doing any good at all or if he's just there so people can suffer differently before dying painfully.

There are so, so many ways to hurt people and often only one way to save them. He knows too much of the former and not enough of the latter.

His fireplace makes another enquiring trill and he taps the brick with his wand.

It's Lucius.

He only ever calls him for one reason.

Asim accepts the call and is unsurprised to see his fireplace empty. He's likely not in any condition to be crawling on the floor, not that his sort ever do that sort of thing. There's a reason that fireplaces tall enough to stand in are almost standard in magical homes - no one is interested in getting on there hands in knees when they could just lean forward.

He steps into the flames, finding himself spit out in the townhouse in France that Lucius started living in after graduation. It's not much distance from Abraxas, but he'd been glad of it anyway.

There can never be enough distance from Abraxas, which he's reminded of when he looks over to see Lucius laying shirtless on his stomach on the chaise, his head resting on his left arm and his other arm drags to the ground where his hand is gripped around a glass of firewhiskey.

His back looks like hamburger meat.

It's nothing but long cuts and blood, more exposed muscle than should exist outside of a butcher.

"Sorry," he slurs, eyes hazy as they slowly meet his. "Potions took care of the little stuff."

He's known Lucius long enough that he flinches at the idea of what he considers the little stuff. He's more than aware enough of what it has to be, considering the caliber of healing potions he has access too.

Broken bones take a lot. After that, healing potions can get a little confused. There's a reason bones are better healed by a spell. It was probably that, but he knows better than to ask.

Asim shoves down familiar anger and says, "How long were you waiting? You could have called another healer."

Lucius doesn't say anything even as he starts, running a diagnostic spell then beginning the time consuming process of healing every laceration separately. If he doesn't, Lucius's body just stops accepting the magic, not reacting well to broad application.

Overexposure, probably, but it's not like he can just be left bleeding. Abraxas wishes Lucius would let him add it to his chart.

His breath hitches at a particularly deep wound, then he says, "You're the only one that doesn't talk."

Asim hates people sometimes. There are trustworthy healers out there, but he supposes they don't do house calls without asking questions. He probably shouldn't, either.

But he just can't leave him bleeding.

"You should be more careful," he says instead. He knows it's not an accident, that this can't be an accident, but they never talk about what it really is. They never talk about Abraxas.

Lucius smiles, which is shocking enough that Asim stops mid-spell. "I knew this would happen. It's a price I'm willing to pay."

This is more than he's ever gotten from him before. It's oddly disconcerting. "Lucius?"

"I got engaged," he says.

Asim waits for more, but when Lucius just keeps silent and smiling as he continues to work on his back, he says, "Congratulations."

A wife of Lucius's choosing rather than Abraxas's. Maybe she can do some good.

Anyone he loves enough to go through this to have won't sit back and watch as her husband suffers. He hopes.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #anon #harry potter #siat

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theminecraftbee · 1 month

Note

solving counting sheep prompt thing: three and joe trying to work on some project together

Three squints critically at a post in the ground.

“Your measurement is off,” it says.

“Why, thank you. Your eyesight is far greater than mine, so I very much appreciate you correcting the marks I’m using to decide how big and close the moon is getting!” Joe smiles at Three. Back when Three had first met her, Joe had smiled big quite often. These days, even that goofy, meant-to-be-a-gesture smile is drawn and exhausted. Joe is not designed to run on minimal sleep the way Three is; Joe is hardly the only Hermit staying up until the middle of the night these days.

Blocks rise around them.

Three has better vision than Joe. Blocks rise everywhere.

“I still think we should try Mumbo’s missile again. Or we should try a bigger missile.”

“I am afraid that didn’t work the first time!” Joe says, finishing their sign adjustments.

“That’s stupid,” Three says.

“That’s just how it is. Besides, big problems like that are for big problem havers! We’re out here, collecting data for the people who might actually be able to do something about it.” Joe pauses, shrugs. “I mean, if they exist. They probably don’t.”

“I could torture a Watcher into fixing it,” Three says glibly.

“No, you said that wouldn’t work,” Joe says. “Also, that’s morally questionable.”

Three does not fidget. It trains its eyes on the threat it can do nothing about. It lets out a trill that, for most mortals, is terrifying.

Nothing happens.

“I can make everyone leave,” Three says, quieter this time. “With better plans than—”

“The season’s hardly over. Iskall hasn’t given me my badge yet. I’m not leaving until I get that,” Joe says.

“That is a stupid plan. Don’t be stupid,” Three says.

“Are you leaving?”

“Not until Mumbo does. Especially not until—Pearl should know better. She did not leave last time. She was—was sad. She should know that—I won’t leave until she does,” Three says, halting as it trips over emotions it doesn’t understand.

“Then let’s not have this argument again.”

“Will comply,” Three grumbles.

“Besides, this new moon data is fascinating. Why, at this rate—oh no! I might not even finish my castle! I think I’m going to go work on the walls again, just in case,” Joe says.

“Affirmative,” Three says.

“See you around! If you happen to See any solutions with those big eyes of yours”—and here Joe winks, incredibly unsubtly—“please, by all means, let us all know!”

He leaves.

Three looks at a line of signs across the ground, scattered markers of how small the problem was a month ago. It’s grown so big so fast, and Three has still yet to figure out how to neutralize it.

No one has any orders to stay. No one has any reason to. Three doesn’t understand why they’re still staying.

Three won’t leave alone.

Three, Three doesn’t want—

It would be sad if Zedaph’s sheep experiment had to end early. It should not be buried under moon rocks and rubble. It should be remembered.

That’s all.

#answered #a bee fic #solving counting sheep talk #this is also in answering ‘three reacts to moon’s big’ for the record #anyway. sorry I still have big moon emotions #so HERE THEY ARE #anyway three hates this get it off this train #(also almost despite everything three gets along with joe hills almost)#(it thinks joe is a baffling person but in a way that makes sense enough to it to figure out)#also yeah at this point the ‘ask game’ is ‘send me scs prompts and I slowly get through them to wind down in the evening #combining scs and s8. yeah THERE are my insanities all in one place.

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turquoizxe · 11 months

Text

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Hobart “Hobie” Brown x Spider!Fem!Reader

Author’s Note: I just want to sincerely apologize for the delay in this post, as I have been traveling out of my hometown the past few days. However, my favorite punk is still my current brain rot lmao. The second installation is already in progress, and hopefully as I have planned, it will be out by the date I posted below( after the conclusion of the first chapter). Thank you all for for love you showed on the series announcement! As I have stated in my earlier post, I haven’t written a fan fiction in over two years, dealing with school and other things in life. Please express your thoughts throughout the series and comment! I was a little nervous because I’ve never written anyone from the UK, especially with such a thick accent. Please, share your thoughts. Thank you for your understanding, and you may begin reading.

With Love,

— Turquoizxe.

Installation (1/5) : ‘Dodgy’

Rating ― Mature (16+)

➝ Hobie has been distancing himself quite a bit lately. You feel froggy enough to follow him and enter the world, to what is known to be the Spiderverse. He seems to enjoy your brave gesture, but he quickly realizes why you weren’t invited to join the club.

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ―fluff, heavily plot based, meeting existing ATSV Characters…

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 ― ATSV SPOILERS! Minor use of language and swearing, romantic tension, minor acts of violence, Hobie’s teasing, Miguel being himself, Beef w/ Jessica Drew…

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 ― 3.6k

Dodgy; can be a synonym for dangerous, bad or untrustworthy

As much as you kept to yourself, it was hard to imagine that you would make any friends outside of your suite mates. Your eyes were always harassing a piece of literature, involved in extracurricular activities, and keeping track of random facts no one would need in their everyday lives. Nothing short of the perfect student.

"[Name], this is the fifth time you’ve been in my office in two weeks-”

“Okay, four if you don’t count the rant about my psychology professor.”

You were always an academic achiever, graduating with honors and holding the title of salutatorian in your class. Being accepted into your dream school, earning enough scholarships to cover most of your tuition.

Yet, here you were, looking for ways to save your grades with finals around the corner. Had it been a year ago, you wouldn’t have to worry. That was until you were bit by a radioactive spider the one time you decided to skip studying and attend the most underwhelming frat party that your suite was raving about.

“You’re on the verge of losing your scholarships. $25,000 a year on the line, and you tell me all the time about how hard to your parents are working to cover the rest of your tuition.”

And you knew you couldn’t afford to stay if you didn’t work your ass off to pull through. You didn’t think being spider-woman could be so stressful. Patrols have gotten more hectic, and the late nights have been affecting your attention span in class, and even less energy to do your work. It felt so easy in the beginning, and everything was good until it wasn’t.

You felt a sting on your cheek, your tears sliding past your injury from patrol, and you felt yourself become small as you placed your face in your hands, wondering how something you’ve worked so hard for is a letter grade away from being lost.

Your counselor heaves a heavy sigh, sliding tissues across their desk to you. In just a few weeks you went from acquaintances to friends.

“Look, you’re a great kid, we didn’t have this issue your freshmen year. I know it only gets tougher from here, but you can’t fight this on your own. It’s never too late to accept help.” They started typing on their computer, ringing up your transcript and current grades for the semester. A sudden swish of wind flows through the office, following the trills of birds off in the distance your counselor scoffs at the noise and walks over to close the window. They return back to their seat, muttering intelligible, the only word you could pick up, ‘spiderwoman’.

“What about spiderwoman?”

“Oh! I just kinda thought how weird it was for another spiderman to show up when we already have a hero. Funny, I didn’t know there could be multip-”

“There’s a spider-man?”

You stammered. You felt a heat in your body, another superhero here that you weren’t even sure about.

“As much as you know about everything, I thought you would hear about the spotting of a spider-man in the city. They seem to stick close to campus.”

“Any proof?”

“No. Just words, but if there’s one spider-person, why not two?”

You could feel your blood course through your veins from the new information. It was just you, unless your old mentor, Peter, came to visit. You were knocked out of your thoughts when your name was called.

“As of now, you have a 2.0,″ your counselor stated. “Your classes seem more work oriented, and out of your five classes, you only have two finals.”

You slowly looked up from your lap.

“I’ve read the syllabus, taken notes of what to study for and what to work on. It’s just-”, you stammer, not able to give them the honest truth.

“See? You already took the steps to better yourself, don’t stress, and pace yourself, you have a month left kid.”

You let out a small chuckle. More than 20 missing assignments shouldn’t be too bad to juggle, right?

You were lying to yourself, you were going to suffer, but for a positive outcome, you didn’t mind. You got yourself together, sniffling softly as you packed your things.

“I don’t wanna kick you out, but I do have to meet with the Dean-”

“You mean your lov-”

You were cut short by a small stuffed animal flying towards you, your reflexes doing you justice before the soft material made contact with your face, slamming the door, gaining a small audience as eyes turned to you.

“Sorry everyone.”

Now, for the real fun to begin, you can at least spend some time with a special someone before your academic weapon tendencies are in full force.

The night you met him, it felt like one of those nightmares that would be impossible to wake from. To you, it was a dream.

His aura, and appearance on that stage. You were enamored with his attitude. His thick accent, strumming his guitar as his eyes bored into yours. This was one of the few times you didn’t mind that you skipped class for.

After the concert, you went to refill your water bottle before your walk back to your apartment in the damning heat. You saw him, drenched in sweat, guitar on his back, hunched over, and visibly upset that the water fountain was not doing it’s job. He looks in your direction, his expression making you anxious. Yet, you were still willing to help. You essentially escorted him to your dorm, where the water system was in a decent condition. He had pretty strong opinions about the education system and society in general, though you did appreciate his intellect.

“It’s a load of tosh for ya’ to pay so much for a piece of rubbish.”

The ways he seemed so sure of himself more often than not made you intrigued, and he was more than happy to indulge you, being nearly distracted from the fact that Satan decided to sit his bare ass cheeks on the Earth that day. He gave you his number, and from then on, he would come see you whenever you both had the time, which was rough, considering the current mess that was your life. He was the only person you felt cared enough to step you out of your comfort zone.

The night walks on campus, your medusa piercing that he compliments all the time.

“It accentuates your features. Peng ting you are, yeah?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, a deep chuckle erupting from his throat

“Means you’re hot.”

He gets it. He gets you. And sometimes, you thought that maybe what you were feeling would never go away when you’re with him. Your hangouts were more often casual, leading to more intimate moments, mentioning him to your family, and him teaching you how to play his guitar. You began to feel it linger, when you knew you both didn’t want to say goodnight.

The immediate thought of it also breaks you.

You’ve felt that he’s been dodging you and your attempts to reach out as of late. It’s been weeks since you’ve last seen Hobie, and this time, he initiates to meet. It’s late in the night, and he’s late. You couldn’t remember the last time you were this mad at him, or if you ever got upset with him at all. You didn’t like how he started to drift away with no explanation, and instead of anger, you were filled with worry, wondering if the time you were spending together was beginning to put a strain on him. You paced around your living room, muttering words and contemplating sending an annoyingly long paragraph of a text that would make it seem like you were dumping him.

“S’mitten for me, are you love?”

You looked up at your window, the tall brit leaning on the emergency stairs, making himself at home as you pulled away.

“In your dreams, Brown.”

He walks up to you, his lanky frame hovering over you so expectantly. You looked down at your feet, almost embarrassed of your newfound feelings, and you feel even more giddy when he stands close to you. He knew that you liked him, but teasing you was his second favorite pastime besides hanging out with you. You walked away to your kitchen, grabbing an energy drink for the both of you. Silence did not exist when you were together, and the awkwardness of it all was not helping. He bit his lip, his teeth caught in his piercing. He knew he was in trouble.

“I know you’re upset.”

“Hobs, you were supposed to be here 2 hours ago, I understand being busy but I thought you were seriously hurt or something”, you exclaimed, turning away from him. Showing up late was a recurring issue with him, and you’ve had just about enough.

“Oh don’t get cheeky now. You’ve been neglectin’ your studies. A bit daft if you ask me.”

You’re eye twitched at his use of his slang, sometimes you didn’t always need him to explain to know that what he was saying had negative connotations.

“That’s none of your concern, it’s you I’m worried about.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he smirks. There wouldn’t be a point in arguing with him about this, handing him his drink, turning on your television, starting the episode of your favorite series where you had both left off.

You sat farther away from him than usual, occasionally glancing in his direction, and unfortunately, he was staring right back at you, even more intense.

“I don’t bite, unless ya’ ask,” he teases, softly patting a seat closer to him, and you oblige. It wasn’t like you weren’t happy to see him, and he chuckles at your annoyed compliance. It was becoming an awkward staring contest, and you quickly lost track of the media playing on your screen. You open your mouth, just out of curiosity.

“So, how’s life treating you?”

“Fighting fascists, new piercings, performin’, ” he looks over to you, taking another sip of his drink, awaiting for a life update on your part. You bit your lip, anxiety getting the best of you. Despite the closer proximity, you still felt to far away from him. He sighs, using his leg to move your body to face him. You quiver, tears threatening to spill from your face once again, but you still looked up.

He looked at you, seeming nonchalant, but you still felt the worry in his aura.

“I know you want me to squash it, but it’s obvious s’omething bigger is bothering you,” he softly speaks, his thumb circling into your knee. “You act as if you’re scared of somethin’— of someone.”

Hobie scoots closer to you, using guiding your chin to make you look at him directly for the first time tonight.

“Talk t’me.”

You shake away from him, that feeling in the pit of your stomach only becoming more intense.

“I can’t tell you everything, Hobs.”

“But you can tell me anythin’, yeah?”

You look up, his face was close to you now, not realizing that you were nothing leaning into each other the more you spoke. His hand, slowly sliding to your hips, slowly stroking your stretch marks that your shirt wasn’t covering. You looked into his eyes, a small smile showing.

“There she is,” he exaggerates, giving you a soft squeeze, and you let out a giggle. The moment was yet again, cut short by that annoying ass beep from his wristwatch, that has interrupted your meaningful conversations countless times. Hobie curses from under his breath, backing away from you, the light illuminating his flawless features. And just like that, the moment has passed. His eyes look up to you, disproval in your expression, and you knew what was coming next, so you did it for him.

“Just go.”

Hobie let out a deep sigh before apologizing for what felt like the thousandth time, knowing he would do this the next time you make an attempt to make time for each other.

But this time, you were going to figure out why.

—

As soon as he had left, your senses went off. And this was the last time you were going to ignore them.

You had quickly went off into your room after he left, frantically throwing around your belongings to find your suit before Hobie got too far from you. You had followed him, all the way to an one of the abandoned buildings on campus that was currently under renovation. You stood behind a slab of concrete, peeking from the side, watching as he walked through a portal as if it were just another day.

But you saw, and now you knew. Your suspicions proved you right once again.

You flicked your wrist, webbing into the portal before it closed in on you.

And now, there you were, caught by Hobie after catching your ankle so you wouldn’t plunge to certain death after following him through his portal, seeking nothing but a dark abyss before you, seeming bottomless.

You turned towards him, a smirk plastered across his face.

“I fuckin’ knew it.”

You webbed free from his grip, finding ground. You looked at his appearance, and now you knew why he wore such familiar colors. Your suit hugged your body, adorned in your favorite colors, riddled with black accents. Hobie looked you up and down, whistling in admiration, while you took in your surroundings. HQ did not look like this at all when you first arrived.

“Place look familiar?”

You had brushed yourself off, taking in the countless people that had suits similar to yours. The unique design of the interior, and many, many, familiar faces.

“The Spiderverse.”

“Hey I call it the same thing!”

You turned in the direction of the speaker, a young boy standing in front of you. He had a black suit, red accents riddled across, two other spider men following behind you, staring at you in admiration.

“I’m Miles!”

You were still floored by all that had occurred in just a few moments. Slowly, you raised your hand, waving to the kid, smiling at him.

“Hi Miles, I’m [Name].”

“Oh, Hobie! Did we get a new recruit?”

A spider woman in a white suit walked up behind him, her pink hair flowing, and eyes that could manipulate a way to your heart.

“I’m Gwen, and this one here Is Pavitr!” Both greet themselves which such joy to see you. You almost felt as if you were back home, introducing yourself to who seemed to be Hobie’s colleagues. You expected him to be upset with you for following him, or keeping your identity as spiderwoman a secret, or vice versa. Yet, he’s seeing you in a new light, a personality that didn’t exist in your world. You would only ever smile like this if it was truly something or someone you cared about. You both would know that.

“Alright kids, follow me!”

The voice felt all too familiar, the oozing confidence in her demands making you cringe instantly, and you turn to see no other than Jessica Drew herself. You stared blankly, a sigh of irritation, your bubbly personality disappearing almost instantly.

“Jessica..”

She started at you, her face turning into a small scowl before turning back around, motioning the group of teens to follow her, but not before throwing a day pass in your direction. It was hard for them to pay attention when they were too focused on your sudden change of demeanor. Hobie walked beside you, brushing against your hand to catch your attention.

“What’s the tea with you two, ey?”

Your side eye is critical when you look towards him, signaling that you didn’t want to talk about it. He grunts before shrugging it off, still walking close to you. You watched Miles as he introduced himself to everyone, completely enamored with his surroundings. All that you could conclude from this, is that he was new. But while he was looking at everyone else, they were all looking at you. You heard the mutters and whispers amongst them as the HQ went into a deafening silence. You could feel Hobie’s gaze on you, sliding his arm around your waist for comfort.

“Piss off. Go back to what you were doin’.”

Quickly, they did what they were told, but you could still hear the voices of some conversing about you. And Hobie could hear it too.

“I didn’t think they’d let her come back.”

“Maybe they caught her sneaking in, they did say she never gave her watch back.”

He looks to your side, still silent as he watches your body tense up from their words. Maybe he wasn’t the only one acting dodgy.

You look ahead, looking at the lair that belongs to the man you used to call your boss. You felt Hobie release his grip from you to catch up with Miles, watching closely as he walked around him, fidgeting with materials and grabbing small objects. The young teen seemed stressed about something, making you just as anxious. You heard him expressing his frustrations about not having a watch, Hobie suggesting to Miles that he make his own.

You had forgotten how big this room was, and you wished it was longer by the time you got to the main event. He descended from his pad, multiple screens could be seen, one of which you could see showed your last conversation with Hobie at your apartment. Miles and Gwen walked up to him, Miles eager to introduce himself, holding a small box of food. Hobie held you back, watching you stare at the sight before you in amazement.

The moment quickly dissipated once you saw the Miguel everyone knew, his violence showing its face rather quickly, throwing an item in Miles direction. With quick reaction, your web caught onto the object, throwing it to a forgotten corner, showing yourself to him. He chuckled, his expression gleamed with frustrations and anger.

“I knew you would be here.”

“Your favorite disappointment could never miss out on a good time.”

Glaring at one another, everyone could feel the tension, so thick it was possible to cut it with a knife. Hobie watched from afar, reading for whatever should come next. That is until you felt the joyous cries of a child, turning to see a grown man in a pink robe. Instantly, you felt a wave of tears washing over you, Peter calling your name as soon as you ran into his arms.

“I missed you kid.”

Miles shared the excitement, walking up to Peter, also capturing him in an embrace. Miles looked at you in awe once more, wondering how you knew him.

“He was my mentor.”

“That’s crazy, me too!”

You heard Miguel groan, echoing throughout the room, Peter ignoring him, and telling you and Miles to do the same. You once again here the coos of a child, looking in the direction, a baby crawling across the wall. You excitedly exclaim with Miles, “You had a baby!”

Peter laughs sheepishly, yelling for his daughter, telling her to make sure she kept her day pass on, clearly in her own world.

Once again, the atmosphere changed dramatically, Miguel stepping down from his pad, Miles following, both engaging in a rather lengthy conversation about canon events. That’s when you started to shake, Gwen and Hobie looking at you with worry. Still, you held your ground, listening to Miguel explain the Spiderverse to Miles, the timelines, and the unfortunate events that occurs to just about every Spider-person. You saw the young teen grow anxious, beginning to mention his dad, and how he becomes captain in just a few days. Miles grows impatient and restless, and arguing that he shouldn’t sit here and let his father die. Miles looked to his colleagues, searching for confirmation. They all looked away, proving the timeline to be correct. Miguel turns toward you, motioning Miles to look in your direction.

“Your friend here believed the same thing.”

You felt everyone’s eyes on you, feeling as small as Miguel once made you feel. You looked at Miles, ready to hang onto every word you as you began to open your mouth to speak, but you looked away.

“Go on, tell him, [Name].”

You sucked up your sniffles, having to relive that memory constantly felt dehumanizing.

“I….I had a friend, who believed the same thing you did. She wanted to be able to save her parents, to be able to do both, and live the perfect life.”

You felt your chest tighten, yet urged yourself to continue.

“I ended up getting her killed, and destroyed her Universe.”

You heard Miles let out a gasp, you looked to Hobie, his eyes wide, and you couldn’t decipher his emotion. Miles turned back to Miguel, demanding that he be returned home. He refused, locking him in. They had all began to walk away, apologizing that it had to end like this. Well, not on your watch, but it seems that Hobie beat you to it.

A flash of light, knocking everything and everyone on their ass, you chuckled at the gesture. Miles was still in shock, quickly recovering, running off into the headquarters. Miguel runs after the kid, everyone following behind. You felt a arm wrap around your waist, a portal opening. Before pulling you both through, Hobie declaring his standing with the league.

“And for the record, I quit.”

—

You were back in the comfort of your own home, dressed in your lounge clothes, while your suit in the washer. Hobie had flew you home, as there was no reason to hide it anymore. Now, it was an uncomfortable silence, the two of you haven’t spoke since you left the headquarters. Hobie was getting ready to head out, his back turned to you, but not until you made yourself clear.

“We can’t come back from this.”

You looked up, his eyes staring back at you as he turned to you. The moon illuminated his smile, responding casually.

“Maybe that’s a good thing.”

And then he was gone, and you didn’t know when he would be back.

Or if he ever would be.

Installation (2/5) : ‘Piss Off’ — Released!

‘Just For You’ Masterlist for previous/future installations

ᴛᴀɢꜱ!

@darkphantommagazine

@von-studios

@vickyzangels

@roseluxxx

@cupcakekiss

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cas-kingdom · 5 months

Note

Can you please write Damon cheering up sis!reader by taking her out for some 1 on 1 time? Maybe even some grumbling from Stefan when they get back home lol ❤️

"If this is what you call a date, I want you to know I'm not impressed."

Damon Salvatore rolled his eyes to the high heavens and punted a stone across the grass. "Would you stop your grumbling? God," he said, "you try to do something nice."

You dragged your feet totally unnecessarily. "I'm tired."

"You wouldn't complain like this if it were Stefan, would you?" He stared straight at you, immediately noting the hesitation flit across your face. He stopped. "Would you, you little snake?” You turned on your heel, walking backwards and sticking your tongue out. Damon grit his teeth and surged forward, making a swipe for you. You easily darted out of the way but wasn't as lucky the second time, your brother catching your head in the crook of his arm and mussing your hair.

"You're a vampire," he said above your screaming, "you can't get tired. Ooh, bunny rabbit."

He let you go, stumbling, and approached the oblivious black rabbit. You recovered and grabbed his wrist before he could snatch the animal.

"No, no, no, don't." Damon gave you a look and your mirrored it. "Just let it exist, D."

"Fine, but when I'm hungry later and wanna snack on a passing tourist, don't come crying." You slapped his shoulder and he leaned down, beckoning to his back.

"Come on, get on." You merely blinked in response and he rolled his eyes once more. "Get on, or I'm leaving you behind." You, figuring this was the only way you were getting to the top of the mountain, jumped onto his back with all the grace of a baby elephant. Damon, ever the drama queen, groaned under the weight. "Damn, sis, how much do you weigh?"

You kicked his hips. "Walk on, ass."

Damon had hauled you out of the house that morning without allowing you—or Stefan—a word in edgeways. "It's a date," he'd said when you’d protested, "we're going on a date." Said date apparently included hiking up the tallest mountain in Virginia.

You moved faster now you were off the ground, hanging around his neck with your cheek against the back of his head. Your eyes followed the moving view until Damon got to the top and the trees cleared. You lifted your head and dropped down as he let go of your legs. "Woah."

"What'd I tell you, kiddo?"

"It's beautiful."

"Yeah, I—" A sharp trill pierced the quietude at the top of the answer and Damon grumbled, reaching into his pocket to yank out his phone. The name caused him to audibly roll his eyes "—aw, seriously?" He put the phone to his ear. "Hi, bro. No, bro, I haven't kidnapped our sister. We're having a dandy old time, thanks very much. She's fine, we're fine, the bunny's fine, and don't even think about coming after us because you're not invited. This is a date." And with that, the phone was turned on silent and pushed right back into his pocket.

You crossed your arms over your chest and grinned, one brow raised. "Eloquent."

Damon rolled his eyes and sat at the edge of the mountain. "Come here. Come on, I won't let you fall." He rose a brow playfully. "Maybe."

You gave him a look but came to sit beside him anyway, making extra sure to be close enough that if the wind blew a little too hard and you did topple over the edge, he'd be able to grab you in time.

"I brought you here when you were a kid, you know?" Damon thought about that. "Well, more of a kid than you are now, I mean."

"Yeah?"

"Yup. Carried you all the way up. You said your legs were tired." He jabbed you in the side. "Guess some things don't change."

“Hey, I walked up most of it by myself.” You jabbed back.

“Yet the question remains…will you walk down by yourself?” He rose his brows in question. You narrowed your eyes but didn't respond, prompting your brother to snort.

"What did I think of it then?" you asked. The views were gorgeous, but you doubted you’d appreciated them as much when you were younger.

"Absolutely no idea. You fell asleep on the way up." Damon didn't sound impressed. You grinned. "Seriously. Busted my ass climbing up that hill and you weren't even awake to see all this."

"You didn't wake me up?"

"You were a deep sleeper."

"Belated sorry."

"Accepted."

You leant against him, your shoulders touching. "That's why you wanted to come today?"

Damon shrugged. "Seems a shame not to see it at least once." He paused. "And to spend some time together." You glanced up at him. "What?"

You said nothing. You shook your head and rested it against his shoulder, reaching to take his hand in yours. "I missed you too, big brother."

TVD Masterpost

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callsign-relic · 9 months

Note

ahhhh! So excited may I request a MTMTE!Ratchet x Gn!Human Reader (first contact) where ratchet meets reader maybe they were a paramedic on earth and accidentally bumped into them? Thank you!💚

I’m glad to hear you’re excited! I eat First Contact up every time so this was super fun to write. It’s also my first MTMTE Ratchet request, I hope I captured his character well enough! Hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: SFW, GN!Human!Reader

In all your years of medical school, you never would have thought you would be on the receiving end of a thorough examination.

Physicals and check ups were one thing. Standard practice, quick and simple work done between you and your fellow human medical professionals.

But as you found yourself lifted into the air, the only thing holding you up being a massive red servo wrapped around your waist- you had a sneaking suspicion that this was much more than a quick check up. You might have just been the newest scientific discovery for a completely alien species.

Ratchet watches you squirm under his scrutinizing gaze. While field research wasn’t his forte, when he was told that this distant planet was filled to the brim with new, undiscovered life, he thought surely it wouldn’t hurt to take a look for himself.

What he didn’t expect was for the dominant species of this planet to be so… tiny.

With his free hand, he pinches one of your arms between two fingers- lifting it outwards. His optics squint as they scan the length of it, astoundment written all over his faceplate.

“Remarkably similar to Cybertronian anatomy…” he comments to himself, not that you could very well understand it. He drops the arm he’s holding and raises the other, examining it the same way he did the one before. “…and yet, at a markedly miniature scale.”

While he wasn’t exactly hurting you- a fact you were extremely grateful for- this was rather an uncomfortable experience, the existentially terrifying idea that sentient life existed beyond your planet aside. And while you didn’t exactly want to touch this gigantic metal creature more than you wanted to, you had a shift at the hospital to get to, and one encounter with a space giant wasn’t going to stop you. You spent all that time and money for a reason, dammit. Pressing your hands against the metal beneath you, you struggle to free yourself from the grip he had around your waist.

Blinking, it takes Ratchet a moment for him to realize what you were attempting to do. “Oh, my apologies.” In the blink of an eye he tilts his hand and unfurls his digits— his wide servo becoming a platform for you now. He hums curiously to himself, “Just how sentient are the members of this species, anyhow…?”

You sit there for a moment, stunned. How easily he freed you, an effort that took much more work on your part. And even though he never took his optics off of you, he didn’t seem like much of a threat at the moment… maybe you could try and talk to him.

The medic tilts his helm as you let out a series of noises unfamiliar to his audials. He raises an optic ridge quizzically, and after a few more moments of your chirps and trills, you slump over in defeat. Okay, time for a new approach.

Slowly, you approach the edge of his servo, and point downwards. The medical officer looks down to where you’re pointing, then back up at you, before what you’re asking finally hits him.

“Ah, yes, of course,” Ratchet promptly lowers his hand to the ground, from which you’re quick to hop off. As you step backwards to fully get a sense of the scale of this titan, even as it rests upon one knee before you, you have to crane your neck up high. You back away cautiously towards your car— sure, it was nice enough of him to let you go, but who knows if he would change his mind at the last minute?

All the while, Ratchet watches your movements closely. You seemed hyper aware of your surroundings and attempted some form of communication, so you must have had some intelligence. As the red and white mech gets to his pedes, you freeze as you grab the car’s door handle. Seeing you suddenly still yourself, Ratchet takes a single step back— perhaps you were concerned about his proximity?

The quiet click of the car door finally opening rings through the air, and you move quickly to take a seat inside your car. You couldn’t freak out now, not while you still had an entire shift in front of you. Maybe this was all just some stress-induced hallucination.

You chance a look at your rear view mirror.

Okay, not a hallucination, he was still there.

And as you finally drove off, making sure to never look back again, the doctor couldn’t help but find himself truly intrigued by humankind. Not only that, but intrigued by you.

Perhaps another visit to this planet was in order.

#relic writes #first contact AU #Transformers #Transformers x reader #Transformers mtmte #Transformers lost light #mtmte #lost light #mtmte x reader #lost light x reader #ratchet x reader #mtmte Ratchet x reader #mtmte ratchet

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starzshopoflove · 6 months

Text

But did he ever make you cry? (Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x Reader)

Notes: fem reader! sfw, literally just me projecting onto reader, best friend Soap! Pining!! Hurt/comfort! I'll make this a series if you guys like it (WC: 1.7)

(Pov first person in italics)

God when is this gonna be fucking over

I’ve been here for what? 4 hours? He just keeps going on and on and on about his ex and “How crazy she was”. When was the last time he asked me something, feels like I'm sitting here for decoration. If he wanted to talk about another girl he could have found a therapist or something, Jesus.

This might be up there in the top 10 worst dates, maybe after that freak who got up in my ear after coffee asking if I wanted to go back to his place. Am I cursed?? What is it about me and attracting these absolute losers?

Its been a while since you’ve gone out a bit rough around the edges since your last breakup. Sure the relationship wasn't that serious but it still bothered you that he left because “You weren't putting out enough” after he said it was fine that you wanted to take things slow. You got your hopes up a bit too high after this guy (absolute fuckin DWEEB) in your lecture asked if you could grab dinner together. You just wasted a solid 2 hours picking out a cute little skirt and doing your makeup checking twice to make sure you looked nothing less then too the 9’s.

And then he shows up in a baggy pair of khaki joggers and hoodie, y'know after he said “Get pretty I’ll take you somewhere nice”. Oh but of course he just “accidentally” forgot the reservations but that's fine he knows a great place nearby. The great place being a diner in the middle of a highway rest with fluorescent lights that flickered too often with a weird smell in the air.

His table manners were practically non-existent smacking his lips when he chewed, sucking on his fingers and getting ketchup on his face. That sight alone made you put down your fork that barely poked at your clearly reheat mush they insisted was a pasta dish. Oh and he wouldn’t stop fucking talking, honestly you were starting to question how it was possible he hadnt choked on his food when he spoke.

You need to get out now. Any Longer at this table and your dignity might start slipping away. He yapped on about whatever as you tuned it out, nodding your head like you cared slowly tucking your phone back into your purse and pulling it onto your shoulder. You were already drawing up a game plan in your head, bathroom, call your roommate, tell her to come get you and block his number. Perfectly full proof.

“You mind if I slip out for a moment? I gotta head to the bathroom, won't be long promise.”

You slapped on a fake smile as he shot you a nod with a sleezy grin, all your senses pulled you back into reality as you felt disgust pool in your gut at the sight of him noticing more off putting things about the longer you looked. You platforms clicked as you pattered off into the one stall bathroom, you stood up straight inside not wanting to lean on the wall when you noticed the dried piss stains and mysterious gunk smeared on it.

It was suffocating, every second of it. The smell, The lights, the noise and of course him. You felt insulted, was this really the kind of place you deserved to be taken out too? You don't get to be wined and dined every now and then do you? Even after you spend days in class or at work and heaving your bones to the campus library to study for the hundreds of tests your professors insist on giving you.

You let out a sigh of contempt digging through your purse shoving the ugly rearing head of disappointment back as you pulled out your phone. Scrolling through the contact list to find your roommates number chewing on your thumbnail as you brought your phone up to your ear letting it ring, feeling your heart pound further the longer the phone rang. You but down hard once you heard the automated message trill, a heavy sigh leaving your chest as you slumped against the wall of your stall running a hand through your hair.

What the fuck am I gonna do, I can’t stay here any longer or i’m not gonna be held responsible for whatever happens to him if he brings up how much he loves blondes again.

You swallowed your pride unlocking your phone again scrolling up your contact list hoping he wouldn’t be too mad at having to save you from this god awful excuse for a date as you eyes settled on his number

“Johnny 🧼”

You thumb pressed down on the number bringing your shakey hand back up to your ear, the pressure that was just annoying you got heavier on your chest the longer you thought about having to stay here with him. You might burst into tears if you had to stay another hour and listen to this loser describe how much he likes girls that are the exact opposite of you basically holding you hostage to listen on this “date”

The ringing stopped when a sigh on the other end of the line broke the silence

“Ello?”

You felt the pressure on your chest bubble and pop once you heard his voice, your own cracking a little as you spoke up. Yeah it was embarrassing to cry over the phone but it would be more embarrassing to sit there and finish the date with red eyes.

“Johnny,, please tell me your not busy right now”

“Can’t be busy when yer asleep”

Your voice was shaky which chilled his nerves with worry, you don’t call him at night unless it was an emergency and with the way you sounded all he could do was think the worst

“What’s wrong bonnie”

It was more of a hushed gentle voice than any annoyance you anticipated, he couldn’t see it but you were already bleary eyed and pouting over the line.

You sat down closing the toilet lid as another shakey sigh let you while the seat creaked under you. You felt you words choke up in your throat pressing heavy on your sternum. You wanted to explain yourself, tell him how horrible your date went, how you felt stupid for going out with him, and how sorry you are for bothering him at night knowing he just got back from a mission only a few days ago.

“Talk to me bonnie, can’t help if you dinnae tell me”

“Can you come get me, ‘m sorry”

Barely a whisper over the phone, Johnny was already imagining the worst when you asked him that. You could hear him shuffling around the room already pressing his phone between his shoulder and ear. In his head you were already kidnapped locked away in some cellar ready to be shipped away, when you were just sniffling and tearing up in a shitty diner bathroom.

“You ok? nbody hurtin you?”

You could hear him tugging his heavy boots on, finally letting out a breath you were suffocating to hold knowing you’d finally get out of here

“No ‘m just not having a good time please, i’ll tell you when your here.”

Johnny looked down hearing his phone ping with the location hushing your sniffling through the line as he opened up the map shutting his front door and quickly sliding into his pick up.

__________________________________

The wait felt like forever, it wasn’t of course you watched the clock religiously. 8 minutes, Johnny sped across town in 8 minutes for you, probably breaking a few laws he’d wave away once he got here.

He walked into the diner seeing it empty, your date no where to be seen while he took in the atmosphere. It was disgusting, and all he could think about was how you got here and why you would ever be here heavily sighing as he paced over knocking on the bathroom door leaning slightly against the door as he waited for your response or even just a sound.

“Steamin Jesus,, lovie you in here?”

He could hear shuffling on the other side as you opened the door up looking up at him with a pouted face and flushed face trying to hold back any noise or tears not wanting to cry in front of him. His hand slowly went to the small of your back gently rubbing and guiding you away from the loo.

“What you doin out ‘ere alone bunny?”

His voice was low as he mumbled down to you softly, face screwed and eyebrows furrowed while he peered down at you spinning your head around the small dinner seeing your abandoned table and spotting a napkin with writing on it.

You moved over to the table reading the napkins silently

“Tif called, had a good time with you, sorry this didn’t work out!”

He left. He asked you out and left you abandoned in the middle of a dinner after trying to feed you shitty food. He asked you out and thought it was fine to treat you like this. This was the straw that broke your back crumpling the napkin under your hand as you pressed your palms on the table hanging your head, you’ve already embarrassed yourself enough what’s the worst some crying can do.

Johnny watching you crumble felt like a punch to his gut knocking all the air out of his lungs, He moves your hand off the napkin reading it and turning his head to you. Your hands already found your face hiding your shame as you stifled your sobs and swallowed thickly at the fat tears pouring down your face. He could be angry later when he finally got his hands on who ever hurt you

He pulled your hands off your face, wrapping you in his arms one hand on the small of your back, another petting at your hair, hushing you softly as you slid your hands up to cling at his shirt burying your face into his chest shaking and heaving as you tried not to be loud. He petted at your hair, rocking you gently holding you close tucking your head under his chin as he slowly turned back to sit down in the booth tugging you down to his lap letting you curl up in on him again letting you cry to him as he coo’d to you

“Shh poor darling girl, talk to me bonnie, breath ts ok ‘m here for ye”

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