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thewulf · 5 months

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Adorably Clueless || Steve Harrington

Summary: Request - So everyone rags on Steve for being stupid right so here’s the idea the reader who is pretty smart acts clueless about a lot of things and asks Steve for help because they don’t like the way the others jokingly call him stupid all the time... Read Rest Here

A/N: We’re pretending Robin and Steve are friends their senior year of high school, everything is moved up a year. Dustin and co are in eighth grade and reader/Steve/Robin/Nancy are seniors. K thanks <3Thank you for the request @loving-and-dreaming

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Y/N

Word Count: 3.5k +

“Can I have a ride to school?” Dustin asked as you slid into the seat next to him running a bit behind this morning. You’d taken a little extra time to make sure you looked a little bit nicer than normal. Steve was around. He was always around. And you’d be lying if you didn’t say you had a little crush on him. You and every girl in Hawkins that was.

You quirked your eyes up to him while pouring the remaining orange juice into your glass, “No Harrington this morning?” Asking inquisitively. Steve had been picking Dustin up early the last few days throwing you out of your normal rhythm with the middle schooler.

He shook his head quickly, “No, we finished that project.” He said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Rolling your eyes, you put the bacon and eggs your mom had made up onto your plate in a hurry, “Yeah, sure. Not like I have to go anywhere else.” You snickered knowing Dustin had to walk down the hill to the middle school, you couldn’t be bothered to drop him off then park.

Your mom sighed gathering the attention of both you and your brother, “I’m glad you’re driving him again, Y/N.” She smiled at you giving your hand a pat.

You frowned almost immediately at that comment, “Why? Steve’s perfectly fine at driving him.”

She gave you a tight-lipped smile knowing how you were. You weren’t going to back down from a fight, you never did, “Well, you know what they say.” She chuckled looking at Dustin who simply gave her the same look of confusion.

Shaking your head quickly you deadpanned at her, “I actually don’t mom. Enlighten me, will you?” You snapped back feeling all the irritation bubbling to the surface. Of course, you knew what they said about Steve. He was dumb. He was irresponsible. He would never get out of Hawkins. Blah blah blah. You might’ve believed that in the past but no longer was that the case. After you saw how he treated your younger brother you saw him in an entirely new light. Steve was kind. Steve was sweet. Steve was beyond thoughtful. You were crushing hard on the boy. And you’d done a pretty damn good job at hiding it. Right up until now. You were definitely giving it away now. Dustin’s eyes burning into the side of your head told you so.

She gave another quick, nervous laugh before clearing Dustin’s plate, “He’s just trouble sweetheart.”

“Typical.” You grumbled feeling annoyed as hell by your mother’s dismissal of the sweet man you’d observed over the last few months.

Dustin looked over at you giving you a curious look. You were usually mouthy with your parents but never pushed it too far. This was pushing it beyond what he was used to. And for Steve? He thought that was odd. Especially for you. He’d learned almost everything from you. You were analytical. Smart. Only spoke up when you knew you were right. Why were you defending Steve Harrington so boldly?

“What’s that honey?” She asked turning back to the two of you.

“You of all people shouldn’t believe the gossip. Thought you told us not to judge a book by its cover mother?” Refusing to look at either of them you decided on staring at the plate in front of you.

Her nervous smile gave it all away, “Sure. Now, off you go. Don’t want to be late to school now do we kids?”

You frowned annoyed as hell by the utter dismissal of the conversation. Oh, so typical. Rolling your eyes, you stood not even attempting to clear your plate, “Come on Dusty. We’ve got some learning to do.” You didn’t wait before grabbing your backpack and keys and walking out the front door without so much as a goodbye. Dustin followed quickly yelling a goodbye leaving a very quiet house for a very mouthy woman to deal with.

When Dustin jumped into the passenger seat of your old sedan you looked over at him. He was giving you the weirdest look. Studying you, “What?” You asked deciding to do your seatbelt instead of looking at him. You couldn’t look at him. No, that’d actually give you away.

“What was that about?” He asked not deciding to hold it back.

“What was what about?” You played dumb. It was so much easier. So, so much easier than explaining a stupid little crush that’d go absolutely nowhere.

He shook his head leaning back into the seat, “Steve? You’ve never mentioned his name before. Now you’re yelling at mom over breakfast about him? Thanks for that by the way.” He smiled knowing you’d always have his back.

You shrugged while backing out of the driveway, “I don’t know… You like him. He fills a gap I can’t fill. So why shouldn’t I defend him?” Trying to play it off you were thankful you had a reason to keep your eyes forward and on the road.

He nodded his head not fully believing you as his eyes narrowed in on you, observing you, “Sure, Y/N. That’s all.”

You nod quickly not daring to look over at your overly observant brother. Weren’t boys supposed to be clueless? Why was every single one of them clueless except Dustin? Of course, your brother wasn’t defective like a majority of the male population, “Yup. That’s all Dustin.”

The rest of the ride was nearly silent as Dustin sat there staring at you. He wasn’t going to give it up and neither were you. So, silence it was. When you parked the car in the lot you turned to him, “Not a word is mentioned of this morning to him. Do you need a ride home?”

Dustin smirked. The little fucker smirked. He unbuckled his seat belt and gave you the biggest grin, “Can’t guarantee that and nope. Steve is driving me home. We’re doing some investigating after school.”

You shook your head, “For once. Keep your big mouth shut. What are you even investigating? It’s Hawkins.” Giving him a curious glance, you stepped out of the worn-down vehicle trying not to be too late to class.

He jumped out of the car mimicking your actions, “Again, can’t guarantee that dear sister. And exactly. It’s Hawkins, there’s lots to investigate.” He grabbed his backpack before turning off to head down towards the middle school, “I’ll be back late, let mom know.” He waved knowing it was best to not give you the last word. Whatever. You’d cover for him like you always did. Steve was good for him. Just like Mike, Lucas and Will. It was never lost on you how you were always a touch jealous of your younger brothers ability to make true friendships. You’d only had one true friend. Thankfully, she was in most of your classes. You’d have gone insane have to deal with this whole high school thing alone.

As Steve got to know Dustin more you got to know him a little better too. It got under your skin how everybody so casually called him dumb or stupid. He was neither. He just played a part. A part you were easily able to see behind. He was his true authentic self around your brother, at your house. You’d caught him talking nerdy with your brother and asking questions somebody dumb would never. Steve was a master at his craft. An illusionist who needed to be the center of attention. For the life of you, you couldn’t figure that part of him out. For that you’d have to have a real-life conversation. One you often shied away from. Little did you know Steve was determined to get that conversation out of you, Dustin’s far too shy older sister. The girl he’d been crushing on since his split with Nancy.

He knew he was a goner the first time he really saw the real you. You were arguing with your mom, something he’d learned was commonplace in your household. He was amazed by your ability to express your words. You so flawlessly got your point across in a way he’d never seen. You were in his classes, but he’d never really seen you before. You were beautiful. Especially once your younger brother talked you up without even realizing it. He’d started to fall for you without even having a proper conversation. He wasn’t going to give up though. He wasn’t planning on going to Dustin, but he was starting to run through all his options. Every time he tried to dive in a little bit deeper you gave him that deer in headlights look. A look of knowing he was pushing the boundaries a little too hard. He’d back off. But then he got absolutely nowhere with you. Until you started coming to him for little things. You’d ask him a math question, one you’d obviously know the answer too, but one you knew he knew the answer to as well. Something to boost his confidence. For even you knew he heard the snide remarks about his intelligence. He was human too.

In English you’d ask him a silly grammar rule. In Phys Ed you asked him how to correctly shoot the basketball even though you’d been taught a thousand times over by Dustin and his know-it-all friends. In Spanish you’d ask him a simple question, beaming with pride when he answered back correctly. Little by little you tried to help him in the smallest of ways.

He was doomed, doomed from your sweetness. You’d taken his heart without the simplest of clues to doing so. He was trying to give you all the signs, the signs that showed he was incredibly interested in everything you had to offer. But you were clueless. Absolutely clueless to it all. For as smart as you are you were oblivious to him right in front of you. If he couldn’t figure it out soon he’d have to go to Dustin to get to you. He’d gotten the sense that only Dustin could talk some reason into you.

You’d been a pro at avoiding Steve at school that day. He hadn’t a clue as to why you were being so elusive. You were far too aware of your feelings to even try and approach a semi-normal conversation with the man. Avoiding him was your best option.

“You’re acting weird Y/N.” Kelly, your best friend, said as she spotted your eyes darting the cafeteria at lunch, “Been acting weird all day.”

“No, I haven’t Kel.” Speaking back in an instant you turned your full attention back to her.

A smirk that was eerily similar to Dustin’s danced on her lips as she watched you. Everybody seemed keen on your actions today, “In fact, you’ve been acting a little off ever since a certain Harrington has become friends with your very own brother. Peculiar.”

You rolled your eyes rather dramatically at your friend, “Look at you, jumping to conclusions.”

“You’ve been avoiding him all day Y/N.” She said matter of factly.

Shaking your head, “No…”

“You literally made Mandy trade seats with you in Chemistry today. I don’t want to hear it.” She cut you off.

“You’re annoying.” You sighed.

“And you’re being avoidant. The usual hey?” She grinned knowing she had you there. This was totally your style.

“Whatever Kelly.” Looking away your eyes went wide seeing Steve and his very own best friend, Robin, walking your way, “Gotta go talk to Mrs. Pace about my grade. I’ll see you later?” You stood quickly and ran off before she could even reply. When you turned back you saw the three of them conversing, talking about who knows what. You. They were talking about you.

When you heard the front door open and close you’d assumed Dustin was alone. Your parents were out for a dinner date with another couple they’d been friends for years with. Being miserably bored you were thrilled when you’d heard him come home. Having somebody to annoy made you far too giddy.

“There you are!” Yelling from the top of the stairs you skidded to a complete stop seeing not only your brother but his much taller and much more handsome friend standing in the kitchen with him.

All too pleased with himself he gave you a head nod, “Y/N. Steve’s going to stay for dinner.” He didn’t ask, he stated.

“Sure, I’ll just be up in my room…”

He cut you off grabbing at your arm, “No, I know you haven’t eaten. Sit.” He sounded weirdly like your father.

“I already…” You tried but again he cut you off.

“No, you haven’t. The plate is untouched. Your water is still at the table. Sit.” He pointed to your usual chair. He had you there. He was too damn observant. Only Dustin.

You glared at him but sat down next to Steve who looked all too happy to be sitting there with the two of you. Not even you could lie, he was damn adorable sitting there kicking his feet watching the two siblings bicker back and forth.

Dustin set down two plates in front of you and Steve, “I just remembered. I was supposed to call Mike at 7! We’re supposed to be doing Mr. Ryan’s homework.” He rambled before running off upstairs.

“Dustin?” You called feeling a growing irritation for your meddling younger brother. The little shit just left you to fend for yourself with Steve fucking Harrington? What the fuck?

“Kids a trip.” Steve smiled over at you hoping it’d calm your nerves a bit. He knew you were nervous for some reason. He was anything but intimidating, or so he thought.

Your face broke into a grin knowing his motives. He was a trip, that one was for sure, “You could say that again.” Defeated, you grabbed at your fork knowing you couldn’t really just leave him sitting in your kitchen. Dustin would quite literally kick your ass if you did that.

He nodded his head in agreement, “Your brother is pretty great too. Never thought I’d enjoy spending so much time with a literal kid.” He snickered knowing the optics of the situation were less than stellar.

Finally, you looked at him. And Jesus, was he stunning. It wasn’t fair. He was so damn attractive and then he was so damn kind? Dustin was setting you up, “He get it from somewhere.” You agreed with him while nodding your head.

Steve’s smile grew even wider as he let out a hearty laugh, “He told me you were funny.”

Eyebrows raised you replied, “He did?”

“Yup.” He scooted a tad closer to you. All too thrilled you were finally entertaining a conversation with him, “He says a lot of good things about you.”

Without even realizing it you bit your lip slightly. A little habit Steve had noticed in school as he watched you a bit closer this year. It happened when you were thinking. When your mind was reeling, “Dusty’s the sweetest younger brother. I’m lucky.”

“Well, he’s got a pretty great older sister he watches all the time.” Steve said so casually you weren’t positive if you were hearing

Your eyes snapped back over to his suddenly very aware of why you avoided these conversations. Your cheeks were absolutely ablaze feeling like you could cook an egg off your face it was so hot, “

He smirked, “What? No comeback? He says your infamous for those. And I’d tend to agree. You schooled Mr. Clark the other day.”

Biting back a smile you rolled your eyes, “Dustin has a lot of opinions about me, hmm?”

He leaned forward feeling brazen, “You’re right. Enough about him. More about you.” His chair scooted just a bit closer. He was bold, you gave him that.

“Me?” Your face had to be as red as a tomato now.

“You heard me.”

Trying to be just a bit brave you continued, “Well, what about me?”

His chair inched ever so much closer. Your heart was racing at an uncomfortable pace as he opened his mouth, “Tell me something about you sweetheart.”

Sweetheart? Sweetheart. Damn, that made your already racing heart explode, “What do you wanna know?” It was a whisper. God, you were pathetic. He made you pathetic. A pathetic bumbling mess, “I hate chicken nuggets. I think they’re disgusting.” You said the first thing that came to your thoughtless mind.

He didn’t give you any time to be embarrassed though. He let out a snort before full on laughing, “Chicken nuggets? Really?”

You nodded quickly defending yourself, “I just… I just don’t think chicken should come that way. Not natural.”

He snickered shaking his head but moving his chair even closer. He was almost on top of you now. Surly, he could hear your racing heart, “You’re a trip too, Henderson.”

“Hopefully you mean that in a good way.”

His smile should’ve given you the hint. But you were clueless. Absolutely clueless, “In the best way.”

The two of you were so into the moment you didn’t hear the younger version of you walk down the stairs. To be fair, it had been twenty minutes. He’d just been sitting in his room bored to death and couldn’t take it anymore. So, he walked down the steps. When he walked into the kitchen he’d expected to find the two of you bickering. Just like he and Steve did. But he found the opposite. The two of you… enamored with each other?

He couldn’t hide the small smile creeping up on his lips. He’d all but gotten a confession out of Steve that he liked you. And he wasn’t dumb, you liked him. So, this was meant to happen, right? Plus, if the two of you were together then Steve would be over all the time. A win, win.

But he was bored, your love could blossom another time, “What’d I miss?” He spoke up. You nearly jumped from your seat. Steve scooted away in a hurry.

“Dustin!” You whisper shouted, startled by his sudden presence.

“Son of a…” Steve muttered while glaring at the younger boy.

Dustin gave him a devious smirk, “What was that Steve?”

“He likes you; you know.” Robin set her bag down next to yours on the ground. She plopped down in the seat next to you in the wide-open library.

You looked up from the homework you were working on, “Hmm?”

“Steve. He likes you. Hard.”

Shaking your head, you decided on giving her your full attention, “No, no he doesn’t. I think I’d notice if he liked me.”

She snorted lightly, “You’re adorable. Adorably clueless. He likes you Henderson.”

“Then he’ll tell me himself.” You said so assuredly you weren’t expecting her reply.

“You’re right. He will.” And before you could reply Robin was off as soon as she had sat down.

Before you could focus back on your homework and ignore the weird interaction with the girl you’d come to adore from afar somebody else was in the seat she had just occupied.

When you looked up and spotted him your weak little heart started racing once more, “Steve, what’re you doing here?”

“Here to tell you something.” He smiled leaning back in the chair.

Robin? Robin was written all over this. He couldn’t actually like you. It was more of a thing to say to get her to shut the hell up. But now… now Steve might actually admit something.

“What’s that?”

He kept quiet until you looked up at him. He smiled gently at you. Trying his darndest not to freak you out, “That I like you.”

“You like me?” You asked back so quickly he was sure you hadn’t really processed it.

“Yes,” He nodded quickly, “I like you. A lot.”

“Me?”

He grabbed at your hand, “You.”

“You’re sure?” You couldn’t believe him. No. Not until he confirmed it at least twenty times.

“Positive.” He gave your hand a squeeze trying his best to keep you grounded in reality. Not stuck in that pretty little head of yours.

“Oh.” You’d finally processed his words. He liked you. Damn, he liked you?

“Hopefully that’s a good, oh.” He mirrored your words from earlier on in the week.

A small smile came to your lips, “Yeah, it is… but…” You paused not sure how to ask the question that was itching at the back of your head.

“But?”

“But you’ve never seemed interested.”

He let out a quiet laugh, “Robin was right, you are adorably clueless.”

You gave him a fake pout, “Hey now.”

He shook his head, “I didn’t say it wasn’t cute. It’s adorable. You’re adorable sweetheart.” He grabbed at your other hand, holding both of your much smaller hands in his.

“Hey Steve?” You said after a moment of silence.

“Yeah?”

“I like you too. I like you a lot.” You bobbed your head up and down.

“Tell me then, what do you say? We’ve got a problem and I’ve got a solution. I’m taking you out Friday evening. On a proper date.” Steve proposed looking all too hopefully at you.

You grinned, “I think that sounds like a great plan.”

He let out a small sigh of relief, “Finally, it’s a date my dear.”

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gavvaiins · 10 months

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lonely

summary: having to carry the future of multiple universes on his shoulders miguel simply is tired, tired and lonely.

pairing: miguel o'hara x gn!reader warnings: angst, pinch of fluff, less actions, more vibes; story's gender neutral but i feel it might be too female-coded? idk ; - ; word count: 3.7k

a/n: yeah ... this is longer than it needs to be. Might got confused by grammar later ... idk while writing i fell into a narrating-style crisis? It definetly doesn't help when the book you're reading is written is a different tense.

Sometimes all Miguel wished for was some time alone. In a building full of arachno-humanoids, constantly surrounded by either living people, holograms or other species there was sometimes not enough room to breathe. So, nothing reprehensible about wanting some time for himself.

However, Miguel wasn’t longing to be alone.

He didn’t need to.

He already was.

Despite being surrounded by dozens of spider-beings he was alone. He had no friends. Jess was a colleague, Peter Parker was a dear colleague, the best – and what was even Peter B. Parker? Honestly, Miguel didn’t know, but despite all these different Spider-People there was no one waiting for him. Not even in Nueva York, a city with far more citizens than anyone could count.

No one was waiting for him to come home – or to simply arrive, anywhere.

Lyla was nothing but an AI generated hologram, he created.

There was no one waiting for him.

And that was good. No one waiting for him meant safety; for him and for him. Without anyone there waiting for him to return home he could neither hurt nor lose someone. Miguel noticed that it wasn’t loneliness he was longing for, after all he was pretty much alone in his world, carrying the burden all by himself. Having time to breathe, to think that was what he was longing for. A moment without Lyla and the other arachno-humanoids, without having to think about anomalies and the downfall of universes.

All he wanted was peace.

“Miguel?” His body grew tense as your voice emerged from the dark, careful and soft, almost fearful as if you were entering a cave, unsure of what you’d meet in there. There was a chance that you hadn't spotted him yet, sitting on his lowered platform all by himself. Within moments he heard your voice he began holding his breath. If he didn’t make a sound, you wouldn’t catch him, which was a dumb and childish thought considering the lighting of the running monitors, which illuminated his big frame quite perfectly.

What were you even doing here? There was no need for you talking to him.

“Miguel?” You asked. He could sense the hesitation in your voice, it reminded him of the heroes in fairy tales, both brave and stupid enough to enter the dark woods full of beastly and hungry creatures. When Miguel thought about it, his room was a bit like a forest – or more a cave, dark and mysterious. To his surprise the light tremor in your voice didn’t stop you from further exploring the room. If this was truly a fairytale, you’d either be very brave or stupid, or both. Whatever it was Miguel would’ve eaten you alive.

But this wasn’t a fairytale, and he wasn’t the big, bad wolf, ready and hungry enough to devour you. But why didn’t you stop?

Why were you still going?

He was the Spider-Man who hoped not to be found by anyone, especially not you.

With every passing second Miguel’s body grew more, and more tense, his lungs felt strained, knowing very well that with every step you took, you were closer to seeing him. He knew that it would’ve been smarter to swing away, to simply vanish in the dark. But he couldn’t move. Something in him didn’t want to flee, despite his longing for peace and serenity. He was like a spider trapped in its own web, paralyzed by his own poison.

Maybe he longed for you to find him.

“Miguel.” Your voice was nothing but a whisper, not entirely fearful but caring as well. Yet, Miguel kept using the tactics of a child. Stoic and stiff did he keep his posture, eyes on the ground, head buried in his arms; if he couldn’t see you, you couldn’t see him either. Rather he avoided your eyes, your whole presence like the plague.

How did he, Spider-Man 2099, guardian of the arachno-humanoid poly-multiverse and destroyer of a whole universe, look like? A mountain of a man hunched on his sunken platform, hiding his face like a fearful child, who didn’t know where to put its overwhelming feelings. He used to be an authority, always standing high on his platform, towering over and looking down on you. But now it was you who looked down on him, a pile of misery in blue and red barely illuminated by flickering screens.

“Oh, Miguel.” He could sense your presence beside him, he could sense everything of you – your pity and empathy was almost sickening. Your body was awfully close but kept a minimal distance of respect, and to his own surprise Miguel felt his tense muscles relax.

Finally, he found himself able to breathe again.

For a moment you said nothing, no Miguel, no how are you. No words left his lips either. You two sat in silence and Miguel enjoyed it, a little – sitting with you in the dark, just the two of you and he hated to admit it, but he began missing his name rolling off your tongue. His name sounded so soft and caring, like he meant something, like he was someone others cared for.

Someone you cared for.

And something inside of him longed hearing you say his name, again, and again.

To his own surprise he needed it, and he surprised himself by how desperately he needed to hear his name coming from you.

“Miguel?” Ah, there it was. Finally. It was embarrassing admit how Miguel’s heart enjoyed it deeply, hearing his name rolling of your tongue. It felt like warm milk mixed with honey running down his throat, filling his body with warmth and a feeling of serenity, of home. Despite his inner positive response to your presence he didn’t move, nor did he speak. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

Feeling your knee nudge his thigh, his body grew tense again. The touch was subtle, yet it alarmed all his senses, as if your touch could hurt him. Couldn’t you just continue gently serenading his name, like a sweet lullaby he could relax and fall asleep to? Miguel didn’t need to talk with you about his feelings. He didn’t want to.

“Doesn’t – “

“Leave me alone,” he grumbled, words swallowed by the void underneath his arms.

“– look like nothing,” you said. No answer, and for a moment you grew quiet. He had no idea what you were doing but he could hear you shifting in your seat beside him. Were you finally leaving?

No.

He wanted you to leave, didn’t he? Yes … that’s what he wanted.

But you weren’t leaving, he knew it when he felt your gentle touch on his shoulder. His muscles jumped slightly under your touch as if your fingers were ice cold or burning hot. They weren’t. Your touch was light, careful, like a butterfly dancing on his skin. First came your fingers, gracing his scapula as if you were testing the waters, then rested your palm on his shoulder and despite the highly advanced suit he was wearing, it felt like his skin was burning – a malfunction, an electric shock.

His heart jumped.

It was too much.

“I said, leave me alone!” Forceful, almost feral, he slapped your hand away. Risen to his full dominating size Miguel was panting heavily, fangs bared, talons shown and eyes gleaming of anger … and hurt, and loneliness, confusion. He looked like a beast, tall and furious, ready to strike or devour you.

“Miguel.” He tried not to flinch. He hated the sound of your voice; it didn’t feel soothing anymore. Instead, it was laced with fear, but mostly hurt. But what was he expecting? Miguel had scared you; he had hurt you.

Good.

Lyla would scold him for being an ass. He didn’t want to hurt you, but he needed to, and if that’s what’s needed to leave him be, he’d endure it … and he would do it again, if he needed to. Despite his body telling him differently, he neither needed you nor your pity.

His initial thought was that his plan was working. The big, bad Spider-Man was indeed an asshole, who made you cry for no reason. Never would you talk or even look at him again, which he told himself was fine. But you weren’t crying. Sure, you were holding your arm protectively close to your body as if his talons had teared through your suit, making you bleed. But no sign of tears rimming your eyes, plus, you weren’t leaving.

You were still here.

“What the fuck?”

Why wasn’t it working? “I told you to leave me.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you still there?” With satisfaction he watched you thinking of a good response, gears turning in your head, to no avail. Your mouth opened slightly before pressing it shut, eyes lowering to your hands folded in your lap. That was it; without anything to retort you surely would leave him.

Again, the two of you sat in complete silence. One he didn’t enjoy, but need, and surely neither did you. However, he was sure that you’d given up, any second, and leave him alone. “Is that really what you want?”

He looked at you, blinking.

“Is it really what you want?” You repeated, staring into his dark eyes and there is something in yours that scared him. Miguel couldn’t tell what it was, there was no poison in your eyes, no malice, yet he was afraid. “Do you really wish to be alone?”

You scared him, and that’s nothing anyone would ever associate with you. He hated to admit it, but he was, not of your physical strength or arachno-powers. Surely, he could easily knock you out. Rather he was afraid that you’d find something you weren’t supposed to see.

Miguel hesitated. “Yes.”

“I have to.” It just slipped out of his mouth. He hadn’t meant to speak his mind, even if it was just a bit. You weren’t supposed to know. But now you knew something that was meant to stay hidden, that was meant only for himself. A burden he had meant to carry himself. There was no reason to hide, yet there was no reason to face you either, so Miguel did what he could best, being alone. With a heavy sigh he crept back into the shell he so shamefully had lost. This time Miguel didn’t burry himself beneath his arms, instead he stared in the darkness of his office, waiting for you to leave. By that time, he should’ve known that you wouldn’t leave him.

Not like that.

“Oh, Miguel.” Again, his name was nothing but a soft whisper, comforting. There lied some sadness behind his name, yet it was all he had wished for moments ago, before he lashed out at you. “You are not alone. We’re all Spider-Man.”

Some incomprehensible grumble left his lips, how should he explain? It wasn’t your fight, neither was it Peter Parker’s, only his. “It was me.”

“I’ve done this,” he said before you could even think of calling him again.

“I –“ Miguel’s breath hitched and for a second his heart stopped beating, stumbling over its own rhythm as he felt your fingers dancing on his skin again.

How dare you?

He wanted to bare his teeth at you, again, he wanted to scare you, to push you away from him, but he couldn’t. His mind told him to, like he used to do whit so many people before. You knew too much about him. But his heart, his body, craved for the softness of your voice, longed for the warmth of your heart. Carefully your fingers grazed his skin, almost waiting for some sign of permission until they could finally rest on his cheeks. Despite wearing your spider-suit your hand felt surprisingly soft on his skin.

With a sigh he leaned into the comfort of your touch, until he remembered who he was and what he did. His head shot up like your hand was hurting him but before he could utter any more words of misery you placed both of your hands on his cheeks, gently forcing him to look at you.

“You’ve done what? Jumping through the arachno-humanoid poly-multiverse.” Your voice was calm and gentle, as was your smile. He could barely look at you. “That is quite a complicated name, maybe you should think about calling it spider-verse instead.”

Miguel meant to smile at your joke, even if only subtle, a ghost of a smile only you’d be able to detect and in any other situation he would. But he couldn’t. Not now, when he’d say something so gruesome that would paint him in a different light. However, the truth didn’t want to roll over his tongue, revealing who he really was, not when you so gently smiled at him, caressing his skin with your fingers. Heaving a sigh, he let go, and melted into your touch like warm butter. Was it good to let his guard down? Probably not. Neither was it professional to lean into your touch, almost gracing your clothed wrist with his lips. It wasn’t good but it felt good, the softness of your touch, the warmth seeking through your spider-gloves. If you’d allow it, he will fall asleep right here in your arms.

It was impossible for him to resist.

If only Lyla could see him now … big, bad wolf turned into a puppy.

However, he was left dumbfounded when he found himself stripped of your touch, even more so, when he found himself disliking the sudden coldness. Wanting to know what went wrong Miguel starred at you but nothing seemed to have changed. You still looked at him with the same fondness and empathy in your eyes, the only difference was that you’re patting your lap. His eyes followed your directions, and he grew hesitant.

“May I?” It should’ve been Miguel asking and not you. Though, resting on your thighs was a nice, almost heavenly thought but he shouldn’t enjoy your comfort too much. “Miguel, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s okay.” He declined.

“C’mon Miguel, it’s comfortable I promise,” you smiled, but he didn’t move. Surely it must be more comfortable than hanging in your hands, but Miguel couldn’t let himself fall on your lap. Already he was enjoying the tenderness of your fingers too much, what would happen if he rested on your thighs? Would he melt into them like he did with your hands? The though was nice but he resisted, not for long though. Tugging, basically dragging him by his arms, you somehow managed to pull his heavy body down on your lap. Carefully he shifted his weight, so only his head and upper body were lying on you. He didn’t want to crush you. However, the feeling that spread through his body as he rested on your thighs was both nice, comfortable and weird. Overall, it was a weird sensation and he’d found himself in a situation he’d never dreamed about before.

“May I?” Miguel had no idea what you were up to, yet he agreed with a hum. His eyes fell close and he hummed again, when he felt your fingers carefully dancing over his body, moving from his shoulder to his hair. It wasn’t the same when you held him in your hands, fingers holding him and caressing his cheeks. It felt different but good, relaxing your hands running through his hair, gently scratching his scalp. And sometimes he could feel the ghost of your fingertips brushing over his face.

He didn’t know how long you stayed in this position, sitting in silence, him resting on your lap and you caressing him like a pet. Miguel couldn’t remember the last time somebody did this for him or when his muscles felt so relaxed. Again, if you’d allow it, he’ll fall asleep right here by your side. But then he remembered what you asked him a long time ago.

“I killed them.” Miguel’s voice was surprisingly calm, even to him. Neither knowing what he meant nor how to answer this, you remained silent. But he could feel your eyes on him. He wasn’t sure if he liked it … not after confessing murder. Yet, he explained, “I killed them all, billions of people, my – his daughter Gabriella, all because I was selfish. – Gabby died because I was foolish to believe that my actions wouldn’t have any consequences.”

His confession shocked you; he could hear it in the change of your breathing and the stillness of your hands, and something in him died. Shocked by his confession you surely would leave. Push him off you like something disgusting. Maybe you would never talk to him again, unless it was necessary, and the thought scared him. His mind had told him to push you away. It was best to handle it all by himself, it was what he always did. But the stupidity people called the heart had won and now the thought of you leaving scared him.

“Tell me what happened.” Your voice was calm, not scared, not soft, just calm. It wasn’t the reaction Miguel had imagined, especially not when your fingers continued to play with his hair. You weren’t even disgusted by him. What kind of person were you to not leave him? “Tell me what happened.”

And he did. Miguel told you everything. How he took the role of a dead man, living his life and raising his daughter. He made it clear that he thought of his actions as selfish and stupid, because he erased a whole universe and with that Gabriella’s future. Never would he forget the fear in her eyes, how she clung to him, looking for safety, calling for her dad – for him, not knowing her real dad has died – until she disappeared as well.

Telling his nightmare was awful, remembering the horrors of his action never got any less painful. But sharing it with you felt surprisingly relieving. It wasn’t like he was healed from his pain but telling you about it made it a little more bearable. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

How should he answer? Thank you? Moments ago, Miguel would’ve grumbled at the pitiful – no, empathic, he’d learned that much by now – tone in your voice but now he liked it, just as he enjoyed you calling him by his name. Miguel didn’t know what to say.

“I don’t think you killed them, Miguel,” you said after an eternity, never stopping playing with his brown strands. Careful he shifted his weight to look at you. Even with one eye lazily opened, he decided that he liked looking at you, watching how you react to him. “Then, who did?”

Wringing with the words on your tongue you hesitated. “I don’t know.”

In normal circumstances Miguel would be grim, and scoff at your naïve words, claiming to be the villain of his story. The selfish murderer of Gabriella O’Hara. However, now he felt rather tame and tired. It’s enough for him. So, he only hummed, closing his eye to revel in the fondness of your touch.

“But you can’t know either.” He looked at you again. He had to correct you, he knew, it was obvious, really. But before an answer could roll over his tongue you were quick to intervene. “I know what you’re going to say, Miguel. You’ve seen it and to you it makes sense, but listen – I … how does anything make any sense? Multiple universes, anomalies, canon events … we shouldn’t even be here, Miguel. I shouldn’t, none of us. But here we are.”

There’s a hint of sadness in your tone, faint yet he heard and didn’t like it. Miguel knew you’d meant to comfort him but, in the end, you’d realized, that nothing of this should’ve happened. You should’ve never met the friends you made in the spider society, never should’ve met him and never found him dark, and lonely in his room. Almost instinctively his hand reached out to you, gently cupping your face. Now it was his turn to comfort you, even if it was only for a fleeting moment. Unsure if he should draw small circles with his thumb, like he wanted to, or caress like you used to do, he just held you. “Don’t. – The multiverse is mine to preserve.”

“Oh, Miguel.” A soft, but sad smile graced your lips as you laid your hand over his, unwilling to let him go. “It’s not yours, either.”

“But it was my fault, not yours. Don’t worry about something I’ve done.”

You sighed. “Miguel, you shouldn’t carry this burden alone, we’re all Spider-Man. It’s not your duty alone to save the multiverse, you can’t do this alone. I – I think what I’m saying is, you’re not alone, Miguel. You might think that you’ve to do all by yourself but that’s not the truth, we help you, all of us. We will carry that burden with you, I will.”

Truly it was sweet how caring you were, none of you could – and should – carry the arachno-humanoid poly-multiverse on your shoulders. It was his job to preserve one less universe from being destroyed. It was his shoulders who had to carry the burden of it all, not yours. None of you should ever have to worry about the stability of your universe. But there was something burning in your eyes as you spoke, something Miguel enjoyed watching. So instead of objecting and lecturing you about the truth he heaved a hefty sigh and closed his eyes, making himself comfortable in your lap. It takes some time until you picked up where you left playing with his hair, gently scratching his skin here and there.

It's quiet as you ran your fingers through his hair, he doesn’t even move. You weren’t even sure if he was still breathing. But you swore you heard a hum, a content sound vibrating through his big body. However, when you try to check on him there’s nothing, no sound, no movement, not even a smile. Miguel simply looked like he’s asleep, stoic and grim – just like when he’s awake. It’s a silly though, him always looking serious no matter if he’s asleep or wake, it made you smile. However, in rare moments, when you’re not looking at him, his lips curl into a grin.

#atsv #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #reader-insert #marvel #spiderman x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #spiderman 2099 #x reader

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n0cturna1-m3 · 1 year

Text

Happy Anniversary | Dom! Bottom Jason Todd x Sub! Top Male Reader | Fluff/Smut

Fem/Minors DNI

Warnings; Trans Jason, use of the words cunt, clit, etc., little bit of crying, alcohol consumption, cunnilingus, face sitting, sprinkle of praise, tooth rotting fluff, condoms, Y/N is a bit of a clutz, obedience, pretty vanilla tbh

About 3.6k words

The small apartment was cold as snow fell for the first time of the season in Gotham. Y/N was sitting in a chair next to the window wrapped in a blanket with a cup of coffee reading a thick book. The light was dim, a couple of earthy candles were lit and two antique lamps turned on creating a warm glow in the cluttered living room. Y/N turned the page and spread his fingers to hold it open while he reached for his coffee on the table, almost picking up a lit candle to sip on but quickly retracting it from the hot wax spilling over the sides. He successfully grabbed the coffee, bringing it to his lips and humming at the bitter flavour. He liked it black.

Returning the mug to the table, he read the words on the white pages, a movie playing in his eyes with every word. The old record player on a bookshelf on the wall stopped at the end of the vinyl, Y/N standing and walking to it, carefully removing it and sliding it into its case before shuffling through the shelf below it that housed multiple vinyls. He stopped at a classical song that he enjoyed and pulled it from the shelf, taking it out of its case and gently placing it on the turntable, lowering the stylus and letting it turn on. He returned to his armchair and pulled his feet up, sitting at an angle and draping the red woven blanket over his legs, picking up his book again and thumbing through the crisp paper before finding his bookmark, continuing where he left off.

Jason had left early that afternoon under the guise of having vigilante duties, and his boyfriend was dumb enough to not question it. He had most likely forgotten about their anniversary again, but he didn’t blame Y/N. He wasn’t good with dates, and that wasn’t his fault. He always made up for it in the best ways, though, so in Jason’s mind, it didn’t matter.

He spent the time he had out running around and getting things for the special occasion, picking up a bottle of Gaja Barbaresco and a cheesecake he had ordered weeks prior.

It felt a bit embarrassing for him when he walked into a small flower shop to pick up the bouquet of (favourite flowers), but the woman at the counter looked thrilled to see him again after he had placed the order a week ago. She had pestered him a bit, curious as to what the occasion was, and was thrilled upon hearing his response.

“Hello again!” Jessie beamed, her smile lines and crow's feet being exasperated by her warm smile.

“Hello,” Jason replied, walking inside the shop. It was filled with flowers and plants, all sorts of things needed for gardening and whatnot. “I’m picking up for Todd.”

“I know,” She smiled, turning around and walking to a fridge in the corner of the room. She pulled out the bouquet and placed it on the counter before leaning on it, her forearms holding her weight. “So, you’ll come back and tell me how it goes, right?” She asked, a few grey and brown strands of hair framing her face.

Jason nodded shyly. “Yeah, I will.” Jessie smiled again and stood up straight, ringing up a receipt and handing it to him. “I’m a bit nervous,” He stated, pocketing the piece of paper and grabbing the flowers, holding them delicately in his hands.

“Don’t be. It’ll be just fine,” Jessie reassured. “Now, get out of here!” She joked. “Don’t wanna waste the night. And I’ve gotta close up.” He gave a curt nod before walking out of the store, a couple of bags on one arm and the flowers in his other.

The walk back to the apartment felt shorter than it should have, perhaps because of Jason’s mind whirring with possibilities of what was to come. He fished his keys out of his pocket, shoving them into the keyhole and unlocking it, shouldering the door to open it. He walked inside and kicked the door closed with his boot.

“I’m home,” He called, walking into the kitchen and placing everything on the counter, quickly putting the cheesecake and wine away and searching through a cabinet for a vase.

The lack of Y/N greeting him caused him to turn around, a vase in hand as he caught a glimpse of him asleep in the corner of the living room. Jason smiled at the sight of his pretty boyfriend, their cat lounging on his lap, curled into his warmth. She was purring quietly, blinking her pale yellow eyes at Jason and stretching her arms out, grabbing onto the blanket with her claws and pulling it into her face. He admired the sight for a moment before continuing his efforts to set up the flowers, walking around the counter to place them on the small dining table before returning to the kitchen and rummaging through cupboards and the fridge to get the ingredients he needed for dinner, placing them on the counter and starting on it.

Y/N woke up to the smell of food, slowly opening his eyes and stretching his limbs, accidentally throwing the grey cat off of him.

“Ah,” He grunted, rubbing his eye and reaching out to scratch her on the head. “I’m sorry kitty.” He picked her up and cradled her in his arms like a baby. “Sorry Bugs.”

Jason watched them from the kitchen, admiring the way the light hit Y/N and coloured his face. Y/N looked up and caught Jason’s gaze, smiling at him and giving Bugs a few kisses before putting her back on the floor, scratching the base of her tail as he stood, walking over to Jason who was sautéing vegetables, namely onions, garlic, and Italian green beans, and leaned over the counter.

“I didn’t know you got home,” He said, looking at Jason lovingly. Jason turned back to the pan on the stove. “You should have woken me up.”

“You looked peaceful,” He responded, turning off the stove and tossing the vegetables a few times before placing them on a different burner that wasn’t hot. “Plus, Bugs was sleeping so soundly. I wouldn’t dare wake her. You know what happens when your devil child wakes from her naps prematurely.”

“Hey, she’s not just my child!” Y/N pouted, facing Jason's broad back as he plated the food with what appeared to be (Steak, Fish, Vegan stuff, idk fill it in). “She’s just as much your kid as she is mine.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry for disrespecting our child,” He teased, turning around with the plates and handing them to Y/N. “Put those on the table for me, yeah?”

Y/N took them from Jason’s hands and walked to the table with them, gently setting them down on the wood and turning around to see Jason holding out utensils for him to take. He did and set them next to the plates, desperately trying to remember if the knife pointed towards the plate or away from it.

“It points in,” Jason said without looking, searching through the cabinets for wine glasses. Y/N grunted and flipped them around, Jason walking over with the glasses and a bottle of expensive wine, setting them on the table. Y/N looked confused at it all for a moment but quickly his eyes widened.

“Shit, it’s our anniversary! Hold on, wait here.” Y/N ran into their bedroom and Jason could hear him open the closet door and begin rummaging through the various boxes on the top shelf, a few crashing to the ground with a thud. He smiled and sat down, resting one of his elbows on the table and putting his cheek in his hand, watching the door and waiting for his (H/C) haired lover to come out.

Y/N made an ‘Aha!’ sound when he found what he was looking for and grabbed it, quickly leaving the bedroom, the closet in disarray. He managed to trip over his own feet after stepping outside the room, barely catching himself as Jason laughed at him. He got up and walked over to him nonchalantly, sitting in his chair and putting a small-sized box on the table next to Jason. It was dark blue with a cream ribbon and bow. Y/N got help with the bow. He was incapable of doing something that intricate. It was probably Barbara, she always wrapped gifts well.

“You want me to open this now?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest playfully. Y/N nodded with a big smile. Jason chuckled and grabbed the box, carefully undoing the ribbon and discarding it on the table. Y/N was eager for his reaction, slightly anxious, but mostly excited. Jason’s eyes lit up, reaching inside and pulling out two bracelets. They were woven tightly, one of black macrame rope and the other a deep red. The end strings had a few beads on them. Jason looked up at Y/N who was anxiously watching him.

“Do you like it?” He asked, twiddling his thumbs under the table. Jason smiled at him and placed a hand on the back of his neck, pulling him in to give him a quick kiss.

“I love it, Y/N,” He said. Y/N let out a sigh of relief. He didn’t know if it would be a good gift, but he figured that using his fingers to make something would be better than picking at his fingernails, so he picked up the hobby and grew fond of it. “Help me put them on.”

Y/N nodded and grabbed one of them, Jason holding out his left wrist for him. He wrapped it around his wrist, securing it with an adjustable knot and doing the same with the other. Jason looked at them against his pale skin fondly before turning to Y/N again.

“Let’s eat, I’m hungry.”

“I didn’t want to ask, I’m so glad you offered,” Y/N said, picking up his fork and digging into the meal. Jason poured them each a glass of wine, clinking their glasses and taking a sip before he started on his plate.

Time seemed to fly by as they ate, quickly finished and discarding the dishes to the sink before Jason cut two slices of cheesecake and filled their glasses again, moving to the couch, sitting on opposite ends with their legs intertwined, watching the newest episode of a corny crime show they had started, commenting on the lack of accuracy in the whole thing. They paused it halfway through when the main character made a mistake that would have cost him his job.

“No, I called it! I knew he would do it!” Y/N laughed, taking another fork full of cheesecake and chuckling.

“Now, me personally,” Jason started in between laughs. Y/N cackled as Jason jokingly defended the protagonist. He looked at Y/N fondly, digging into his pants pocket and pulling out a box. “Catch,” He said, tossing it to Y/N who caught it and looked at it.

“What is it?” He asked, turning it over in his hand.

“Open it.”

Y/N flipped the lid open, his eyes widening and jaw falling open. He looked at Jason who was smiling warmly at him.

“Are you serious?” He asked, pulling out one of the rings and turning it in his fingers. It was plain gold/silver (whichever you prefer) with their anniversary engraved on the inside. His eyes watered and he glanced at him again, lip quivering when he nodded. Y/N put the ring in its place and moved to hug Jason, wrapping his arms around him tightly and burying his face in the crook of his neck. He took a few shaky breaths, Jason’s shirt dampening. He kissed Y/N on the temple and rubbed his back, cupping his cheek when he pulled away and kissed him.

“I love you,” He whispered against Y/N’s lips. He took the box and pulled out one of the rings, taking Y/N’s left hand and slipping it on. It fit perfectly. Y/N almost burst into tears again, sitting back on his knees and taking the other ring, Jason offering his hand. Y/N took it in his own, kissing his lover's knuckles. He put it on Jason’s ring finger, kissing his knuckles again and looking at him with teary eyes. Jason’s own icy blue eyes were equally wet, and Y/N leaned in to kiss him again, this time much deeper, tilting his head while their lips moved in sync.

“Come on, up,” Jason said, pushing Y/N off him lightly. He pouted, watching Jason stand up from the couch and walk to the hallway. “You coming?”

Y/N stumbled off the couch and rushed to Jason, the latter wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him in for another kiss, leading them to the bedroom. Y/N chased after his lips, his eyebrows knit together in frustration when Jason pulled away from him. He grabbed Y/N’s hips and turned him around, walking him backward and pushing him onto the bed. Y/N looked up at Jason with desperation, his lips parted slightly.

“You’re so handsome like this,” He said, putting his hand under Y/N’s chin and tilting it up. He whimpered quietly. “So desperate for me.”

“Please,” Y/N whined, hand reaching up to grab Jason’s shirt. He smiled and pat him on the cheek, stepping back to remove his clothing.

“Strip to your boxers.” Y/N sat up and removed his shirt, tossing it to the floor and struggling with his belt, not bothering with the loops and just unbuttoning and zipping it, pulling them down, and shaking them off his feet. He pulled off his socks and threw them, looking back up at Jason who was pulling off his boxers. “Lay on your back.”

Y/N moved to the middle of the bed, laying on his back and looking at Jason as he climbed onto the bed before sitting on Y/N’s chest, his legs pinning his arms under him. Y/N moved his hands to hold Jason’s calves, his lips parting as he stared up at his lover with pretty (E/C) eyes.

“Be a good boy and eat me out,” He told him, moving up slightly so his cunt was hovering over Y/N’s face. He nodded vigorously, Jason lowering himself to sit on Y/N’s face, letting out a content sigh when he gave him a long, wet lick. He leaned back to ground himself, laying one hand flat on Y/N’s chest while the other grabbed at his hair. Y/N sucked on his dick, moaning at his taste. God, he loved how he tasted so much.

Jason rocked his hips against Y/N, who was burying his tongue in his cunt and licking him open. Jason moaned and ground his dick against Y/N’s nose. Y/N was grunting against him, stimulating Jason to no end. Pleasuring Jason was always his top priority, always over his own.

“Fuck, you’re so good at this baby,” He praised, moving both his hands to grab the headboard, his knuckles turning white from it. Y/N moaned, the sound vibrating through Jason’s cunt and causing him to shudder. Y/N moved to suck him again, bucking his hips up into nothing, desperate for any sort of stimulation. Jason reached back and groped his cock through his boxers, rubbing him through the fabric while he whimpered into his pussy, eyes watering slightly. “Holy shit, I’m gonna cum. Don’t stop, just like that Y/N,” Jason breathed out heavily, grinding helplessly against Y/N’s sopping wet face. He let go of Y/N’s cock in favour of grabbing Y/N’s hair and the headboard, hunching over and moaning gutturally as he came on Y/N’s tongue. He continued licking him languidly, helping him ride out his orgasm.

Jason shakily raised himself off Y/N’s face, moving back and looking at Y/N and his smug face, wet with Jason’s cum. He moved back to sit on Y/N’s torso, leaning over to kiss Y/N, wiping his face off with his hand, and rubbing it off on the sheets. Y/N placed his hands on Jason’s hips, letting him explore his mouth, licking his teeth and tongue.

“Fuck, Y/N. You’re so good for me, baby. I love you so much,” Jason mumbled as he kissed down his neck, sucking and nipping the skin on his way down. Y/N ground against him when he moved back enough for him to rut against his pussy. Jason hummed, sucking on Y/N’s pecs and massaging them in his hands while Y/N held his hips and rocked against him.

When Jason pulled back, Y/N’s chest was covered in hickeys and teeth marks that would fade by morning, and his boxers were wet with pre cum.

“Jay,” Y/N huffed, looking up at him with hazy eyes. “I wanna put it in.”

“What’s the magic word, big guy?” Jason teased, grinding down on Y/N’s clothed erection hard. He shuddered, jaw falling open and eyes closing.

“Please, Jason,” He begged, opening his eyes and looking up at Jason with furrowed eyebrows. He smiled and leaned over, grabbing a condom and lube. He pulled down Y/N’s boxers, throwing them across the room, and sat back on Y/N’s thighs, ripping open the condom and rolling it onto his aching cock. Y/N grunted when Jason squirted some lube in his hand and fisted his cock, letting it go and wiping the excess on the sheets.

“Come on, I want you on top of me,” Jason said. Y/N nodded and grabbed his hip and back, flipping them both over swiftly. Jason stared up at Y/N, watching him hold his thigh and the base of his dick to slowly put it inside, the tip entering. Jason moaned and fisted the sheets beside his head as Y/N slowly pushed inside, letting go of his cock and resting his forearm beside his head to hold his weight.

The lube and Jason’s slick hole allowed Y/N to slide in easily, bottoming out and pausing for a minute, breathing heavily. Jason wrapped his hands around his shoulders, pulling him down into a tender kiss. Y/N began rocking his hips slowly into Jason, moaning into his mouth. Jason wrapped his legs around Y/N’s hips, pulling away from the kiss and keening as he sped up, his cock hitting every spot that made him writhe in pleasure.

He dragged his fingernails across Y/N’s skin, the dull sting making Y/N grunt. Jason cursed and tensed his legs, grabbing Y/N’s shoulders and letting his head fall back. He took a few deep breaths, a sob ripping from his throat when Y/N started rubbing his throbbing clit.

“Fuck! Oh my god, fuck, you feel so good!” He wailed, pulling Y/N in and kissing him with teeth and tongue. They gasped for air between kisses, Jason biting at his lips occasionally. “Shit,” He whimpered on Y/N’s lips. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Ah, me too,” Y/N moaned, resting his head on Jason's shoulder. His fingers worked his dick just right, and him struggling not to cry from the stimulation that was coursing through him. He came quickly and hard, Y/N not stopping his movements until Jason tapped him on the shoulder twice. He pulled out and discarded the condom, stroking his cock. He looked at Jason with his jaw hanging open, holding his thigh with one of his hands. Y/N moaned as he came on Jason’s torso in long white stripes. He slowed to a stop, riding out his orgasm and placing his hand on the bed next to Jason, leaning forward.

Jason reached up and cupped Y/N’s face, him leaning into it. “I love you so much,” Jason whispered. Y/N looked at him and leaned in to kiss him. He rested his forehead on Jason’s, their breath mixing.

“You want a shower?” Y/N asked, their eyes meeting. Jason nodded, a bit pissed off when Y/N stood up, but it was replaced when he pulled him into his arms, wrapping his legs around Y/N’s hips loosely.

Y/N carried him to the bathroom, placing Jason on the counter and kissing his forehead before turning to the shower, twisting the knob, and walking out to grab two towels from the linen closet while he waited for it to warm up. He placed them on the counter next to Jason and felt the water, Jason hopped off the counter and grabbed onto Y/N for stability. His legs felt like they would give in at any moment, so Y/N helped him step into the shower, standing behind him and wrapping his arms around his muscular body. He rested his forehead on his shoulder, Jason holding the back of Y/N’s head and leaning into his embrace.

Jason let Y/N pamper him, allowing him to wash his hair and body, massaging the muscles as he went, and kissing his shoulder and neck occasionally. He washed quickly to get it over with, helping Jason out and drying his body with one of the towels and wrapping it around his waist. Y/N dried himself quickly before helping Jason to bed again.

“This is humiliating,” He grumbled as Y/N pulled his boxers up for him and helped him get under the blanket. Y/N crawled in after pulling up his boxers, cuddling up against Jason.

“I like taking care of you, though,” Y/N whispered. Jason turned his back to Y/N, letting him press his chest to his chest. Y/N took Jason’s left hand in his, intertwining their fingers and looking at their matching rings.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

A/N; I love Jason. I do hc him as trans so if you don't like that you can deal with it. He's canon ugly but it's okay bc he's my bbg

#x male reader #top male reader #jason todd x male reader #jason todd x top male reader #sub top #dom bottom #aww my skrunkly #fluff and smut #jason todd is a softie #x top male reader #male reader smut

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ghosttotheparty · 1 year

Text

love me softly p4

@heart-of-a-rose they!!! see!!! each!!! other!!!! (@theysherobinbuckley <3) cw: steve discusses His Father with eddie; nothing is explicit or anything but its implied that his dad is abusive & neglectful

part three

-----

He goes to Gareth’s the next day. His mom answers the door.

“Hi, Mrs Gareth’s mom.”

“Hi, Eddie. He’s in his room.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“She’s told you that you can call her Linda,” Gareth says as soon as Eddie is pushing aside the curtain to his room, laying on his bed with a book in his lap, spinning a drumstick.

“Yeah, I can also walk into traffic, but that doesn’t mean I want to or that I’m going to.”

“Whatever, man. What’s up?”

“Uh.”

He lays on the floor, looking up at the posters Gareth has tacked to the ceiling.

“You remember when I said that I, uhm. Like Steve?”

“Unforgettable knowledge, yes.”

“Uhm.” He’s grinning at the ceiling. His face almost hurts. “I got a… slight, sneaking suspicion it may not be entirely one-sided.”

Gareth drops the drumstick, and it clatters to the floor.

“Elaborate right now.”

He elaborates. Tells Gareth about detention, about the first-name basis, about the way Steve’s cheeks flushed and the way he laughed, the way he half-heartedly tried to stop Eddie from flipping through the notebook, about the fucking drawing.

“And you’re sure it was you?” Gareth asks, now sitting up and looking down at Eddie, wide-eyed.

“Positive.”

“…Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“Is he… Do you think he’s queer?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie groans, throwing his arms over his face. “I don’t know.”

“I mean— he’s slept with like every girl in the school, I—“

“I know.” He sighs heavily. “But… Even if he isn’t, he’s… He’s different.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I mean—“ He throws his arms aside, huffing. His eyes trace the fraying edges of an old Metallica poster that’s overlapping a faded map of constellations. “He’s not a douchebag.”

“Eddie…”

Eddie just groans loudly, rolling over.

Mrs Gareth’s mom gives him a Tupperware of food to take home before he leaves.

When Eddie sees Steve at school again, Steve’s eyes are practically shining at him, and his cheeks flush pink, and he suppresses a smile before he looks away, and Eddie wants to scream. He can see the corner of the notebook, the folded blue front page, sticking out of his backpack next to him.

On Friday, Eddie attends a party. He wasn’t invited, he never is, but no one ever really minds when he shows up with his tin lunchbox.

Parties always get him good money, dumb kids wanting to lose their minds for a night and willing to give Eddie any amount of money for it.

But the noise and the the lights tire him after a while, and he leaves his can of Coke in the sink, wincing as he skirts past people, winding through crowds of dancing and shouting people. The front door is practically blocked off, the front porch so full of people that just looking at it over the others’ heads makes his body ache.

So he swerves, keeps his head down as he finds his way down a hall. He knows there’s a bedroom down here, with a window that should go right through the backyard.

A hand grabs his shoulder as he’s opening the door, and he turns, startled, the lunchbox bumping the person behind him.

“Shit—“

“You got coke?”

Eddie blinks, recognising him from the hallways at school. His eyes are bloodshot, hanging at half-mast.

“I’m not selling right now, man,” Eddie says, moving the lunchbox away from him.

“Come on, Munson.”

“No.” Eddie shifts into the doorway of the bedroom. “Go drink some water or something.”

“Dude, I’ll pay you whatever, just—“

“No,” Eddie snaps. “You ask again and I’m not selling to you ever. Get outta here.”

The guy huffs, and Eddie braces himself for impact, but he just stumbles away down the hall. Eddie shakes his head, watching before he steps into the bedroom and shuts the door behind himself, leaning to look around the four-poster bed to see out the window.

“Why’d you do that?”

“Jesus—“ He jumps, almost dropping the lunchbox, and Steve Harrington is sitting on the ground against the bed, laughing. “Christ,” he finishes, pressing a hand to his chest, and sure, maybe he’s hamming it up a little, but Steve’s eyes are sparkling, and he’s giggling at him. “Scared the shit out of me, Steve.”

“My bad.”

Eddie scoffs.

“Why’d I do what?”

“Not sell to Andy,” Steve says quietly. Eddie looks down at him. He’s holding a bottle in his hands between his knees. “He probably woulda paid you anything.”

“I know,” he says, hesitating and looking down at him. “Can I sit with you?”

“Mhmm.”

He sits heavily next to him against the bed, sighing.

“He’s high off his ass,” Eddie says. “Woulda paid me anything, probably woulda taken it all in one go. I like money but I don’t like being kind of responsible for overdoses.”

Steve just nods silently, his eyes trained on the bottle he’s holding.

“You’re a nice guy,” Steve says quietly after a moment.

Eddie scoffs.

“What are you laughing at?” Steve says, looking at him. His eyes are shiny. He looks sad.

“Don’t really hear that often.”

“You’re nice.”

“I think you’re nice.”

Steve is quiet, staring blankly at the floor.

“…Do you,” he says so softly it’s almost just a whisper.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “You’re not like those other douchebags.”

“…My friends?”

Eddie winces.

“Sorry, I’m…”

“You’re right.” Steve sighs softly. “They are douchebags.”

Eddie relaxes against the bed. They’re sitting so close he can hear him breathing.

“Why are you friends with them?”

Steve keeps staring into space, shadows falling across his face in a way that makes him look like a painting. It’s quiet except for the muffled thumping of music, of voices shouting and singing.

“My dad works with Mr Hagan,” Steve says quietly. “If Tommy and I fight, or he hates me for whatever reason, and he tells his dad, it could…” He pauses, pressing his lips together. “Fuck with my dad’s business. Which I don’t really give a shit about, but when things at work are rough, Dad gets pissed, and when Dad’s pissed…” He trails off, sighing.

“Dads really suck sometimes,” Eddie says softly, and Steve scoffs.

“Yeah.”

They sit in silence for a moment, and Eddie sets the lunchbox down on the floor.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Hit me.”

“You draw often?”

Even in the dim lighting, Eddie can see Steve’s face flush pink, and Eddie grins.

“What makes you ask that?”

Eddie snorts, and Steve is giggling again.

“That drawing I saw,” Eddie says, looking at him. “I mean, it was… it was good. You don’t get that good with just one drawing, right?”

“Shut up,” Steve says shyly, holding the bottle to his chest. “It’s… I’m not supposed to, but…”

“Explain.”

Steve pauses, biting his lip and letting his head fall back to the bed. Eddie’s eyes trace the line of his throat.

“I drew when I was a kid,” he says quietly. “And it was fine, because I was a kid, and my teachers all said I was very creative, and had good motor skills, and…” He shrugs, looking across the room. “And then one day I tried to show my dad a new drawing. It was a pirate ship.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says softly, listening intently.

“And he snapped that Harringtons aren’t artists.” His mouth twists thoughtfully before he takes a breath and leans toward Eddie without looking at him. “He threw away all my crayons.”

“Your dad sounds like a royal asshole.”

“Yeah.” Steve laughs softly. “I couldn’t stop drawing though,” he says. “I wasn’t allowed to listen to music, and I never wanted to spend more time than necessary with my friends, and I’m shit at reading, so… It became like… an escape or some shit. I just never showed anyone.”

“I’d like to see more of your stuff,” Eddie says. “If you’d let me.”

Steve’s head falls back to the bed and he’s quiet for a moment.

“What’s your locker number?”

“My locker number?”

“Mm.”

“You gonna leave me little notes and shit?”

“…If you’d let me.”

Eddie’s cheeks flush and he looks away.

“Two thirty-six. In front of Wilkinson.”

“Cool.”

They’re quiet again. It’s oddly peaceful. Eddie’s never been a big fan of the quiet, always interrupting it with heavy music or his own voice, humming or talking to himself or just making noise. But with Steve it’s nice. He can almost hear his heartbeat.

“So what are you doing hiding away in here?” he asks after a while.

“Uh.” Steve sighs, taking a sip from the bottle. “Hiding away.”

“From?”

Steve shrugs.

“Everything, I guess. ‘S really fucking loud out there. Tommy’s being more of a dick than usual.” He pauses, swinging the bottle in his fingers. “Can’t drive, though. So I’m…”

“I was about to leave,” Eddie says gently. “I can give you a ride.”

“Where’re you going?”

“Just going to drive around,” he says truthfully. “But I can take you to your place if you wanna go home.”

Steve stares at the ground, his expression hardening as he thinks, brows furrowing, lips frowning.

“No, I wanna go with you.”

Eddie blinks.

“Just… to drive?”

“Yeah.” Steve glances at him, runs his face shyly. “My dad’s not home, but it— it always feels like he is, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says softly. “I know.”

Steve leans his head back, draining the bottle. Eddie watches his throat bob as he swallows.

“Uh, but we gotta go out that window,” Eddie adds, ignoring the warmth in his cheeks, pointing at the window. “It’s like the whole school is on the front porch and I am… slightly claustrophobic.”

Steve laughs lightly, his eyes shining again.

“Okay.”

Eddie beckons with a tilt of his head.

“Let’s get out of here.”

next part

read the whole thing on ao3

#are these getting longer #possibly #anyway #i have so many idea for this series #but!!#if you have ideas pls let me know i would literally love to hear them #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #out here projecting my claustrophobia onto eddie dont mind me #love me softly

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sleepyspnap · 2 years

Text

i like it when you sleep- Eddie Munson X Reader 18+

tags- Perv!Eddie, (afab reader, gender & race neutral,) Consentual somnophilia, breeding kink, daddy issues, angst for a sec, Daddy kink, mention of slapping, plugs, light bdsm, degradation, praise, fluffy smut & rough smut, best friends to lovers, medium burn. Pet names: baby, bunny, pretty, angel

Description: You slowly fell in love with your best friend. For all his quirks and disgusting behavior. You find comfort in his idiocy and his looming presence. One night, his desperation takes hold and you find yourself exploring something new with him.

TAGLIST

7.6k Words 18+ BELOW THE CUT MINORS DNI

You and Eddie had been friends since you started Hawkins highschool last Autumn. You loved how much of a statement he made in the bleak town both of you quickly agreed upon leaving in the dust when summer rolled around and you both walked across the stage.

You fit right in with his group of boys that dangled with admonished eyes at every display, every word, every story. They saw him as a god amongst hormone riddled boys.

You however, saw very differently. Not afraid to call him an idiot, not afraid to scold him into studying, which led to study sessions in his trailer. It was those dumb study sessions where you fell irreparably in love with Eddie Munson.

He was not the brave warrior of his little character. He was still loud as when he threw on a show, yes, but everything he said was with passion and enthusiasm. He held a joy about him you grew addicted to.

He was soft at times. He’d read you excerpts from the novels he borrowed from the book store you worked at. He would sit and chatter in the smoke filled room as you passed a blunt between you two, giggling yourselves to sleep.

It was so disgustingly obvious how in love with him you were. You essentially followed him like a puppy the you had to catch him in the hallways. You always asked him everything in a bright way that only someone utterly obsessed with everything about someone would say.

It caught on however. You’d find the same gooey look in his eyes when he’d watch you flip through pages of a textbook.

You’re not sure when it was that it crossed the border to more than friends. It wasn’t like falling in love for the both of you. It was drifting right into it, letting it take over as you slowly dropped every wall around hiding your feelings.

It started with a kiss to the cheek on occasion. It developed slow, into small pecks on the face in the quiet space between you when you’d stay over.

The first time you kissed was like you’d done it a million times, and you could do it a million more.

The slip of his lips was easy, you both slid together in sync, a perfect balance.

You never addressed it really. The both of you just embraced what felt right, not caring for the formalities of what proper courting was.

He’d kiss you soft as you left, you’d smile into it, taking in the slight taste of cigarettes on his lips.

“See ya” He’d whisper, before recapturing you. You shake your head with that love sick grin that he teased you for.

And together you both graduated later that year. You’d wrapped your arms so tightly around him in pride. He laughed burying his face in your hair.

“I’m so fucking proud of you.” You muttered. Pulling away as others approached you.

“I knew you had it in you!” Eddie's uncle clapped him on the back. He smiled his big dopey grin at you, his and Eddies both shared similarities.

While you saw him on brief occasions, all of which were pleasant, the way eddie talked about him was full of joyful moments.

He really cared about Eddie, and Eddie cared for you, so he offered with open arms a hug.

You accepted it with almost watery eyes.

You spotted your dad approaching, stiffening up a bit and pulling away from Wayne.

“Dad!” You said as he approached, he grumbled curses as he wiped sweat from his brow.

“You got the paper?” He asked curtly, you felt your body tense as he was in an irritable mood already.

“Uh yeah, its in this.” You handed him the book-ish folder that your diploma was in.

“Ok, let's get going then it’s hot.”

You knew he didn't want to come originally. Knew his tantrums were bound to flair up in the inconvenience of it all. He was spoiling your excitement like water to a match tip.

“Actually, uhm, I was gonna go celebrate with Eddie and Wayne.” You said, motioning to where Eddie seemed to grit his teeth at your fathers attitude.

“Alright, call me later if your coming home.”

You knew you weren’t. You knew exactly how this night would go.

You’d had celebrations before. Anniversaries, Birthdays, Eddie absolutely acing his finals.

All of these occasions ending the same way. Your face in the downy pillows of Eddies bed, choking on whines as Eddie fucked deep into you.

You learned quickly as things in you relationship escalated, one of which, was: Eddie was a fucking perv.

He’d grab at your ass and grumble filthy words into your ear when he’d see you in the hallway.

He would almost drool every time you changed clothes in front of him. Eyes locked on your body as you tried to shy away.

He referred to your chest as “My ladies” often. You’d greet him at his van after work sometimes and he’d ask.

“How was it? How's my girls?”

Before his hands would cup your flesh right on the dark sidewalk outside of the brick book store.

He loved the v-neck cut of the plain black shirt you wore to work.

You always grumbled away from his advances in public. Bickering about how he needed to learn so decency.

It was in private where you’d let yourself melt at how keyed up you made him. He would grab and nip at you while you made out. You’d catch him looking down your baggy t-shirts. He’d angle himself to look up your skirt when you’d lay on his bed on the rare occasion you wore them. It felt good to be pretty sometimes.

He was downright gross . Prying eyes and dog-like behavior. But you loved it. It was endearing even.

You liked the way he’d blushed when you found a pair of your dirty panties stuffed in between his wall and the bed. How he would keep polaroids in his wallet for ‘when i jerk off in my car after i leave your place’.

He’d woken you up to wet, sucking kisses on your neck as you felt his hips grind against yours. You would whimper to let him know you were awake.

He could get hard from you changing in front of him. Infact, you’d seen it happen.

It was before the two of you had started having casual sex. You’d only gone as far as heavy petting while making out on the squeaky mattress in his trailer.

It was warm out, and the heat was seemingly stagnant in the trailer. Beads of sweat dribbled down your back making you shiver.

He’d noticed your discomfort, not long after he’d shed his t-shirt for a thinner fabric, cropped just below his belly button. You tried to be polite about it, not letting your gaze linger on the hair that traveled under the waist of his pants.

He’d casted you a teasing look with his big round eyes and it made your heat flushed cheek hotter.

“You distracted?” He asked from where he sat on the edge of the bed now. Gazing up and ushering you closer.

His hands were always grabby. He’d brush them over the curves of your waist. If you wore lower cut tops he wasn’t hesitant to grope and squeeze at them until you were melting under him.

You scoffed tearing away from how his eyes were tracing every curve of your damp skin.

“I have a few tank tops you can change into, might be cooler than your pretty little blouse.” He said, running his fingers over the buttons lining the front of your shirt.

“Yeah- sure.” You’d sputtered, nervous at the option to wear something of his. To look like his. It felt like he was staking a claim whenever he would offer his worn t-shirts, riddled with burn holes and smelling of his cigarettes and the sweet detergent Wayne washed it with.

You weren’t nervous for him to see your body. He’d said so many sugar sweet words before on the occasion he’d see your eyes linger too long on where the pudge of your stomach lay.

He’d just never seen it bare. Something you kept away from him with your own selfishness he’d say it was later on.

You made a hasty move removing your blouse, you revealed the cami you wore under.

Your back was turned to him, glancing over your shoulder he was awkwardly avoiding your body as he flicked his gaze between your eyes and the items scattered around

You could laugh at his nervousness, it was so cute how there was tinges of expectancy in his eyes.

You teased while removing your cami, stretching your arms over your head in a show as you fluidly let it drop beside you. You were now only in a pair of high waisted shorts.

The relief from the heat was almost immediate. You sighed, turning around to look back at eddie.

“God, i didn’t realize how god awful sweating in those blouses is” You laughed out, turning to see Eddie again.

He was flushed cheeked and he was now unabashed about letting his eyes roam your body. You smirked, cocking a hip at him. He blinked a few times.

“Did you say something?” He said dumbly. You scoffed just to tease, watching as he grinned and raised to his feet.

“oh come on pretty” He cooed, you felt your knees weaken as he approached. You were nervous under how dark his gaze looked.

“Don’t be mad at me bunny.” He said lightly. You huffed at him as your cheeks heated.

“Finish changing.” He said, it was demanding, you felt a jolt as you moved with a quickness.

Your nipples pebbles even in the heat. You couldn’t help letting your gaze flicker to Eddies who looked right back, his lip caught between teeth as you stood bare chested.

You pulled the black fabric of his shirt over your head. He moved away slightly, you saw what could be classified as disappointment flicker over his face.

If it wasn’t for your eyes wondering on their own you would have missed the bulge that pressed against the seam of his pants.

Your eyes widened, cheeks going all the more hot as he smirked at you from where he’d now stretched out on his mattress.

His tendencies worsened once the metaphorical rope of tension snapped and he was regularly pounding you into his mattress.

He’d pull you under the bleachers while you were supposed to be running the mile in your gym class. All because his eyes couldn’t leave how good you looked in your running shorts.

“My pretty baby, all mine.” He growled as he sunk two fingers into you.

“E-Eddie.” You whimpered as your eyes scanned to where chatters of your classmates were heard.

“Shhh, quiet now bunny. Don’t want us caught.” He pressed a kiss to your sweaty neck.

His fingers worked magic on you. Which is one of the only reasons you two were able to do these risky things. He knew how to play your body like the strings of his beloved guitar, with just as much skill and practice that it was a quick few moments of hiding pants into his shoulder before you were clenching around his fingers in release.

“You okay baby?” He’d always ask as you gasped through the after shocks, his fingers now gently moving in you to wring out any pleasure left.

“Mhm, so good.” You muttered back, slightly dazed and your clavicle began aching from where he’d sucked the skin between

gnawing teeth.

There were instances where he’d put his desperation to the side, where he’d kiss you slow and sweet, not initiating anymore than what he was giving.

Lucky for him though this made heat pool between your legs. You loved the feeling of him against you, just basking in the feeling of your mouth.

Your hips would buck against his and he would let out a low chuckle before pressing a kiss to your cheek and pulling away.

“Not right now my eager bunny.” He’d utter, just to see you shiver and your eyebrows pinch together with dissatisfaction.

“Eds- c’mon.” You begged tugging on his ratty old t-shirt, slightly damp with the heat that permeated the trailer even as fall was in full swing the heat never seemed to leave the confines of his room.

“baby, just let me love on you.” He groaned, sweet as ever.

You whined, but eagerly accepted his gentle kisses against your sternum. His big doe eyes crinkled with a smile.

This was newer than sex was. Moments where he was truly and utterly wrapped around your finger. Love spilling from ever brush of skin and every press of lips.

It was truly something profound to be loved by Eddie munson and there was nothing in the world you could give to replace the feeling.

He’d weaseled his way right into your very core, implanting himself with curls, and softness and words.

And under your body's desperate plea for release, you wallow in the loneliness of your room at night thinking about those moments. How tender, how gut wrenching, how it was now more than sex to the both of you.

Even with his antics he was probably the only person you’ve ever loved so fully. Every inch of you loved him.

You tried to consolidate the feelings of just wanting to climb inside his chest and lay there for ever. You pressed as close as possible as he strokes your hair. He was smiling softly against your lips. Pulling back every so often to whisper something stupid, or something that made your chest clench.

Of course the love sick sweetness also held that part that was human. You bickered with him often, as you always have, it came natural.

He’d always teases you at any given moment he could. And it was only amplified in front of his friends.

It wasn't uncommon for the group you knew of as his club to join together in Eddie's living room. Even after graduation they needed him.

It would be heart melting to watch his excitement but that gooey feeling was shoved away with how hot he was when he was into a game.

You sat on the couch behind him, him and the others sat in a circle in the floor, a large board set in the middle. You snickered before about the figurines that lay there, earning sharp arguments from Eddie.

It was an hour or so into the campaign when you felt slugish, your eyed glossy with tiredness.

Eddie was deep in thought as he sat cross legged while the others talked among themselves about what to do next.

Your chest fluttered with the need to feel closer, to feel his hands and hear him in your ear.

You pulled yourself off the couch and slid to the spot where he sat, he perked up at your presence smiling softly as he brushed your hair out of your face.

“Hello angel.” He cooed, soft enough that the boys couldn’t hear but just loud enough to be heard over their rambunctious shouts.

“M’ sleepy” You sighed, nuzzling a little into the palms of his hands.

“Do you wanna stay over ?” He asked, you knew just to be polite, you always stayed over when they had late campaigns.

You nodded, leaning forward to take his hand into yours just to play with the thick calloused fingers.

He chuckled lightly, his hands pulling away to grip your wrist and tug you in.

“Cmon, put your head in my lap and rest sweet pea. We should be done soon.” He gently ushered you to lean in, your head rested against the denim and it wasnt the most comfortable feeling but his fingers found solace in your hair and you felt your eyes droop.

Waking up was like the storm following a day of overcast.

You blinked your eyes open to the dark of Eddie's bedroom. Not sure when it was you two had made your way in there, probably due to the exhaustion that still seeped into your heavy lids.

You’d probably have slept nonstop until 11 tomorrow but sometimes woke you with a hazy start.

Not something though, it was someone.

With a groggy mind you felt Eddie.

His breath was hot against your neck, panting fast and hard. It was then you realized he was shifting with vigor against your backside. Hips erratically thrusted against yours as his big palms groped at your exposed chest..

You whined a little when he squeezed, his thumb ghosting your pebbled nipple, exposed to the air due to your shirt being hiked up under your chin.

“E-Eddie?” You whispered out and he stilled. He was panting even in his stiffness, hot and desperate in the silence still of his room.

“Sorry…” He uttered, voice graveled with either sleep or desperation you weren't quite sure which.

“Don’t be.” You smiled softly at his coyness.

You took a moment to contemplate falling back asleep and letting him figure it out but there was excitement trilling up inside you.

So with a bite of your lower lip your hips rolled back into his. He stifled a deep throaty noise into your hair, a hand coming to grip at your waist.

He was hot against you, skin burning and slightly tacky with sweat.

“C’mon Eds, don’t stop because of me.” You chided making his chuckle a little breathless.

“You just look so pretty. Can’t control myself having you- fuck-“ He was cut off again as you slid against him, his hard cock running perfectly across the crease of your ass.

“You’re gonna be the death of me baby-“ He sighed, now unabashedly rolling into you. His breathe picked up again, his hands squeezed and flexed against any exposed skin he could grab.

He didn’t wear his rings to bed and you sort of missed how the metal felt against you. Having felt them so many times in a casual setting it was a gentle reminder that it was him who was able to touch you.

You gasped when he sped up slightly faster.

“Such a dirty boy Eds.” You said, leaning back into his lip’s that began to trail over your neck.

“Can’t believe you’d grind on me while i’m asleep because you’re so impatient.” You continued and he whimpered at your words making a swell if fulfillment wash over you.

“You know i can’t control myself around you bunny.” He defended, breathy and high in his throat.

You felt his hips begin to stutter slightly in his thrusts, growing sloppy as you hummed out pleased noises just to spur him on.

“C-close baby-“ He sputtered. You whined at the thought of him cumming in his boxers from just rubbing himself against your tired body. You wondered how long he had been going before you woke up.

“Cum for me. Want it Eddie. Want you to feel good.” You rambled, reaching back lazily to tug at his hair, just the way he liked. It always rewarded you with a sweet open mouthed noise and this time was no different.

“Fuck- fuck- thats it. You’re so pretty, god i’m- i’m cumming.”

You loved how he sounded when he released, how his body would shiver with the waves of pleasure and how his cock would pulse and throb as he pumped out his sticky release.

Once his breathing slowed and you felt tendrils of sleep creep in again he spoke softly.

“Was that okay?” He asked, a mouse quiet whisper into your ear.

“Of course.” You replied, slurred against the pillow now.

“It wasn't- you dont feel weird about me- ya know- while you’re uh, asleep?” He continued.

You laughed lightly through your nose before making a ‘nuh uh’

“Was it hot at least?” He was more teasing now, doing that classic Eddie thing where he hid an embarrassing question behind a veil if humor.

“Well, yeah, obviously.”

“Obviously.” He seemed a little more shocked than you'd expected. You only assumed he knew about the mess he was creating between your thighs.

“Obviously?” He repeated.

“Yeah, obviously. I’m like, fuck eddie, just-“ You groaned as you wanted to sleep but his persistence in holding pillow talk was nothing if not convincing.

You grabbed at his hand that was wrapped around you, guiding it under the thin fabric of your sleep shorts where you were bare.

If not for your drowsiness you’d grind against the fingers as they explored your slit.

“Oh- You got all hot and bothered from being used?”

It shook you to your core slightly.

Being used.

You trusted Eddie more than anyone. You trusted that he’d always do right by you but the concept of him giving into instincts. Taking what he wanted from your body was thrilling.

“You like that bunny?” He lowered his voice.

You were too embarrassed to reply, his fingers still lazily collected your arousal and there was no shot he didn't feel you twitch at the prospect.

“You want me to use you? Do what i want when i please?“

You nodded and he smiled against your skin.

“How about waking you up with my cock huh? You seemed to like me grinding on you.”

You whimpered softly, the only noise your tired body could produce at the gruff sound of his voice whispering his fantasies.

It was weeks before you were reminded of this conversation. The two of you had been quite busy, leaving little time for fooling around and you were a liar if you said it wasn't taking a toll on you.

But Eddie became a bit unhinged.

He was more clingy than ever, on the days you would come in at night, shoulders slouched with exhaustion, trying not to startle him. He’d smile so wide and tired as he tugged you into him, letting the heat of your skin melt into his.

He let his hands wonder your body as you dressed again the next morning, running late already from the impromptu make out session he had started.

Then a friday rolled around and it was perfect. You were working a short shift, and Eddie had the day off. You’d rented a movie from the Family Video for the two of you.

“Date night?” Steve asked while you shoved the vhs across the counter.

“Something like that.” You huffed.

“Whoah, what's got you huffy princess?” He chided, a smug look leaking onto his face.

You narrowed your eyes in annoyance before scanning the store of any customers before leaning in.

“Steve, i haven’t been properly fucked in like two weeks man. If i don’t get absolutely destroyed by my disgustingly skilled boyfriend tonight im coming to your house and smothering you.”

His eyes widened it fear, the bite of your voice was genuine, a sort of tone you rarely took.

“Geez, didn’t know Munson had it in him to hold out that long.” He muttered by in slight bemusement at your struggles.

“Oh he doesn’t. I’ve been late to work like 5 times in the past two weeks because he can’t keep his hands to himself .”

Steve laughed and slid you your change for the rental before you turned to leave.

“Wait!” He called and you wiped around to face him.

He dug in his pockets for a moment before pulling out a crumpled 20$ bill handing it towards you.

You furrowed your brow, slowly accepting his offer.

“Buy some nice dinner for you both. You’re looking anemic.”

You scoffed but his gesture was well appreciated. Knowing Steve came from money it wasnt rare for him to slide you some cash for no reason. A simple show of friendship and appreciation.

“Thanks, i’ll uh, let you know how it goes.” You said as you turned once again to push through the heavy doors of the store hearing him shout behind you.

“Please don’t actually!”

You did end up buying food as you made your way to the familiar trailer. Three styrofoam containers of chinese food from the place Eddie loved but rarely got due to the pricey cost.

When you arrived the sky was filling out with yellows and oranges as the sun sank bellow the horizon.

He greeted you with droopy eyes and a small smile. Pressing a kiss to your lips fleeting and fast before letting you in.

The place was actually cleaner than normal, the couch smelled of a fabric cleaner now rather than weed and spilled beer.

“You cleaned up.” You said appreciatively.

He looked bashful at the appraisal of his preparations.

“Yeah, been real anxious i guess and it helped me get my mind clear.” He said as he scratched at the back of his neck.

You raised a hand to pet his cheek.

“You look tired sweetheart.” You muttered and he slumped a little.

“Yeah, the uh, the van gave out this morning and i spent hours trying to fix it.”

You wished you were there to see it. His hands muddled in grease and grime, sweat dripping off him as his curls fell in his face.

You set your overnight bag in his room, quick to rid yourself of your work clothes in favor of a t-shirt that laud half folded in his dresser.

The trailer was cooler than it’s been for weeks in your experience. A autumn chill finally sweeping up the blaring endless indiana summer.

But as you thought on it the jeans you were weren’t comfortable, and you were so tired from work. You opted with hesitation to strip your jeans for a pair of Eddie's boxers.

They were pretty weird fitting, as he was a very different size from you, but the knowledge of staying the night dressed in his clothes made fondness swell.

“I have the movie ready my sweetness.” He said as he strolled into the room, smelling of his shower gel.

You pulled him in, kissing him softly again just to have a moment. Dressed in his clothes, in his bedroom, an air of ease lacquered thick.

“How was work?” He muttered and you let out a soft groan in response earning a sweet kiss to the bow of your lip.

“That bad?” He asked, rubbing over right where your back always aches after shifts.

“It was fine. Long. Just wanted to see you.” It was muffled towards the end as you buried your face in his shoulder, letting your burning tired eyes fall shut in a moment of relief.

“Lets get some food for you and we can nap?”

You nodded against him before pulling away. Following as you always did to where the open play screen of a movie played on the television.

You ate and talked and laughed. Even with the tired eyes the both of you had there was no such joy as these moments together.

He had hiked your shirt up a little while after you finished eating and with a full belly you laid your head on his lap.

Your muscles jellied as his fingers brushed featherlight over the sensitive skin of your stomach.

Around your belly button, tracing the curves of your hips that disappeared below the waistband.

“You fallin asleep on me?” He spoke, startling you.

“oh, yeah sorry.” You muttered trying to shake the exhaustion that seeped in your very bones.

“It’s okay baby, you can sleep. I can carry you to bed if it gets too late.” He carded a hand through your hair, you muttered a pained noise as his rings caught.

He chuckled a little. Soft as a morning dew muttering “Sorry sweet thing.” as he took them off his hand returning. Before you knew it his hands were magic and you drifted off.

Waking up was very different from falling asleep.

It wasn't the soft, gentle words and light touches anymore.

Eddie was grinding against your throbbing heat, drops of precum making the fabric sticky with his arousal.

You gasped, whimpering loud as the tip made itself a home pressed hot against your clit.

“Good morning bunny.” He said lowly behind you, voice wavering through pants and groans.

“Fuck- please-“ You whined trying to gather your thoughts.

His hands were gripping rough at your hips, lightly running blunt nails against your sensitive skin just to see you shudder.

“Mmm, you’re such a pretty baby.” He groaned, kissing at your shoulder.

“mm, Eddie- whats- oh fuck-“ He ground harder as you desperately tried to ask a question.

“What bunny? Can’t speak?”

You groaned in reply, still fuzzy minded from sleep and disoriented from the sudden waves of pleasure.

“nuh uh-“ You choked over the response, realizing there's no chance you could speak.

“You wanna know what got me all worked up?”

A short while after you had fallen asleep Eddie found himself tired. His back ached from sitting upright for so long.

The sky was now a pitch black outside and the room was lit by the TV and an amber light dangling from over the kitchen sink.

He moved carefully, not wanting to disturb your well deserved slumber.

He took a moment then to appreciate how beautiful you looked so at ease. Face smoothed out rather than the tired scrunch of stress he’d seen earlier.

He wished you’d marry him. So that you could both get a place of your own, he could sleep next to you every night and wake up to you cooking breakfast. He wanted to let you live a cushy life at home with your books and your movies while he made all the money from gigs with the band.

He wanted to come home from a show and have you on your knees by the front door, wide eyes desperate for him.

Let him take you over the countertops, bend you over the arm of some decorative armchair.

To make matters worse as he lifted you to the bedroom and eased you to the mattress your shirt was now up to the bottoms of your chest from the movement.

Eddie gulped slightly as he felt a familiar boiling between his thighs.

He admired how smooth your skin was, normally covered, now free to his gaze. He felt appreciative that you were comfortable enough to be so carefree of modesty.

He glanced nervously as he reached out running a hand over the expanse of your tummy. He was pleasantly surprised the touch barely made you stir.

He went with gentleness, eyes fluttered between where his hands mapped you, or where your eyes lay shut, lashes beautifully soft against cheeks.

It was moments that he was sure would be seared into his mind forever.

His cock stood hard between his legs now, throbbing to feel you around him.

He remembered the conversation you’d had before. The explicit desire in your eyes and your murmurs of consent that your body was his when he wanted. Tendrils of excitement wrapped around him.

He was startled slightly when you hummed lightly in your sleep and turned on your side, hiking up the leg on top as you snuggled further into his sheets.

He could see you far better now, everything, seductive in their placements. He thought about rubbing between your chest, wetting your skin with his precum as your sweet tongue stuck out to catch his tip with each thrust, pushing them further in attempts to make it feel better.

He let out a frustrated sigh before falling to the empty space behind you.

There were many moments of hesitation between him laying there gazing at you before wrapping his arm around you and tugging you back into him.

He whimpered when he felt your ass against his erection. Warm and inviting. He loved everything about you but it was anything but a secret his adoration for your ass.

In a fit of need he slipped his weeping cock from his boxers, slowly tracing it between your cheeks.

It wasn’t much, not nearly enough, but goosebumps lit up his skin with ferocity. He spread a bead of precum over the tip, letting it make contact with the fabric covering you and watching as a trail of the sticky fluid hung between his reddened tip and the boxers you wore.

“Oh fuck,” He choked out as quiet as he could muster as he carefully let his cock slide over your clothes pussy. He could feel the curves of your lips, the heat that radiated off your core.

It was dizzying as he turned to slow thrusts against you. He could feel himself catch on the button laying directly bellow your mons. Daringly grinding against it with a little more pressure than before.

He was rewarded with a whimper, his body stilling for a moment but your breathing only hitched as you continued your slumber.

He wanted to laugh at the disgusting implications of it all. You, unaware of him. Him, taking whatever he pleased from you with a gentless not to spoil his fun too soon.

There was that looming guilt that he should have asked before you fell asleep if this was still an option. He couldn’t deny that it hung heavy on his mind from the second you laid to rest in his lap.

But he couldn’t linger because he felt a dampness of your arousal begin to seep through the boxers.

He bit his lip at a smile threatening his face. His shallow thrusts continued as he moved even closer, letting his hands brush in a soft circle over your clothes clit.

The reaction was instant. You shifted lightly, mouth falling open in a pleasured sigh. He took this as a sign to persist.

He imagined what you’d look like cumming in your sleep. Waking up to hot waves rolling over you.

He continued his movements with little hesitancy now, gripping at your skin as your wetness caused the boxer shorts to cling to you.

He wondered how long before you woke up. Caught him, could he last long enough to wake you, take you while your mind was still fizzy with sleep.

The answer came soon enough as a whimper rose from you and your pretty eyes fluttered open. He grinned against your skin.

“You’re a tease even in your sleep.” He said as he finished recounting how you got him throbbing, how he felt high on his own supply by grinding against you.

“M’sorry-“ You slurred and he chuckled.

“It’s okay my little whore. You can’t help it can you? Can’t help what you do to Daddy huh sweetness?”

You whined for the upteenth time as the name fell in sultry waves from his lips.

It was a rare name for him to use. He prefered sir or master most of the time. But it was times like this where the title fit like a glove, he was going to be sweet and coddle you through this one. It sparked excitement the same way that it did when you would see his eyes flare with anger before he would take you roughly, spit into your open mouth, slap your skin until it turned a ruby red and then kiss it better.

He was perfect at both and you couldn’t dare change him.

“Your pussy is leaking all over me through my shorts darling.” He whispered, slowing his grinds to trace the wet fabric, rubbing slowly against your slit again.

“Mmm, all for you.” You replied, holding the urge to grind into him. His fingers trailed down the hem of the boxers running over your smooth inner thighs before letting his fingers trail up the leg and slip deliciously under it. He could feel the scorching heat of your arousal better as his fingers hovered over your cunt.

He wasted little time sinking two fingers into your tripping hole.

You squealed at the intrusion of his thick fingers after weeks of getting yourself off on the occasion you weren’t completely exhausted.

“Can’t believe you get this wet from me using you.” He chided, thrusting his fingers shallowly making your breath stutter as he purposely missed the spongy spot he knew just how to locate.

“N-need more.” You pleaded, his fingers began squelching in a crass way as he sped them up.

“Ya know, you’re really not in a place for demanding baby. But i need your little cunt as loose as possible before i fuck you.”

He always made you cum at least once before he would dare put his thick cock in you.

He was big, that wasn’t debatable. What was debatable was how much you wanted it to burn, wanted to feel the stretch of him after not having him for so long.

“Mm, no, I want your cock now!” You pleaded and he shushed you. You fully expected a scalding but maybe it was the looming tired feeling that clung to you both.

“Please daddy? Stretch me on it?”

He groaned before pulling his fingers out swiftly. You made noises of protest, hips seeking him again before they came in contact with your swollen clit.

“Fuck! Ah-“ You screamed as his speed was quick, the lubrication of your own slick making him move at a dizzying speed.

Your orgasm was approaching with an alarming speed, burning and hot as you felt your legs begin to tremble.

“Are you close bunny?” Eddie asked, he slowed a bit, focusing on speaking lowly in your ear, drawing out the teetering feeling.

“uh, yes, fuck, i’m so close for you.” You whined slurred and desperate.

“I’m the only one whos gotten you. to come this fast arent i? Nobody has ever made my pretty bunny feel this good before huh?”

It was a ploy, but with the static in your head you were eager to give him the satisfaction of hearing you praise his skillz

“No! No one Daddy! Just you. Only you make me feel so good.” Your arm curled back to grip at his thick tattooed bicep. Nails digging crescent shapes as you got closer and closer with each rough circle he drew into your clit.

“That’s it, come on bunny. Come for daddy. Gonna be so wet for my cock.”

A strangled whine ripped from your throat as you reached your peak. Legs trembled against the sheets as you were edging into overstimulation as his fingers worked you diligently through it.

“You okay?” He murmured, peppering kisses along your shoulders.

“Mm, yeah- sleepy daddy,” You yawned, body now lax from the force of an orgasm so soon after waking up.

“The faster i cum the quicker you can go to sleep baby.” He said lowly.

His cock was dripping, a mix of his precum and the slick that coated you.

“You can, fuck, you can fuck me now.” You muttered feeling him smile against you before taking nibbling bites at the tacky skin on your back. He played with you for a moment,just to watch you squirm, see your eye brows knit together as his cock brushed your swollen clit.

He slid in with no hesitation taking you by surprise.

You only let out high whines, knowing he loved hearing your noises.

“Fuck baby, you always sound so pretty when i slide in. So wet for me”

“For you, always for you. You make me so wet daddy-“ You muttered as you ground your hips back into him.

He growled at your moment of control, quick to stop your movements by flipping you to your stomach.

Your face buried into the pillow with a scream as he slid back in easily.

His pace was always brutal from this angle. Reaching deep and harsh as he hit from behind. His hands clutching the fat swells of your ass as his heavy balls slapped rhythmically against your thighs.

You felt him in your throat at this angle.

“Am i all in your guts baby? Do you feel how deep i am?” He grunted

You whimpered nodding harshly from where you muffled your cries.

“Mm, want you to come in me! Wanna feel you come against your womb! knock me up!”

You felt him throb inside of you as his pace quickened.

“Such a dirty bitch baby.” He hissed as he gripped your hair, shoving you further into the downy. The bed squealed as he slammed into you.

“Letting me fuck you before you even wake up baby. Wanna please me so bad. So desperate all the time that you’ll let me do whatever i want huh beautiful?”

You wanted to nod, but the grip on your hair had your scalp tingling with sharp pain.

He was burning hot inside you, even his hands felt like he was coated in flames. You felt the familiar tightenin in your gut.

“Are you getting close bunny?” He asked just as the feeling grew with a rapid pace.

“I can feel you clenching baby, i know your close.” He said leaning further into your ear, making easy work to shift to where each thrust slammed his head into that spot that made your body shake.

“Yeah! Oh im close daddy! Your cocks so good please!”

“Please? What are you begging for?”

He tugged on your hair making your neck arch. Just so he could hear your pleas more clearly.

“Please- Please can i come on your cock daddy!” You whined, the knots in your stomach were untethering in an uncontrollable speed.

“I’ll give you anything you want when you ask so pretty.” He replied, his hand snaking to come into contact with your clit again.

You could tell he was close too, his thrusts were sloppy, his grunts with less time in between. You clenched your hole in hopes to pull him along further so that you could both come at the same time.

“Fuck- Wanna come with me whore?”

You whined in confirmation further tightening yourself as you staved off the waves of an orgasm that crested your shores.

“Come on baby! Oh fuck im so close honey, you feel so tight. Sucking me in.” He rambled.

“Oh, fuck, cum baby, cum now, come on.” He urged, thrusting harder with the last bite of energy he had.

“OH FUCK DADDY! Fuck fuck fuck-“ You wailed as you felt all the tension snap, it was more intense than just his fingers.

“That’s it, thats my baby, good fucking baby-“ He praised as he grit his teeth.

His orgasm was intense, he pumped it all into you, deep and heavy and hot into your cunt. You siezed around him, the tell tale signs of you squirting around him were obvious.

“Oh fuck! Oh shit baby! So fucking good! Squirting for me, making a mess while i knock you up.”

Slowly both your bodies relaxed, he slipped out with a trail of cum leaking from your swollen hole.

“mm, gonna have to get a little plug for this pussy. Keep you plugged with my cum.” He cooed, running a finger to collect the slick liquid that oozed out of you.

“Mm, want you to pump me full and feel swollen up with it.” You hummed dazed and fucked out.

“We’ll see my love.” His hands retreated from your sensitive heat now glistening with the mix of both of your releases. You eyes had fluttered shut and you found shock in his wet fingers pressing at the seal of your lips.

“Clean my fingers off baby. Taste.” He whispered, pressing them past your lips. You whimpered around the intrusions before your eyes drooped and you felt yourself slipping to sleep, his fingers a comforting weight on your tongue. The remaining salty taste of both of you was like a gentle reminder of how much he loved you.

You fell asleep quickly, fucked to exhaustion after waking up to him. But you’d never been more content than wrapped in him and oozing his show of pleasure.

“Love you.” He’d slurred a little before you were dead to the world. Hot thralls of love seeped into you.

a/n: Helloooo! Ive been incredibly busy! This took a week longer than planned but shoutout my twitter loves for motivation. Pls do feel free to send reqs in my ask box!

#eddie munson smut #sleepyspnap #eddie munson x reader #stranger things fanfiction #daddy!eddie #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x afab reader #eddie munson x race neutral! reader #stranger things smut

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eshithepetty · 10 months

Text

SORRY FOR HOW I DISAPPEARED AGAIN. BUT I RETURN AND I BRING.. THOUGHTS....

Reply from this post

I was going to just reply to it, but, actually - no. this deserves to be its own post. Because YES!!! Yes, exactly!!!! This isn't something that I often see discussed in this fandom, if ever, but I think about it so much. I think @peepee-envy is exactly right. So much of this show is much more metaphorical than you think. All the fantastical stuff really just exists to... amplify the mundane. It doesn't really stand on its own two feet on its own. That's why we never really see the power system explored that in depth, that's why the terrorism organisation stuff is very secular in the story and doesn't affect the world more beyond its focused arcs, that's why buckwild stuff like the divine tree exists and is kind of just treated as normal, that's why the aliens just... show up, one day, and do nothing else. Those are all just footnotes. Just glass mozaics the story puts over the actual messages and character arcs to make them more colorful and fun. We already know that part of the story's presentation is changed by Mob's point of view - Tsubomi, the body improvement club and 100% carried away being the most obvious examples - so why couldn't that extend to more of this universe?

Of course, I'm not out here claiming that every fantastical and improbable thing in this story is just a projection of Mob's imagination or whatever, that would be kinda dumb and not that fun. But what is fun to me is thinking about what it could all mean!! What lies beneath the surface, what we can interpret and extract from these events! Like, as the reply above notes - the big clean up arc isn't so much about Ritsu literally going and beating the shit out of people... because, yeah, that does happen... but if we were to take it through a realistic lens, Ritsu would probably be in juvie rn lmao. No, what really matters here is the drama. Put as short as I can, it all goes like this:

There are 2 siblings. One of whom is noticeably different in how he percieves and interacts with the world, something that starts to alienate him (how do you take this to its fantastical extreme? Make him literally see the world differently (seeing spirits) and having different abilities (ESP) of course!)

Because of this alienation, there begins a rift in how this boy views himself and the traits that make him different (thus: a literal separation between mob and ???%...)

Only, these identity issues are obviously not healthy - the way he's started to reject himself is not healthy - and it, inevitably... ends with him lashing out, in a way that noone expected. And his younger brother, who had seen his brother as his role model up to that point... understandably got hurt and influenced the most. (And this being the story that it is.... that means the hurt and confusion gets made physical. Blood on the asphalt. A shadowy demon, 'something else', beneath your brother's skin)

Thus begin 3 long, suffocating years of neither of them being able to deal with it. One has decided to abandon his every desire and personality trait in the hopes that being invisible will make sure he drives noone else away ever again. And the other takes a similar page out of his older sibling's book, and hopes that by doing just what society tells him to do, being good, being quiet and nice and always accomodating to his brother, will mean he can avoid that trauma repeating. (Only, in this case - the feelings are so much more amplified, by the fact that this is not just hurt - this is death. Shigeo very much almost Murdered his little brother that day. And the both he and Ritsu are achingly aware of this.)

(But noone can bear these burdens forever.)

So eventually... the younger snaps. He's tired of upholding this image of perfection, of intelligence, of helpfulness - he feels like none of what he's done, what he's been, in the past 3 years is true, because it's all been born from fear. So when a crack appears in front of him - a chance to not do that anymore, to be someone else... he takes it. He finally lets himself be flawed. And he finally breaks down. (And in this world where he fears death and aspires literal powers with which to defend himself - this rebellion is exhagarated. He lies and cheats and hurts in the most blatant way possible. He's violent. Because in this world where he fears dying - what's a little more blood on the asphalt? He just needs to know it won't be him next. He accepts all this guilt and sinks into it because he's finally allowed to. Because for once, these feelings and destruction is something he controls. Noone else.)

(He's finally like his brother. He feels, he's finally able to understand him. He wanted psychic powers, because the time his brother fully showed his psychic powers is the time he was truly whole, and he aches to feel whole himself, too. To unmask and become something truer to himself, something that will bring him closer to his nii-san.)

And as for the other... well. There goes the whole rest of the story of Mob Psycho. Shigeo learning to open up. To find friends. To understand himself. To accept his differences. To reach out. To change people. And to finally, be able to mess up, and walk away after it - because it might feel like the worst possible thing in the world. It might feel like he's the worst person in the world, this horrible beast who's just so angry, and who can't stop hurting people, and who suddenly blames everyone around him and is destroying everything he touches as a result... but that's only because he's never allowed himself to take himself into account before. He's never seen himself before, never let himself protect himself before.... and to a person who's lived their whole life in darkness, only candlelight to guide them - the sun would feel like an apocalypse. It's only so overwhelming, because it is so to Shigeo. It's all just a representation of how he feels.

And I just think that's all so fun. It's fascinating... I love thinking about this stuff. And it's also why, I realize as I'm writing this, I've always felt that terms like 'parody' and 'deconstruction' do not 100% apply to all of mob psycho, to what it is as a series.... because, yes, there's definitely elements of both (particularly in the more actiony parts of the series). But at it's heart... it almost leans more into the logic of something like magical realism, where fantastical elements do exist - but they don't explain themselves, and they don't impact the universe they inhabit in a way that people would deem as realistic - they just are. They're there to be a set dressing, they're there to be an allegory, they're there to make it more interesting - but the story was never about them. It was about what lied beneath that fantasy. It's about the humanity of it all.

And it also just makes the story So funny. Like, yeah, guess there's a mind controlling broccoli now in the middle of the town,, why not!! One of my best friends is a green booger, and my father-uncle-brother figure is a scam psychic, and my little brother almost strangled someone to death for me, and one of my classmates want me to be a cult leader.. Also my confession to a girl Literally left 11 dead 69 injured but thats fine !! Etc. etc. I just really like that, jdhdjdhj

This is a story about how even the most special looking people are actually just as normal as anyone else; that the most ridiculous things are just a part of life, that we can find connection in the strangest of circumstances, that life and growing up is awkward and cringe and confusing and!!! It's all just normal. This is life. And I love this beatiful and weird series, with all my heart <3

#mp100 #mob psycho 100 #analysis #meta #kageyama ritsu #kageyama shigeo #AGAIN SORRY FOR HOW LATE I AN TO RESPONDING TO THIS PEEPEE-ENVY....#and for dissapearing jdhdf #i get busy and then its hard to get back in the swing again once im out of the woods #also i hope i didnt get anything wrong with the magical realism part - its not a genre im familiar with #but thats the closest i could compare what i had in mind to #anyways!!!#hope me still brainrotting isnt annoying lol #i might also post some oc artin the near future.... well see #but yeah. ramble over o7 #my own post #id in alt text

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readerwithsalt · 10 months

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Opinion on both lol, if its still good for you

Well personally I’ve always been a Solangelo shipper. But sadly the reason was never because I liked Will solace. The reason I was so diehard was because I wanted Nicos character to finally to be happy lol.

The reason I was not particularly fond of Will solace:

well… the biggest reason was before he became Nico’s boyfriend he was never really a character on his own, you know? Like all of the other (straight) couples each was a character by themselves with growth, their own povs, arcs and stuff and then Nico (one of the most famed characters since the first series) was shoved together quite forcibly with this random background character that no one really remembered existed lol.

Now I’m not saying that having a background character shoved with a main character is always bad, but…

Anyway, another reason was Will’s utter disrespect to Nico in BOO. I know people say that Will only gaslighted Nico because Nico deserved it but personally I don’t think so. Will gaslighted Nico into believing that he was stupid pretty much. Saying that ‘no one at camp ever pushed him away’ (a lie since we’ve seen and been told the exact opposite in all the previous books) and telling the most traumatized character in the series that he just needs to ‘get out of his brooding cloud’. And pretty much saying he’s dumb for wanting to leave a camp that ostracized him for years lol.

I couldn’t help comparing Will’s angry and disrespectful reaction to Nico’s pain and feeling like an outcast in BOO to Jason’s understanding and respectful reaction to it. I was wondering why Rick made Will so annoying and pushy and rude and Jason so understanding and respectful of Nicos boundaries.

Will is very pushy, and he is always acting like Nico doesn’t know how to take care of himself and how to use his own powers even though Nico has been taking care of himself since he was ten years old. It’s not quite fun to read.

In ToN I liked Will a bit more tbh. I thought he was more respectful of Nico and stuff. But the thing that was still lacking was: character info. I know the pov was in apollos but still there wasn’t much.

In tsats they cranked up everything I disliked about Will up to eleven. They made him EXTREMELY whiny on a quest he insisted on going on. They made him feel burdensome. They made him feel… lame. He was a drag to read about. And for some reason they insisted on shoving Solangelo into the Light/Dark trope and made Will out to be someone who had never done anything bad in his life and couldn’t understand what personal darkness was even though he is a battlefield medic and knows it firsthand.

And it irked me that they kept having Nico describe Will as perfect and stuff and almost act as if Nico doesn’t deserve Will when, in my opinion, it is completely the other way around. Will almost seems to tolerate Nico more than like him in tsats lol. I wasn’t really a fan of it tbh.

They didn’t do anything special with Will and every piece of backstory we got from him was like eating plain white bread. That’s what his character felt like.

Plain white bread. 🍞

I don’t consider tsats to be canon tho because of the fact that mark oshiro changed riordans original outline of the book, named the book himself, and wrote 80% of it 😂. So yeah it’s pretty much published fanfic with an ‘okay’ from the original writer sadly.

I suppose the reason I don’t like Solangelo is because of Will not being a real character more like a cardboard cutout so that Nico won’t be alone romantically (even though he’s 14 and don’t need a man lol)

And one more reason I’m not quite into Solangelo anymore is that it seemed like when they got together that all of Nicos other important relationships took a backseat. In particular his relationship with Hazel. We had chapters of Nico and Hazel bonding and as soon as he’s shoved with Will solace his relationship with his favorite person is thrown to the wind….

Yeah.

#nico di angelo #tsats #solangelo #tsats spoilers #hazel levesque #pjo hoo toa #tsats review #underworld siblings #jason grace #percy jackson #pjo fandom #sun and the star #tsats crit #pjo stuff #nico rants #hoo fandom

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heckyeahponyscans · 11 months

Text

Thoughts on MLP Make Your Mark Chapter 4, Ep 2: Top Remodel

This was a busy episode with many threads: Sunny learning that being a leader means you can't please everyone, Pipp and Hitch clearing rats out of the old Canterlogic factory, Zipp examining Twilight Sparkle's message, and Misty wrestling with her reluctance to follow Opaline's orders and kidnap Sparky.

The last two plotlines were definitely the most interesting, but I get the sense there's a playset coming up so they dutifully advertised Canterlogic, which got turned into "Canterlove Studios."

Interestingly, Sprout returned and (kind of) helped Pipp and Hitch with the rat infestation. I think this was to inform the viewers that he isn't going to be a background villain; he ends up giving his stamp of approval to the studio and seems to be on okay terms with the main cast. Also his family doesn't seem to own the factory anymore, since Sunny is doing whatever with it. My fanon theory is that his family had to pay restitution to Sunny for destroying her home and almost killing her with a giant robot so she now owns the place.

Oh, we also see Phyllis in the background so she's still around.

I think she's congratulating him on a good school report. I also think he plagiarized from some other pony.

Anyway, as Zipp replays Twilight Sparkle's message, she notes that Twilight said she put the magic of Equestria in "the crystals and the [static]".

My theory is they're in a tree (or maybe in nature itself?) because there's that tree in Maretime Bay that Zipp said "seemed familiar" (and there's even a picture of its blossoms on the wall), plus we get a shot of the book (from the winter holiday special) with unicorns gathered around a tree. If it's not in a tree then I don't know, maybe the Elements of Harmony are still kicking around.

Speaking of the book, I went back to the Winter Wish Day special to get a better look at it and noticed that the gilded figure on the right--which I had assumed to be a unicorn--has feathers. So she's an alicorn. The figure on the left has bone-like structures behind her head, not sure if those are meant to be wings or not. Also there's a star in the middle that looks a lot like Twilight Sparkle's symbol. So maybe the other two figures are Celestia and Luna? However the book is post-dystopia, as it also shows Zephyr Heights on the cover.

When Misty overhears the message Zipp is replaying and reports it to Opaline, Opaline describes the Unity Crystals as "conduits . . . elements . . . a very complex spell containing unity magic."

She also says that Twilight was the one who put all the magic of Equestria into the crystals. So, yeah, magicless Equestria was Twilight Sparkle's fault. On the one hand I'm not a fan of this; I don't like it when a sequel is like "Actually your heroes sucked, and they got everything wrong." (Looking at you, Star Wars sequel trilogy.) IMO they should have had Twilight live out her life as a successful monarch and then two or three rulers later everything got screwed up.

On the other hand, this dumb plan does seem exactly like something Twilight Sparkle would do, because she always had a certain naivety. I can picture how she would think it out: "There's strife between different kinds of ponies. How can I stop it? I know! Every pony loves having magic, so if magic only works when everyone is friends then the ponies will be motivated to get along! :D"

Anyway, Zipp deduces that the pony who wants the crystals must be extremely powerful--like an alicorn! I'm extremely curious to learn how much modern Equestrian ponies know about alicorns. Equestria has lost so much historical knowledge, does the general populace even remember Celestia and Luna? The townsfolk of Maretime Bay (except Sunny and her dad) didn't think it was possible that earth ponies, pegasi, and unicorns had EVER gotten along, so a pony who had elements of all three breeds would probably seem outlandish. (Or a creature of nightmare.)

Random thoughts:

As in Tell Your Tale, Pipp has a love of spookiness. Did Zephyr Heights have an equivalent doll line to Monster High? (Monster Hay?) At any rate she's a fan of the Spooky Stable series.

"I ain't afraid of no ghosts!" Hee hee!

The oldest pony in Bridlewood is Elderflower.

Misty makes a junk-pony so she has someone to talk to. Oh Misty . . . She reluctantly concludes that she should kidnap Sparky even if it will make the other ponies sad. "After all, they already have each other." Man, that really tugged my heartstrings.

aw no, now I'm sadder

#G5 #spoilers #Make Your Mark #My Little Pony #Misty Brightdawn #Sunny Starscout #Hitch Trailblazer #Pipp Petals #Twilight Sparkle #Opaline #Sparky #alicorns

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reel-fear · 1 year

Note

Any shockbee headcanons you haven't shared here? 👀

GOSH,,, theres probably a few considering how obsessed with them I am and I certainly will never quite be done talking abt them KJNDSFKJGNSFDGKJNDFGSD.

I'm not sure if this is a hc or more speculating on a possible au but I think if Shockwave had told Bee who he was before things went all fucky with Wasp and such Bee would've been shocked yes but I don't think Bee would've wanted to turn him in. I think at first he very much would've underestimated how big of a deal dating a secret con would be and would just kind of treat it like a cool forbidden romance which would end with both side happily singing together. If you've ever heard "We See The Light"from something rotten yeah thats how Bee imagines it I think.

More on speculating on that idea I wish we had more fics exploring the idea of a world where in boot camp Shockwave came clean bc I think Bee being kinda ignorant in his understanding of the cons would be an interesting idea to explore. Bee tells him to just join the autobots bc they are the "good guys" and doesnt realize how tasteless that is. He insists the autobots would react better to Shockwave being a con than is likely bc Shockwaves 'not like the other cons' idk I think it would be interesting drama-

Bumblebee in boot camp was very prone to letting his insecurities and his inner fears make a fool of himself in their relationship. I think if Longarm started to get in good will with almost any other mech Bee would've started PANICKING thinking it would most certainly be the perfect excuse for Longarm to drop him like a piece of trash and ditch him. Which leads to him purposely doing dumb stuff to impress Longarm and try to keep his relationship a float. Sometimes its funny, sometimes its tiring and Shockwave was prolly relieved to see Bee go through a bit of development with not being so insecure bc yeah Bee kinda lets them get to him sometimes-

Bee has a HUGE tendency in boot camp to give into peer pressure and then drag Longarm into it. Ironhide brought vodka into the barracks? Well quick Longarm we have to drink it too otherwise we're chicken! Shockwave finds it somewhat endearing bc it leads to him doing things he never would have otherwise and its fun to be reckless sometimes but also Bee please put the fireworks away this isn't worth street cred-

Bee is very openly affectionate in front of others, Shockwave rarely stops him bc they are very touch starved and I think I've said this before but if the cons/autobots ever made a Warrior cats style 'its illegal to date people on the opposite faction' law punishable by death they would die first-

Bee has undiagnosed dyslexia, Longarm quickly becomes his proof reader for reports and boot camp assignments.

Bee has a ton of posters, decorations and strange things in his room, Longarm has those set ups people make fun of for being the pinnacle of single men having no decorations or furniture.

Longarm keeps a diary type book full of reports on day to day activities just for himself, Bee has started several diaries and uses them for a few days before ditching them.

As far as Shockwave is concerned every joke is funny as long as Bee is the one saying it and nobody agrees but Bee loves it.

Shockwave fidgets and moves his antlers a lot when he is thinking, he denies this but Bee has noticed it a lot. He's pretty much memeorized most of Longarm's fidgets and general way he acts

Bc of this I think if Shockwave were to meet Bee and just pretend he was unrelated to Longarm n such Bee would actually piece the truth out himself bc he was never observent in class, but he could stare at his wonderful boyfriend Longarm for hours...

Autism and ADHD love they have <3 their brains just click together a lot of the time and Bee helps Longarm unlearn his constant need to mask.

These are all the ones I can think of rn, really trying to avoid treading over ground I already touched on KJDNSFGKJDNFSGKJNFDGSD, EITHER WAY, I hope u like hearing me spill more brain thoughts-

#tfa #shockbee #tfa shockwave #tfa bumblebee #ramblez #yea Ill put this in the tags why not

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hoffmansnightmare · 4 months

Text

Keep Away From the Edge

Chapter 3

Pairing: Mark Hoffman x Emmy Hodges

Trauma, hint of torture, hint of depression. Nothing too crazy in this one boys.

You can read part one here and part two here

You can also read it here! Keep Away From the Edge

The Media had found her. It was immediate. Emmy went to sleep on Thursday night, then Friday morning reporters with notebooks and camera men at their backs were clambering on her front lawn. Emmy took one look out her bay window, shook her head, then closed the curtain. There was no way.

She stayed in her house for the rest of the weekend. She ate a lot of ramen noodles, when she could eat. There were still random crying fits, and naps because she wasn’t getting the best sleep at night with the nightmares still haunting her (and the voice, always there at the end). Come Monday they were still there, and Emmy had to go to work. She considered calling in, saying it was a mistake to think she could come back. Then she considered the alternative, staying in this empty house another day, walking from room to room like a ghost trying to find its purpose.

So she threw on some clothes that had actually been washed and grabbed her car keys. The crowd was on her as soon as she opened the door, cameras in her face, asking her the same question the cops had. Emmy pushed past them, head down, not saying a word. She almost closed the door on one guy's camera and sent him the nastiest glare she could manage when he yelled at her. She pulled out, determined to run anyone over if they were dumb enough to stand in her way. Thankfully no one was. As she drove away one pair caught her eye, maybe it was the shock of red hair, curlier and more orange, unlike Emmy’s deep mahogany red. Or maybe it was the fact that they looked a little shabbier than the others. The camera the man was holding was smaller than the big budget ones the news people had.

Emmy didn’t dwell on it too long, hitting the gas and getting out of there. They’d probably be there when she got back too. She didn’t even notice the unmarked police car parked down the street from her house as she drove by it.

The office fell deadly quiet as soon as Emmy was through the door. She could feel every set of eyes on her as a physical weight as she made her way to her desk. Almost worse was that the entire thing was covered in flowers, some in vases already while others were gorgeous bouquets. Her throat grew tight. Dead center on her desk was a first edition copy of Misery's Quest, the first in the Misery Chastain series by Paul Sheldon, Emmy's absolute favorite author.

The gifts were beyond thoughtful. Emmy cleared enough of the flowers so that she'd be able to work, but she was interrupted before she could even sit down.

"Welcome back!" It was her boss, a man named Jeremy Henson. He was older than her, although not by much, later 30's or early 40's. Emmy had never asked his age. He approached her now with a sheepish smile on his face. "You were very missed."

"I see that." Emmy looked pointedly at the mass of flowers surrounding her desk. "And this is too much," she said, placing her hand on the book. Her cheeks grew hot with embarrassment. She didn't deserve all this.

"Don't worry, the books from me, and I found it in a thrift place of all things! They had no idea what they had. Trust me I didn't break my bank." Jeremy said with a playful wink.

Emmy smiled her first genuine smile in what felt like an eternity. He knew she didn't like people spending a lot of money on her. She hoped he was telling the truth about thrifting in.

"You even kind of look like her." He said, tapping the cover.

Emmy's cheeks grew warm. "Yeah, some of my friends even call me Misery. They like to joke that I only started reading them because I looked like the main character."

Jeremy grinned at her. "And did you?"

"No." Emmy shook her head, but she was still smiling. "I'd liked all of Paul Sheldon's previous stuff, so I just picked it up." She leafed through the pages, breathing in the smell of the pages as it wafted up. "It's just a happy coincidence."

Jeremy nodded, then leaned in so he could whisper. "Are you sure you're alright? I can't imagine what you're going through."

"I'm fine. Really I need to be here. I was going crazy at home with nothing to do." Emmy said, forcing more conviction into her voice than she really felt.

Jeremy looked her up and down, a small frown pulling at the corner of his lips. "Alright, but please, if you need to leave, just go. You have plenty of PTO to use. Don't push yourself."

Emmy smiled again, sinking into her chair. "Thank you for worrying about me, but I'll be fine. I promise."

He finally smiled back at her, then excused himself so that she could actually start working.

Mark watched Emmory leave for work, stoutly ignoring the press as they clambered for her attention. He ducked down as her car passed his, then he waited a few seconds before starting his car up and following her. He'd been checking in on her all weekend, but it looked like she never left the house. Mark would check in on her in the morning, then at night on his way home. He'd become a regular at Lavender Tavern Syndrome too, stopping to make sure she still hadn't relapsed. He sat for as long as it took to finish one drink, then headed home.

It wasn't until Monday that she did anything, and Mark assumed she was headed to work. Sure enough he followed her to a gray, unassuming office building. She was part of accounts receivable for some big company. He couldn't remember the name off of the top of his head, but he was pretty sure it was a third party logistics company. It was all in her file, which he'd studied religiously before catching her, but now it was mostly old information he didn't need. Now he was mostly just checking in to see how she was holding up, taking notes for John whenever he returned.

Which should be soon. Mark had found everyone John had asked him to, except for one. Parker Sears was far too elusive. The man knew how to stay hidden, undetectable. He told John he'd have to find another way to get to him. John hadn't seemed too worried about it, the old man had only asked him about Henry.

"Got him nailed down." Mark had told him. "I can get him as soon as you're back."

"Perfect." Was all John had said before hanging up.

Mark didn't bother parking at the office building, driving past it. He didn't need Emmory noticing that he was following her. Hebwanted her to trust him after all. They hadn't spoken since he dropped her off, but Mark thought they'd be seeing eachother soon if Kerry got her way and pulled Emmory into the station for more questioning. That was fine. Kerry wasn't going to get much more out of her than they already had.

For now he went to the precinct and pretended to do his job. His hands were tied for the most part until John came back. John hadn't asked about Emmory yet, and probably wouldn't until he was done with whatever he had planned. That was fine with Mark. He was perfectly content to keep an eye on her without John and Amanda badgering him in each ear. So far she was doing just fine. Mark found it pretty admirable that she was trying to go about her normal life so soon, just like she was picking up right where she left off, save for the drunk nights out. There was still time for her to relapse. Plenty of it. She was still in the honeymoon phase of having made it out alive. How long until that faded?

Mark was back on her street that night, waiting for her to come home, around 6 she drove back into her driveway, just to be greeted by the mass of reporters all clambering for her to say something, anything, about her ordeal. Just like this morning she ducked her head and rushed inside. He waited a while longer to see if she left? Then started his car back up and headed home himself when nothing changed.

Wednesday morning John called him to let him know they were on their way back. They'd be home early Thursday morning. Wednesday night Mark was walking up to Emmory's front door. She'd been home for maybe an hour, and the press had just dispersed. Mark wasn't sure what his goal was with this visit, he just found he wanted to see how she was doing up close. He told himself he was only checking in on her so he'd have more to report to John when he inevitably asked about her. In the back of his mind, though, he knew he wanted to talk to her. He had no idea what she was like as a person, only as a test subject.

Emmory opened the door with a deep scowl on her face, probably expecting one of the reporters to have mustered up enough audacity to knock on her door. When she registered it was him her eyebrows turned up in confusion.

"Detective Hoffman?"

"Sorry for the intrusion, Ms. Hodges. I just wanted to check in with you and see how you were doing?" He gave her his most charming smile. One he used to use all the time when he was a beat cop. It wasn't very genuine, and Emmory didn't look impressed. Her eyes were staring into him, almost through him.

"I'm doing about as well as I can be." It was very much a non-answer. "I don't really have anything else if that's what you're here for."

"No, I simply wanted to make a friendly visit. It's not in the job description, but you survivors are so rare." He widened his smile, showing his teeth. "The department worries. You know?"

She seemed to consider this, then stepped back, turning to the side. "Why don't you come in? I think I have some coffee to make…"

Mark did just that, stepping past her doorstep like a vampire that had been invited inside. Emmory hurried into the kitchen and started opening up cupboards, eventually finding a tin of coffee.

Mark ambled his way toward the kitchen, taking in her home as he did. It was modestly furnished, a couch facing a TV with a coffee table in front of it, very standard stuff. Some house plants added color to the space. Or they had at one point. Most had long since started turning brown. What caught his eye the most was a large bookshelf stuffed to the brim with books. On the top shelf, proudly displayed, were the Misery books, all neatly placed in order. Mark dragged his finger along the spine reading Misery's Triumph. He dragged it out carefully to see a woman that looked strikingly like Emmory. It looked like a bodice ripper romance. If the way the heroine was being held by the man on the cover was anything to go by.

"You must really like to read." He called over to Emmory, carefully replacing the book back into its place.

Emmory looked up at him from the coffee machine she'd been fighting. "Oh." Her cheeks colored a rosy pink. "Yeah. I'm a big Paul Sheldon fan."

Mark took in the other books and saw that not only did Paul Sheldon write the Misery books, but he probably had written half of Emmory's collection. "The guy writes a lot."

The sound of the coffee maker actually starting almost drowned her next words out. "Well he really started writing more after he went through this horrible incident."

Mark moved to join Emmory in the kitchen. She looked normal, not exactly happy, but keeping herself together. It could all be internal of course, but most of her bandages were off, the many smaller cuts healing well, and the deeper lacerations looked pink around the edges. They'd leave scars, but it was all fading on her skin already. "What happened to him?"

"No one knows the full story but him." Emmory got out two mugs. "But we do know a fan of his found him after he wrecked his car in Colorado during a snowstorm. He'd broken both of his legs horribly. She'd bandaged him up, had apparently been a nurse for several years, then she held him hostage for several months." She moved over to the book shelf and pulled out Misery's Return. "Apparently she forced him to write this book because she didn't like how the last book ended."

Mark took it from her. The same woman of course decorated the front cover, but in this one, instead of swooning with a man, she stood straight, covered in bees from head to toe with only her eyes visible. In the background there was the face of a woman idol carved out of a mountain.

"It's one of his best." Emmory continued, "but I feel horrible that he had to write it while being held hostage."

Mark handed her the book back. "He never wrote about his experience."

Emmory slid the book back into its place, shaking her head. "No. I don't think he could. I think after he got out he tried to escape the memories as much as he could. That's why he wrote so much…or still writes. He loses himself in his stories."

She turned away from the bookshelf, looking lost all of a sudden. It was like she'd sunken into her own memories, probably reliving her own horrible experience in that moment.

"Hey, I think the coffee is done brewing." He said, trying to gently bring her back to the present.

Emmory gave a little start. "Oh right." She hurried to go grab the pot, filling both mugs. "Do you like sugar? Cream?" She checked the fridge. "Oh uh…sorry I don't have any cream…that's good anyway."

Mark got a glimpse of the barren fridge before she closed it, going back to her cupboards, which all looked equally empty. Her spice cabinet was stocked enough, and the sugar was there in a clear container. She let out a relieved noise and brought him both the sugar and the mug full of coffee, setting them on the kitchen island. Mark sat on the stool in front of his mug. "Thank you" and he spooned some sugar into his cup. Usually he drank it black, but she'd looked so panicked looking for it.

"Of course." She retrieved her own mug and joined him at the island, sitting on the stool opposite of him.

Mark took a sip of the coffee. It tasted burnt and the sweetness from the sugar didn't help any. Emmory held hers in her hands, eyes empty again, staring down into the countertop. She didn't attempt to break the ensuing silence, probably wasn't present enough to do so. He should know what to say to her, how to talk to her as a victim of a horrible crime. He'd been a cop for so long. So many horrible things happened to so many perfectly good people. But looking at her, knowing he was the one who had done it to her…Mark found he was at a loss.

His eyes drifted to the rest of her kitchen, the empty cupboards and barren fridge. "You need to go to the store."

Emmory came back, blinking her eyes, her mind turning back on. "Yes…I'd needed to go before-" She stopped, swallowed, "I haven't had the energy. I'd have to fight the reporters all over again."

Not to mention she was probably afraid of being surrounded by so many strangers. "They're gone now." He said. "Let me take you."

Emmory stared at him for several seconds. "Take me to the store?" She asked. When he nodded in return she set her still full mug down. "Oh no. You have much more important things to do, I'm sure."

"I'm off duty. Unless I get a call." And he wouldn't get one. John wasn't due back until the morning, and Mark had busied himself with Emmory. "It's been quiet. So I have time. You need to eat."

"I don't know…"

Mark stood, rattling his keys in his pocket pointedly. "Now I'm insisting. Look I won't pay for them if that bothers you, but I can at least go with you. Moral support."

She stood with him automatically, still looking unsure. “It’s so late.”

Mark held up his keys. “Come on, you take much longer and I’ll cook dinner too.”

That got her moving. She was a bright red as she grabbed her jacket, “but I’m no one-”

“Don’t say that.” Mark rounded on her, turning away from her front door. “That isn’t true-”

“I meant I’m no one to you.” Emmy insisted, meeting his eyes. That had him turning back to the door. He couldn’t stand being in the direct line of her gaze. The blue threatened to suck him in.

“Look, stop arguing with me. I offered, don’t make me contemplate how much free time I have anymore alright?” Right, make it sound like he had nothing better to do. It distanced himself from her, but the fact that he was still doing this for her would stick in her mind.

She shopped quickly, staying away from anything fresh and picking out prepackaged meals. When he suggested she get something that didn’t require the microwave she was hesitant. She wouldn’t say it out loud, but Mark knew she was considering whether or not she’d actually cook anything. He didn’t push her too far, eating anything was better than nothing. He pushed the cart for her, which he could tell was driving her nuts. It made him smile to see her squirm every time he denied her trying to take the cart from him.

Mark wondered if she had always hated people doing things for her, or if this was a new development. He also realized he was busying his mind with puzzling her out instead of examining why exactly he was doing this. Knocking on her door was bad enough. Now he was…what? Playing house with her?

No, he was just making sure she ate. He told himself John had practically adopted Amanda. Mark was just making sure his test survivor had food in her house. Mark hadn't been watching her long, but he was pretty sure she wasn't cut out for what they were doing. He didn't want her to become and apprentice. There was a hope in him that she would heal, move on, live as full of a life as she was capable.

On the drive back to her place Mark asked her what she did for fun. Or how she filled her days.

"Oh…mostly I work. During the week I don't have much free time." Emmory kept her eyes looking out of the window. She avoided looking him in the eyes as much as he did her, it seemed. "I used to play a lot of video games. I still do. People say it's for children. But I like them."

Mark thought that explained her choice of bar. She was lucky to have one like that so close to home. "Anything else."

"Hmm" She said. "It's kind of embarrassing…but I try to write sometimes."

“Like Paul Sheldon?” Mark smiled, mostly to himself as she was still turned away from him. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye to see that her cheeks were pink again.

“K-kind of.” She squirmed a little in her seat, folding her arms over her chest. “I mostly write short stories, but just for myself. I’ve never done anything with them.”

“Are they good?” Mark asked, more of a tease. She looked at him then, brows furrowed down. There was a lightness to the expression though.

“I don’t know. I’ve never had anyone read them. Let alone someone who knows if it’d be good.”

“Maybe I could read one. See what it’s like.”

Emmory turned a bright shade of red. “No way!.”

Mark laughed at that, a hearty one from his belly. It shocked him. He didn’t remember the last time he’d felt mirth like that.

Once they returned to her home he helped her put the groceries away, and when that was done Mark found himself running out of excuses not to leave. He could tell Emmory was getting tired as well. She hadn’t eaten yet, but he was probably pushing his luck if he did actually try to feed her. She’d probably chase him out with a broom.

So, with everything put away, he excused himself.

“It was nice having you.” Emmory said as she walked him to her door.

Mark puffed out air through his nose. “You don’t have to be so polite.”

She smiled at him. It wasn’t as empty as her expressions had been before, which filled Mark with hope. “No, really. It was nice.”

“Should I stop by again another time?” Mark asked with a raise of his brow and a small smile. He was teasing her, but she nodded.

“I’d like that.”

Detective Hoffman visiting had been weird, it was somehow refreshing. In the week that Emmy had been home she hadn’t spoken with anyone. Her friends had called her, but explaining what had happened, and then listening to them express how sorry they were that it had happened to her, was exhausting. Her one local friend, a woman named Holly that she had met through a previous job, had offered to come over multiple times. All of which Emmy had declined. She was quite close with Holly, but she knew Holly wouldn’t know how to act around her, or how to even talk to her now. Emmy knew Holly would try to act normally for her sake, but there was no normal…not yet anyway.

Hoffman already knew exactly what had happened to her, and had plenty of experience being around and talking to people like her. She found him easy to exist with, and genuinely hoped he would come back around. She knew he must be swamped, being a homicide detective in a city plagued by the Jigsaw Killer, but he’d made time for her once…

By Friday Emmy noticed the crowd of reporters was thinning. They were getting bored with her. Soon she might actually have peace when she left for work. Work itself could be better. Most of her day was spent trying to stay focused. Emmy still wasn't getting much sleep, the nightmare ever present, and probably not going anywhere any time soon. She was behind on her work. Her email inbox was filled with annoyed clients and exasperated colleagues. No one in her office knew what happened to her and Emmy refused to tell them, worried it would come off as an excuse.

Every evening, once she was finally home from a long day at work, she'd stand in the doorway of her office, thinking if she just sat down, she could write. It had been ages since she'd written anything, long before she'd even been captured. She used to love to write, and had once wanted to be a writer. Maybe not as good as Paul Sheldon, but the idea of having her own book published had always been a dream of hers. When she'd told Hoffman she wrote some, it reminded her how much she missed it.

She always ended up walking away and to the couch to watch mindless TV, or she would crack open one of her books. Her first edition copy of Misery's Quest got a special place on her bookshelf, and she had pulled out her other copy to reread.

Facing Saturday was the most daunting task, having nothing to fill her day with was surprisingly intimidating. She stayed up late Friday night, wanting to avoid the nightmares for as long as possible, and slept in as slate as she could stand. Emmy couldn't stay in bed all day, however, and dragged herself from out of the covers. The last, lingering, fog of the nightmare was beginning to slip away. The voice she always heard fading from her mind.

Emmy made herself coffee and toast to the background noise of the press on her lawn. She had to force the toast down, but wanted to try to actually start eating. With mug in hand she went to stand in the door of her office again. There was the whole day ahead of her, plenty of time to write at least a little. Just do it. Emmy made her feet move to her desk, sat her butt in the chair, and turned on her computer.

Emmy had never written seriously. Mostly she just wrote whatever came to mind, and had never expanded any of her ideas into larger narratives. At best she’d done short stories that then just sat in her machine, never to see the light of day. She considered trying to write a romance, like the Misery novels, but she was so unsure of her writing ability. Emmy had been writing since she was a preteen, filling notebook after notebook. Once she became an adult, moved out, and had to start supporting herself, the energy to keep writing simply slipped between her fingers. Sometimes she still managed to type up a few paragraphs, however she missed the frenzy she used to write in when she had no other responsibilities aside from her school work.

Slowly her fingers started tapping keys. She wasn’t trying for anything specifically. Just a stream of conscience, to write something, anything. Eventually Emmy lost herself in her writing, letting herself fall into it and just keep her fingers moving across the keys.

“You all set?” Mark asked John as the older man slid into his passenger seat. John had placed something in his back seat. It looked to be the device that John had planned for Henry.

“Yes.” John said as he settled in. “You already have him?”

“He’s sleeping in our favorite bathroom as we speak.” Mark checked his watch. “He should be out for a while longer. No need to rush.”

John nodded. “You must have enjoyed the quiet while we were away.”

The old man was joking and Mark snorted. “It was a real treat.”

John chuckled then asked; “How did your first test alone go?”

Mark had really been hoping John would have forgotten, or would be too preoccupied to ask. For some reason he felt uneasy discussing Emmory with him. He shouldn’t. She was just another of their subjects, but he wanted to keep her away from this, from what they did. “It went fine.”

John leaned forward so that he could see Mark’s eyes, which he was keeping firmly on the road ahead of him. “How did she do?”

“Passed.” Mark pulled in a large breath. “She did really well. No panic, straight into survival.” He glanced at John, giving him the eye contact Mark was certain he wanted. “You would have been proud.”

John leaned back against his seat. “Good, and you’ve checked on her since then?”

“Yes.” Mark gripped the steering wheel tighter. “I’ve been keeping tabs on her. She’s doing fine.”

The conversation died there and Mark was relieved John hadn’t asked to speak to her. Mark had already had to yank the phone out of Kerry’s hand multiple times, trying to buy Emmory just a little more time before his fellow detective started hounding her for everything she knew. He didn’t need John sticking his nose in too.

Mark parked in front of the warehouse. It was the dead of night, no light around save the one directly above the heavy metal door that served as their entrance. “Well, let’s see if Henry has what it takes.”

#mark hoffman #saw 2004 #sawposting #saw franchise #saw movies #saw x #mark hoffman x oc #keep away from the edge

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