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libraryofgage · 5 months

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Addams Family B-Side (2)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two (you're here!) Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One 10th Doctor and Rose (on the way! might take a little, I have plans for this one)

Hello, and welcome back to Addams Family B-Side, where I take my Addams Family Steddie idea and flip the cassette tape

This is part of a larger series in which I give Steve Harrington good parents from different shows/movies/etc. If there are any other people you think would make good parents for Steve, let me know! I'll take them into consideration and see if inspiration sparks :D

Also, there's a meme at the end, so enjoy that hfjks

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't :^)

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Just because Steve finds Eddie Munson fascinating, that doesn't mean he's going to immediately move to wooing the guy. Well. He would, but his mother has some reasonable yet strict rules about these things, the first of all being that Steve can't like someone just for a pretty face. Or sizable personal wealth. He's got to talk to the person to figure out if they can stand each other before commencing the romancing.

Steve doesn't see himself getting a chance to talk to Eddie anytime soon, so he morosely (and it's not even fun this time) puts his fascination on the back burner for the rest of the day.

Then school ends, and Pubert has some after-school commitment, so Steve waits for him in the grossest bathroom he can find on campus. It's near the fine arts hall, has a flickering light above the mirror, and sports mold in one corner that Steve is tempted to harvest for Grandmama. He bets it'd make a great ingredient for something.

He's just about to scrape some of the mold away when the door slams open. Steve looks up in time to see Eddie (his eyes wide and somewhat terrified, and Steve is briefly angry and consumed by the thought that he's the only one who should be making Eddie scared like that) slip across the tile and crash into the wall on the far side of the bathroom.

Steve is momentarily stunned by Eddie's appearance, his heart lurching in his chest and the sudden urge to hide behind something rearing its head. In the back of his mind, he remembers his father describing the first time he saw Debbie; how he clammed up and was so in awe of her that he couldn't say a thing. Steve finally gets it. If he tried to speak right now, he'd probably only mumble or mutter something unintelligible.

Steve is about to try anyway when the door slams open again and three other boys walk in. They're wearing letterman jackets, and Steve recognizes one of them from lunch. He wasn't the boy who called Eddie a prick, but he was sitting at that table and looking particularly annoyed. Now, he just looks taken aback by Steve's presence, and the feeling is mutual.

"You're that new kid, right?" he asks, his lips pulled back in a sneer as he looks Steve up and down. "Get out."

"I was here first," Steve says, frowning slightly as he glances from the boys to Eddie. "What are you doing?"

"We're teaching this dipshit a lesson for disrespecting us," the guy says, cracking his knuckles and narrowing his eyes at Steve. "So, unless you want your ass kicked, too, get out."

Oh. This is bullying. Steve blinks, a sudden glee building in his chest. He glances at Eddie. "Were you planning to fight back?" he asks, figuring he won't take that fun away.

Eddie stares at him like he's clinically insane, and Steve is a little flattered. "Are you fucking kidding me?" Eddie asks, throwing a hand out and gesturing at the guys. "They're brick shithouses."

Steve hums softly and nods, swinging his backpack off his shoulders and opening the main pocket. As he's rummaging around, he hears the ringleader of the jocks (that's what they'd be called in a movie, he thinks) scoff at him. "Are you fucking dumb? Or are you that eager for a ride in an ambulance?" he asks.

Finally, Steve finds what he's looking for and smiles. "Oh. No. I just had to get a weapon," he says, pulling his travel mace out of his bag. He presses a button and spikes release from the ball on the end. Steve looks up at the jocks with an eager smile. "Who first?"

"What the fuck is that?!"

Steve blinks, a little worried about the public education system. "It's a weapon. A mace, to be exact. There's three of you. This evens the odds," he explains.

The three take a step back, looking at Steve like he's clinically insane, and this time he's disgusted by the gesture. "You're fucking crazy," the first one says before turning heel and leaving the bathroom. The other two follow closely behind, and Steve has to stifle the sheer disappointment.

He sighs and retracts the spikes, placing the mace back into his bag. "Are you disappointed you didn't get to fight?" Eddie asks, pulling Steve's attention back.

Eddie is noticeably more relaxed now, and he's looking at Steve like he's an enigma. That's not quite as good as clinically insane, but it's still flattering nonetheless. Steve swallows down the nerves that suddenly appear again, trying to channel his mother's calm confidence instead. "A little," he admits, zipping up his bag before slinging it back onto his shoulders. "I'm Steve, by the way. Steve Harrington."

"Oh, uh, Eddie Munson."

"I know. I saw you at lunch."

Eddie perks up a little, a smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah? And what did you think, Harrington?" he asks.

Steve stares at him for a moment before taking a step forward, the faint scent of weed and cheap body spray making its way to him. He makes a quick mental note to look into colognes for one that would fit Eddie best (perhaps something crisp and harsh like a wild blizzard with inescapable winds). "I think," Steve says, holding Eddie's gaze, "that you've got incredible conviction."

"Uh, thanks?"

"You're welcome," Steve says, studying Eddie a moment longer. "Let me know if they bother you again. I can pull out a bomb next time."

Before Eddie can respond, the door swings open for a third time. Steve looks over his shoulder and pulls back when he sees Pubert. "Ready to go?" Pubert asks, glancing between the two. "Or am I interrupting something?"

"Not interrupting. And yeah, ready to go."

"Wait, how do you know Pubert Addams?" Eddie asks, looking between the two with a frown. The emotion in his eyes is recognizable if only because Steve has seen it in his mother's eyes when someone beats her to a sale or happens to be wearing a nicer necklace. Jealousy, plain and simple.

Steve grins at Eddie, ready to soothe his jealousy when Pubert cuts in. "Save it," he says, grabbing Steve's hand, "we're gonna be late." With that, he pulls Steve out of the bathroom and down the hall.

"What was that for?" Steve asks.

"I've got to get my entertainment somehow," Pubert replies, smirking as he drops Steve's hand. "Watching someone be jealous will do for a while."

-----

When Steve gets home, leaving Pubert on the sidewalk without another glance because he's too excited to get inside and tell his mother about the crush that he's talked to, he finds only his father in the kitchen. Without needing to be asked, Fester says, "Debbie and Morticia went to get their nails done. It was an emergency. Apparently, Debbie couldn't tear open letters as easily anymore."

Steve nods once and drops his bag onto the island. "I'm in love," he announces.

His father freezes, a tray of roasted vegetables in his hands. A few moments pass before Fester fully processes Steve's words, and he asks, "Have you talked to them? You know your mother's rule."

"I have," Steve says, unable to help a grin, "and he's perfect."

Fester drops the tray onto the stovetop, and Steve suddenly finds himself lifted into the air and spun around. "In love! Oh, I hope it's miserable for you," Fester says.

Steve laughs, nearly tripping over his feet when Fester sets him down. "I haven't decided how to approach him yet," he admits, grabbing onto the counter for support.

"Tell me about him," Fester says, grabbing Steve's shoulders and staring intensely at him. It's like he thinks he'll be able to read Steve's mind if he refrains from blinking long enough.

Steve pushes his father into one of the chairs at the kitchen's island. "His name is Eddie Munson. He's got this wild look to him. Like, his hair is all wavy and kinda poofy like he got half-electrocuted. And his eyes are the most beautiful swamp-mud brown I've ever seen. He speaks with conviction and has a shirt with a demon head on it and has all these rings and spikes on his vest. And he looks incredible when he's terrified. I mean, if I hadn't been so angry, I would've proposed right there," Steve gushes, the words falling from him in a breathless rush.

"What made you angry?" Fester asks, quickly latching to the last point.

"These...jocks. That's what they're called. Jocks. They were chasing him for stuff he said at lunch. He made this whole speech at lunch, by the way. It was incredible. Way too short and just barely addressing the actual issues and he'd never win a single political campaign. Anyway, these jocks, they chased him into the bathroom where I was, and they had him outnumbered and were muscular, so he was scared of getting beat up, I think. They threatened to beat me up, too, which I was excited about, but they ran away when I pulled out my travel mace. I mean, how rude is that? It's just bad form to run when someone's pulled out a weapon."

"And he wasn't angry about you taking his chance to fight?" Fester asks.

"Not at all! He seemed relieved. I think he might be better with, you know, poisons or something," Steve explains, shrugging slightly. He knows everyone has their specialties; he's a master of physical brawls and fights, Pubert does best with explosives, his mother just has a way with words and manipulation, and his father can give people the creeps just by looking at them.

Fester nods, an eager grin taking over his face. "You've got to start wooing him!" he says, slapping his hand on the island counter and pushing himself out of his seat. "Start small, something to test the waters."

"Oh! I could get him a rat," Steve says, thinking of the ones that like to burrow around in their yard. They're big and fearless, and Steve used them to practice his prowling and hunting when he was young. He's got many fond memories of crouching and pouncing right before they scattered across the yard.

"Wait," Fester says, holding up a hand and thinking for a moment, "we should think like your mother. She's the most romantic person we know."

"She blew you up," Steve agrees, nodding seriously. "She'd probably say that I shouldn't give him a live rat. Because he's, uh, not like us?" Steve looks at Fester, waiting for his father to nod once in approval before continuing, "I think Mom talked about stuffed animals once. So, maybe I can get him a stuffed rat, instead."

"Yes! Good! And then you should...learn about his interests! What does he like?" Fester asks.

"I'll have to watch him to find out. I can probably make him something once I know. I mean, he's probably got normal interests, like bugs and poisons and torture practices, right? That's what most people like."

"Don't forget dancing or music."

"Right," Steve says, "dancing or music. But he'll probably have special interests, too. Like Satanism. I should watch for those."

With something akin to a plan in place, Steve leaves Fester to sneakily poison the roasted vegetables while he plans the first step of wooing Eddie.

-----

Ever since meeting Steve Harrington in the bathroom, Eddie has been feeling eyes on him. Not even the normal kind that are annoyed or just curious about the school's resident freak. No, these eyes are...intense. They're laser-focused on his every move and clearly filled with some kind of intentions that he can't discern.

He just doesn't know where they're coming from. When he looks around to see who's staring, he can't find anyone. It's been driving him crazy for almost a week now, and Eddie is just about ready to scream when he opens his locker and...

And finds a rat.

Like, a real rat.

Well, it's dead, but it was alive once. Eddie blinks, staring at the taxidermied rat innocently sitting on top of the pile of books and papers and folders stacked in his locker. It's big and has a surprisingly shiny brown coat, kind of like someone had given the thing a thorough wash with extra shampoo and conditioner. There's a blood-red ribbon wrapped around the rat's neck, a perfect bow tied behind its head, with a tag hanging from it. When Eddie hesitantly turns the tag over, he finds "Name: Kas" at the top and "Hope you like him" written on the bottom in careful, meticulous handwriting.

It should be creepy. It should be disturbing. Eddie should be paranoid beyond reason because how did the mystery gifter even know his locker combination? Did they stuff this rat themselves? Did they kill the rat themselves? Why the fuck would they give him a rat?

But...it's oddly...sweet? Somehow, Eddie can feel that it's not, like, a malicious gift. And he likes the rat. Kas. He likes Kas. Its fur is surprisingly soft when he picks it up, and Eddie spends a good minute just rubbing his thumb over its back.

Then he feels those eyes on him again. They're even more intense this time, like they're watching him closely to see his reaction and...oh. Is this...a weird secret admirer? Does Eddie "The Freak" Munson have a secret admirer? A weird one, sure, because who the fuck gifts taxidermied rats, but still.

He looks around, taking in the other students in the semi-crowded hallway, trying to find those eyes. He doesn't find anyone staring at him, but he does end up staring himself at Steve Harrington. The guy is leaning on a locker across the hall, inexplicably fiddling with a lightbulb as he talks to Pubert Addams, who's digging around in his own locker. If Eddie squints, he could almost convince himself that Steve's cheeks are a little pinker than normal.

After a few seconds, Steve glances up and meets his gaze. They stare at each other for a few tense moments, something building in Eddie's chest as the weight of Steve's eyes surrounds him. It doesn't feel bad, but he's not used to being the center of someone's attention like this. Normally, people are frowning when they pay attention to him. Or, if they're his friends, goading him on and joining in the joke. But this is different, like Steve finds him fascinating.

And then Pubert Addams slams his locker door shut and looks over his shoulder, eyes narrowing when he sees Eddie staring at Steve. He frowns, throws an arm over Steve's shoulders, and pulls him away. Pubert's shoulders are a little tense, his expression sour as he says something to Steve that results in one last, furtive glance at Eddie before he's out of sight.

Suddenly, nothing is more important to Eddie than figuring out what the fuck is going on between Steve Harrington and Pubert Addams.

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Tag List (let me know if you'd like to be added!)

@estrellami-1, @itsall-taken, @mugloversonly, @fandomcartographer, @hippielittlemetalhead, @agree2disagre-kicks, @ledleaf, @just-a-tiny-void, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @ink1177, @maya-custodios-dionach, @littlebluejane,

And now, a meme for your viewing pleasure:

#steddie #steddie fic #addams family b-side #addams! steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #pubert addams #fester addams #steve deserves good parents actually #my writing

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miraclewoozi · 6 months

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DRIVE. - l.c

DRIVE -- or, the night you realise it's actually very hard to stay mad at the guy who shows up at your house, throwing stones at your window on a Thursday night, to try and fix something that was your mistake in the first place.

pairing : chan x fem reader. content : fwb > lovers. angst, smut (MINORS DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT), fluff. more or less in that order. they’re both dumb as hell. not explicitly put in any detail but this was written with a more 70s vibe in mind so feel free to bear that in mind when thinking of the car/tech/styles etc if u like. w/c : 7.8k warnings : lots of swearing. it’s all a big fuckin misunderstanding because i am a whore for that. weed & alcohol mentioned (neither party is drunk or high at the time of this taking place). mentions of past cheating (neither mc or chan are the cheater). some pov switching because i said so. let me know if i've forgotten anything. proofread exactly once so if there's a typo, no there isn't. SMUT TAGS UTC. notes : dino. get the fuck off my ass. i’m so serious i am not strong enough to handle the very real feelings i have for you. go away. notes 2.0 : i listened to halsey’s drive for some inspo for this & took that as the title, so feel free to give it a listen if you want!

SMUT TAGS : dom!chan. car fuckin', making out, hair pulling, grinding/dry humping, fingering, finger sucking, dick riding, marking/scratching, unprotected sex (make good choices), overstimulation, multiple orgasms. praise. chan calls reader ‘baby’ & ‘sweetheart’. he’s a BIG talker during sex (sorry).

You’re not stupid. You heard his car pull up outside your house almost an hour ago.

Since then, at random intervals ranging anywhere between thirty seconds and five minutes, there have been clinks of a thrown stone at your bedroom window, a piece of the gravel that lines your driveway. Each time, it makes your jaw tense, makes your fingers tighten in the bedsheets you pulled all the way up to your chin in a foul mood at 8pm. It’s been the same now for almost two weeks — you’ve been getting home from work, showering the day away, eating your dinner and retiring to your room as early as you possibly can. Your roommate tried to find out what was wrong around day three but you very promptly shut her down — she’s since learned that the best she’s getting out of you currently is a dismissive wave of your hand or some kind of a grunt. She joked one evening that it was like she’d adopted a teenager; you scowled so violently that she went to her room.

Hardly any of your other friends have seen anything of you, either, despite the fact that several have come knocking to check if you’re all right.

You’re very much not all right, as it happens. This is perhaps the most upset you’ve ever felt, and that’s going quite some way. The angriest, too. It’s worse than when that middle aged woman threw her entire bucket of popcorn at your head when you gave her salty instead of sweet, and you were picking kernels out of your hair for the rest of your six hour shift. It’s worse than when your nasty supervisor ‘forgot’ you were in the bathroom and ended up locking you inside the cinema overnight, because you didn’t have your own set of keys to get out and the people whose numbers you remembered weren’t answering their phones.

It’s somehow even worse than when a summer crush from a few years ago broke things off by telling you that he already had a girlfriend back home and that you were basically just a means to pass the time and get his dick wet. God, and you thought that was the lowest you could possibly be.

Here you are, though, so far beyond all those things it would be comical, if it didn’t hurt. Chan has really done a number on you, and you’re not sure how you ended up getting so emotionally involved in your situationship with him that this is what you’ve been reduced to. For days now, you’ve been swallowing back tears of frustration (both with yourself and with Chan), rolling around in your bed night on night, unable to get to sleep because all you can think about is him.

Him, and the way he sounded genuinely horrified when his friends asked about the ‘movie girl’, and he laughed, ‘God, no – we’re just friends. That’s never gonna happen’. It was impressive, how quickly your face fell, in no way aided by the squealing giggles that rang through the house as a very, very drunk girl came running out of the living room and shut herself in the toilet, drowning out a chunk of the conversation you were listening in on. Somehow, it hurt even more when he went on to say ‘besides, there’s… someone else’.

And when you have managed to drift off after hours of staring at the walls and the ceiling, hearing those words on a loop on your fed up brain? Of course he’s been in your fucking dreams, too.

In your defence, all you were trying to do was use the mirror in the hallway outside the kitchen he and his friends were standing in, readjusting your top to cover the hickey that he had so kindly left on your collarbone just the night before. It wasn’t as though you sought him out to listen in; it was a coincidence. And okay, fine, maybe you should have walked away when the conversation turned to the topic of Chan’s love life. Maybe you should have not crept closer and held your breath to be able to hear them all better. Maybe, even, you should have stayed around long enough to ask what he meant by it then and there instead of hopping in a taxi and going home without saying goodbye to anyone.

Hindsight really is a beautiful thing.

Never gonna happen. Well, Chan seemed quite happy to ignore the fact that it already had happened. Several times. At least four of those being in the very car currently on the street outside your home. The car he’s used on countless occasions to drive you up to lovers’ lookouts in the dead of night, letting one of his many mixtapes play through the tinny speakers, where he’d kiss you breathless and cradle your face between his palms, as his fingers would delicately explore beneath your clothes, as his broad shoulders would slot between your thighs, as his hips rol–

And maybe you aren’t stupid, but Chan seems determined to prove that he sure as hell is. He came to pick you up from work the day after the party like nothing had happened, and couldn’t figure out why you said you would rather walk home in the rain than get in with him and stormed away without any further explanation. Then, he showed up on your doorstep on the morning of your day off with your favourite coffee and a breakfast bagel, asking if you could talk. He still didn’t realise what he’d done to upset you, so you slammed the door in his face. Finally, just earlier today, he ran after you in the mall, persistent as you’ve ever known him to be, and laid a hand on your shoulder when you didn’t turn around to just the sound of his voice calling your name.

You pushed him off so hard he almost fell over.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?!” You had barked, shrugging your shoulders to try and realign your jacket. “I don’t want to talk to you. What’s not clicking?”

His face resembled that of a scolded pet when he took a step back and frowned at you. “I just wanted to–”

“I don’t care what you want, Chan,” you spat. “Give it up. I’m done.”

You could see the desperation swimming in his eyes as he scrambled for what to say and your heart felt like it was being weighed down all the way into your stomach. You supposed that was the part of you that was causing all this ache in the first place, and further that it was to blame for your current state of misery. But you steeled yourself and stood your ground nonetheless. He wasn’t going to win you over with puppy eyes and a pout. Not this time.

In his silence, you only then noticed how hard your breaths were coming, each slow and long but still dangerously unsteady. You lowered your voice, top lip curling at him as you muttered, “You’re embarrassed of me enough to lie to your friends? Fine. I don’t give a–… but shit, next time, tell a girl that to her face instead of behind her fucking back.”

It’s been seven hours, and you keep replaying the last thing he said to you as you stormed away (how his voice got quieter when he realised you weren’t turning back; how he sounded so hoarse, so sorry).

‘I’m sorry if I hurt you - I— I never meant to.’

If. If. If. Were you not making it completely fucking obvious that he had, most definitely, hurt you? Part of your brain is even now starting to go down the route that he’s doing this on purpose, that it’s some twisted sort of damage control, that he hopes maybe if he plays dumb for long enough, you’ll forget what you were mad about or maybe start to second guess what you heard. But if that’s what he thinks, he obviously doesn’t know you very well at all. That’s never going to happen.

Hell, for someone you were being so careful to keep in the appropriate lane in your head, Chan really has you thinking yourself in circles. You’re sick to your back teeth of him, and his stupid voice and his stupid smile and his stupid –

Clink.

Stupid. Fucking. Stones.

A groan loud enough to definitely catch the attention of your roommate sounds from deep within your chest at this interruption to your spiral and you finally, finally concede. Whatever argument he’s so clearly longing to have at 11 o’clock on a Thursday night? Fine. He can have it. If it means he backs off for good, you’ll give him his one last ruck.

You pull the window open none too gently and lean enough through it that Chan comes into view. He isn’t even looking up, you realise, too busy sifting through the driveway trying to find his next little projectile, and you hiss his name to get his attention. It startles him so much that he drops the indiscernible bundle in his right hand. He blindly scrambles to pick it up, those big, earnest eyes gazing at you as if you’re floating in midair before him.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You ask him, trying not to raise your voice too loud but at the same time, needing to generate enough volume for him to hear. He holds the bundle in both hands, now, and they catch the light of the lamp by your front door. Flowers, you register, squinting to try and make them out, your brows furrowing so much that your forehead hurts.

Black dahlias.

You choke back a laugh. Ah, the joys of fooling around with the son of a florist. Are they all so damn dramatic? (Or does he just know that they’re your favourites?)

Whichever it is, you tell yourself that’s not going to work. You won’t let it. Through gritted teeth, you say, “go away. I’m serious. I’ll call the cops on you.”

He shakes his head, begging as he steps just a little closer so his face is more visible in the amber light too. “Please–” he hurries, biting his bottom lip. “Please, don’t– just… tell me what I did. I want to make it right. Please.”

He never begs like this. In all the time you’ve known him, you swear Chan has said ‘please’ to you fewer times than you could count on your fingers. Which is by no means a bad thing — that’s just always been the very comfortable nature of your friendship, and later, the -with-benefits tag that you ended up sticking on the end.

“Why are you doing this?” You ask, pinching the bridge of your nose and fighting not to shiver in the cold nighttime air. Note to self: don’t do a Romeo and Juliet in the middle of the fucking winter without layering up, first. “What does it even matter?”

“What do you mean, what does it matter?” He asks, looking down at the bunch of flowers in his hands, then back at you. “I-... you know I’d never hurt you. Not on purpose. Please, just… if I did something–”

“There’s someone else,” you echo, fed up with his pretending. He’s a fair actor, you’ll give him that – he might even have been able to convince you, if you hadn’t already heard the other half of this tale he’s doing his best to spin in his favour.

His face screws up, thinking he’s misheard. It’s his turn not to understand now. If you’re telling him you’ve met someone else, he’s got questions, because you’d promised to be open and honest with each other if that ever happened, so that you could call things off and go back to being just friends without it becoming a big deal. That was always supposed to be a calm conversation, not… whatever this is. You talked about it, right at the start. But… those are the words you’re saying, aren’t they? And why would you be mad at him if you were the one whose circumstances had changed?

“What?” he asks, finally. “What do you mean?”

“God, no – we’re just friends. That’s never gonna happen. Besides, there’s… someone else!” You raise your voice without really meaning to, before swallowing hard and glancing back inside your room. “You said that, Chan. Don’t piss me off by coming here and pretending like you didn’t.”

Chan starts to look like he’s trying to figure out an algebraic equation in his head while only having half the required information; his eyes fall down to the gravel, his lips move without any sound coming out of them, his features tighten until there are definite lines between his eyebrows. Then, it clicks. The lightbulb moment. He slaps one hand to his face and shakes his head furiously, and you just know he’s going to wake up with an ache in his neck tomorrow because of it.

“Oh fuck,” he curses. “No, no, no, no, no – that’s not–”

“What did I just say?” You spit down at him. “Don’t piss me off–”

“Listen!” He shouts, and you gesture with your hand for him to lower his voice, interrupting his flow of thought and rendering him silent for a moment. “Fuck, please. Come down here and talk to me. That’s not what you think it is.”

You’re in every mind to slam your window shut and leave him out there in the cold. It would work if you got out your headphones to drown out the sounds of him trying to get your attention, which you have absolutely no doubt in your mind that he would do. And maybe then he’d get the hint; maybe then he would understand that you’re not just some pushover who he can just pick up and play with when it suits him.

But he’s still holding those fucking flowers like they’re a lifeline, still looking up at you without a single lick of anger on his face. Not stress at having been discovered, which you would have expected him to be swimming in right about now. He looks… kind of beside himself, as if nothing could possibly be worse than what you’re threatening to do.

All this, for you? It just doesn’t make sense.

“Please,” he says again, quieter, weaker. For the first time, you pick up on the hint of a shiver in his voice, and you swallow. Whether you’re gulping back your pride, or your resolve, or the last remnants of your sensibility, you don’t know.

Does he deserve for you to hear him out? You’re not sure.

But does he deserve to be stuck out in the cold in just his stupid leather jacket and a pair of jeans?

With regret, you think, no. He doesn’t.

All you give him is a scowl before you disappear from view entirely, pulling the window closed and drawing your curtains again. Faster than you think you ever have before, you throw on a sweatshirt over your pyjamas, grab your keys, and hurry down the stairs as silently as you possibly can.

He’s stood in exactly the same place when you edge outside and pull the door closed behind you. Up-close, you can see the tiredness on his face: this is a man who has exhausted himself in worry, you think, and yet he still smiles a little when he sees you in full. He still holds the flowers out for you to take. He still purses his lips and blows out a stuttered cloud of air. Nervous, and not in the way you think he ought to be. So when you walk straight past him and don’t take the dahlias out of his hands, instead standing by his car and waiting for him to unlock it for you, you start to feel overwhelmingly guilty.

Chan is many, many… many things. But he really isn’t this good of a performer, no matter what you’ve been telling yourself all week. For God’s sake, why is it so much easier to be angry at him when he’s not standing right in front you?

You slip into his passenger side as he fumbles to set the flowers down on his backseat again, and he joins you up front just a few moments later. His hands are shaking when he sets the keys into the ignition. His whole body is. When you cast a real look over at him, the tips of his fingers are pale and his lips are lacking their usual rosy, pink hue. Your own teeth are chattering despite only having been truly exposed to the cold air for a matter of seconds; you dread to think how frozen he must be.

“Are we driving?” You ask to break the silence. Since he got into the car and fiddled with the heating settings to try and warm things up a little, he hasn’t said a word. It’s awkward. It’s horrible. You already miss the comfortable way you’ve been able to sit for hours together, barely talking, just watching the lights of the city and the cars travelling through it.

You already miss him. Which is a strange thought, seeing as he’s only about ten inches away.

“If– if you want,” he says, stuttering through the frost in his lungs. “We can go—...”

“Drive, Chan,” you say. It’s not just because you want him to stop falling over his words – which, to be fair, you do. Chan has always been very confident, carrying himself with the air of someone who knows exactly their worth. It’s one of the things you treasure about him. So this? Is fucking weird. But a big part of it is that you know his car will heat up faster if it’s in motion, and right now, you think maybe he’s at risk of losing a finger or two if he doesn’t get some circulation back.

He steps on the gas and the car pulls away from your home. It’s the first time you’ve ever been in his car without there being some sort of music playing, whether that’s historically just been the radio or a tape he put together with the help of one of his older friends. (The tapes that always had your first initial on them. The tapes that he never failed to ask your opinions on when he dropped you home – as if he’d compiled them with only you in mind.) The silence feels jarring and you can hear every rumble of the engine, every squeal of the brakes he definitely needs to get serviced.

But the car does warm through, and you sigh out relief as the bones in your hands move a little easier, as your fingers curl and uncurl to less resistance from your taut muscles. Chan feels it, too; his body relaxes, his breaths stop coming out in fractions, his face gets some colour back. The timing feels a little less awful when you finally say, “go on, then.”

Chan glances over at you as he drives down an unlit street. Only for a second, like he’s checking you’re still there, before his eyes train back on the road. He’s going to one of your favourite spots. It isn’t a lookout – it’s somewhere completely shut off from the rest of town, hidden by the trees near the railway tracks, somewhere you’ve never had to worry about being seen or heard. Maybe he’s anticipating a screaming match. Maybe he’s expecting something else. Maybe, even, he just cares about how much you love it there.

“I didn’t know you heard that conversation,” he starts, sheepishly. You want to roll your eyes, reach over and thump him, ask if that makes what he said okay, but you don’t. You stay looking out the front windscreen too. Waiting. “I… all right. I was out of my ass drunk.”

You click your tongue, pressing it afterwards against the inside of your cheek, but again, you stay quiet.

“I don’t think you heard what you thought you heard, though,” he goes on to say. “‘Cause– ‘cause it wasn’t…”

But you can only be quiet for so long in the face of this mess. Especially when he’s apparently working towards a doctorate in beating around the fucking bush. “I heard you tell your friends that it was never gonna happen with ‘movie girl’.”

Chan’s face brightens, and you can’t help but wonder what on Earth is wrong with this man. Why does he find that funny? Why is his chest moving like he’s trying not to laugh?

“And you… thought you were movie girl,” he says, nodding. “Okay. Okay – shit. I’m sorry.”

You look at him properly, now, as he indicates to the right and takes the turn that leads him down the lane to your spot. “What are you talking about?”

“I get it,” he says. “You work at the–... but you’re not movie girl. Not that movie girl.”

“Stop talking in riddles before I get out of this car, Chan. It’s too late for this shit.”

He holds a hand up as if to apologise and settles back against the head cushion, suddenly looking far more comfortable than he did thirty seconds ago. He clears his throat, running his tongue over his lips, before sucking in a breath and letting himself go on.

“You’re not movie girl,” he says again, successfully clarifying nothing. “There’s this chick I used to dance with — years back, before… God, when we were in school, like, forever ago. She moved away when we were sixteen.” As he talks, he reaches your destination and sets the car into park, before he unfastens his seatbelt and turns to face you. You do the same, shifting your weight to tuck one leg up beneath you, and with your undivided attention, he goes on. “I ran into her recently. She’s back in town now, I guess. It was like, two weeks—?”

“I’m gonna be all-over grey by the time you finish telling this story,” you interrupt, raising an eyebrow. “Can you please give me the short version?”

“Not if you want it to make sense,” Chan shrugs. Begrudgingly, you let him keep talking. “She said it would be cool to hang out, maybe catch a movie or do lunch or something — and look, I didn’t know she was asking me on a date, I thought she was just being nice, y’know? Trying to be friends, but… you weren’t working that day, it was when you had that… that stomach thing going on? And I brought you the soup my mom made, remember?”

You nod; of course you remember. At the time, you wondered why on Earth this grown man’s mother was making you food — you asked yourself whether he’d told her about you, or if she thought it was for someone else. In the end you decided he must have just been bringing you leftovers. But you’d been too worn out to start asking questions; instead, after you’d eaten, you let yourself fall asleep with your head in his lap as he patted your hair and hummed his favourite songs. You hadn’t let yourself think too deeply about it since.

“Anyway. We were sat watching the movie and she, uh,” he glances down at his lap, tips of his ears burning pink. “She put her hand, sorta, on my thigh? And then I was like, shit, I didn’t read this right, like… at all. So I moved it off and she took the hint — and after it ended I said to her, you know, I was flattered, right? But I wasn’t interested. And then I went home and got that soup and—… yeah.”

He came straight to see you. To look after you. Hell, you didn’t even fool around that night; in retrospect, it was all uncharacteristically domestic. And slowly, the pieces you’ve spent days struggling to fit together start to fall into place. It makes sense. The only question that remains is do you believe him?

Well, tell a lie.

There is one more.

“You said there was someone else,” you add quietly.

You’ll die before you admit it, but this is secretly the part that was hurting you the most.

You can’t even look him in the eye, right now; your cheeks are burning with the embarrassment of even caring. As much as you want to tell yourself that the only reason you’re pissed is just because of the dishonesty, you can only stare at yourself in the mirror and point-blank lie so many times. Someone else. You hate it.

Just the thought of him seeing somebody else, taking them out on dates, smiling at them, laughing with them, kissing them the way he kisses you, touching —

A shiver runs the length of you and you cross your arms, thrusting your sleeve-covered hands under your armpits.

Chan takes a deep breath in and exhales it slowly, like he’s blowing smoke out of his lungs. “There is,” he admits, nodding slowly, avoiding your eyes, too. “There is someone else.”

“When were you going to tell me?” You ask.

Chan doesn’t respond straight away. You don’t notice, but eventually his eyes do land back at you; it’s only when he clears his throat to get your attention that you look at him long enough to realise he’s quite deliberately staring. His lips are lifted on the right in a lopsided smile, his eyes soft as he reaches across the seats towards you. You stare blankly down at his hand until he wiggles his fingers, and you think briefly that this is the most fucked up ending to a situationship you’ve ever been through.

You drop one of your hands down and let him hold it, though, staring at his face as his thumb brushes over your knuckles and you wait for him to finally say it out loud. For him to announce that he’s fallen for somebody and that he can’t see you anymore. To put the nail in the coffin. Don’t tell me their name, you think. I don’t want to know anything about them. Please, just don’t.

“For someone so frustratingly smart, you’re really fucking dumb,” Chan says, finally, swallowing around his words and squeezing your fingers. Whatever stoic expression you had forced onto your face at the start of this conversation dissolves into irritation and you snatch your hand away from him again, letting his own fall and collide with a thunk against the handbrake.

“Oh, sorry that I didn’t realise you were sneaking around behind my back when that’s the one thing we promised we wouldn’t do,” you snap. “God. The only stupid thing I’ve done here is get involved with you in the f—”

“You’re the someone else.”

Oh.

“I’m—?”

“You.”

The admission hangs heavily between you, as does your nonsense, unfinished insult. Neither of you really know what to do with yourselves except sit perfectly still and try to somehow deal with your increasingly dry throats. When Chan moves, it’s only to turn down the heating dial when his cheeks burn a bit too hot; you appreciate it, in part due to the bead of sweat currently running down your back, but you don’t say so.

“You could have started with that,” you say weakly, wrestling with all your strength to keep even some of your cards close to your chest. It’s not working though. Your attempt to conceal your elation is a bit like throwing a single leaf on top of a bison and calling it camouflage.

Chan commits to laughing, finally, your sentiment breaking him too. Now, you do crack that smile, albeit mostly just at the sound that comes from him. It’s bright and airy, lighting his whole face up as he drops all the way back and leans against his car door, pushing his fingers through his hair. “I was trying to build to a moment! It’s not my fault you hit every branch of the anti-romantic tree on your way down.”

“I am not anti-romantic,” you scoff in protest.

“Yes — you are.”

“Am not!”

“Are too.”

“No, you’re just an idiot.”

“Says she who didn’t realise her fuck-buddy had feelings for about six months, Jesus.”

“Chan—” You start, your voice laced with a playful warning.

“Here I was thinking I was making it completely obvious,” he rambles on.

“— oh my God, just shut up and kiss me.”

“Dropping hints left and r—” … “Huh?”

He stops short a fraction of a second after you finish, stumped and silent, frozen with everything but a little buffering symbol above his forehead. Kiss me, you said. Chan, […] just shut up and kiss me. All right, you’ve asked him to do that before, but not like this. Not as if you’ll wither away should you not get a taste of his lips this instant. It takes him some time to process it, but he does move in first, eventually. The way he always does, closing the distance between you like he’s been shot out of a cannon, one hand either side of your face, crashing feverishly against your mouth.

Every now and again, he’ll be happy to let you take charge and set the pace: mostly just if he’s feeling lazy or especially generous. Tonight isn’t one of those times, however. He holds you and kisses you possessively, like you’re his, like this is how he finally gets to lay claim on you, licking between your gasp-parted lips after he moans straight into your mouth. He’s spearmint sweet, edged with that one cherry flavoured chapstick he stockpiles as he grins up against you, rolling his body fluidly with every separation for air, every changing angle.

He pulls your sweatshirt up over your head and throws it down into the footwell on the passenger side, straight away hurrying to kiss you hungrily again, hands cupping your neck. His tongue is in your mouth once more, there’s no way you could possibly differentiate your breaths from his: you’re one, in every way you can be with your clothes still on, but it’s not enough.

“Want you,” you whimper as he nips at your bottom lip and pleasure rushes through you from head to toe.

“You’ve got me,” he groans with his eyes still closed. “I’m all yours.”

“No,” you insist, whimpering when his cute little nose drags across your cheek until he’s pressing hot kisses to your jawline. “I— fuck—” He suckles on the sweet spot below your ear and your spine tingles, head tilting to give him better access. “Chan, I want you.”

Chan settles back from you, his usually bright, sparkling eyes now darkened with desire. All he gives you is a singular glance sideways, but you know exactly what he’s suggesting. You nod, breathing deep, biting the inside of your cheek; he turns off the headlights and it’s all systems go.

There’s a rush to scramble into the back of the car. Chan takes the keys out the ignition and climbs through the gap in the seats; you opt for the less hazardous approach of getting out of the vehicle entirely and re-entering it instead. Not that it bothers him — no sooner is the door closed behind you, Chan’s hands are on your hips and he pulls you on top of him, your leg knocking the dahlias off the leather and onto the floor in the process. You gasp and glance down but he averts your attention with two fingers under your chin, guiding you to look back at him.

“What? You think this is the last time I’ll bring you flowers?” He asks, capturing your lips as he leans up to you; at the same time, his hands drop low and he starts to slide open the buttons down the front of your pyjama shirt. “Baby, m’gonna get you so many more.”

You sigh at the affectionate name, at the change in its use; until now, Chan has only called you baby while he’s buried inside you, bruising you inside and out with sharp thrusts and rough-gripping fingers. But as much as you can feel him growing hard against the inside of your thigh while you try to get comfortable, one knee planted either side of his hips, you can’t help but feel as if this time, it means something different.

(He’s had feelings for six months: it always meant what it does, now. You know that, deep down.)

Somewhere in amongst the never-ending sloppy kisses and constantly travelling hands, you manage to strip both his jacket and T-shirt off him and you’re pressed bare-chest-to-bare-chest with Chan, feeling every little hitch of his breath in his lungs, every thump of his heartbeat, every tiny increase in the temperature of his skin. Your desperate search for friction between your legs has you rolling your hips down against his hard-on, drawing grunts and making him squeeze at your tits when you rock against him the right way. His head eventually drops to your chest and he replaces one hand with his mouth, freeing his fingers to slide down the front of your pyjama bottoms.

It’s honestly rarer for Chan to get straight to the point than it is for him to tease you a little first, so when he flattens his palm against you and brushes his fingertips over your already aching clit, you let out a squeak of surprise. He shivers, releasing your nipple from between his teeth for a moment; once he’s collected a little more arousal to ease the friction, he continues to rub at the bud, slowly building the pressure inside you.

“No panties?” He asks, struggle clear in the roughness of his voice.

“I was in bed,” you gasp, eyes rolling back. It’s for the best that it happens out of pleasure, really, because you’re not sure you’d be able to stop yourself rolling them in exasperation at his remark otherwise. You shuffle a little, lifting yourself up on your knees more, breath hitching when he uses the newly granted space to dip his hand lower and press a finger against your hole. “Please, Chan — this can’t be comfy— just…”

“S’fine” he argues, shaking his head, despite the fact that the angle of his wrist is actually kind of painful, right now. The truth is that he can’t bring himself to care: not when he can smell your fabric softener on the shirt still hanging off your shoulders, the shampoo in your freshly washed hair, all so pretty mixed with the damp scent of your desire. Not when you clench around him as he slides his finger in and out of your cunt. Not when he could get you to soak all the way through these pretty satin pants.

Your arms snake around his neck as he dips a second finger inside you to join the first. The way your thighs tighten around his hips could — should — be embarrassing, the fact his sturdy lap holds you open enough for your pussy to be toyed with even more so. You almost always do this too music, too — for what might be the first time ever, you can hear every single wet sound your body makes, every hitch of your own breath, every grunt he gives even though he’s not the one being pleasured.

You don’t even realise how you’re rocking up and down against his hand until Chan licks from the base of your neck to your jaw, smirking over your pulse point and says, “gonna ride my cock this good too, baby?”

And if it was anyone else talking to you like this, you would be embarrassed. Mortified, at being so needy you’re here doing all the work for him. At the cry you give as he splits and scissors his fingers to stretch you out. But instead? You feel another rush of arousal drool out of you as you press your nails into his shoulders and nod, bouncing harder and watching how his bicep tenses up solid with the effort of keeping his arm steady for you to use.

“Wanna,” you gasp. “Want it so bad, Chan—”

Despite your pleas for this to move further, when his hand pulls back out of the elastic of your waistband, you feel like you could throttle him. The urge ebbs away when his soaked fingers press to your lips and he quirks an eyebrow at you, though — you end up suckling them clean, licking up every trace of your own slick. You lock eyes with him as you do, slumping on your thighs so your drenched core sits right over his tweaking length, the seam of your pants giving just enough friction to your clit for it to feel good as you grind down on him again.

“Get those off,” he instructs, trying to sound hard and dominant. Which would work, perhaps, if his voice didn’t crack in the middle of the sentence. “Now.”

Even though you’re overcome with a need to tease him, the desire you have to be split open on his length outweighs it, so you do as you’re told and hold it in for later. It’s not easy, but you manage to manipulate yourself in his lap to work the satin down your thighs and past your knees. He helps you tug them the rest of the way past your ankles and feet, shoves them onto the floor — Chan’s hands settle back on your hips and yours skim down his stomach at the same time, fingers grazing over the little hairs that trail from his bellybutton down into his jeans.

“Can I?” You ask, playing already with his belt buckle.

He hums assent and you slip it all the way open, tugging as he moves his hips underneath you so you can pull it free from the loops. Between you, you manage to get his jeans unfastened, to pull both them and his boxer shorts down over his ass and to his knees; finally, fucking finally, his cock sits pretty and leaking and free between your stomach and his. It’s getting cold in the car now the heating isn’t on, but you’re already burning up in anticipation for him to ruin you; the way his abs ripple as he takes his shaft into his hand and strokes himself a couple of times to prepare tells you he’s in the same boat.

It’s like clockwork, from here. You shift into position as easily as you settle into bed after a long day. Chan rubs his tip through your folds, feels the warmth of you and hisses through his teeth with fluttering eyes. Just like always. This never changes. He can’t ever get enough of that first feeling of his cock against your pussy: it’s like the first hit of a blunt, like the first sip of a cold beer, the first full-body stretch early in the morning. He’s sure it’s what arriving at the gates of heaven must feel like.

You sink down onto him slowly, fluttering around his tip and stilling to give you both a moment to get used to the feeling. He’s thick inside you. Thicker than his pretty, dainty fingers have ever been able to stretch you enough for. Even as wet as you are, you still need to suck a deep breath into your lungs before you can relax your hips further and let your heat swallow him all the way to his base.

Chan’s head is tipped back in pleasure, he’s biting his lip at the sting of your nails pressing hard into the back of his neck. He loves it, though — loves how the pain shoots in waves down his spine, how it tingles in his brain, how he knows you need to anchor yourself this way or you’ll lose control. He kneads at your ass as you sit against his thighs, listening to you whimpering at how deep he is inside you.

“So fucking tight around me still,” Chan groans, focusing all his willpower into keeping his hips down on the leather beneath him. “Shit, baby — you feel so good…” His neck softens and his head drops forward again as you start to move, rising and falling over and over. He kisses your throat and down to your collarbones while you work up to a rhythm, sliding his palms up your back, hugging you close to him.

He isn’t even the one putting in the hard work, but within minutes of this, his soft, fluffy hair clings to his forehead. A light sheen of sweat makes him radiant under the moonlight breaking through the trees. He’s breathing heavily, the top of his toned chest painted a soft pink — you don’t think he could possibly look prettier. Not until he cups your jaw with his hands and you look upwards: you land on his smiling face, those plush, swollen lips, his devilish but sweetly glittering eyes. The sight of him, looking at you like you’re some kind of Goddess, makes your pussy tighten and your tiring hips stutter. You slip your pyjama top all the way off your arms and curl your fingers into his hair, meeting him in an open-mouthed kiss, through which you’re both just beaming.

You’ve never kissed him this much. When it all started out, you sort of had a rule against it, but now? Neither of you can stop. As he starts to fuck up into you, taking the reins and letting your burning thighs rest, he keeps your face steady with his hands and freely allows his lips to slide against yours. It’s not refined. It can’t be. Not with how hard and fast his movements quickly become, not with the onslaught of curses and moans and babbled praise coming from the both of you. One particularly sharp thrust makes you yelp out a squeak of his name and he just swallows it down, making a point to keep aiming for— and hitting— that same spot inside you. You’re a mess.

He could do this all night. When your orgasm bubbles inside you and he starts pinching at one of your nipples, sending you over the edge, he’s nowhere near finished. Even though your cunt massages at his length, throbbing and pulsing through your climax; even though your voice is so high by now that only dogs can hear you; even though you nearly collapse on top of him with almost all your weight in his lap, and he has to work twice as hard to keep this going, he barely slows. He definitely doesn’t stop.

“You can gimme one more, right sweetheart?” He asks, grunting into your neck. “Always feels so fucking good when you come.” You choke up an ‘mhm’, to which he responds by slipping a hand between your bodies and down to where you’re connected. His thumb presses against your clit again — not moving, just applying enough pressure to make you stutter when you say his name.

Your thighs are still twitching when you try to lift yourself a little, try to meet his movements as he chases his orgasm too. The “problem” with Chan is that his stamina is otherworldly. You couldn’t keep up if you wanted to.

“Relax,” he says, tensing his jaw, doing the opposite himself. “Fuck — lie down.”

It’s pretty cramped and hard to move, but you lift yourself off him and only slightly lament at the sudden emptiness between your legs. There isn’t time to get too upset, however: moments after you get comfortable on your back, Chan shoves his jeans the rest of the way down and stands with one knee planted on the seats, lifting one of your ankles up to rest it on his shoulder. He slips back inside you easily then, gripping around your calf to keep you both steady. From the word go, his pace is relentless. You scrabble around for something to hold onto but the entire car seems to melt away; you ball your hands into fists at your sides instead, your eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“Mm-mm. Look at me,” Chan hums, tightening his grip on your leg. “Wanna see those pretty eyes.”

You obey, opening your lids to look up at him while he pounds into you hard enough to make the car shake. Over, and over, and over, and over. Rougher. Faster. For how long? Who even knows. All you’re truly aware of is how good it feels. How the windows grow foggy with the steam of your laboured breaths. How his sweat mingles with your own.

When his fingers on the other hand get reacquainted with your clit, when he bites down on his bottom lip, when his thrusts start to get messier and more erratic and the veins in his arms start to bulge out, you know he’s getting close. He doesn’t need to tell you out loud. The smirk he wears speaks for itself.

“Where d’you want it, baby?” He asks you, pressing a kiss to the inside of your ankle.

“In— mmh, in-…side me—” you stammer, hips jolting as you near your second orgasm to match his first. “Please, Chan — want it all…”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah—”

Well, he must’ve been holding himself back something spectacular, because a few thrusts later you watch all of his muscles contract as he tips over the edge, and you go hurtling with him. It’s all so much. All your nerve endings feel like they’re on fire and your vision starts to blur at the edges; it’s not long before you have to close your eyes to shut one of your overworked senses out, completely. Your muscles are sore. Your throat hurts. Even your lungs ache.

God, he hasn’t gone that hard in so long, you don’t know what to do with yourself. You can barely speak — it’s going to take you a week to recover from this, minimum.

He stills deep inside you, feeling his cock throb with the last pumps of his release. Your leg slips off his shoulder and your foot lands down with a thud onto the car’s (thankfully clean) floor; he bends forward to kiss you, still breathing heavily against your lips. You’ve come over completely boneless and reaching up to thread your fingers into his hair again feels like running a marathon at sprint pace. You’d fall asleep right here, right now, if you could, but with sweat cooling rapidly against your skin, you know that’s probably not up there as one of your finest ideas.

“You really think getting involved with me was stupid?” Chan asks, nudging your nose with the tip of his own. He’s never been less serious than this in his entire life, which stops you feeling too bad when you lightly slap at his rock solid chest and try to push him off you.

“Yes,” you lie, attempting to reach to the ground for your pyjama shirt while he grips your chin and attacks you with tiny little pecks all over your face. “Stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

(Chan chuckles to himself and thinks that he’s quite happy to be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, really. He can stay that way, as long as you promise never to stop.)

thank you so much for reading. i hope you enjoyed it - likes, feedback, comments, reblogs are all so appreciated.<3

#dino smut #lee chan smut #dino x reader #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt x reader #kpop smut #j writes.#*#this description is ass we're gonna pretend it isnt. ok THANKS bye <3

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mishellii · 17 days

Text

♢ᴘᴇᴛ ɴᴀᴍᴇꜱ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ♢

naruto, sasuke, shikamaru, kiba, shino, neji, iruka & kakashi

a/n: sooo,, i SHOUld be working on my uni essays and on the bf!neji texts BUT this had been sitting in my notes app for a while so i decided to post it ;D (the neji texts will come soon i promise). some are longer, some are shorter for which i apologise,,,,,, please ignore typos, i can't spell & enjoy MWUAH

likes & reblogs appreciated <3

warnings: some NSFW parts! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! :) also not proofread as usual

masterlist

♢ɴᴀʀᴜᴛᴏ ᴜᴢᴜᴍᴀᴋɪ♢

✿oh my baby boy

❀first off: angel. 100%.

✿because u are his angel u feel me

❀he can't go a day without telling u

✿then also just the basic baby

❀but mostly when he wants something from u or he's apologising for dumb stuff he's done

✿puppy eyes and all

❀and also during sexy time

✿it's his most used name for u there

✿fight me on this

❀big on his own self made nicknames for u

✿for instance: u fell down the stairs once?

❀"hey, stairs, how you doin'"

✿and just silly ones like: boo, pookie, apple of my eye

❀he's weird like that c'mon we been knew

♢ꜱᴀꜱᴜᴋᴇ ᴜᴄʜɪʜᴀ♢

✿now this guy is a wild card

❀he'd prefer ur name through & through

✿but he'd slip in a casual babe sometimes which makes ur knees weak obviously

❀because he barely ever calls u that

✿if ur married he'd only call you his wife

❀doesn't even let you answer questions on your own sometimes just so he can hit them with

❀"well, MY WIFE, thinks you suck ass, so.."

✿during sex he can be quiet mean

❀I DONT THINK in the derogatory way but more in a teasing way

✿"c'mon, sweetheart, look at me."

❀when ur just about to black out??

✿but like i said

❀not big on pet names but he'll use them more often if he knows u enjoy it <3

♢ꜱʜɪᴋᴀᴍᴀʀᴜ ɴᴀʀᴀ♢

✿pretty

❀just pretty bro.

✿not ALL THE TIME, especially not in public as i don't think he's big on PDA

❀but in the comfort of ur own 4 walls? definitely

✿now don't HATE ME for this but,,,

❀woman. and brat.

✿but only in petty situations, like when ur scolding his lazy ass and he hits u with a "go easy on me, woman, i just woke up."

❀or u've been going on his nerves while he's working

✿,,i'm busy, brat.''

❀in bed tho???

✿love or doll

❀i'm almost CERTAIN.

✿like,, can u imagine?? in his dumb fucking charming voice ???

❀PFFF i'm on my knees

♢ᴋɪʙᴀ ɪɴᴜᴢᴜᴋᴀ♢

✿now this fucker

❀teasing names through & through

✿ur shorter than him?

❀"hey, shortie, need help?"

✿ur taller than him?

❀"hey, giant, how's the weather up there?"

✿he's a DICK ok (affectionately ofc)

❀but he can be sweet too i promise

✿he's having fun with calling u bunny during sex or simply baby

❀also ???? "okay, boss." when he's been annoying u all day and u finally snap at him?

✿he's a menace with nicknames i'm telling u

♢ꜱʜɪɴᴏ ᴀʙᴜʀᴀᴍᴇ♢

✿you probably guessed it and bully me if you'd like but,,,

❀bug or lovebug

✿come oooon he loves his bugs AND he loves you?? it fits PERFECTLY

❀not one to do it infront of other people either but in your private space he just wouldn't stop calling you one of these

✿i also see him using the regular honey but the abbreviation so hun because it's short and sweet and he doesn't like those long ass names

❀apologies if ur name is long LMAO mine is too tho

✿takes the hun into the bedroom but prefers a gentle love while having sex

❀shino's not a sweet talker in my mind, but the pet names make up for it FOSHOU

✿ALSO big brain idea i just had:

❀i think shino can't fully express his emotions verbally so before going on missions he definitely writes u letters and that's where he's blooming

✿''u keep me going everyday, sunshine.''

❀and it doesn't even matter if you have a bubbly personality or not

✿UGH lovesick fr

♢ɴᴇᴊɪ ʜʏᴜɢᴀ♢

❀this pretty princess doesn't even know ur name when ur alone with him

✿ESPECIALLY when ur texting

❀sweetheart, love & darling

✿he'd make u fall in love over again whenever he calls u one of those i'm just saying

❀because he's always so sincere when he's talking to u it drives me crazy just thinking about it

✿during sexy time too, he would NEVER

❀& i will die on this hill

✿NEVER use any degrading names for u

❀ur his baby don't make him do that

✿even when ur fighting, he'd always address u in such a kind way i'm actually going insane

❀"have you had dinner yet, dear?"

✿ sedate me pls

♢ɪʀᴜᴋᴀ ᴜᴍɪɴᴏ♢

✿AAA this guy

❀soo,, like father like son,,, angel

✿u can't change my mind

❀being the kind hearted person he is, it just fits u can't tell me off

✿but i will also say he'd use some funny ones in private because we all know he's just a silly lil guy deep inside

❀i'm thinking toots & peach

✿especially when greeting u !! like ''ey, toots, how's it going?''

❀during sex he will be quiet awkward at the start of ur relationship, settling in angel as he's most familiar with it at first

✿but after some time he'd pull a babydoll or gorgeous on u

❀i mean,,, i'd cry but idk about y'all

✿oVERALL he loves using pet names and wouldn't be opossed to u calling him some sweet ones as well <3

❀call him handsome and he'll go through the roof

♢ᴋᴀᴋᴀꜱʜɪ ʜᴀᴛᴀᴋᴇ♢

✿AHEM

❀so this man,,

✿at the start of ur relationship he's such a shy lil bean so he'll only use your first name

❀but once he's been with you long enough he gets so so comfortable

✿starts of with the regular baby because u are his baby aight.

❀his most frequently used one too i'd say

✿but then he'd go like

❀"hey, beautiful." "y'alright, sweetheart?"

✿and idk about u but i'd faint

❀HE KNOWS ABOUT HIS AFFECT ON U TOO

✿uses it against u during sex SO OFTEN

❀grunting a "there y'go, darling." into your ear with a sly smirk on his lips

✿i'm (s)creaming

❀but he's a very private person so don't expect too much of that in public !!

✿a side from a "yes, ma'am" when u tell him not to die on a mission <3

a/n: i hope this doesn't SUCK ahemm,,, and i'll see you beans next time bye bye x

devider by @enchanthings

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jazzsonly · 6 months

Text

౨ৎ blurb. ౨ৎ

ɢʀᴇᴇɴ ᴇʏᴇꜱ.

pairing(s): tara carpenter x fem!reader

warning(s): reader is an asshole highkey. not proofread (typos.) no part two cuz it’s an old ass blurb(sorry girlies.)

summary: denial is it’s own heartbreak.

────────✯────────

tara never really understood where you guys stood as in terms of your relationship. you definitely weren’t just friends but you weren’t more than that. and to be honest if she had it her way, she would already have the titles of your girlfriend.

but she knew you would never go for that, she could tell by the way you were gone by morning after your night of fun, the way you dodge her parties for other girls, or how you sometimes refuse to kiss her during sex.

and it’s all something she couldn’t understand because you were the one who started all this intimacy; back when your invite her to late night car rides, lay your head on her shoulder during movie night, or by the way you defended her from frankie—even admitting to jealousy then kissing her.

nonetheless, none of your coldness stop the warmness in tara’s heart for you.

even right now, at this party, as she watched you lean into a girl who you were whispering to and laughing with she still had a glint in her eyes for you.

she watched you point to the girl’s red cup who laughed before lifting it to your lips for you to taste.

“tara,” mindy came into view. “stop doing this yourself.”

“doing what? i’m gonna get a drink.” tara turns her heels towards the kitchen in attempts to avoid the girl, who followed closely behind her.

“y/n’s my friend and all but she’s an asshole, there’s no denying it. all she has done and will continue to do is hurt you.”

tara grabs a beer from the cooler, “mindy…it’s more complicated than that.”

“how so? because watching her flirt with another girl in front of you seems like a pretty clear message to me, tara.”

tara clenched her jaw, she hated that mindy was right. no matter how much she tried to avoid these thoughts—this image of you, she couldn’t. the truth stalked her and her friends made sure of it.

but what could she do? it was too late. she loved you and that was another truth to stalk her.

“what are we talking about?” you appear behind mindy, with the same girl wrapped around your arm.

“nothing.” mindy uttered in dismay, grabbing her own beer.

“tara?” you question the girl who just glared at your arm candy.

she’s not even that pretty. the carpenter thought.

“we were just thinking about heading home is all…partys kinda lame.”

“we should head home,” the nameless girl spoke up.

“i—” you cut yourself still staring at tara.

“come on, tara. you shouldn’t be around this.” mindy draggs the girl away from your view.

you were such a dumbass and you knew it.

“uhm, hello?”

you grunt, pulling your arm away from the girl.

“can’t. sorry.” you mumble, going after tara and mindy who didn’t get far.

“tara wait up!” her doe eyes whipped around to you, and mindy’s glared ones.

“i can take you home, if you’d like.” you give a tight lipped smile.

before tara could even give her dumb answer, mindy interjects.

“she can’t tonight, y/n. go back to your girl toy.”

you scrunch your face up. acting so clueless to why.

“yeah. you’re right, i should probably find her.” you bite, not even caring to notice tara’s frown.

━━━👩🏽‍💻

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wolfchankki · 28 days

Note

Hii I saw you said you asking for requests 👉👈 if you don’t mind could you do a needy sub!Yeonjun fic with petplay and dumbification/degrading involved :3 or same scenario just with bratty sub!Gyu, whichever you would prefer!

Hi sweet thing, hyd? This time I choose bratty Gyu because even knowing my writing is horrendous, I have a thing for bratty Gyu lol. For this one, I included a bit of aftercare, something that is really important for mental and physical care of both parts, hope you don’t mind it.

Hope you like it, angel! (but sorry for any error, I made this listening to my Everglow playlist so-)

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Bratty pet!Beomgyu x GN!Master/Tamer reader

pet play (bear gyu, don’t ask), use of “it” instead of “he/him” sometimes, dumbification with bits of degradation, cursing, fingering, aftercare, kinda fluff at the very end

Some typos are on purpose to represent Gyu’s state in the moment

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Animal Impulses”

“You’re so stupid it hurts” you groan in annoyance each time your slightly curled fingers abused the pet’s already sore and loose hole. The brown bear tail plug did its damage earlier.

Obviously, the dumb thing couldn’t shut his mouth to save his life.

“You fu-fucking bitch- oh! Fucking he-hell!” it says, trying to crawl away from your tight grip on its hips, inevitably pressuring its cock with your forearm under the pet. Of course, you press harder. Who this thing thinks it is?

“Shut you damn mouth before you really get me pissed, little bear” cooed you with a smirk, even knowing your pet couldn’t see you.

On all fours, Beomgyu, the said pet, keens and whines every time you miss its spot purposely, poor thing really considers it torture.

Earlier that day, Beomgyu pushed every limits you could imagine, but the breaking point was when he made you trip on his foot, falling on all fours. You didn’t even mind, you two do it all the time, but he caught you when he said in front of all your friend that “that’s the position I fuck them every night”. Oh boy, he went too far.

“Isn’t that the way you told them you fuck me, Beomgyu? Isn’t it? But who’s getting fucked out of senses right now, uh? Who’s the only bitch here?”

“You-you!” it managed to answer under heavy breaths and cries, making you laugh.

“Am I? Let’s see.”

Pushing its head on the mattress, of course taking care to not take off the fluffy bear ears from the hair, you made your poor pet loose balance on its front paws. It buried its face and chest in a pillow, arms falling weak over his head, ass in the air with your fingers still curled inside. Stuffing him further, Beomgyu shrieks when you finally slammed against the bundle of nerves inside him.

Well, the two of you probably will receive stares from the neighbors; who cares?

“Please, please, ple-ase!” he said between sobs, his limp body rocking back and forth with the amount of strength you’re using to bury three of yours fingers deeper inside of him.

“Please what, stupid hoe?” you know very well that he wants to cum, yet, take advantage of his state is very pleasurable since he just says “please” when hes finally breaking, finally submitting, finally desperate.

As expected, the boy just keens, trying to rock his hips against your hand, way too weak and lost in his own moans and whines.

“Uh? Too stupid to speak properly to your master, Beomgyu? You’re just a dumb hoe, aren’t you? Thought I’ve heard you say earlier that I was the bitch here…” said with a fake pout, you pretend to really thinks about it.

Mouth hanging open, drooling against the pillow, Beomgyu tries to say something, but he could only moan. Taking pity on him, you slow down just a little bit, letting the pet breath heavily, gasping.

“No… No bitch, you not ‘itch, mas’er”

“I’m not? So, who’s then?” slamming hard against him again, his desperate sobs and crying were music to your ears.

“Me! Me, me, me! Gyu is a-ah! Gyu is a bitch!” that finally managed to make you smile.

“You can cum now, little bear, you did good.”

Feeling his walls spasming and twitching and squeezing your fingers, there was no need to even see his dick to know that he came the moment you allowed with a loud cry, all his body spasming against the sheets.

Stopping when the pet nearly screamed in overstimulation, you took your fingers out slowly, whine after whine, Beomgyu only could say muffled and broken “sorry”.

“It’s okay, love, you did well. My pretty boy…”

Brushing his hair with your clean fingers, after you take off the fluffy ears, you start to put his mind back into place, letting him know that everything is okay, that he’s a good boy.

“You’re no whore, no slut, you´re just my pretty boy, that I love so, so much.”

Kissing his forehead ever so tenderly, you noticed that he’s still not really focusing on something, his thoughts hanging on cloud nine.

Cautiously, you helped him to stand out of the bed, gripping on his waist so he doesn’t fall on the ground, you bring him to the bathroom, running a warm bath for him.

Already in the bathtub, you let him alone for just a minute to change all the mattress of your bed. When done, you were welcomed back in the bathroom with a teary eyed Beomgyu, looking up at you.

“ ‘m sorry for making you trip and… And for say what I’ve said, and for calling you a bitch…”

The guilt in his voice crashed your heart a bit, but now, you smile.

“You’re forgiven, my boy. Thank you for recognizing what you did wrong, and for apologizing. I love you, little bear.”

Helping him to wash his hair, you remembered him that he was really forgiven, that he was good.

The night proceeded with the two of you cuddled on the bed, just covered with a blanket, no clothes. Just skin to skin contact, the way he likes.

Okay, you almost couldn’t breathe with Beomgyu body all above yours, but you could survive the bear like hug this night.

#txt #sub!txt #sub!idol #sub!beomgyu #dom!reader #gn reader #gn!reader #txt imagines #txt smut #txt drabbles #beomgyu x reader #request #fanfic #beomgyu imagines

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lacyscabinet · 2 months

Text

Willow Waly

A/N: okay so I'm not dead (to the people who asked me that in my inbox, I see you) 🙌🏻🤗 but I have no inspiration to write requests, I'm in deep emotional despair and I don't want this blog to slowly die soooooo enjoy this nat x ghost reader fic 🤍 the song I quote in the fic is "Willow Waly" if you don't know the song then you probably haven't seen the hunting of Bly manor (would recommend!!)👀👀👀 written in about 15 minutes while I was bawling my eyes out 🎀

Summary: reader is a ghost that hunts an old mansion in Wiskayok and Nat is dumb enough to break in and face her destiny :) also special thank you to Shauna for being an amazing narrative expedient :))))) (people with cars are cool @pinkmoonzzz)

Special thanks to @jollyreginaldrancher my favorite typo spotter 🤍🤍🤍

WARNINGS: death!, reader is dead, Natalie dies.

Enjoy 🤍🤍

"Isn't it violation of..."

"Shauna" Natalie said with a stone cold gaze, fiddling with the straps of her backpack while sitting in Shauna's passenger seat "That house is empty from like...a decade"

Parking her car at the side of the road, Shauna's head tilted and looked directly at Natalie "Yeah because of that story old people tell kids to scare them away" she chuckled "Scary ghosts"

Natalie's brows furrowed, she didn't know what Shauna was talking about at all "What?" she asked in confusion, causing Shauna to let out a big sigh "Guess I'll have to tell you the whole story then" she spoke with a fake mysterious tone, causing Nat to roll her eyes.

"A family moved there in the 70s, mother, father and daughter, I'm talking about rich ass people that ended up gambling all their money way, and, one night, the daughter was killed, they found out the parents did it, apparently she was dating someone and her parents didn't approve their relationship" she took a deep breath. "The legend says that the girl's ghost is still there attempting to kill everyone who gets inside the house to find herself a new lover" she finished off with a dramatic voice

"Damn" Nat exclaimed "Wiskayok has lore, who would've imagined" she said giggling before going back to her usual cold stare "I'm not scared, and it's a free place for me to stay, my father was a real asshole today" Natalie said as she opened the door and got up from her seat, turning on the torchlight and pointing it in the mansion's direction.

"I told you you could stay at my place" Shauna scoffed.

Natalie just shook her head, it didn't matter how much her friend insisted, she couldn't help but feel like her presence would intrude. So she just plastered a small smile on her lips and a wave of hand before closing the door "Thanks for the ride Shauna"

And now that Shauna was driving away, she was alone.

Walking towards the ruined wooden door, she could hear the porch cracking under her feet, screeching and almost crumbling under her weight.

Once the door was reached, she opened it with ease, multiple years of sneaking into places led her to mastering her bobby pin tecniques.

And the second the door was halfway open, she immediately realized that she was wrong, the house wasn't empty at all, several pieces of furniture and decorations still adorned the inside, covered in dust and cobwebs, carrying signs of the time passing while everything remained still and frozen in time, untouched.

That's when the unsettling feeling kicked in.

Taking a last look outside, she started to think that maybe it wasn't a good idea, but what was left for her outside? a bridge? a street? the trailer?

The allegedly haunted house seemed more welcoming than any of the above.

So she closed the door behind her.

Deciding to explore the remains of the house, she felt like she was transported back in time, the calendar dated back to 1975, and after entering the huge kitchen, she didn't fail to notice the old toaster and other visibly dated furniture.

Until her eyes landed on something. Something she wished she never saw.

"Holy shit" she whispered, looking at the knife holder, noticing one single big kitchen knife missing.

It sent chills down her spine, especially after what Shauna told her, so she backed up and decided to go upstairs and find a place to get some rest, trying to ignore it, it's not real anyways, or at least that's what her mind kept telling her.

Turning around, she noticed a big fancy wooden staircase that headed upstairs, old and dirty blue carpet guiding her way up as she cautiously walked up the stairs, noticing the little intricate details.

And then.

Blood.

Big stains of blood caught her attention as she reached the second floor, her breathing grew heavier as she thought about whatever it could be, some animal hunting a prey and leving traces behind?...in Natalie's mind it made sense. After all it was just a legend. Right?

But as her eyes shifted she started noticing that the blood trailed from the top of the stairs to a closed rusty door.

She was already inside the house, curiosity taking over, the urge to explore was too much, she didn't believe in ghosts anyways, but the thought of exploring a crime scene was thrilling enough to convince her to go further.

So she took a couple of steps foreward and opened the door. Instantly regretting it, eyes meeting an unmade and messy bed on the wall right opposite to her, her eyes immediately landing on the sheets, they were almost completely covered in blood.

Natalie gasped in horror, torch falling on the ground and her trembling hands reaching up to cover her mouth, wide eyes darting away from to obscene sight and a grimaced expression written all over her face.

And then she heard it, a soft mumble, a hum, a weak broken whisper echoing both in the room and in her terrified mind, it took her a while to realize that it came from upstairs.

The attic

She didn't understand why, almost as her feet started moving on their own, she found herself climbing up the tiny ladder at the end of the corridor, pushing open the small door on the ceiling and finally reaching the attic.

Now she could hear it vividly, someone was singing, but even there, she couldn't see who it was, some old boxes blocking her view.

" We lay my love and I beneath the weeping willow, but now alone I lie and weep beside the tree..."

The stranger's voice trembling and on the verge of tears, almost sobbing.

"Singing oh willow waly by the tree that weeps with me, singing oh willow waly till my lover return to me..."

Nat's hands trembled, curiosity replaced by fear and fear replaced by terror in a matter of seconds.

"We lay my love and I beneath the weeping willow, a broken heart I have, oh willow I die, oh willow I die"

The stranger kept singing. Louder.

Taking a deep breath Natalie quickly got back to the second floor, not even hesitating for a second and immediately sprinting out and running for the door, the creature's chants echoed throughout the whole house, making Nat's head spin as panic filled her whole body, almost making her legs give out as she ran down the stairs.

"Singing oh willow waly by the tree that weeps with me, singing oh willow waly till my lover return to me..."

Finally she could see the door, finally grasping onto some hope, but of course it didn't last long. Because as soon as she tried to open it just like she perviously did to get in, she relized that it wouldn't budge. It was locked.

Curses left her mouth as she kicked and threw fists at the door, her only result a bruise on her knuckles.

Tears of frustration streaming down her face as she started to feel a presence getting closer and closer to her, hunting her down and refusing to let her go.

Then, all of a sudden all the rage, the panic, the desperation and the misery she felt were replaced by a feeling of extreme emptiness and coldness, she felt lighter as if her body was slowly detaching from her soul, even though she swore she didn't take acids that night.

And then she heard it. Closer then before.

"We lay my love and I beneath the weeping willow, a broken heart I have, oh willow I die, oh willow I die."

#natalie scatorccio #yellowjackets #nat scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x reader #yellowjackets x reader #nat scatorccio x reader #yellowjackets x you #natalie scatorccio x y/n #nat scatorccio x

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ponyosfrogg · 10 months

Text

INBETWEEN (PT 3)

Summary: You wake up, completely under the effect of your dream about comic characters, just to find out a new character has been added to DCU? Or has she always been there?

Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader

Author's Note: Gosh, sorry for taking some time. This chapter was a pain in the ass, all i wanted was to write about sweet moments but god 😶‍🌫️ sorry about the typos, I'll fix them as soon as i can i promise, hope you like it my loves! thank you so much for the support! 💗

Warning: Some of the themes and contents written in this fic might be upsetting for some of the readers, read at your own risk. Some parts have strong language.

As you woke up with a throbbing pain in your head, you couldn't help but wonder if this would be a issue every time you tried to wake up normally. Frustrated, you cautiously opened your eyes, preparing for the brightness. The light made everything appear blurry, so you tried shading your eyes with your hands, but it didn't help much. Suddenly, a silhouette rushed towards you.

"You got me so worried! I can't believe you didn't took your medicine's today! I'm so angry at you" A slap out of worry hit your arm and made you more awake and more aware of your surroundings. You were in your house, with your best friend beside your bed. She must've taken you to your bed since the last thing you can recall was washing some dishes. The slippery and weird feeling in your hand was just proof. "And so glad that you're okay." Amber hugged your laying body with compassionate behavior.

You reposition yourself on the bed and lay your back on the bedstand now facing your best friend who was sitting next to you on your bed. You were in your room. Your real room.

"Are you okay? You're very quiet." With her voice you tried to collect your thoughts in one place. So you had a dream about comic characters? God, you must've been going through some shit because you rarely even dream. Maybe you were in need to feel some family support? Or you just read a lot of them last night.

"Yeah, I'm okay no worries. I just had the weirdest dream ever. I'm sorry about worrying you I'll be more careful about my medicine." but you were so sure that you took all of them today. Why would your heart react in such a way. You found yourself questioning yourself once again, falling into a familiar pattern of self-doubt and second-guessing.

"Oh I can't wait to hear about it but first i have to tell you something." She must've done something she thought was necessary but not necessarily the best idea. "I called Nate." Yes, just as you guessed. Amber must've seen the shift in your reaction and started to get panicky. "Don't blame me! I got so worried and waited for one hour but you didn't wake up so i had to call him, i didn't know what to do. he said he's on his way to come here now. Could be here any moment now." She got up from the bed and started to walk around the room in a panicking way.

But you weren't focusing on her anymore, just hearing Nate's name made your heart flutter a little bit. He was your ex. You had been inseparable from your childhood and at some point it turned into a beautiful relationship. Nate was an ambitious student who wanted to have nothing more than a wife and a job. You on the other hand, you like the possibilities life could offer you. You never had something on your mind you were just going around wherever life takes you. Spontaneous trips to places you'd like to visit, working freelance and getting paid whenever you're in need of some money, reading books and comics whenever you're free. You were a kind of woman who would post something dumb on an afternoon during weekdays which would make all of your working friends question your sanity. So it's safe to say that you guys were completely opposites.

And whoever said opposites attract, they were wrong as fuck. You needed someone to think like you. It was hard to maintain the relationship when both of your needs were completely opposite, beside your characters. You guys broke up two months ago or something like that. you weren't keeping the count.

Although it was hard to not to think about him, you always thought you made the right decision about him. You wouldn't want to keep him from living his life, and you wouldn't want him to keep you from living your life either. It was the right decision. But why were you feeling nauseous right now?

"It's okay, we were going to see each other at some point anyway." You tried to smile in a relaxing way and you must have been successful since she gave you another big hug. She was one of the kindest soul you had a chance to meet on this earth. She had beautiful ginger curly hair with a lot of freckles on her face. She had this beautiful smile that made your day better whenever you saw her. She was just the most adorable person you could ever hope for and you were glad she was your friend, your best friend to be exact.

"Okay, I'll leave you alone and give you some privacy for you to change your clothes." You rolled your eyes at her words. Yeah, you took back whatever you said about her, she was devious. "I'm not going to all doll-up for Nate, Amber." She giggled at the annoyance at your voice while she was leaving the room.

You looked around your room. How could something feel so familiar yet so strange. You felt an unexplainable feeling on your chest. It wasn't about your heart, something was different. Maybe the dream affected you more than you could admit.

As you gazed around, your attention was suddenly drawn to the batfamily poster hanging on the wall behind your desk. It was an old favorite, something you had put up about three years ago. It included all of the batfamily members. Yet, this time, there was something different about it, or rather, someone.

You rushed to get a closer look, your eyes widening in surprise. Among the familiar faces of Bruce, Jason, Dick, and Damian, there was a new addition—a girl standing beside Damian. Who was she? And why the fuck she looked like you.

"Amber?" You yelled from your room, hoping her to hear. Her voice echoed back a response, and you called out again, "What did you do to my poster?"

You heard her quick footsteps and then Amber entered your room, her expression showing annoyance at being summoned. She glanced at the poster you were holding in your hand. "It looks perfectly normal to me. I didn't touch it."

You rolled your eyes, feeling annoyed more and a bit frustrated. "I mean, who's the new character next to Damian?"

Amber looked at you as if you had said the most absurd thing you could ever say. "Are you serious right now? Is this supposed to be some kind of joke? Listen, i need to go out. I know that you're kind of excited and anxious to meet Nate and you don't want to be alone but i have to go." You turned around and saw she already dressed up. You were speechless.

"Wait, what? Are you going out? Are you going to leave me alone with Nate and excuse me but what the fuck is happening right now! Who is this girl."

She didn't say anything and left the room, leaving you without any further explanation.

You reached over your laptop and opened it. Yes, something weird was going on and you were determined to find it and what would be a better way than google. You pull your soft, white chair and sit on it while you are waiting for your laptop to be open. When it got open, you typed the batfamily and searched for it.

After like three minutes, you saw the name Viperia, even though you read a lot of comics and familiar with almost every character at that point you've never heard of her so you typed 'Viperia' on a different tab. To your surprise, there were numerous posts and messages about this character. She appeared at the same time as Damian in comics. She was snarky, cocky and definitely a pain in the ass but somehow she literally had her own fan-base. You saw a lot of websites made in the honor of her, a lot of fanarts and literally thousands of fan fiction. But how come you've never heard about her and why did she literally look like you.

"Yeah, this must be a fucking dream."

When you heard a knock from the door, you remembered you were expecting Nate. Fuck, you already have forgotten about him coming. You pulled yourself together and promised to check this after you're done with Nate. Right now you have to focus on him.

You must have been so lost on your research, you didn't realize Amber already left the house. You opened the door and you saw Nate's bright face.

Seeing him make a lot of emotions rushing to you. There was longing in your heart, you were longing for his presence. There was some kind of disappointment. You were disappointed in him, he could've made this thing go further but he didn't. He chose to give up on you and you chose to give up on your relationship.

When you break up with someone, seeing them changing does have an effect on you. You expect them to be the same but you don't realize people tend to change every now and then, especially after going through a painful break-up. You felt sad but you felt you didn't have any right to be sad, after you were the who cut the cords of that relationship. You chose your path to leave him. It was painful for you but you knew that if you didn't, it would be more painful in the future. But somehow right that moment you were looking at a completely different guy. He had a bright smile on his face just like he always does but somehow it was different, it was full of confidence. His eyes were shining like two little stars. He was radiating some kind of sunshine energy that you became addicted once. And seeing him make all of these things rush through your mind.

He had a white shirt on him, which made him look very... professional? But in a pretty way. His partly long hair was slicked back nicely. You can see his newly grow beard that he probably is going to shave tomorrow morning. Even though he looked almost the same as two months ago you realized he changed, he's much better now. He's better off without you or maybe you were just that lonely who was considering going back to her ex just because you hated being alone or a narcissist who thinks everyone is in love with her.

"Hello." His stern voice made you startled since you were, once again, wandering on your mind. "Hello, how rude I am. Come in." you stepped backwards for him to enter the house. He was looking around when you closed the wooden door and turned at him.

"You guys made some changes on this apartment huh? It looks prettier." You smile at the compliment. Always too nice.

"Yes, it was time to get rid of some old stuff." Then you realized this was not an appropriate sentence to say since it's only been two months after the break up.

You cleaned your throat and talked again: "Take a seat I'll prepare us some coffee." When you were rushing to the kitchen, you heard his footsteps right behind you. "You never really learn do you? I'm literally here for your heart and you are offering me coffee? Way to go." You laughed at his point.

It was nice to be around him. He had such a charm that could make you feel comfortable all the time. There wasn't any awkward silence around him. It was always joyful, happy and full of smiles. He was like a home for you once. Now he was just a stranger you perfectly know.

"Well, old habits die hard." At that point you literally wanted to punch yourself on your face. There were millions of words in English and somehow you always chose the one that made you sound like a heartless person.

When you were preparing the coffee he sat on a chair beside the window. It was raining again. There was no lightning or storm but just plain rain. It was the fourth day today and the weird thing is, it was middle of the fucking summer, July to be exact.

"So, your heart?" When you put on his mug, (which was adorable by the way. It was dark red with little white hearts on it.) on the little coffee table in front of him. You sat right in front of him. "Yes, I think Amber is overreacting. I'm perfectly fine." He looked at you with his brown eyes, completely scanning your body. It's like, he was trying to find evidence of you being okay. But in reality he was actually thinking about how much he missed you. He missed being around you, your presence, your voice, your scent and everything about you. He missed hearing your stupid theories about comics, he missed talking about ordinary stuff under the stars on a hill that he would take you every saturday, he missed you making him laugh so hard that he would cry, he missed you. Simply you, being you.

"Still, i think you should come to the hospital and let me examine you over there since I didn't bring a lot of stuff." You nod, perfectly aware of the fact that you simply wouldn't do something like that. You knew something was different. You experienced a lot of seizures like that and it was different and since you already took your medicine, you wouldn't bother to go again. If there's something, that would mean more medicine. But you were sure that was not the case.

Your mind went to Damian's sister again. How could this be possible. She looked exactly like you and you were wondering how she can appear on your poster. It was there for three years now and you would've noticed at some point right? Viperia... Even the name sounds so made up, you still were trying to convince yourself that you actually imagined that person. But then again, Amber said she's been there for some time. Maybe she also hallucinated.

You tried to pull your attention back on the guy sitting in front of you. Viperia was the future you problem, right now you had Nate in front of you.

"You look tired." When he stated the obvious fact you simply smiled. "Yes, it's been a long day." More like two days in one. "And I'm kind of anxious maybe that's why."

He directly looked into your eyes with such a compassionate look. If he could make your pain go away, he would in a heartbeat. It was so weird to part your ways even though you love that person. But growing up meant realizing it's important have someone who has the same mindset as you and about that, you guys were not the best. 'Love can start something but it wouldn't make something keep going.' Your mother used to say this sentence a lot whenever she and your dad argued.

He reached over your hand that was on uour your lap. When he touched you, you could feel the vibrations going around your body. It was dumb to think that you were over him but when it's you, you can never be sure and you knew that all to well.

"You know that I'm here right? It doesn't matter what time is it, if you call, I'll come." He said almost whispering. His hand traces its way through your face. Cupping one of your cheeks. No, that wasn't good. You could feel that every cell of yours longing for him but that wasn't a good idea.

"I think you should go."

He looked at you for five seconds with a disappointed look on his face. He could tell that you were uncomfortable and he didn't want to keep doing whatever he was doing. Then he take his hand off your face and stood up. "Yes, I think I should go. Thank you for the coffee. I think tomorrow morning you should visit the hospital just in case." You nodded and said 'thank you' while he was taking his stuff and going to door.

"Goodnight." He was the one who smiled as an answer this time.

As soon as you closed the door, you released the breath you didn't even you were holding until that point.

You went into your room after sitting back of the door for some time, collecting your thoughts about Nate. You needed something to take your mind off from Nate and you decided to keep researching about Viperia.

Two hours later, your mind was almost going to explode from all the information you found about her.

She was the sixth child of Batman, not a sister but twin of Damian. Raised by Bruce but also Talia too. Her name was the same as yours but she was using Viperia as an alias, which was a venomous snake. She was skilled at martial arts and she was a great assassin, maybe even better than Damian. She was quite popular with her rage and snarky comments just like Damian. She was getting along with almost every family member except Tim and you didn't find anything relating to that topic. On some fandom base sites, there were a lot of theories about them dating secretly 'why else they wouldn't even once mention about her relationship with Tim' they wrote. 'Tim never even refers to her as his sister.' You searched so deep that you even had came across a smut writing between her and Alfred which made you a little bit of uncomfortable and also scared.

You started to think how could you miss this character or did she literally appear out to nowhere in three hours?

The creator was releasing new chapters on that comic series in every two weeks. 'Batman's Daughter' was the title. It was covering the whole background starting from the birth which was crazy but useful also, since you learned that Talia literally put her in Lazarus Pit whenever she had some kind of blade cuts on the age of fucking three. No wonder that girl was total nuts but of course fun to read.

When you were doing your research your laptop's notification sound made you startled. Maybe you didn't have any resemblance with her since she could literally murder without even flinching and you were, well, getting startled from a notification sound.

It was an e-mail.

You took your laptop and stood up from the chair you've been sitting for some time now. Since you also started to get sleepy it was a good idea to going to your bed and read your mail over there.

You sat on your soft green colored sheets and opened your mail, you didn't know the person who sent you the mail. There was literally no name or anything. Just an attachment and a word on the subject part which was 'read :)'

You clicked on the attachment, even though you knew you shouldn't since it was a mail from someone unknown and you might even download a fucking virus on your laptop but however something inside of you was couraging you to open it.

It was a comic on a pdf format but it was more like a work in progress. Some parts were still empty.

The Doom of Batfamily?

That was enough for your curiosity to take over, so you started reading.

It was starting with Bruce talking with his family about some unusual murders on the city. He was suspecting someone from the League of Assassins since the murder weapon was a sword. But turns out it was Viperia who is getting more and more insane everyday because of the Lazarus pit. But it didn't even stop there, she was getting involved with some villains to trap her family one by one and killing them all, she was thinking they were on her way.

You were horrified. It was very graphical and the sketches literally showed everything explicitly. In the end, she was literally standing on all of their dead bodies, laughing histerically.

You close the laptop immediately and closed your eyes, trying once again to collect your thoughts. Everything seemed so messy right now and you didn't know what to do. Why Viperia appeared out of nowhere, Who was the sender of the mail, why is she killing all of her family, what the fuck is going on.

"Fuck, no."

Without resisting more, you give yourself in the sweet arms of sleep. You could try to solve that problem tomorrow, you needed some sleep now.

After like two minutes of sleeping you opened your eyes involuntarily since, well, you only closed them for two minutes.

"It took you long enough."

With this voice, you got scared again.

"I didn't know you like sleeping this much it's literally noon time now, wake up so we can go to my favorite cafe to have some breakfast and then feed the ducks."

You watched him in horror.

"Hey, haven't you missed your beloved brother?"

"Damian?"

#batfamily #batfamily fic #batman #bruce wayne #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #fan fiction #dick grayson x y/n #inbetween #jason todd x reader #jason todd #bart allen #barry allen #wonder woman #aquaman #alfred pennyworth #the flash

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b-ritney · 1 year

Text

Star-Shaped Night Light

Dumb-ass single dad mechanic Eddie x fem! reader ANGST

Warnings: Trials of single parenthood, talks of Eddie's past with his parents nothing violent, Eddie being dumb, cussing...

Pre-reading: This idea came to me after reading a few other single dad stories, I will try to find them and add them to a tag list here but I was definitely inspired by other writers... that being said all my ideas are original and I made sure I didn't come to close to anyone else's work bc that's stealing duh but yes this story was inspired through other very talented writers.

Story Summary: Eddie's childhood friend stuck by his side through thick and thin. How does he choose to repay her? He pushes her away.

2.4k words

I tried to proofread there are prob still typos

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The thud of his heavy boots clunked at a sleepy cadence as he trudged up the steps for the evening. Just as he does every day, he spent his entire car ride home contemplating what he did to deserve the girl sitting at home with his child that isn't hers.

The gentle, caring girl who put her life on hold to help his sorry ass raise a child...that's not hers...yet she loves that baby as if she grew it in her own belly.

He opened the door quietly and shut the door even quieter predicting correctly his daughter was asleep. As he stood there with his back to the door, turning his wrist until the deadbolt latched he caught a whiff of her perfume from her jacket hanging on the wall next to him... she's worn the same one since high school, it took him back to the day he met her...it made his chest ache with fondness. It also made him sick... because his love for her was criminally selfish... his biggest regret is that the baby you were rocking in the nursery wasn't yours... which sounds insane...but if he could go back and do it differently he would have listened to you and been careful. He would have waited until he could have seen you through your dreams and achievements and then put a ring on your finger. He would have done it different... he would have done it right... he knows what you would say if you could hear his thoughts...

You'd say something incredible like, "Eddie, there is no right way to do this. Sure there are more sustainable... or historically accepted ways of doing life but you are doing just fine and I'll always be here." Fuck. It made him want to cry. He untied his boots and slipped out of them, and shrugged off his old jacket... he stepped lightly into the kitchen and pushed the straps of his overalls off his shoulders to reveal his mostly clean white t-shirt. He twisted the knob on the sink and let the water run over his fingers until it was warm... a post-it note on the window caught his eye and broke his heart,

*Ed, there's a plate for you in the microwave, I'm in the back rocking Mel. Hope you had a good day. :)*

The water scalded his hand snapping him out of his teary-eyed stare at the little luminescent pink piece of paper stuck to the window, and the fucking ridiculously undeserved thoughtful actions attached to the message that made his stomach twist into knots.

He diligently washed his hands and padded them off with the dish towel. Then quietly made his way to check on you... he passed the open door of the hall bathroom that was illuminated by the little star night light you brought from your house the second time you spent the night at his trailer... that's when he found out that out of all things you were afraid of the dark...and even though you sprinted like a track racer through his home you still let him sleep through the night and comforted his baby when she cried into the early hours of the morning...

He was already just holding on by a thread when he reached the nursery door, but when he heard you singing to the baby that wasn't yours he trembled. He leaned back on the opposite wall and looked down at the space between the floor and the bedroom door, where the most beautiful sound floated into the dimly lit hall, he crossed his arms over his chest as if to block his heart from hearing the sound... to keep himself from loving you more than he already did... and held the knuckles of his left hand to his chapped lips as if to think for the first time in his life before he did something as fucking stupid as he was about to do. He mouthed the words with you... it's the same song you gifted him the day he found out Melody's mother was pregnant... you apparently had been looking for him all afternoon after he went MIA... he was working a graveyard shift and you showed up in your pj's and brought him food just to sit in the garage and keep him company while he took advantage of your kindness and talked your ear off about his problems until 3 o'clock in the morning. You stayed with him until you convinced his stubborn ass to go home and sleep on it; so he could make good decisions about his next steps. Before you walked away you handed him a small rectangular package wrapped in shimmery paper left over from Christmas two months prior. "...Ed..." you sighed trying to think of what to say, "I won't lie to you and say I understand what this is like... but... I'll do what I can to help." you scratched your head and smiled sympathetically, "call me tomorrow so I know you're alright." With that, you handed him the gift and got in your car leaving him rigid in the chill of that early February morning... he slid into the driver seat of the van and tore open the package... a mix tape.. scribbled with blue pen across the label:

Take It Easy :) love, y/n

He swiped a tear from under his tired eyes as you hummed the higher-pitched notes so as to continue soothing his child...

"Well, I'm running down the road trying to loosen my load Got a world of trouble on my mind Lookin' for a lover who won't blow my cover She's so hard to find"

He let out a shuddered breath as he pushed off the wall slowly turning the nob. You were curled up in the corner in Wayne's old rocking chair, cradling Melody in a perfectly wrapped swaddle you had practiced for a week just to help him figure it out. You smiled up at him when he walked in, effectively making him pre-regret everything before it even happened. You whispered for him to help you out of the rocking chair so you could lay the baby in her cradle. He scampered over and tilted the chair forward supporting your back with his free arm as you swayed your hips to keep his kid in a constant state of comfort. "Night Mel, Love you baby girl," you whispered kissing his baby on the head lightly. Eddie followed suit before following you out into the kitchen. You were already warming up his dinner when he caught up to you...

"How was she?" he asked trying like hell to keep down the bile in the back of his throat.

"Perfect as always," you said leaning against the kitchen counter, "How was work?"

He could feel sweat dripping down his neck, "Good, good..." he took a steadying breath and bit the bullet like the reckless idiot he always was... "Listen can we talk?"

"Uh oh," you laughed quietly, he was about to blindside you, and it made him feel shittier than anything he's ever done. He motioned for you to follow him out front with his shoulder he grabbed your jacket and keys from the tray. He slid the jacket up your arms.. the same arms that have been protecting his baby since the moment she was dumped into his care six months ago. Once the door was shut he tried to hide his watery eyes and trembling hands behind a cigarette.

"Eddie? What's going on?" your big emerald eyes bore into his soul.

"I don't want you to take this... the wrong way... because I appreciate everything you've done for me.. more than I'll ever be able to express..." He took a long pause leaving you in more agony than he could fathom.

"Eddie...?" so many questions lingered in the one word... what did I do wrong?, how can I fix it? The answer is a gut-punching nothing absolutely fucking nothing... he's just a coward.

"There's no... non-dick-headed way for me to say this but... I don't think you and Melody need to be around each other anymore." "Eddie...?" What the fuck are you talking about? Please don't take her from me. What did I do? What changed? After everything I've done for you...

"You aren't her mother y/n."

A fat tear rolled down her cheek. Jesus Christ... It dawns on him in this terrible moment that this is the first time he's ever seen her cry... and it's his fault.

"I've loved that child more than her real mom ever did. What is this about?" She clutched at the frayed ends of her old jacket for some sense of comfort. The once pleasant May breeze suddenly felt frigid against her damp cheeks.

"She's gonna think- she's gonna think she's yours... and that we are together... I'm just trying to get ahead of the inevitable, I just don't want to put her through that... this isn't what I want her to remember when she gets older."

He knew he royally fucked up when he manned up enough to look up from the floor. Your face was turning purple from holding back whatever emotions were running through your tired mind.

"You don't want her to remember that despite the way everything looks she has people around her that love her more than anything...?" Your sneakers dug into the gravel at your feet as if to beg the earth for some stability.

"I just- don't want her getting attached."

"Children have nannies Ed.... and fuck you. I've given up over a year of my life to get you through this..." From inside the belly of the trailer, Melody whimpered and whined until she began to wail. You stood frozen in the driveway, Eddie looked right back... he watched the way your muscles fired to go toward the sound, the way your blunt nails dug into your palms with nerves... what really fucked him up is the way you clutched your chest... the same way you were rocking Mel only fifteen minutes before the rug was snatched from beneath your feet.

You patted the empty spot on your chest where his baby has slept many nights, what was once a warm comforting spot now felt hollow. "Fucking look at me you prick... it hurts this bad because you know it's wrong... and I don't think it's Melody you're actually worried about "getting attached"." You sucked in a hurried breath... "I love that little girl Eddie." Your voice tapered off into a whispered high-pitched whine as you tried to hold back your own river of tears. "I've stood by you through everything...and you are telling me you don't want your child to remember someone who loves YOU and HER unconditionally...? Eddie, I've backed you up through a lot of fucked up shit but this has got to be the worst."

"You can't tell me you don't understand where I'm coming from..."

"Oh I do... trust me I do... your mom ran off because of your dad, your dad was a deadbeat...but your uncle took you in because damn him if anything happened to that little curly-headed mess of a boy.... he isn't your dad Eddie and I've never seen a person love as deeply as Wayne... Funny how you forget so quickly that I've known you for so long..."

He was silent... what could he say.. he knew before he opened his mouth this was wrong. Nothing he could piece together in his mind sounded right so he just accepted it, "Let me give you some cash for your trouble."

She huffed dumbfounded, "I don't want your fucking money. I want to be a part of her life I want to be a part of your life... but you're pushing me away because you are scared of me... you're scared of this," she pointed her finger upward and made an irritated circular motion, "you always run when the going gets tough Eddie... but despite how you feel... you're responsible for more than yourself now." She tilted her head toward the sound of his screeching child.

"Pocket the fucking cash and go get Melody."

You got in your car without another word the headlights casting him in an accusatory light for all of the stars above to see... he felt like the heavens were glaring down at him for shutting out the answer to his prayers. He couldn't see you over the shine of the low beams but he could hear a choked sob rip through the steel doors and windows. The last thing you said to him rattled between his ears as he turned and went inside. He dusted off his pants with his calloused hands in a futile attempt to rid himself of the dirty feeling that settled over him like dust. He leaned over the sink and watched as a tear slid down the tip of his nose and rippled in the dishwater of a baby bottle you had used to feed Mel earlier in the evening. As he turned on the water and waited for it to get warm he made the mistake of looking up.

Staring back at him the little pink Post-it sagged in the window, the steam from below causing it to detach and drift dismally down into the water where your sweet message morphed into a convoluted mess of black ink until it faded into nothingness and the paper split apart in the sink... Melody cried the microwave beeped to remind him that a homemade meal was getting cold...

*..it hurts this bad because you know it's wrong*

He carried himself down the hall past the night light in the bathroom and gathered Melody in his arms tucking her into his chest just like you did. He tried to re-tuck her swaddle but it wasn't as uniform as yours... he rocked her and bounced her he tried everything he knew but she still cried... he walked with her out into the hall, where he was once again crushed by a memory that took him out like a rouge wave. As the soft glow from your night light seeped onto the scratchy carpet of the hall he was reminded of the night he came home to you and Mel sleeping up against the door frame... You had tried everything to soothe her just as he had now... yet she still cried... you were exhausted but you sat with her on the floor under the light until she slept... you told him you were waiting for him to get home to move because you didn't want to walk into the dark alone... Another tear stung his raw skin, as he slid down the door frame under the nightlight...cradling his daughter in his undeserving hands. As the reality dawned on him that not only did he make you cry tonight... but he pushed you into the dark alone.

#stranger things #eddie x y/n #eddie stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson angst #angst #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson au #corroded coffin #stranger things au #stranger things 4 #eddie munson st4

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save-the-villainous-cat · 1 year

Note

Hello cat!

Just read your 3k series and wanted to give you a bit of feedback.

End of part two feels a bit hasty, besides the typo in the second to last paragraph (pretty sure you meant villain not hero there). There's a few typos but who cares, this one was just a bit confusing and stopped my reading flow. BUT.

Part four is GREAT OMG the feelzzzz

And don't get me started on the ending it's truly villainous~ and just over the top honestly. I love it. Hard, hurting, realistic. Wanted to let you know you did a great job on the series :)

Personal opinion: I feel like you could have made this a lot longer. There's only a glimpse of the feelings you're trying to express, they came out but they'd really sink in if you'd dwell on it a bit more, write about the stuff a bit more. Although I think that's mb just not your style since you put more weight on dialogue. Like I said it's just a thought it's still great you don't have to change anything in your style.

Something else entirely... I've read some german mostly in your tags sometimes. So I wonder where you're from if you want to tell. Don't have to ofc.

Greetings!

Uhm…okay?

So, when I put my work out here, I obviously have to expect criticism. That’s kinda unavoidable. People will have an opinion about me and my writing.

However, I don’t really know what your intention is. For example, I don’t see the “typo in the second to last paragraph.”

I wrote:

The hero stared at them, eyes narrowed. As if all of this was a trick. But then eventually, they spoke. Followed by a line spoken by the villain.

The hero stared at them. So, they spoke eventually. I get that using nb/nb for both characters is confusing but most of the heroxvillain community is structured like that and nearly all my writing is too. Which makes it weird to me to see this as a mistake on my part…? Like, you could use any line I’ve written on here and tell me I actually meant hero or villain because they both use they/them pronouns.

Also, I didn’t really catch any big typos/mistakes in that snippet. I used a lot of short sentences in this especially because the hero is extremely tired in these scenes and thinking in long ass sentences is just not really possible in such a state of mind (at least not for me lol). So, I guess this could be a reason for why you were confused/not satisfied with the writing flow? It’s structured like all my other snippets and it’s my usual writing style, so that confused me about your ask, too. Of course, I make mistakes as well and I make typos but again…you could say that about every snippet I write, so I wonder why you chose this one specifically?

Additionally, I don’t really see which parts of my snippets are giving “only a glimpse of the feelings [I am] trying to express.” I don’t think my readers are dumb. I think my readers get what I mean when I write “It fried their brain, making it impossible to even think straight. Old panic resurfaced but they put on a tired smirk.”

I think my readers get that old panic means that this character is familiar with panic, whereas putting on a tired smirk is a reaction to it. Which is (as we see throughout the whole story) a thing the hero does a lot. Hiding their pain and distracting themselves with flirting. Readers aren’t dumb. I don’t have to go into every little detail about every tiny thing the characters experience. In fact, part of being a reader is, that you get to imagine these things for yourself. As the writer, I give you a tiny bit of information and as the reader, you get to interpret and shape that however you want.

My readers get what I am trying to express with my characters’ actions and their dialogues. The villain asking the hero if they think they’re a good person has meaning behind it and normally, as a reader, you get stuff like that. I don’t have to describe in a paragraph that the villain doubts themselves and is beginning to value the hero’s opinion on them, no, I let them ask if they think they’re a bad person.

Of course, this series could have been longer. Could’ve been deeper. It could’ve been a whole book. But I am not here to write books for you for free. I am not here to write thousands of words because one anonymous user thinks a blog which posts snippets, should write more and more and more.

So, I believe this is more opinion than actual criticism. I guess? Because, like I said, there’s a reason for the way this snippet is written and if you want to “criticise” me for typos, you’d have to criticise every post I have ever made.

And another thing is, this message is coming from an anonymous user. So, I’m sorry if this offends you but I really don’t care about your opinion that much. I don’t think this message had any criticism in it which improves my writing.

Eventually, your opinion doesn’t have the same weight to me as the opinion of a certain epiclamer or a certain lilyaang or a certain creweemmaeec11 or a certain snowshowerwriting or a certain avvail or a certain thepenultimateword or a certain English teacher of mine.

This is your opinion of the series and this is mine — I don’t see any big mistakes or horrible decisions I’ve made and some anon telling me they didn’t like this or that won’t change that.

And yes, English isn’t my first language. I am German, come from Germany, live in Germany.

#no writing

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streamafterlaughter · 1 year

Text

New Kid

Epilogue

masterlist | playlist

summary: immediately following Eddie’s dumb ass into the Upside Down. AU where the ending doesn’t make me ugly cry in the bad way, maybe a little in the good way.

warnings/tags: descriptions of wounds, blood, violence, hospitals, near death, drama (let me know if i missed anything!) gn!reader x eddie, def some typos sorry

a/n: had to wrap it up a little more, selfishly. it’s quick, but it gives me a sense of closure to include the s4 plot even a little. i’ll have more for y’all very soon. keep an eye out. reblog to support the author!

Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated.

March, 1986

Your POV

“Eddie?! What are you doing?!” Dustin peeks back into the dirty darkness of the Upside Down, where Eddie cranes his neck to look at you, then Dustin.

“I’m buying more time.” It’s not a triumphant scream, he doesn’t claim he’ll return, he doesn’t tell you to wait up. Before you can argue, Eddie slices the sheet rope, and shoves the mattress far away from the exit, leaving you and Dustin with no way to follow your stupid fucking boyfriend.

“EDDIE?!” You shriek, but he’s already out the door. You can’t think straight, your vision blurring with angry tears. When you look at Dustin, his mouth hangs open, eyes wide with fear. “Hey,” you snap him back to the present, and he turns his head to you. “I’m going in. Stay here.”

“Hell no! Eddie’s one of my best friends. So are you, actually. I’m not just gonna wait here and hope you don’t die!”

“Dustin, I don’t have time to argue with you. I'll go down first and move the mattress, okay?” He nods once. You drag a rickety dining chair over from the corner, and climb into the Upside Down. You land on your back, hard, but the adrenaline keeps you moving. You’ll feel everything later, if you live to see it.

True to your word, you drag the mattress to the opening, and shout to Dustin that he’s all set. He jumps from the chair, and pulls himself over the ragged edge of the opening, tumbling to the mattress with a thud. You help him up, and the two of you are sprinting and panting toward the sounds of Eddie’s screaming.

You exit the trailer to find a swarm of the shrieking bat creatures surrounding Eddie, as his trash can lid shield takes hit after hit. You’re running at him before you can even think, a heavy baseball bat in your grip. Before you and Dustin reach him, though, the bats seem to freeze, and instead of devouring Eddie limb from limb, they retreat into the sky.

“EDDIE?!” You and Dustin shriek in unison, running the rest of the way to where Eddie lay, bleeding from several deep, ugly bite marks on his torso, as well as a wound far too close to his throat.

You drop to your knees, and take Eddie’s hand in yours. “Eddie, baby? Can you hear me?”

Eddie coughs and you release the breath you’d been holding. “Hey, sweetheart.”

You laugh despite the situation. “Baby, we gotta go, okay? We have to get out of here.”

“That’s a good idea, you probably should.”

Your brows pull together in confusion at his words. “Yes, but you’re coming with us.”

“I can’t, I can’t move.” His voice breaks, and your heart freezes in place. He’s dying. He knows it too.

“Eddie, let us help you.” Dustin’s voice is a broken sob and it rings in your ears like a flatline. But you keep moving, tying his bandana around his neck to stifle the bleeding. You throw Eddie’s limp arm over your shoulder, and Dustin does the same with his other. He’s not dead, but he’s pretty much dead weight. Somehow, you manage to make it back to the trailer unscathed, and you lie Eddie on the mattress as you hunt for another chair.

“Dustin, come in Dustin.” It’s Steve, and Dustin answers the walkie frantically. “Copy, I'm here. Please tell me you guys fucked Vecna up because we need help NOW.”

“Yeah, yeah we’re on our way back to the trailer, what’s wrong?”

“Eddie’s hurt, bad. Just hurry.” Dustin glances over to where you hold Eddie’s head in your lap, whispering calming words and singing quietly to keep him calm.

“Stay with me, baby, okay? Help is coming. I need you to stay awake, even thought it’s difficult, okay?” You talk in circles, watching Eddie fight to keep his eyes open. Your head pounds, and you bite your lip to hold back sobs. “Don’t leave, Eddie, please don’t go. We still need you. Can you hang on for me, baby?” You’re desperate for a response of any kind, but Eddie looks right through you.

It could have been minutes, or hours, but eventually you hear the footsteps of your friends as they run around above you, positioning themselves to heave you back into the right dimension.

—

Eddie’s POV

When he opens his eyes, it’s to a room of dimmed fluorescent lights and beige walls. He glances down, where he lay in a hospital bed, gown and all, hooked up to machines and bags of fluid. His right hand rests in yours, and when he looks up at you, he watches as your face shifts from broken to bright in a matter of seconds.

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

A wracked sob escapes your throat, and you bring his hand to your lips, leaving a long, grateful kiss to his knuckles. “Hi, baby.” You rasp. It’s clear you haven’t slept in days, at least. Which Eddie thinks is so unfair, as he just spent days asleep.

“Did we win?” It’s the first question he needs an answer for, hoping his injuries are the worst of the group because shit, does it hurt.

You nod, a small smile reaching through your somber expression. “It was hard. Eleven somehow helped from California, but we did it. Vecna’s gone.” He almost sobs when you say it, relief flooding over him. He will never not blame himself for dealing to Chrissy. He will never forgive himself for dragging you into this mess. But he can’t thank the universe enough for at least giving him this. A chance at life. Until he remembers he’s still a wanted man.

“What about Jason? The police?”

“Jason is taken care of. The police have dropped the charges on account of Jason being arrested for assaulting Lucas, as well as being caught in the same room as a levitating Max. This might all have to do with the fact that they know they had nothing to go on besides Chrissy being found in your trailer.” You squeeze his hand lightly. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I- I don’t know, I didn’t wanna run away again. And I didn’t run away this time! I fought. I had to fight. To protect my friends, protect you.”

“You can’t protect me if you’re fucking dead, Eddie. That was the stupidest thing you could have done. Did you think we wouldn’t chase after you? You thought we wouldn’t fight like hell to save you?”

Eddie looks down, the guilt settling in his chest. He knows he didn’t need to run back, there was no reason to. They had all been inches from safety, and he blew it. For what, his pride?

You interrupt his thoughts when you lean down, resting your nose inches from his. “Don’t ever do that shit again, yeah? If you die, I will fucking kill you.”

He can’t help the grin that crosses his face, closing the gap between your lips and his. The kiss is soft, sincere, and Eddie can feel the wetness of your cheeks as you deepen the kiss. Eddie can’t imagine what these last few days have done to your brain. Before he can ask, there’s a knock on the door.

“You have visitors,” The nurse announces, moving aside to make way for a gaggle of children, followed by Steve, Robin, and Nancy all huddled together. The kids have brought balloons, cards, and bouquets as well as drawings and figurines to brighten up the dingy room, and they all stare at Eddie with glazed, teary eyes. They’d just finished visiting Max, who was recovering from a near blinding as well as several broken bones.

Eddie adjusts in the bed to sit up further, wincing as the pain of his wounds makes itself known, bandages sticking to his scabbed skin. The kids sit around him telling jokes and stories, all the while he holds your hand in a tight grip, promising never to let go of you again.

—

Three Months Later

Your POV

“Edward Munson.” The principal announces into the small microphone. The audience claps politely, but the air of disapproval still lingers throughout. Eddie prances across that stage, snatches his diploma, and just as promised, flips him the bird. You giggle from your seat, fighting the urge to clap for the gesture. In the stands, you hear the shrieks of the Hellfire Club and company, chanting Eddie’s name as he skips back to his seat.

The ceremony ends, and you find Eddie and Robin on the football field. You leap into your boyfriend's arms, legs curling around his waist. “‘86, baby!” You cheer, and the gowned classmates surrounding you respond with whoops and whistles. Eddie sets you down, and you throw your arms around Robin’s neck. “Next stop, world tour.” You chuckle, and she laughs with you.

The three of you walk hand in hand to find the rest of your friends. Steve suggests ice cream, and you all pile into his BMW. You pop in the tape you’d brought for this occasion specifically. You crank the volume to Alice Cooper’s School’s Out as you peel out of the parking lot for what you hope is a very long time.

We can't salute ya / Can't find a flag / If that don't suit ya / That's a drag / School's out for summer / School's out forever / I'm bored to pieces…

—

thank you so much for reading. see you soon!

taglist: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @wiildflower-xxx @beebeerockknot @champagne-glamour @xxgothwhorexx @therensistance

#new kid fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #dustin henderson #max mayfield #steve harrington #robin buckley #angst #fluff #plot divergent #au where eddie lives #au where vecna loses #stranger things 4 #strangerthingscentral #st4

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