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dollyyss · 5 months

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WRITE MORE STAN SMUT PLSSS I BEG

PEOPLE ARE SIMPINH FOR THIS MF HOLY- I DIDNT THINK I WROTE HIM THAT FUCKING GOOD- OKAY OKAY LEMME JUST.. LEMME JUST WHIP IT UP REAL QUICK FOR EVERYONE.

I think I may also start linking songs that i listen to while writing these.

Also for some reason ya’ll are flooding my inbox with this man.. is scary idk what I did to make ya’ll go FERAL BUT TAKE THIS- PLEASE DONT HURT ME

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀, 𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀, 𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀.

𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙣 𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙨𝙝 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ₊ ⊹

𝙀𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙥‧₊˚✩彡

𝙂𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙣𝙚𝙪𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙡 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧𐙚

𝘾𝙪𝙧𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜;

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: NSFW/SMUT. Some aggression. MDNI

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙉’𝙎 hand gripped the red solo cup. In this moment he wasn’t exactly sure if he should have been angry at you or the jackass who thought it right to walk up to you the way he did. His fingers practically ripped the cup apart whilst his eyes tore the guy apart instead. He was seeing red, fighting every part of him to not walk up and beat him to a god damn pulp.

“Careful there Stan, you might even hurt your poor wittle finger”

Cartman patted Stan’s shoulder, laughing at his own stupid joke. When Stan didn’t say anything he only looked to the side for a moment, smile fading. It didn’t take him long to see where the issue was. He groaned rolling his eyes and looking up to the somewhat taller boy.

“What. Are you jealous?”

Stan stared daggers at cartman who whipped his head back, holding his stomach in a fit of laughter

“You look.. you look so fucking stupid jealous, stop.. please stop I can’t breathe, you’re killing me here”

“Shut. The fuck. Up. Or I’ll have you on the god floor next to him”

Stanley spat back, slamming the plastic cup down onto the table of cartman’s house. Cartman put his hands up in Defense watching him storm off.

“Jesus, tough god damn crowd”

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Well. This is how you ended up in your predicament. Sprawled out on Stan’s bed, door locked, clothes thrown here and there, his shirt on the bed beside you, his hands in the progress of taking off his pants.

“Stan please I honestly didn’t think he was trying to flirt, he- he walked up to me and just.. he wouldn’t stop talking, baby you have to listen to me-“

He ignored you. He fucking ignored you. Stanley god damn marsh was good at keeping that stupid annoyed look on his face. Was good at staying mad at you, mastered it even, he could be a fucking prick when he wanted to keeping up the act just to piss you off, to turn it all around on you until you apologized.

“I don’t care.”

“Stan, you have to believe-“

“Fucking Christ.”

He’s in such a rush to pull down his pants, yours included. The poorly dyed blonde tossed them both to the side before letting his tongue drag up your stomach, stoping just below your jaw to bite at the soft spots on your skin, his hands roamed wildly, his touch like fire against the cold skin your nerves produced. His hand finds its spot between your legs, where it always did.. like habit, he worked on you like he knows just how to take care of you. And oh god he did. He knows what felt good, he knew what made your back arch and eyes squeeze tightly shut, what made your silly little mind shut off. He knew what made you twist the way you do.. he knew what made you spew out his name. His lips met your own, kissing with such aggression. His point was clear he was pissed off. He didn’t like people touching you in ways that only he could, he didn’t like people getting to close to what was his.

“If you don’t be quiet I swear to fucking god”

Stan’s hand had been placed on your mouth for the last 15 minutes just to keep you silent but when it doesn’t work he’s about to lose his god damn mind. He stops moving his hips, grabbing onto you and pulling out so he can flip you over.

“Ass up.”

“What..?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself. You heard me”

Within an instant you were ass up and face down. His warm hands caressed at your hips, placing kisses to your back before finding his way back into you. The feeling of you around him earned you a satisfied moan, his teeth chewing down onto his bottom lip to help him focus on moving his hips back and forth in a rhythmic pace. The sound of his skin against yours echoed throughout his room, his fingers finding their way to your mouth. He picked up his pace, his moans practically coming out as growls. He couldn’t stop. He couldn’t find any will to stop he needed you to know how much he needed you. How it was him you were with, who you should be with. He wanted to show you how much he can love you. How much he can give you. And fuck was he giving it to you. He grit his teeth to hold back the endless moans he had bottled up, the pleasurable cries he so badly wanted to let out but would wake up his Parents by doing so.

“Tell me you love me~”

Your eyes widened, hands gripping onto the sheets of his bed, his fingers slipped out of your mouth to give your ass a harsh slap.

“Please Baby, tell me, tell me you love me. Tell me you’re mine. You’re mine”

Stan’s pace was quicker then it was before. You tried so hard to speak but all that came out were incoherent words, was nonsense, you were so brain dead, so god damn drained from how much he’d been going. He was becoming desperate. Stan’s hands gripped onto your hips harder, pushing you back onto him each time he slammed back in.

“M’so good, it’s so good, damn good”

His hands slid up your sides, finding himself wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face into shoulder. His new angle was just enough to make him almost cum on the spot. Stan’s jaw was slack, breathing heavily. He stopped his pace, earning a whine out of you.

“If I .. I just.. if I keep going like this m’gonna cum..”

“But I want you too~.. for me.. please St-Stan”

“Oh my goddd”

Stan whimpered out pathetically at the way your hips rocked back onto him, his teeth sinking into your neck to keep himself quiet whilst your movements were like torture against his already sensitive length. Once he thought he was able to control himself, he pumped into you at his stupid fucking ungodly pace, he found his stomach knotting, his head hanging low as he was now sat back up, hands gripping your wrists to place them behind your back. He was gonna cum, he was so damn close, he wanted to fill you so badly, to have you leaking because of him. To mark you as Stan’s. And Stan’s alone.

“M’mgonna cum, want it all in you, m’gonna fill you up so fuckin good”

His words are mumbles, ones your brain aren’t catching in this moment all you wanted was for him to be deep.. so deep.. you’re thoughts are cut short when he hits that one sensitive spot, that one spot he’s come to be so familiar with. You try desperately to wiggle out of his lock on your hands but he only grips harder growling.

“If you keep moving I swear to fucking god I’ll have you over my god damn knees. Keep still.”

Stan spoke in a ruthless tone, deep. One you only ever hear when he’s pissed off.. jealous even. His grip kept tightening, leaning down to watch your face twist and contort, at the this point you’d think his hips would’ve been sore, red. They were indeed red and sore but he wasn’t stopping until he had you marked, and it wasn’t long before he did.

“Just stay quiet. I’m right there, just.. fucking hell just stay like that, lemme cum in you please let me, let me.. It’s never felt like this before”

He was speaking in broken breaths, whispering to you.. he was close.. he was right there, right at the rattling end of it all. Stan turned your head enough to place his lips onto yours, right in time for his body to give one last deep thrust, his load stringing out for what felt like forever. His grip to keep you in spot was enough to leave markings, soft purple spots forming under his fingertips. He continued to rest on your shoulder, eyes squeezed shut whilst his body twitched every so often. When he pulled out his lips held back wild moans, desperate to feel you again.

“Jesus fucking Christ..”

He paused, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“are you okay?”

Stan rubbed the small of your back, collapsing back down onto the bed next to you. He watched while you tiredly shuffled closely nodding your head against him.

“Don’t go falling asleep on me just yet, I need to get you cleaned up”

His fingers laced through your hair, lips mumbling against your forehead. He carefully sat up finding a pair of sweats to throw on. Before he made his way to the bathroom across from his room his looked back at you, your dopey smile, half lidded eyes and the work he made of you.

He admired it. Was.. proud of it even. Watching you leak him out.

Maybe making Stan jealous wasn’t so horrible.

#south park x reader #south park x y/n #south park x you #south park fanfiction #stan marsh x y/n #stan marsh x you #stan marsh x reader #stan marsh #stan marsh sp #stan marsh south park #dolly’s fics

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southparktegreity · 1 year

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gen. dating headcannons! + short stories

[ SOUTH PARK x reader ]

[ stanley marsh x reader + clyde donovan x reader ]

kyle, kenny and butters part is here !

gender : neutral cws : none! requested : yes ! thank you anon & jae ! i added in clyde for fun since him and butters are my favorite characters to write :))) i hope that was okay!

NOTICE : these characters are aged up, and intended to be 19/20+!

a/n : my requests are still open as always :) ! if requested i'll do other characters as well !!!

stan :

out of everyone i’ve written, i think stanley is the least likely to ask you out on a date. ignoring the vomit aside (since i’m sure he grows out of it eventually), i’m sure his stomach would be tied in knots and he wouldn’t have the courage to really ask you out. which leads him to the idea of letting you know you have a secret admirer. he’ll leave notes in your locker or in your bag, a nice compliment or two to get you through the day. though one day if you ever get curious enough i’m sure you’ll be able to figure out he’s your secret admirer, admiring you from afar, (he probably isn’t trying too hard to hide his identity). if you confront him he’ll spill the beans and probably be a total nervous wreck doing it, but will end by asking you out <3

KARAOKE AND DINER DATES. omg i totally can see you dragging him to karaoke with you as a second or third date. he would take you to his favorite diner around, then you'd order both of you a milkshake with two straws. i can totally see you guys sharing a booth together and giggling about it. his face would be sooo red once the waiter comes back with the milkshake.

definitely does not handle jealousy in the most healthy ways, i think if he was jealous you'd have to kind of ask him what's wrong - i don't think he'd come out and tell you that he has a problem with you hanging out with the new kid / new kid flirting with you etc. once you reassured him nothing was going on there and you wouldn't leave him, he'd probably gain his confidence back and feel a bit more secure in your guys relationship. he'd ask you beforehand if he could be a bit more open with pda when it came to dudes flirting with you, and if you say yes he'll start holding your hand around more and calling you babe around the guys who are tryna hit on you.

i think he likes being the big spoon at first, then prefers to quietly move to cuddling you as the small spoon. he definitely wants to protect you but i've always seen stan as someone who also needs a lot of comfort and comforting, though i don't think he'd be open or honest about any of it. he really wouldn't want to come across as weak or lame to you especially, so he would definitely hope you and him would have a silent agreement while cuddling that he can be the little spoon :,)

i think he prefers 'babe' or 'baby' the most to call you, i get the impression he's not too big on pet names or anything like that. especially around his friends, he'd be a bit upset with you if you used any silly or especially romantic pet names around his friends. mostly because you know what his friends are like. i get the feeling he'd LOVE them in private though, like while you're cuddling him and softly playing with his hair. slide in a little, "hey sweetheart - you're so beautiful". i can totally see him melting into you in that moment.

"Hey babe." Stan walked over to you and the new kid, rubbing the back of his palm against yours, before grabbing your hand properly, but gently. He made sure that the new kid was able to see your hands, holding your hand up to his lips and kissing the back of it gently before returning back to your hands natural state together.

The new kid looked between you both, realizing there wasn't really much getting in between you two, before waving to you both goodbye.

"What was that about, Stan?" You looked at him, smiling a little to yourself and him at the new public display of affection.

Stan shook his head. "Nothing, just missed you." He said watching the new kid walk away, before looking back at you and gazing into your eyes, then giving you a kiss on the forehead.

✧─── 《☆》 ───✧

clyde :

definitey talked to tolkien and craig before trying to ask you out. he really wants to come off as genuine to you, instead of just trying to get into your pants like he may have done previously to other people. again, wants to come off as genuine instead of just flirty. tolkien would probably be super encouraging and craig would probably be like “if you don’t tell them i will” or something like that. i think in the end though clyde asking you out would go something like; “hey you should come to my football game, y/n.” “it’s winter? it’s not football season..?” cue to him wiping the sweat off his forehead, “y-yeah.. what i meant was… you can play foot with my… no wait - wait..”

clyde definitely would take you to an amusement park, he's not super into rollercoasters since they're a bit scary but if you beg him he'll totally go with you. though be warned, he'll be holding onto your hand the entire time. i also get the impression he would LOVVEEE to take you into a haunted house of some kind, totally not using the fear as an excuse for you to hold onto him, but he ends up holding onto you out of fear - maybe crying a little. he doesn't want to seem like a baby around you but you can't fault him for being scared - right?

honestly? i think clyde is similar to kyle in that he gets a bit more territorial (again as seen in that one episode with bebe and kyle). though he definitely isn't as possessive as kyle. clyde's the type of person to throw your arm around you and say something like "what's up, honey! who's this guy?", as if the other guy isn't trying to flirt with you. if you were spending too much time with tolkien or stan (or any other boy really) he'd probably get genuinely upset and would communicate this of course, throughout a very teary night. he always wants to be your #1 and is probably a little afraid of you leaving him for someone else (especially if it's his fault (cough) his mom (cough)).

i can definitely see the sun barely coming up and shining on him and yourself glistening on yours and his skins. he would definitely be hugging your waist and pressed in between your chest. his legs would wrap around yours. you playing with his hair as he whispers sweet nothings to you. he's definitely a big ol' cuddle bug, and i can see him and you during the summer deciding not to cuddle since it's too hot, and then waking up in each others very, very sweaty arms.

he’s so hit or miss with sweet names, i feel like he probably calls you “sweetheart” or “honeyy” but i could also see him saying something like “mx/mr/ms. y/n donovan” all the time. especially around his friends or anyone who might try to hit on you. i feel like he’s all lovey dovey and tries to act like a married couple to get people away from you. plus, he loves the idea of getting married to you. and if you play along (calling him “mr. clyde l/n”) he’ll lose his MIIIND practically cries tears of joy hearing that :,)

You and your lovely boyfriend Clyde were laying in his king size bed (since of course, he had to buy a bed fit for a king), as the sun began to set. It was summertime, the wind was nowhere to be found and the air was humid. Clyde's room was hot, since there was little to no ventilation. You turned to Clyde, his face slightly covered in sweat as he wiped it off with a nearby towel. His face was glistening from the sun setting, as the purple-y pink sun shined on his face.

"What's wrong honey?" You snapped out of your thoughts, shaking your head and looking back at him - your face subtly flushed. Partially from the heat, but also from him.

"You just looked really pretty... even with all that sweat on your face, hehe." You grinned at him.

Clyde looked back at you with the biggest toothy smile on his face, tackling you down onto the bed and peppering you with kisses. You both were too hot (literally and figuratively) to be holding each other like this, your arms wrapped around him as he smooched you.

✧─── 《☆》 ───✧

#stan x reader #stan marsh x reader #south park stan #stanley marsh #stan x y/n #south park x reader #south park x y/n #south park x you #stan marsh x you #stan marsh x y/n #clyde donovan x reader #clyde x reader #clyde donovan #clyde donovan x y/n #clyde x y/n #clyde donovan x you

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androids-insides · 26 days

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QnA Prompts

The ToC extension, featuring an archive of only the questions I’ve answered, in the ask page:

Stanley Parable

Pictures

“Does The Narrator actually know what ‘twink’ means?”

“Hide the rest of the internet slang!”

“Love your Narrator! I wanna read him a bedtime story!”

“Which slang word did The Narrator misspell?”

“I’d like to give your Narrator a platonic kiss 💞”

“I thought Stanley was more of a himbo…”

“Narrator seems like he drinks black coffee.”

“Your Narrator is so silly!”

“I’d like to give Stanley a bouquet.”

“Something ELSE in the office should give The Narrator a kiss!”

“I wanna give 432 a hug!!”

“I LOVE YOUR TIMEKEEPER!!!”

"Stanley and TK stole your notes" (pt 1)

"Does The Curator know any slang?"

"Would The Narrator love Stanley if he was a worm???"

"Stanley and TK stole your notes" (pt 2

"Can we give Narrator a lips kiss, or is that reserved for Stanley?"

"I'd like to give Stanley and Narrator some flowers because they are cool :)"

"I'm going to push Narrator down the stairs."

"Stanley in 'formal attire.' "

#android’s insides #The Stanley Parable Fanart

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iheartyouyou · 1 year

Text

Judas | Jimmy Darling

Summary: Elsa and Richard (Stanley) frame you for murdering Jimmy’s mother.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: angst, mention of death, maybe more idk (not proofread)

Author’s Note: I don’t think there’s a bathroom in Jimmy’s trailer, but let’s pretend there is just for the sake of this fic. This was just a random idea I had and i love writing angst. Anyway, please leave feedback <3

Your eyes flutter open from the loud slam, a sudden hand grabs your arm, man-handling you out of bed.

Before you know it, you’re outside. Your eyes adjust to the new setting, everybody’s eyes on you as they form a group around you.

You look to see that Eve had both of your arms pinned behind your back, confusion hitting you.

You try to shuffle out of her strong grip, but it was no use.

“We took you in! How could you do this to her— to us?” Elsa shrieks, breaking down as she falls to her knees. Your boyfriend, Jimmy, is immediately by her side, placing a comforting hand in her shoulder as he glares at you with tears in his eyes.

“Wait— what happened?” You ask, trying to jump forward to reach your boyfriend. The grip on your arms only gets tighter.

“Don’t act stupid, Y/N. Give up the act.” Jimmy shouts, now standing up. You flinch at the harshness in his tone.

You look around the group, your eyes landing on Richard. He had a stupid smirk on his face, standing next to him was Maggie, a guilty look on hers.

“What act? I don’t even know what’s happening!” You cry, turning your head to stare up at Eve. You give her a pleading look. She looks away, shaking her head.

Elsa continued her sobs, chanting a prayer.

“What’s happening?” You shriek, watching as Maggie comforted Jimmy.

You furrowed your eyebrows, jealousy running through your veins. Ever since Maggie came, you’ve always been jealous.

She was a pretty girl and Jimmy was a handsome guy. Before you and Jimmy started dating, he was known as a womanizer. Flirting with every girl he set his eyes on and sleeping with every girl who flirted back.

You met him during one of your shifts as a waitress at the Camellia Grill. He flirted with you in hopes of not having to pay his bill, but you met guys like him. You told him the price of the food he ordered with a smirk on your face, watching in satisfaction as he slammed his money on the counter before leaving.

He came back the next day, requested that you served him and tried the same thing. He ended up paying again, but then he returned the day after, flirting with you once again.

Jimmy was confused. And hurt. He got every girl he wanted, his charms and good looks were the only thing he needed. But when you quickly shut him down, he felt like it was a mission to charm you.

He didn’t know what he wanted— wether that was a free bill or a kiss, or something even more than that— he didn’t care. It started off as a silly mission, but ended with you finally letting him leave without paying.

He didn’t come in the next day, which left you hurt. You knew he only wanted something, and he finally got it. Weeks of coming in, requesting you served him, flirting, just for a free bill?

You didn’t want to admit it, but you missed seeing his stupid face and the stupid mittens he would wear even though it was hotter than ever outside. He never told you why he wore them.

But one day, one of your co-workers gave you a note. They said it was from that handsome guy who always wanted you as his server. You practically ripped open the note, reading his sloppy handwriting.

He asked on the note if you could meet him outside when you were done with your shift.

When you shift was done, you headed outside to meet him. He was sitting on one of the benches, his face lightening up when he saw you.

He confessed his love to you, telling you he had to tell you before it was too late. You were so happy, the largest grin etched onto your lips. It quickly fell though when he told you that you guys couldn’t be together.

Jimmy didn’t want to explain why. He knew the second he removed those mittens you would freak out and leave him. A pretty girl like you couldn’t be seen with a freak like him.

You wanted to scream and slap him in the face, telling him to leave and never come back.

He couldn’t stand seeing you so sad, so before you could slap him he dragged you into the nearest alleyway and removed his mittens.

You let out the biggest gasp when you saw his lobster hands.

Jimmy quickly frowned, he couldn’t watch you run away from him so he looked away to save him the pain.

What took him by surprise though was when you took one of his hands, pressing your soft lips to them in a kiss.

You watch as the group separates, revealing the deceased body of Ethel. Jimmy’s mother.

You shriek, crying as you stare at the knife that was in her eye. “What happened to her? Who did this?”

Elsa abruptly stands up, stalking towards you. She points an accusing finger at you, angry tears running down her face. “You’re a monster. What type of human being would do this to someone? She was innocent, happy. The only freak here is you.”

“What?! I didn’t do that!” You shout, being released from Eva’s grip. She pushes you down, causing you to land on your knees.

You quickly get up, eyes finding Jimmy’s. “Jimmy? Baby?” You whimper.

“You are a monster! A MONSTER!” You hear Elsa shriek, pointing her finger into your chest.

You slap her hand away, “I didn’t do anything!”

“Maggie said she saw you stab Ethel this morning when she was in the woods.” Richard claims, your eyes snapping to Maggie’s.

Jimmy and her were hugging, his face nestled into the crook of her neck. She stares at you, a frown etched onto her lips.

“I didn’t do that! I was asleep—“ You point to Jimmy’s trailer, “In there! Jimmy was with me!”

Elsa laughs, “Really? Because if I can recall, Jimmy was rehearsing this morning.”

“I was asleep! You really think I would kill her? That doesn’t even make sense, she was like a mother to me!” You whimpered, wiping your nose with the back of your hand.

Silence takes over, the only thing being heard was Jimmy’s cried and your sniffling.

“I didn’t kill her!” You shriek, staring at the dead body. You look up at Richard, a mischievous grin on his face. He clicks his tongue, shaking his head.

“You— you asshole!” You snap, watching as his grin slightly fell. “He’s framing me! He’s framing me! You have to believe me—“

“Put her on the spin wheel.” Elsa says calmly, fixing her hair as she smiles.

“What? What—“ You feel the same two arms, Eva, grab into yours, dragging you to the tent. “No! I didn't do anything! Jimmy!” You cried, trying to kick Eva. “Let go of me!”

You somehow kick Eva in the shin, causing her to groan. You slip out of her arms, making a run for it. You run past the group, but before you could make an exit the familiar arms of your so called boyfriend wrap around you. You struggle in his arms, crying.

“Let go of me! Please!” You wailed, trying to elbow him.

Normally, butterflies would be flying around in your stomach from Jimmy hugging you from behind. But now it was making you sick.

“Jimmy, please! I didn’t kill her, I promise. I love you— please!” You say, trying to convince him as he brings you back towards the tent. “Baby, please.”

“Shut up!” He shouts. He finally lets go, only to strap you on the wheel.

“Please.” You beg, struggling against his hold. He avoids your eyes, strapping you. “I didn’t kill her!” You scream for the millionth time, heart dropping as you watched Elsa hold up a knife.

She mimics throwing it at you, closing one if her eyes and she squints with the other.

Jimmy finally looks at you.

“jimmy, please. i didn’t kill her, he’s framing me. i don’t wanna die.” You whisper, your voice cracking. An emotion flashed in his eyes, quickly disappearing.

“Please.” You beg one last time.

“Rot in hell.” He seethed, “You’re gonna die.” He walks away, sitting down.

“Jimmy!” You scream. “No! Please!”

He ignores your pleads, looking down at his lap.

He loved you— he loves you. But his mom has been there for him ever since day one. If it were anyone but you, he would probably kill them himself. Elsa insisted she practice her act on you, before ending your life with a few knives to your body, letting you bleed out.

You look at Pepper. “Pepper? Hey! Remember when I made you that bow? The one you’re wearing? Get me down! Please!”

Pepper hesitates, looking at Salty. They share a look, but before they could do anything Richard stands in front of them, encouraging them to sit down.

“No! You fucking asshole!”

He smiles at you, walking towards you. “It’s unfortunate that your life has to end this way. Don’t worry, your lobster boy will be joining you soon.” He whispers, reaching over to spin the wheel.

“I knew it! You asshole, I fucking hate you!” You shriek, going upside down, then up, then upside down…

“I don’t know what she’s talking about.” He shrugs, backing away.

“He’s framing me- AH!” You shriek, the first knife thrown at you stabbing the wood beside your head.

“I can’t concentrate when you’re talking.” Elsa says, she stops the spinning, shoving a handkerchief into your mouth.

She spins the wheel again, “that’s much better.”

Your pleads are now muffled, the only thing going through your mind was that you were too young to die.

Another knife gets thrown your way, stabbing the wood on the other side of your face. You were getting a headache now from the spinning.

You stop your pleads, shutting your eyes as you accepted your fate.

You should’ve refused to serve Jimmy the second time he came.

You should’ve gotten another job.

You should’ve re—

“Wait! Elsa— stop!” You hear Jimmy’s voice. Jesus, were you now imagining things?

“What are you doing?” You hear Elsa snap.

You were now imagining Elsa’s voice? You didn’t want her voice to be the last thing you ever heard.

You suddenly stop spinning, your eyes snapping open as you meet Jimmy’s.

“Shit…” He mutters, unbuckling the straps. He looks at you, frowning. “I’m so sor—“

“What are you doing?!” Elsa repeats, pushing Jimmy out of the way. Her face was red, smoke practically coming out of her ears.

Jimmy pushes her back, sending her to the ground. Elsa looks up a him, betrayal written all over her face.

“Maggie told me everything.” He snaps, turning to look at the rest of the group. “Unstrap her.”

Pepper immediately skips to you, Eve following.

Eve takes the handkerchief out of your mouth, throwing it somewhere behind you.

“W-what’s happening?” You ask, Pepper taking your hand to lead you away from the wheel as you were unbuckled.

“Yes, what is happening?” Richard asks, standing up from his seat. You watch as Maggie tells him something, a smile forming on her lips as Richard freezes.

Pepper leaves you with Salty, skipping back to Jimmy. He tells her something, motioning to you before looking back at Elsa’s figure on the ground. You watch as he tells Eve something. Eve nods, lifting Elsa up.

“Desiree— what’s happening?” You ask nervously, scared of what she was going to say. Were they planning on killing you some other brutal way? Chop of your limbs? Bury you alive?

Desiree stares at her husband who was now manhandling Richard. “You don’t wanna know.”

“But I do! What the hell is happening?” You insist.

Pepper comes skipping back, taking your hand once again and starts leading you out of the tent. Salty follows.

You were beyond confused. One second you’re on you’re death bed, or should you say death wheel and now you’re being lead back to Jimmy’s trailer.

Oh god, were they going to kill you in his trailer? Maybe you can make a run for it?

They lead you into his trailer, helping you sit on the bed. Pepper grabs the blanket that was near you, handing it to you as Salty grabs a pillow.

“I don’t… I don’t understand.” You speak, dropping the pillow Salty gave you to the side.

“S…. safe! Safe!” Pepper says excitedly. Salty and her jump around the trailer, giggling.

They stop when the door swings open, revealing Paul. “Hey, Y/N. Are yo—“

“What’s going on?” You ask. You said that phrase a lot today, it seemed like you only knew those three words.

He hesitates for a moment, moving the pillow beside you to take seat. He shushes Pepper and Salty, turning to you.

“You didn’t kill Ethel.”

“I know that. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you guys.” You snap, almost feeling bad when Paul slightly flinches. He frowns.

“I know and we’re taking care of them.”

Your eyebrows furrow, “Taking care of who?”

“Elsa and Richard… or Stanley.”

“What are you guys doing to them—“

“Jimmy said not to tell ya.”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. You had the largest headache, from all the yelling, pleading, spinning… so much has happened and it hadn’t even been an hour since you woke up.

You stand up, almost falling from how dizzy you were.

“Hey, where ar—“ Paul starts, reaching out to you.

“I need to pee.” You mumble, backing away. You stumble to the bathroom, slamming the door as you slide against it to the ground.

You were confused, hurt, dizzy and exhausted all at the same time. It’s crazy how they just believed anything they heard, believing that you actually killed Ethel. And the fact that Jimmy— your boyfriend who is supposed to love and support you just believed them? Without no proof? Without even talking to you? He was supposed to trust and defend you. And everybody else? They just simply believed their lies. You have done so much for everybody, and they all just sit there and watch you almost get killed.

Nice to know they would most likely throw you under the bus if something like this happened again.

“Baby?” You hear, along with a knock.

You didn’t realize how long you were in the bathroom, zoning out as thoughts flooded your mind.

“Y/N?” You hear Jimmy speak from the other side of the door. The doorknob shakes. “I’m so sorry.”

You stay silent, bringing your knees up to your chest.

“Baby? Can you please come out? O-or let me in?” He says, trying the doorknob once again.

You stare at the window. You knew you were right when you first saw Jimmy Darling. He is just like any other guy, only wanting one thing and willing to throw you under the bus.

“Please? I can explain everything, I promise sweetheart. I’ll make it up to you.”

You get up, cautiously moving to the window while looking at the door. It could open any minute. You climb on top of the toilet, opening the window but stopping when it creeks.

“Y/N?”

Opening the rest of the window slowly, you peek your head out to make sure the coast was clear before somehow climbing out. The window was kind of small and only opened to a certain point.

You climb out head first, falling to the ground with a groan. Still, you get up. You look around, hearing Jimmy’s faint voice coming from the inside of his trailer before making a run to the main road.

#jimmy darling #jimmy darling x reader #evan peters #evan peters x reader #james patrick march #kai anderson #ahs #american horror story #ahs freakshow #freakshow #freak show #jimmy darling imagine #tate langdon #kyle spencer #angst #imagine #evan peters imagine

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lovelybunn · 2 years

Text

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦.

warning(s): swearing, mentions of depression

author's note: I DONT HAVE FAVORITES I PROMISE this is a high-school au bc i'm trying to cope with it (even though i've only been there for a few weeks lmao)

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐇.

“ 𝐇𝐄𝐘, 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍! 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐀 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄 sweater you got there, bud! ” you give the boy a small smile. he frowns and looks around, pointing at himself. “ yes you, silly. who else in the class is named stanley? ” you giggle, stan glances away in embarrassment, “ o-oh. thanks, i guess. ” he sits down with a bit more force than he expects, causing him to cuss under his breath.

“ what’s wrong? ” you ask with genuine concern. without making eye contact with you, stan replies, “ nothing. just kinda stunned. ” as if just now realizing what he said, his eyes suddenly widen. his cheeks flare up, “ oh shit– i mean, tired. yeah, that's what i meant, not stunned. why would i be stunned? ” your worried face slowly melted into a teasing snicker. “ you're funny, stan marsh. ” with his face even more red that it originally was, he stammers, “ what are you talking about?! what's so funny, huh?! ”

ㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

manz doesn't know how to take a compliment tbh

he has a very low self esteem (bc of his depression), so he'll take anything he can get. beggars can't be choosers, right?

when he does get complimented, stan almost always gets all red and shit and it's so precioussss

he doesn't usually reply with some kind of counter compliment bc he sucks at talking to ppl :(

but the good thing is that he always repays you back in some way for the simple act of kindness to him of all ppl. you know that meme/phrase where its like “ *character* will remember that ”? yeah, that's stan marsh.

he doesn't automatically register when someone is speaking to him, so you prob will have to repeat yourself multiple times before he realizes that your even there lmao

ㅤ

𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐒𝐊𝐈.

𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄, 𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒 to leave his hair down for school, and to be honest, you think his natural curls are gorgeous. you grin and wave at the ginger as he walks into class, placing his things down. “ sup, kyle! seems you know how to take very good care of that mane of yours, don't you? ” with pursed lips, he raises a brow inquisitively at you. “ hm? what's that's supposed to mean? ” your grin grows wider. “ it means i think your hair looks sick, man. ” kyle's screwed up expression slowly melts into slight shock. his face flushes into a deep red against his scattered freckles, “ aw, thank you. ” kyle smiles goofyily.

ㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

kyle doesnt expect kindness/flattery to ever be targeted towards him, mainly bc his friends are kinda dicks (AHEM CARTMAN AHEM)

but when he does get this kind of treatment, he's pleasantly surprised. especially when he's at his at most limit (which is pretty frequent), being able to hear that little positive thing said about him will help kyle rest peacefully for the rest of the day.

don't worry though, a genuine nice response will almost always come in exchange. (unless the poor boy is having a really bad day, then he'll prob just act like you simply don't exist)

kyle is very good at nick-picking certain specific quirks, behaviors, and traits of the ppl he adores. like with his baby brother ike, just one little head jerk or hand movement from ike, and kyle will instantly know exactly how his baby brother is feeling.

so, in relation to you complimenting him, he now is, of course, fond of you. (ex. your eyes look a little droopy one day at school? “ hey, (name), i brought some coffee in my bag, you can have some if you want. ”)

overall a sweet boy w/ anger issues but we don't talk about that :)))))))))))))))))))))))

ㅤ

𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐍.

“ 𝐘'𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖, 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐊, you're actually a pretty cool dude, cartman. ” you exclaim dryly, making little doodles on the assignment you presumably are supposed to actually be doing. he slowly turns his head to face behind him. a large scowl plasters on eric's expression. “ i'm cool all the time, motherfucker. ” you roll your eyes dismissively, “ the entire campus would beg to differ. ” he opens his mouth to respond with some sort of snarky remark, but he changes his mind and turns around in defiance. cartman laughs proudly. “ you're just extremely jealous that you'll never be as cool as me. ” you sigh and mutter, “ keep telling yourself that. whatever helps you cope, i guess. ”

ㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

boy thinks that's his birthright to have everyone within his vicinity praise him in some way bc his name is eric theodore cartman

but deep down this boy hates himself with a burning passion, like all narcissists lmao

two words, backhanded compliments.

well, unless he doesn't like you/thinks your ugly af or sumn, then he'll be like “ yeah, i know. couldn't say the same for you, though. ”

but i'll be honest with ya'll, if he even moderately likes you in any way, that one compliment will cause him to attach to you until you have to literally force him to back off. (ex. imagine his relationship w/ butters)

the only plus to that is cartman will be a little bit nicer to you than he usually is. “ hey bitch (affectionate)! ”

ㅤ

𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐌𝐂𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊.

𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐇 and it's kenny's turn to read a section of the excerpt the class is assigned. none of his three best friends have this class with him, so he's practically mute for most of the period. you never hear his voice other than a few “ hey ”s, “ mhm ”s, and “ what ”s, so a tiny part of you is lowkey excited to be able to hear the orange hooded boy speak a full few sentences for the first time. he isn't the fastest reader in the class, and definitely not one of the loudest, but something about his soft tone relaxes you. kenny's voice is strangely soothing. after he finishes, you decide to point it out.

you tap on his desk to get his attention, “ wow, i didn’t know you sounded like that, kenny. ” since you didn't elaborate, he stares at you with a blank expression in his big baby blue eyes. he slowly squints at you, silently asking for an explanation. you chuckle, “ i think your voice sounds nice, mate. you should run an asmr channel or something. ” kenny's eyes avert from left to right for two rounds before he becomes a popped bubble full of agressive cackles. the entire class stop whatever they're doing to figure what's going on, but you just give kenny a huge toothy smile.

ㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

bruv will never take compliments seriously, like he legitimately thinks your joking.

but he'll still flash his pretty crooked whites at you, and nod his head like a child that just got asked if they want a cookie (pls he's baby <33333)

most of the time kenny's eyes are dull bc he's depressed, but when he's really happy, they'll sparkle, like a lot. remember that.

small talk isn't kenny's thing so after you say whatever you wanted to say he'll prob instantly go back to blocking you out like what he does to his parents when they fight

but after a while of processing what you said, he's truly touched, sometimes he'll even tell karen about how much you made his day with that little comment alone

here's a plus, if kenny thinks your cute enough, he'll start lowkey flirting with you, complimenting you over literally everything you do (sometimes he's a lot more straightforward, but he tries to keep it as discreet as possible)

#south park #sp stan #sp kyle #sp cartman #sp eric #sp kenny #stan marsh #stan marsh x reader #kyle broflovski #kyle broflovski x reader #eric cartman #eric cartman x reader #kenny mccormick #kenny mccormick x reader #south park imagines #south park headcanons #blurbs #headcanons

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eeblouissant · 2 months

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goth (vampire ?!) Dorothy thoughts

She’s tradgoth all the way, in music and fashion. Although her makeup is toned down just a bit because I don’t believe she would be a huge fan of large graphic eyeliner & all that (it also just wouldn’t suit her facial features, she goes for more of a sharp but softened “corpse-esque” vibe. Her cheekbones kind of make the look, + highlighting already dark under eyes. Also her eye shape, oh boy she has such a perfect face for this style it’s actually insane. HER BROWS !!! & natural resting face, the shape of her lips, I could go on. This silly au was mostly inspired by her canon fashion, before I realized how she’d actually eat up an alternative style in like every single way possible. Bea Arthur truly had it all, she might have been the most beautiful woman on the planet)

I’m projecting just a tad here, but music-wise I think she would LOVE Bauhaus, voodoo church & type o negative. Specifically: the passion of lovers / brand new death, lullaby curses, live with the dead / Christian woman, I don’t wanna be me, love you to death, anesthesia, black no. 1. I’d need to dive back into my playlists but goth rock is definitely her fav (that stereotypical “goth sound”, Bauhaus, is her favourite. She’s like as tradgoth as you can get. Early 80s goth vampire zombie just the absolute blueprint)

now reactions … I was thinking about how she’d even get into the style in the first place, and I think it came about after settling down so young and never really having a moment to be her own person outside of school and then -> Stanley (& more importantly motherhood, also time & era). She’d discover alternative style & different subcultures through students and become secretly interested in the music (and perhaps a little envious of their self expression, where when she was their age Lots was going on), and then eventually the fashion, but her fashion wouldn’t really change much since she kind of already has an early 80s goth silhouette. “Goth” is also mainly music and less about the fashion but I digress. I think she’d find feelings & maybe some “angst” she never would have otherwise had an outlet for through the music & culture.

Roses reaction was my personal favourite to think about because I just KNOW she’d be immediately interested in the *style* (maybe less the music, I think she could also enjoy a version of that stereotypical goth sound that’s a little softer, & also the dancing I think she’d really love that bit actually) but for the most part she enjoys telling people that she’s living with a vampire, for funsies. (A lovely mutual, you know who you are, brought up the idea of a pastel goth inspired rose & it hasn’t left my brain since. I’ve gotta draw it, you are SO right)

Blanche would also *maybe* be interested in a more glamorous version of the makeup & hair, definitely the art as well, but the music is not for her. She’s interested with a more materialistic point of view, but I think Dorothy getting into something alternative & bringing that kind of a vibe into their house would spark ideas for Blanche creatively, & she’d really be able to appreciate the style & expression from an artistic stance! She understands self & artistic expression in a way much different from the others. Initially she’d poke a little fun, when she finds Dorothy listening to music her students (& the few she regularly complains about at that) would listen to for the first time, but she genuinely thinks the style really compliments Dorothy’s features & can never bring herself to actually insult it.

Sophia has also taken to referring to Dorothy as “the vampire”, with Rose. She once asked why she chose to hold off on the teenage angst phase until she was in her late 50s, and Dorothy said she should have seen it coming after 38 years & the turn her fashion had already taken in that time. Dorothy blames it on Stanley to try and make any sense to her mother & Sophia understands after that. Stan never hears the end of “making my daughter angsty”, and what an experience it is to walk down the street with her. It’s one thing to have your teenage daughter go through a phase, but this is something else entirely. Stanley definitely got an earful. (Stan is slightly afraid of Dorothy now, he almost questions if she was serious when she told Sophia it was his fault. Dorothy is ready to tell him yes for her own personal gain)

#the golden girls #dorothy zbornak #god I love silly aus like these #this started out as a joke and also an excuse to draw Dorothy in a style I love and now it’s an actual au #I have got to draw interactions between Dorothy & Sophia in this au #glam goth Blanche just won’t leave my head she’s WAY too gorgeous for her own good #pastel goth rose was already talked about but oh my god I love her already #it’s Sophia & her three vampires for roommates at this point

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mawsnclaws · 1 year

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What would the Narrator do if Stanley just walked up to the humanized Narrator and shoved his hand in the Narrator's mouth to indicate he wants to be smol and nommed? No communication, just Stanley approaching and sticking his fingers in there.

IIII put this under the main tag because there's no TSP vore tag that I know of </3 if you're not a fan of vore, please scroll :]

anyways I very much enjoyed this ask, and I hope you enjoy reading what I wrote for this!!

Stanley was rather exhausted. There was no better word for it! He felt overstimulated and tired, and the poor man desperately needed somewhere to rest. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

"When Stanley came to a set of two open doors, he entered the door on his.." The Narrator stopped noticing Stanley just standing in the doorway. He exhaled sharply but sounded a bit worried, despite his attempt to mask his tone. "Stanley, are you alright?"

Stanley stood there for a moment more before shaking his head. He wasn't alright..he wanted to relax. Nap. Anything that didn't involve wandering around, at least for a little bit. "Not really.." He signed in response, his hands lowering back down to his sides when he was finished. The Narrator watched carefully, examining each of Stanley's little mannerisms as he signed. Maybe he needed a little help.

In a matter of seconds, The Narrator had materialized right in front of him. "Here Stanley, have we forgotten the left and right?" He tilted his head, walking over to the left door and pointed to it. "You're supposed to go through this door, Stanley." He instructed, smiling as Stanley walked towards him. But..instead of walking inside, Stanley just stopped in front of him.

"Stanley? Are you alright?" He asked even softer than before. "You know, perhaps all this is getting to y-" He didn't even get to finish his sentence before Stanley shoved almost his entire hand in his mouth. The Narrator's eyes went wide and he stared at Stanley, before pulling his head away and sputtering for a moment.

"Stanley?!" He looked at the man with a great amount of concern lacing his features. Stanley gave him a look..a look that seemed familiar. He thought for a moment before it dawned on him. Stanley was TIRED! The Narrator thought for a second more, before nodding.

"Stanley, you've made your point very clear, but there are other ways of going about things rather than putting your hand in my mouth.." He crossed his arms, looking at Stanley as he began to shrink the man smaller and smaller. It took hardly any effort for him, and he always liked the silly look on Stanley's face as he did so.

He shrank Stanley until the man was roughly a bit smaller than his ring finger. He slowly crouched down, scooping Stanley up into his hands and standing back to his full height. He gently brushed some of Stanley's messy hair out of his face with a fingertip. He sighed softly and gave Stanley a genuine smile.

"I'll be working while you rest..if you need me, you know how to get my attention. Alright?" He tilted his head and smiled even more when Stanley nodded. He brought Stanley closer to his mouth and opened his mouth, shifting Stanley to one hand and laying it out flat so Stanley could crawl inside.

Stanley did exactly that, placing his knee on The Narrator's lip to steady himself before slipping inside. The Narrator closed his mouth once Stanley was fully and safely inside, and tilted his head back. Stanley slid to the back of his throat and was swallowed in only a few moments. The Narrator let out a soft, satisfied huff, and placed a hand on his middle when he felt Stanley slip inside.

He gave his stomach a soft pat, loving the small weight of the little man. He was happy to provide Stanley with such a safe space to sleep..

Stanley quickly drifted off to sleep in The Narrator's stomach, surrounded by warmth. There was something so terribly comforting about it..he'd have to do this more often.

#Mod Bucket #sfw vore #safe vore #the stanley parable #tsp stanley #tspud #tsp narrator #g/t #g/t vore #Stanley Parable vore

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the-infinite-hole · 6 months

Text

hi my ~realistic~ narry/reader broken marriage thoughts turned into a 3k word fanfic about trying to reconnect with him.

you're in the shower but you don't do anything xD

tentatively tagging @caltverkeys because i probably wouldn't have thought about it for so long if they hadn't expressed interest in my initial thoughts. :)

not that i expect ANYONE to actually read all 3k words of this silliness lol.

(*i wouldn't normally post whole fics to tumblr except this one probably wouldn't exist WITHOUT tumblr.)

sooo here ya go

...

When you hear the faucet squeak to life and smell his soap beginning to waft down the stairs, you smile because you know it means he's had a good day— or, at the very least, that he hasn't had a bad one, which is sometimes all you really need.

Sometimes.

Saying his name quietly to yourself (you know he can't hear you over the din of the water, but you feel like saying it anyway), you creep up the stairs, heading toward the bathroom at the end of the hall. The door is half-open, and through the noise you think you can detect him muttering something to himself.

His muttering doesn't bother you, though; it never has: Thinking out loud is something he's always done, and anyway, it's actually quite nice to hear his voice— especially when he's been flat-out ignoring you in favour of his own pursuits, which lately he's been doing quite a bit.

For days and days now, your Narrator (actually, he's your husband; however, he just as often insists upon being addressed by his own chosen title) has been holed up in his dark, smoky little office, working on his very own video game: His 'parable' as he likes to call it. He's been building it privately on his computer for as long as you've known him, adding dialogue and settings and characters and concepts at what most people would describe as his leisure.

At first, you were charmed by the strength of his creative drive— however, having been married to him for as many years as you have, you now know first-hand that there isn't actually anything 'leisurely' about the way your husband works on his game.

How long has it been, you think, since he last had a job— real job; a job that actually made him real-life money? How long has it been since the two of you last went out to dinner together...? Or entertained company, or took a trip—?

...You shake your head as you step into the bathroom, banishing both the thoughts and the hard, sticky bitterness clinging to them like old barnacles.

Not right now.

He's already standing under the water when you arrive, hidden safely behind the curtain: A mere silhouette, although over the years you've grown sadly accustomed to him being somewhat of a shadow to you. He spends so much time holed up with his game in that little office of his that sometimes you worry you're going to forget what he even looks like.

His glasses (at least those haven't changed) are resting on the edge of the sink; his pants are balled up on the floor with his socks. His shirt is hooked on the doorknob, its sleeves hanging just low enough to brush up against the worn linoleum tile peeling up from the edges of the floor. Even over the soap, you can smell the sweat on it; see the coffee stains, too. It feels like a long time since you've seen him undressed, and maybe even longer than that since you've seen him without his glasses.

It's embarrassing— you certainly wouldn't admit it out loud— but the god's honest truth is that you can hardly even recall what colour his eyes are anymore.

You bite down on your lip as your stomach ties itself in knots. You've been married to him for longer than you haven't been, but all of a sudden— right here and right now— you feel nervous: Like you're intruding, or crossing a boundary.

...Like you shouldn't even be here.

He's probably busy, you scold yourself. Busy trying not to get soap in his eyes; busy thinking about his game. Busy spending time in his head with Stanley.

'Stanley' isn't real, though, and neither is the game, no matter how much your Narrator seems to wish they were. You don't resent his inclination to retreat into himself so much as you wish you understood it; you knew he was prone to bouts of depression when you married him, and you would never begrudge him his feelings. But to witness him running headlong into a set of digital arms when you've been there for him in real-life all along...

Shh, quit it. Not right now.

No, you think, it isn't the right time to indulge your own misplaced jealously and pent-up bitterness any more than it's the right time to contemplate your husband's chronic lack of employment or unwillingness to join you for dinner. You didn't trail him in here to scold him; you can do that any time. No, you came in here to...

...to...

...wait.

Wait, what did you come in here for, anyway...?

He coughs from behind the shower curtain, maybe to let you know he's detected you; maybe just because he smokes too much. The sharpness of the scent of his soap and the headiness of the humidity in the air are what coax you back to reality; you're still frightened, but before you know it, you're peeling your own clothes off and discarding them to the floor right alongside his anyhow.

Could this be it, you ask yourself—? The thing you came for? Joining your husband (or your 'Narrator', or whoever the hell he thinks he is these days) for a shower is something you haven't done in years. What could possibly be possessing you to do it tonight?

What do you think you're going to gain from it— do you really think it's going to help?

Now less-than-sure of yourself, you almost give up right then: Put on a towel and scurry out of the bathroom; maybe to go and make some tea, or even just pretend to go to bed. But then— then— you think better of retreating, because what does it really matter whether or not it 'helps'? Running away is something he does; something he does, in fact, that you loathe. What kind of message would it send to him, if you went and did the very same thing...?

Whatever precipitated that well-timed cough of his, he already knows you're here: Quite simply, you can feel it. You don't need to ask.

Goosebumps pepper your skin as your throat seems to close in on itself; without meaning to, necessarily, you start taking steps: First one; then two, and three, and then finally (it feels like it takes a lot longer than it does), you're standing at the edge of the bathtub with your hand on the curtain, trying not to breathe too fast.

Perhaps in spite of yourself, you shoot a quick glance back in the direction of the mirror, just to make sure you're still smiling. If you're here because you love him, you reason, then shouldn't you greet him as though you're happy to see him?

Next, you pull back the curtain, letting out a hot puff of steam; after that, you lift a foot, stepping high over the lip of the tub and into the shower. He isn't facing you, but the source of the water instead; he also isn't washing his hair or his face, or anything else, for that matter. He isn't moving or talking, and he certainly isn't singing to himself the way he used to when you first got married. Really, all he seems to be doing is standing there: Stiffly, beneath the water, like a pillar of something soluble— something that wishes it would melt.

You place a hand on his shoulder from behind, and his back tenses beneath your touch. Your smile fades before he's even had a chance to see it; your breath catches, and already you're terrified you've made an awful mistake.

"I'm sorry," you start...

But then, he turns around.

Nearly choking on your own words, you stop as quickly as you started: Again, it's been practically forever since you last law his eyes.

They're green.

A beautiful, sparkling emerald green; as bright and brilliant as ever, almost as if in direct and deliberate defiance of all the things that so often seem to conspire to take him away from you. They're so lovely (and so lovely on him) that you're ashamed to have so flagrantly forgotten them. Then again, you think, maybe you were meant to forget them: Maybe he wanted you to.

"Don't be sorry," he says. "I'm almost finished."

Calm and cordial (entirely too cordial, actually) his spoken words come near-devoid of any particular intonation— betraying very little of the pain or confusion swirling about behind those pretty eyes of his. It's been like that for a long time; again, you sorely miss the sound of his voice, but he just doesn't seem to have it in him to use it the way he once did.

Not unless he's narrating for Stanley, anyway.

"I wasn't waiting for you to be finished," you tell him— trying as best you can to tamp down both your long-standing bitterness and your hope, lest either of them get the better of you.

His eyes dart to the side, as if he doesn't know what to say. He doesn't try to hide himself from you, and hasn't since you joined him; however, you know that's less because he's comfortable and more because he simply doesn't give a shit— about the way he looks; about the way you feel about him. The Narrator hardly seems to care about anything anymore.

Shut up. You're here because you love him anyway, remember?

"...You aren't?" he asks, voice creaking like an old door as he places a single hand on the slick tile wall beside him and keeps on refusing to look up at you.

"I'm not," you promise... tentatively reaching back out toward him, only to stop just short of actually touching his chest.

"Then why are you—"

"I just wanted to—"

"Just wanted to what?"

Clearly off to a less-than-stellar start, you bite your lip again. "...Let's not interrupt each other," you suggest, as gently as you can. Your hand is still hanging there between the two of you, resting in the air like a spectre. His body is shielding it from the water, and therefore the rest of you, too. You shiver— cold, now, in spite of the steam.

"...I'm sorry," he says, only barely audible over the insistent pattering of the water. Venturing to lift his head, he looks first at your hand; then, eventually, up at your face.

If nothing else, you suppose, his apology is at least sincere.

"You don't need to be sorry," you tell him... and (for now, anyway) it's the truth.

"...I wasn't lying when I said I was nearly finished," he mutters, shoulders shifting as though he's about to try and move past you. In desperation (desperation you hope to god he can't sense), you let that floating hand of yours finally make its landing: A gentle one, in the very centre of his chest, warm little rivulets of water flowing over and around it.

"Wait," you plead... pressing the tips of your fingers insistently into his skin.

"What for?" he asks back, having apparently grown uncomfortable enough with your presence that it's actually beginning to annoy him. You try not to let your heart sink; how many of your fights with him have started out precisely this way—?

"...Do you remember our first apartment?" you ask him, irreverent and hopeful and still not to be deterred. "The one with the leaky toilet and the irritable landlord?"

He sighs, pursing his lips. "...I do remember," he admits, if reluctantly. "He was always complaining about—"

"The water bill!" you blurt out— unable to resist finishing for him as an entirely unintentional grin flashes across your face.

Apparently unmoved, your Narrator shifts his weight from leg to leg. "I thought we were going to quit interrupting each other," he huffs... averting his gaze yet again, this time in favour of staring intently down at the water swirling around his own feet and down into the drain.

You hate admitting it, even to yourself, but you miss when he used to stare at you.

"...I'm sorry," you say, kicking yourself internally because you should have known better than to get excited.

"Anyway," he goes on tersely, "we haven't needed to share showers to save water for years— and so unless you're here to deliver some sort of unfavourable news with regard to our financial situation, I quite frankly don't see any reason for you to have joined me."

You almost wish you'd gone ahead and interrupted him again. Nonetheless, you curl your toes hard into the ceramic beneath your feet; having come this far, you aren't giving up on him.

Not yet.

Not tonight.

"If I told you that I just wanted to join you," you start, "then would that be a good enough reason?" Gazing down at your own hand as it rests on his chest, it dawns on you that you don't exactly have a whole lot of room to criticize his reluctance to make eye contact.

Looking up, you catch his gaze and hold it— maybe for as long as you've held it in years.

It isn't easy, but it's worth the effort... isn't it?

Already flush from the steam, you can't quite tell whether his cheeks have gone red, or whether he's merely grown too warm. "I— w-well, I suppose it would be," he spits out, "but... but, well, I... I..."

Mindful of his having chided you for it earlier, you refrain from cutting in, giving him a moment to try and finish. Only when it becomes evident that he isn't going to finish do you dare to prompt him.

"You what?" you ask— emphatically, yes, but also kindly; more curious, now, than impatient.

Your thumb begins to stroke gently at a damp tuft of hair on his chest. It's familiar, but in a way that feels distant, too: Like something you're remembering from a whole other life.

He focuses his gaze somewhere behind you, then: Past the shower curtain, in the direction of the bathroom door. He could very well be thinking about pushing right past you and bolting though it; in fact, it's more likely than not that he is— but if he's thinking about running, he must also be thinking about not running in equal measure, because (it'll seem almost miraculous, when you look back on it later), he doesn't so much as move a muscle.

He does cough again— maybe just clearing his throat.

You don't stop stroking that little wet tuft on his chest.

"I... well, I suppose I thought you didn't want to," he reveals, as earnestly as it feels like he's revealed anything to you in years.

For a moment, you feel newly ashamed... but then, of course, you feel frustrated: He thinks you're the one who didn't want to be with him—?!

You're aren't the one who spends every waking moment holed up in an office with their pixilated boyfriend.

...No, you remind yourself: Now isn't the time to bring up Stanley.

"Of course I want to!" you tell him back, and once more, it's the truth: Again, you didn't join him in the shower to berate him; you joined him because you love him— you always have, and even through everything, you've never stopped. You don't think you ever will. "We're still married, aren't we?" you ask, as your feet shift forward and a nervous, playful little lilt infiltrates your tone.

He blushes. There's no question about it this time, steam or no steam. He's always been prone to it, and (for better or worse) you've always loved making him turn red.

"I— I... w-well—"

As careful as ever, you close the remainder of the distance between the two of you— snaking a trembling arm around his waist in the process. His back seems to straighten out, but he doesn't try to pull away; you look into his eyes, and (maybe because he doesn't have anywhere else to look), he stares back into yours.

You don't say anything to him, but you do smile: Not bold enough to expect, perhaps... but certainly brave enough to hope.

He pauses, drawing a breath.

"...Y-yes," he finally manages. "Yes— yes, of course we're still married; it's just that— th-that—"

In lieu of interrupting him with words, you take yet another chance... this time by tilting your head (once again, in a way you haven't done in years), and shutting him up with a kiss.

It always used to work before.

You close your eyes, partly because you're scared; but also partly because of the fine spray misting out from behind him. The water pelting his back trickles over and around your hand; he breaths in, lungs expanding against your body in a way you never quite realized until just this moment how very much you missed.

...Maybe he misses it too, because the next thing you know, he's kissing you back.

He's really, actually kissing you back.

It's been so long since he last put his arms around you that you almost flinch when he does. He tastes, as always, like his favourite cigarettes; his lips are exactly as warm as you remember them. More grateful than ever to be surrounded by water, your eyes fill with tears; you know you shouldn't cry, but your body doesn't seem to care.

The pipes, old and lime-encrusted, whine from above you. Droplets tap-tap-tap against the plastic shower curtain; the drain gurgles from under your feet; and— somehow, suddenly— you're quite positive that you can hear the far-off droning of someone's car alarm, blaring faintly from outside.

Your Narrator himself, however, doesn't make a sound. He doesn't move, either... except to part his lips, and pull you even closer to him.

...Maybe, you think sadly to yourself, he really does need 'Stanley' as much as he seems to believe he does. Maybe he's depressed; maybe he's angry— maybe he's been touched by something he hasn't yet gathered the courage to reveal to you, and it's eating him up from the inside-out. You still don't know, any more than you know how to pull him out of his head and back into real life.

Right here, though— right here, in this very moment, steeping together like human tea in the warm, fragrant steam— your Narrator seems just as content to need you as he does to need his office, or his computer, or his best digital friend.

A kiss in the shower might not seem like a lot to some people, no... but to you it's something: A lot of something, in what often feels like a sad and lonesome sea of even more nothing.

It may not be able to singularly mend everything that's wrong with him (or with your marriage, or with you yourself), no: But tonight, it feels like enough.

Maybe— for now; from him— 'enough' really is all you need.

#tsp #narrator x reader #tsp au #tsp fanfic #tsp narrator #saaaad

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 6 months

Text

Murder Daddy Kinktober 2023 - Day 27 “Costumes”

Costumes - What would our Pedrokémons dress up as for Halloween? More below the cut!

Jackson era!Joel Miller – Where were you on outbreak day?

Joel is Gomez Addams with Reader being Morticia.

“I would die for her. I would kill for her. Either way, what bliss.” Joel says as he murmurs against your lips (he’s drunk and handsy)

*Ellie – dressed as Pigsley Addams – aggressively gagging in the next frame*

DBF!Joel - Breaking the Rules

Joel is Dread Pirate Roberts, reader is Princess Buttercup.

“As you wish.” He purrs before crashing his lips against yours.

*Sarah rolling her eyes as Tommy tries to pick women up (Literally boasting his strength) as Conan the Barbarian in the background*

Javier Peña – Framing Escobar

Javier is Bo “The Bandit” Darville – Reader is Carrie “Frog”

“This is a little ironic, you see that right?”

“Shut up, you love it.”

Javier Peña – A feeling that never came

Javier is Dr Grant and Reader is Ellie Satler.

“They do move in herds” Reader remarks about the college students on a bar crawl.

“You’re so fucking lame.” Javi says as he smiles at you with pure adoration.

Dave York – The Princess and The Duke

Dave is Han and Reader(Luna) is Leia [Think that scene after Hoth where they kiss on the Falcon], with the girls who are Snow White and Rapunzel – Carol is working late, and the girls are delighted to go trick or treating with Dave and Luna.

Francisco Morales (SNAFU)

Frankie is Rambo – reader is Lara Croft. They playfully butt heads all night.

Francisco Morales (Vampire!Frankie)

Francisco “Dracula” Morales and his Bride, which they both get a silly kick out of, especially when Frankie bites her in front of the TF boys as a bit. There’s shock, awe, and laughter as it’s played off as a prank. But the thrumming in reader’s veins tells another story.

Javi G

Paddington Bear, Reader is an orange. It’s silly and fun and they dance the night away, sharing soft touches and giddy smiles. Next year: Reader dresses as John Travolta’s character (Sean Archer) in Face Off, Javi is Yuri Orlov from Lord of War. Another year: Reader is John Patrick Mason and Javi is Stanley Goodspeed (The Rock)

Dieter Bravo – Rendezvous in Reno

Costumes? Who needs costumes? Dieter spends Halloween with you in bed, naked, eating KitKats and smoking joints while watching old horror movies.

Max Phillips

Whatever he can pull off if it means he can just wear a suit and tie. Likely Hitman Agent 47. Reader as Sookie Stackhouse, of course.

Oberyn Martell – The Fox and The Viper.

Himself, he gets lots of compliments as he wears his silk robe as “That hot guy from the fantasy series”. Reader is dressed as “The nasty incest bitch, but in a hot way.”

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unadulterated-syd · 2 years

Text

Come Tomorrow Afternoon.

Warnings; Angst, unrequited love, weed/mentions of smoking obv.

Synopsis; Sydney Novak takes Stanley's attention from you, suddenly he's the Dina to your Syd.

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

Stan was always your number one fan. From all your shitty crushes, to the hobbies you dropped in minutes, even through the new and old friends.

He was the best friend you could ask for because of that, he was such a goofy and laid back guy, there was never drama nor tension. In a way you were his number one fan just as well.

The two of you had a weird bond to outsiders, two people with completely different lives getting along better than they did with their families. But that's how you liked it, no one could comprehend so no one could talk shit.

You weren't per-say popular, but you were definitely well-known. Stan was well known too, but for much different reasons. The Stoner-Weirdo and the seemingly normal Shy-Kid. That's what made it so weird to the outside world.

Well, that was, until Stanley's obsession with Sydney Novak came along. You had nothing against her, you never would. Stan just seemed to revolve around her, while every part of you was still revolved around him.

It was like a switch in his head flipped, from you to him, except she didn't reciprocate. It was quite obvious to everyone in the world that Syd liked Dina, well except to Dina and Stan. That's what made the situation worse.

You could never hate Syd for the situation, envious maybe, but she was just like you. The one she loved, Dina, falling for someone seemingly random, Brad, after having eyes for only her. Stan was your one and only and now that was gone for you, just as it was for her.

The last straw was the party, showing up with Stan, just for him to ditch you for Syd, then to be ditched. You should've known. This happened a lot nowadays.

You sat lying down on the hard concrete of the small basketball court, silent. You heard muffled noises, and then the door slam open and shut, followed by muttering.

You didn't bother to look up, even at the mentioning of your name, "Y/n..?" Stanley Barber. God he had the absolute worse timing. You finally looked over when he sat next to you.

"Bummer party, huh?" He asked, messing with his blazer pockets, seemingly in search of a blunt. "Yeah, guess so. What went wrong for you, Barber?" You turned your head in his direction, knowing his answer would have something to do with Syd.

"Syd and Dina ditched, then I couldn't find you. Don't want to go home, cus' dad, don't want to stay cause people." He sighed, fumbling to find a lighter.

You shared a lopsided smile with him before reaching into his breast pocket, "You put it in here earlier."

"Thanks," His voice was muffled, due to the blunt hanging between his lips, he didn't grab the lighter, simply shuffling forward in order to get you to light it, which you did.

"What's wrong with you then?" He looked at the ground between his legs. "Dunno, was hoping to spend more time with you i guess." You shrugged, keeping your own eyes on the sky. "Me why didn't you just say that, silly?"

"Its not really been that easy to talk to you lately, Barber." You hummed, seeing his puzzled look from the corner of your eye. "Don't give me that look, have you not noticed? Stan you went from number one me friend, everything together, to number one Syd fan. I'm only around when you can't convince her to stay."

"Y/n, it's really just a crush.. I didn't know it affected you that much." He whispered, scared of confrontation. You didn't want to blow up on him, and you wouldn't. Because it wasn't fair to him, and it wasn't fair to Syd.

"Stan, look. I love you, but Syd doesn't like you back, she will never like you back. And it has nothing to do with you, you're awesome, but she likes girls, she's in love with Dina. People do love you Stan, god people have crushes on you too, you just chose the one who can't reciprocate."

"No one has crushes on me, name one person-" he started, in denial of the who Syd in love with Dina thing. "Me, Barber, me. I love you, I have a crush on you. There."

"Me?" he looked at you, more confused looking than ever. He was high when he came, and he was even higher now, of course he was confused. Maybe this would never mean a thing come tomorrow afternoon.

Maybe that's all it'd ever be. Nothing.

#stanley barber #ianowt #stanley barber x reader #syd novak #dina #wyatt oleff #wyatt oleff x reader #angst #blurb #unrequited love

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k1ssmeinmydreams · 4 months

Text

Word Count: 2k+

Rating: T (13+)

A/N: Takes place after S3E4 and before S3E5!!

Sara looked into the office’s bathroom mirror and adjusted her headband. She sighed, lightly, brushing off her skirt. Today had been a full one.

With Michael learning about the death of his former boss, she had been on Scott Emotional Duty with full force . She loved her uncle, but sometimes he could be quite the handful. But she knew the same could be said about her.

Of course, she was as professional as possible when on the clock. Not speaking unless spoken to, trying not to get involved in office politics, minding her business every second she could. But outside of work she felt like she was completely different.

Saying too much, saying not enough, overreacting, under reacting. She felt like a total mess, if she was being honest with herself.

She sighed quietly and exited the bathroom.

Quickly, she looked over at reception, knowing she had a small window to ask what she wanted to. Pam was locked into her computer currently, probably trying to catch up with the faxes she had promised to send for Stanley. Sara mildly chewed at her bottom lip, nervous.

She had recently been noticing changes in herself, at least regarding the inner mechanics of her work life. She was now excited. She was eager to get there early, she’d been having casual conversations more with coworkers, she was actually enjoying her days there. And she knew what it was but feared to admit it.

When she first started it was just a way to make money. But then she met her. Pam Beesly.

She knew it was foolish and silly, since she when she first met her she was engaged. It was never gonna happen, and she certainly wasn’t going to try to break a years long relationship for a woman she figured was straight. But Pam was just, so kind. Nice, considerate, funny. And today had especially proved that. Michael had consistently made Pam uncomfortable and crossed the line, but despite all that, she did something super sweet for him. And it did give her a slight boost of confidence she didn’t have to worry about Roy saying no to Pam going out anymore.

Sara walked up to the reception desk and placed her hands on the counter.

“Hi.” she said quietly. Pam looked up from her screen and smiled. “Hey.”

“I know this may be kind of sudden, and it’s totally cool if you can’t, but I was just wondering if you’d like to go out for a drink or something tonight?”

Pam seemed to ponder the question, her eyes looking up for a few seconds. She paused briefly before replying “Sure, why not? After today I could use a couple of beers, honestly.”

Sara felt her face almost flush at Pam answering so quickly. She prayed it barely showed and smiled back.

“Poor Richard’s?” Sara asked. Pam nodded and gave her a thumbs up.

They both managed to arrive around 5:30-ish, due to traffic. Sara got inside before Pam, grabbing them a couple of seats at the bar.

She sat down and placed her handbag on the stool next to her, saving Pam’s spot. She peered up and caught her reflection in the bar’s mirrored back wall.

Sara sighed, adjusting her headband and glasses. She felt nervous about being around Pam outside of work. What if she said something dumb? What is she somehow embarrassed herself? What if Pam had a bad time and decided just to remain work acquaintances at best? It pained her to admit it, but in and outside of work Sara didn’t have many friends.

Before she could really get into thinking more about it she saw Pam walk in. She waved her over and smiled.

Pam sat down and removed her coat. “You sure you wanna sit up here?” she asked.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Sara chuckled nervously. “I’m weird about sitting with my back completely to the door and the bar’s a good compromise for a table or booth.” she answered.

Pam nodded and smiled sweetly in response. “Also maybe we’ll get our beers in a timely manner.” She quipped. Sara smiled back, giggling.

About half a beer into the evening, Pam turned to Sara.

“You know, and, I mean this in the nicest way possible, you’re super quiet.” Pam pondered while taking a sip “Even more so than Toby, and I get about three sentences tops from him on a daily basis.”

Sara nodded politely, considering her answer for a second. “Well, I’m just sort of shy I suppose. I get nervous in crowds sometimes, even if I know everybody.” She sipped from her bottle and tried desperately not to peel at the label. “And I mostly just try to keep to myself. No use in the risk of mixing work with pleasure, you know? I think that usually ends with people getting hurt.” She took another sip and looked over at Pam.

She smirked and nodded, replying “Well what would you call what we’re doing right now?” and took a quick sip from her own bottle, eyebrows raised playfully.

Sara felt her face flush slightly. She figured the bar was dim enough to hide any trace of blush on her cheeks. She pushed up her glasses, looking away briefly.

“Well, I’d call this a ‘thank you for putting up with my Uncle Mike’ celebratory drink. A drink in honor of the bird, if you will.”

“I see.” the other woman retorted and chuckled.

Pam took a moment to check her lipstick in her compact mirror. As she did, Sara took an opportunistic glance at her.

It was something she did often, but felt embarrassed doing nonetheless. It used to feel wrong to do because Pam was engaged and now just felt silly because Sara knew it wouldn’t lead to anything. That’s what she told herself whenever her stomach dropped taking in Pam’s beautiful bright green eyes. The ones she begged to look at her all day, foolishly.

Sara cleared her throat slightly and turned away, looking down at her shoes.

Towards the end of the night, Sara gathered the courage to tell Pam what she’d wanted to all day.

“Hey, Pam.” She said, feeling her stomach turn. She looked at Sara, seemingly curious. “Mm-hm.”

“I know...” Sara started, trailing off as she tried to keep her nerve. Her heart was beating a mile a minute and she just barely had enough beer in her for some ‘liquid courage’. She bit her lip and gulped “This might be silly, but I really wanted to thank you for what you did for Michael today.” she finally got out the words, albeit a little mumbled and fast.

“Oh, the whole funeral thing?” She chuckled and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear “It’s no big deal.” she shrugged in an exaggerated manner “I try to help out when and where I can and, hey, at least we got a small break from all the chaos of the morning.” Sara nodded.

“Well, maybe to you it’s not a big deal but it really meant a lot to me that you went through any kind of trouble to help my Uncle Mike feel better. I know he’s not always been the best to you and, all that considered, it was a really kind thing you did.”

Pam grinned widely, her eyes glinting slightly in the low light as they creased. “And-“ Sara pursed her lips for a moment “I know we’re just barely friends or whatever, but I’d really regret it if I never let you know you’re one of the kindest co-workers in the building. And that I think the office would be a lot less tolerable if you weren’t there.”

Sara looked at the bar, worried she had socially misstepped and overshared because of the alcohol in her system as what she had just said repeated in her head.

“That’s really sweet of you, thanks.” Pam replied. “And hey,” she continued, placing her hand on Sara’s shoulder lightly “You’re a really good co-worker too. Definitely one of the coolest girls in the office.”

Sara looked up at Pam, scrambling to find the right words to say back. Her cheeks felt like they’d burn up into the atmosphere and she suddenly noticed how dry her mouth was.

“Thank you.” she replied simply, deciding not to overthink it. Pam gave her shoulder a small squeeze before letting go and turning to wave the bartender over.

Sara followed Pam along to her car at the end of the night, making sure she was safe before the ride home.

“Well...” she pushed up her glasses, placing her hand against Pam’s car gingerly “Please drive home carefully in this thing.” Pam giggled “Oh, I’ll try my best.” she stepped forward slowly and Sara suddenly felt Pam hug her, a tad awkwardly at first, before Sara could adjust her position so they’d intertwine properly. Pam’s cheeks felt warm against the cool night breeze and the air filled with the smell of her perfume and soap. Sara quickly pulled back, happy but overwhelmed by her touch. She didn’t completely let go, but pulled back enough they were now facing each other, their faces only inches apart.

The wind whipped around again as Pam closed her eyes, laughing and smiling widely, her golden brown hair moving wildly around her face. Sara felt her heart flutter and beat at this small moment in time, feeling the touch of Pam’s hands on her upper back and arm.

Before she could stop and analyze her next move, Sara felt her own arm raise up. Pam’s eyes opened as Sara tucked a small lock of hair behind her ear, giving a small smile back.

Pam parted her lips, as if to speak, but just paused and said nothing. Sara felt her breath against her own, their faces so close. She tried not to as best as she could, but to no avail, looked down at Pam’s parted mouth.

Pam leaned forward and kissed her. Sara felt all the worries of the day melt away, her shoulders and arms relaxing as she leaned into the kiss.

She inhaled deeply as Pam moved her lips and suddenly pulled back, cursing at herself for letting her guard down this much. As much as she enjoyed the kiss, it was against her ‘code’ to get this close to a co-worker. Literally and metaphorically.

“Pam...” Sara exhaled, catching her breath in the cool evening air “Don’t...” she stepped back, Pam’s arms falling as she looked on, confused “Don’t do something you’ll regret with me.” She stared at the gravel beneath her feet and chewed at her bottom lip.

“What do you mean?” she asked, flustered.

“I...I’m not trying to be presumptuous but I figure it’s been pretty tough since your breakup with Roy, and-“ Sara looked up, Pam staring back with widened eyes “And perhaps you’re just feeling lonely. I promise I’m not trying to be cruel, I just don’t think this is the best idea considering we work together.”

Pam took a couple of steps back and nodded. Her face flushed from the previous kiss and her lips turned down into a slight grimace.

“Yea, maybe you’re right. We’ve both been drinking a little and I’m in a big transitional period in my life and we’re co-workers...” she fixed the smudges of lipstick around her mouth as she trailed off.

“It’s nothing personal I promise.” Sara said, fumbling with a loose button on her coat. “There’s just...some things I don’t do with the people I work with” she sighed. Her stomach felt tight with regret.

“Please get home safe, okay?” she muttered quickly, looking down again to avoid Pam’s gaze. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” she glanced at Pam briefly and walked towards her own car.

Sara turned the key and sighed deeply. Her heart was beating rapidly and her hands trembled slightly.

She pushed the power button to the radio and tried to distract herself with whatever garbage was on the top 40 stations.

Work would definitely be more interesting in the near future.

Taglist (please let me know if you would like to be added or removed!): @deadlock @gideongrovel

#Horse Girl Next Door 🐴💜#self ship #self shipping #S/I X Canon #self ship community #self insert #sapphic self shipper #self ship ficlet

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prismatic-starstuff · 2 years

Text

Yours.

— Stanley x the Narrator.

Contains spoilers for Ultra Deluxe.

'...You know,' Stanley signs as he shifts himself to get comfortable, his hands still confident in their movements despite the darkness of the (nearly) infinite hole, 'I really enjoyed your new content.'

"Really?" The response is immediate, sharp, genuinely surprised; and he can feel the Narrator's presence as much as he can hear his voice, a closeness in the air that now rests directly in front of his face. "You did?! Oh... oh, you aren't just saying that to soothe my ego, are you? Because that wouldn't do at all..."

A smile tugs at the corners of Stanley's lips, and his head shakes. 'No, really,' he signs once more, careful not to bump the bucket seated at his side, nor the balloon proudly stating Get Well Someday which rests inside of it. 'I liked it a lot.'

And it's the truth. Stanley had loved every second of the Narrator's lovingly made expo: every new addition, every gimmick, every concept and every bit of merchandise. Even though they weren't technically flawless, they were nothing short of perfect in his eyes.

He loves them as much now as he'd loved them the first time he'd seen them.

...He considers himself very lucky to be seeing them again at all.

"—but of course, with the expert craftsmanship and the hours of thought that I painstakingly poured into each and every aspect of The Stanley Parable 2, I shouldn't be surprised. Of course my ideas are going to work! How could I have ever doubted myself?"

The smile on Stanley's lips grows wider. Of course the Narrator had been talking away for all the time he'd been thinking... How he'd missed that voice when it wasn't right beside him.

(How his heart had broken when his only means of escape had been to skip it.)

The Narrator's presence, invisible and only lightly tangible, has coiled around him in something akin to an embrace. Stanley can almost see the satisfied grin, can almost feel the head that would be leaning against his shoulder if the man(?) were physically with him right now.

"Oh, but listen to me prattling on," he says, unaware of the fact Stanley would gladly listen to him forever if he could. "Why don't you tell me which part you liked the most, hm? For, um... research purposes, of course."

Stanley breathes a silent chuckle. The Narrator, he thinks, is like one of those silly birds sometimes; the ones that puff up their feathers in a silent demand for attention, except with this one, it's not feathers but words.

'I loved it all.'

"Come on, you must have had some sort of favourite, surely!"

'Nah, it was all great. The merch was all well-designed, the jump circle was fun, the bucket's very reassuring... and this hole's really comfy.'

There's a blissful sigh close by his ear; a warmth and an infectious joy in the air that has Stanley grinning from ear to ear.

Being here, in a place he had thought was long gone, with someone he thought he had lost forever... Being far from that infinite desert and that unbearable silence...

There's nothing he could ever want more.

'You know why it's all perfect, right?'

"Hmm? Oh, do go on. Don't feel as though you need to stop praising me, really; I am quite happy to make the time to hear you out."

He can almost feel the Narrator's eagerness, his excitement; and it makes Stanley's heart warm, makes him understand exactly where it is he wants to be, makes him realise exactly who it is he wants to be there with.

And his hands are more confident now than they've ever been, as he raises them to sign once more:

'It's perfect because it's yours.'

#the stanley parable #tsp #the stanley parable ultra deluxe #stanarrator #tsp narrator #the narrator #tsp stanley #stanley #my writing

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