#3 days… 16 hours… my god never again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eddiernunson · 1 year ago

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"Do You Want One?" | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader | 18+

Summary: your cousin shows you around Hawkins High for your first day, and is surprised to say the least when her sweet cousin hooks onto Eddie Munson. Just seeing him brings a swoop to your stomach you've never quite felt before, and become desperate for more of him.

Warnings: late bloomer!reader, virgin!reader, mentions never having experienced lust of the sort or really understanding what it is, corruption!kink, little praise, taking of virginity, slight perv!eddie

Authors' note: I, myself didn't feel any sort of sexual attraction or lust until i was 15/16. I tried to write the reader innocent without being infantilized. Also, these photos are for aesthetics only, not much of the reader is described, except for height. Also, my editor pulled through, despite her busy schedule, thanks @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you! This is a birthday present to @bebe07011, always one of the first to read <3

Word Count: 9k

The subtle, yet annoying ring of your alarm yanks you out of your sleep, a sleep that took hours to settle into after anxious tossing and turning. A yawn overtakes your body as you sit up, looking around sleepily at the boxes that contain the contents of your room. You whine as the stars overflow your vision from the rubbing of your eye.

Your tongue clicks against the roof of your mouth, tasting the mint of your mouthwash when your mom pushes a bagel into your hand. Most of the kitchen is still in boxes, just a few appliances on the unnaturally bare counters. “Hey, Aunt Karen just called and said Nancy will be here any minute.” She offers, and a part of you feels for the bags under her eyes.

“Thanks.” You say, garbled with a piece of bagel in your mouth.

“Oh, and Mike is being a little testy, so he probably won’t move from the front seat for you.” She laughs, shaking her head.

You shrug, not caring. “I’ve been in the backseat for this long.”

Two honks out the front announce their arrival, and you ignore the anxious reminders she hurriedly spits out as you grab your backpack by the front door, already filled with school supplies from Texas. You shout an I love you to her as the Wheelers’ Station Wagon comes into your sight from the swung open door, finally out of her worried clutches that you’ve been in from the last week straight.

True to Aunt Karen’s word, Mike gave a defiant look when Nancy demanded he get out the front seat. Again, you didn’t care. “Sorry Mike has a ruler up his ass.” Nancy apologizes, her smirk reaching your own in the rearview.

You roll your eyes, a signal that it really doesn’t matter to you.

Hawkins, miniscule in comparison to that of your old home, Houston, passes by in the windows and you huff a sigh out at how much smaller your world has gotten. Your town, your school…you wish you could go back and give a reality check to the girl who patronized Nancy for it on the phone.

As promised, Nancy shows you to the front office and your first few classes. Being the new girl in the middle of a semester is absolute bullshit, but at least it wasn’t Forks, Washington levels of bullshit. That level of attention would’ve had you crawling under a bridge. Thank God only one teacher asked you to introduce yourself to the class. The rest of them couldn’t even be bothered.

Nancy sits alone at lunch, a notepad in her hand next to a near empty lunch tray. One thing you notice is that this school is much more categorized than yours was. It felt straight out of a high school dramedy, one you would criticize for being cliché.

Oh. Maybe it does some have truth to it.

“Hey loner.” You greet her, your butt hitting the hard plastic chair.

“I’m not a loner.” She huffs, hand moving absentmindedly as she writes. “My news team is getting this week’s paper done, we usually get it done during lunch.”

You roll your eyes, having noted the empty space on her tray. “You work too hard.”

“Nope. If you fail to plan, you plan to fail.” She answers, her signature side smirk on her face. Sometimes, only sometimes, Nancy doesn’t really have a serious bone in her body.

You gesture to the cafeteria, opening your fruit cup. “So, tell me about your very categorized cafeteria.”

She laughs, pausing in the middle of the sentence she’s writing. “So. There’s the jocks/cheerleaders, the nerds, the band nerds, drama nerds, science nerds—"

“Those are different from the regular nerds?” You ask, eyebrow quirked.

“Yes.” She deadpans. “Those are the kids without a clique,” she points, a bunch of kids not interacting, shyly nibbling at their lunches. “And finally, where my brother sits. Hellfire.”

It felt dramatic, but the table definitely earned their last but not least position. They stand out from the crowd, not seeming to care about fitting in like everyone else so desperately does. From the looks of it, individually, none of them would fit in the crowd. As a group, they stick out like a sore thumb. They don’t even care.

Nancy seems to be speaking, but she fades into the background. While you tricked yourself into believing you were observing the table, it occurs to you your eyes are fixated on the head of it, your heart beating out of your chest as you stare at him.

Him.

“Who’s he?” You interrupt Nancy, watching as his long frizzy hair curtain over his face. You didn’t even know someone in real life could be this good looking, you were sure it was reserved for celebrities in magazines.

Nancy switches her glance back and forth between your slack jaw and wide eyes and him. “That’s Eddie Munson.” She answers, her voice calculated. “The dork that I complained about Mike copying, remember?”

Your tongue reaches out to lick your lips, staring at him distractedly. A hot feeling in the swell of your gut overwhelms your senses. “You described a wet-rat loser.”

Nancy huffs in abrupt laughter. “That’s cause he is!”

“Him?” You ask, this hot feeling starting to radiate. You notice it’s especially hot in your crotch, a sort of…want you’ve never felt before. You’ve never craved for anyone this badly.

Nancy laughs in disbelief, surprised to say the least that her sweet cousin is openly drooling over Eddie The Freak Munson of all people. “I can put in a good word, if you want.” She teases, smirking at the way your eyes widen in panic.

“No, no, please don’t.” You insist, your eyes finally flickering back to her.

“Fine, you can drool from afar.” She muses. “Oh, lunch’ll be over in a handful of minutes. What’s your next class?”

“History.” You answer, viewing your crumpled schedule. God, not another boring lecture.

Nancy bites her lip, something she’s clearly not willing to share with the class. You don’t ask, still trying to catch your breath.

She walks you across the school to the classroom littered with historical figures and maps. She salutes you, telling you she’ll see you in AP Calculus right after this one. The look on her face never leaves it, she’s always got a secret right under the surface, but this one seemed more entertaining than the rest.

When you enter the classroom, the teacher tells you there’s assigned seats in this one and lucky for you, there’s one seat left. She directs you to the far-left corner, signalling to the one on the right. You shyly ignore the looks on your new classmates faces, all of them observing the face of the new kid who started so late in the year.

New faces are always hard to ignore, it’s just human nature to stare. Still, your stage fright is present in the forefront of your mind.

Your teacher starts the lecture by introducing you as a new kid, offering a wave to everyone that turns their head to look at you. Why can’t teachers just learn to be normal?

Your head is turned down, leaning on your elbow as she starts to explain a concept you’ve already learned last year. Are they sure they put you in a grade 12 class? At least this will be easier than most. Suddenly the heavy door opens, and your heart stutters as the man who’s taken over your every thought stumbles into the room ten minutes late.

“Mr. Munson! How nice of you to join us!” She greets, her scowl indicating that it’s anything but.

“You are so welcome, Miss. Greyson.” Eddie answers, his voice dripping in a tenor tone that sends a shiver down your spine. Not a lick of sarcasm comes from him, answering as if she was genuine.

She sighs, closing her eyes in exasperation. “Just go have a seat.”

Something in you suddenly realizes that the only available seat is right next to yours. A thrill takes over you, biting your lip excitedly as he struts as if he has all the time in the world.

After a brief stint on the projector, Miss. Greyson instructs the class to open their textbooks and answer questions on the following pages. “You may work in pairs.” She answers the many raised hands, and the room is filled by the harsh sound of desks groaning against the floor.

You get up from your desk, leaning into the teacher as she gathers the laminated sheets she had just used for the lesson. “I don’t have a textbook, yet.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She replies, dropping her pile to shuffle off to her desk. “I completely forgot, in all the excitement.” She hands you the textbook that looks about fifteen years old, the spine cracked to oblivion. She leans in as you grab it, an apologetic look on her face. “I’m sorry about the placement of your desk, just ignore him. There was no one I hated in this classroom enough to place next to him.”

You resist the urge to raise an eyebrow, perplexed at her open disdain for him. It reminded you of the tone of voice Nancy had over the phone, wondering if the whole school was really this open about it. “I’ll live.” You answer, and she winks like you two share a secret.

Your textbook lands harshly on the desk, opening it to the page indicated in white chalk written on the blackboard. God, the reading is four pages, and the questions are a paragraph each. This much reading on the downfall of Mycenae? A jarring noise to your left surprises you, looking up to face his desk come closer and closer.

He leans over, a smile on his face that sends a thrill right through you. “So, how come I’ve never seen you around?”

He talks low, you spend the time hoping he doesn’t notice the goosebumps that trails over your skin. “Uh, I just started today.” You beg yourself to seem normal, to look him in the eyes like a decent conversationalist. You can’t bring yourself to, no matter how hard you try. Somehow you know when you finally look in those eyes of his, you’ll be too mesmerized to look away.

The printed words on the page make no sense, just a blur of boring text in black and white.

He leans back in his chair; you can feel his eyes planted on you. “Ah, makes sense. I would’ve remembered seeing your pretty face around.”

Oh my god he just called me pretty. Surely, he’s lying? Being in his line of sight and being considered good looking enough to him for him to even glance at was never in your wildest imagination, picturing him glazing right over you. Just a bug on the windshield. You gulp, pretending to be infatuated with the page in front of you instead of the man next to you.

“You shy?” He asks. In the corner of your eye, you see him leaning onto his elbow, his eyes staring a hole in your head.

Finally, you tear your glance off the textbook and onto him. God were you right about his eyes. How can a pair of brown eyes be so captivating? They’re a perfect chocolate brown, his mouth in a lopsided expression that sucks the air out of your lungs. “A little.” You admit, distracted by the sound of his fingers tapping rhythmically on the desk.

His limber fingers are dressed in chunky silver rings, the sight of his hands moving distractedly suddenly sends the heat you felt in your stomach earlier into a frenzy, the pull strong and overwhelming. “I can work with that.” A shy smile lands on your face, clenching your teeth as a method of resisting the urge to smile ear to ear. “Can I get a name?”

You tell him and hearing it from his lips is a vice and a half. “And you’re Eddie.” You say before he can introduce himself.

“So, my reputation precedes me.” He laughs, crossing his arms. “Or am I exactly like they said?”

You shrug. “Not exactly.”

His shoulders indicate a silent huff of laughter. “Care to expand on that?”

You shrug again. “You’re just…different.”

The look on his face indicates this answer isn’t good enough, but he doesn’t care to ask you to expand any further. As you work on your homework, finally settling your heartbeat and breathing rate, he writes in a notebook littered with graffiti. His left foot rests on the edge of his desk, the book resting on his thigh as he writes with the dull pencil.

He’s not doing any homework, but he’s at least letting you work on yours. The bell finally rings, dismissing you from your class and the room fills with chatter as everyone packs their bags. “You know where your next class is?”

You shake your head; having told Nancy you could work it out on your own. “Uh, no. It’s AP Calculus with Mr. Warner.”

“Mr. Warner.” He muses, his notebook in one hand and carrying a small metal tin. “Here, I’ll walk you.”

You pause, gulping as your bag rests on one shoulder. “You don’t have to do that.” You insist, suddenly realizing he’s about a whole head taller than you.

He smiles, his gaze making you feel…hot. “I didn’t ask, sweetheart.”

The way you gulp, your wide eyes darting back and forth between his, your teeth biting on your bottom lip nervously, Eddie was startled at the physical reaction and it was all going straight to his dick. The urge to shove his thumb between your pretty, plump lips is overwhelming, to say the least.

“Oh.” You answer, fingernails digging into the strap of your backpack. “Then lead the way.”

Eddie shakes his head, starting down the hallway to the other end of the school. As soon as he reaches the classroom, he turns around, leaning against the locker on his arm, neck hunching over you. Oh god, he’s gorgeous. “Will you let me take you out on a date, tonight?”

Every bone in your body wants to say yes, fingers just itching to reach out and touch his lithe hips. “My mom won’t let me go out on a Monday.”

So, that was not a No. “I would’ve asked for Friday, but I can’t wait that long.”

His admission drives you crazy, that heat ever present. Things like this just don’t happen. “Neither can I.” You admit, feeling scared of the rush that overwhelms you, yet scared of the idea of it never happening. You think quickly, biting your lip. “Think you can pick me up from my cousin’s house?”

He squints, crossing his arms as he leans against the locker. “Who’s your cousin?"

“Nancy Wheeler.”

His eyes bug out of the sockets, sighing in disbelief. “You’re cousins with Wheeler?” You nod, wondering if there’s any unspoken animosity between them. “I’ve dropped her kid brother off a few times, I know where she lives. You gonna tell your mom where you’re heading out for the night?”

You shake your head, sure he knows the answer, already.

Eddie huffs, hoping the crotch of his pants won’t give him away. “You ever snuck out before?”

“No.” You answer, looking up as the bell rings. “But I’m sure I can manage.”

You can’t place the expression on his face, somewhere between bewildered and amused.

For the record, it’s pure lust, having just met you and he’s already accidentally convincing you to sneak out for him. He wants you to, wondering if one day you’ll go so far to skip class to have fun with him under the bleachers.

His eyes leer down your body, watching as your skirt dances across your bare thighs while your feet can’t stay in place. He plays with his fingers absentmindedly, just barely resisting the urge to move them past the barrier and watch your face melt in pleasure.

“What time?” Eddie asks, eyes flickering up to your sweet face.

You think about it, knowing you’ll need time to grab at least a dress and get ready at the Wheelers’. “7:30.”

Eddie laughs, turning away from you and back down the hall to where you presumed his class was. “Pick you up at 7.”

“I-I said 7:30!”

“I’ll honk twice!” He answers, hand in his pocket like he didn’t just glue you into place.

The echo of his voice suddenly reminds you the halls are empty, only a few feet away from Mr. Warners classroom. You know more than anyone that AP Calculus students just aren’t late. Maybe he’ll give you grace on your first day.

You ignore the way every set of eyes switch to you, looking around the room for an empty seat. Luckily, Nance has saved one right next to you. “Hi, sorry. Couldn’t find it.”

“That’s alright, take this and have a seat right next to Miss.Wheeler, there.” He offers, gesturing to your cousin.

When the lecture ends and he assigns homework, she gets right to the point. “So, how was History?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes in exasperation. “You knew he’d be there.” You accuse, her grin affirming your assumption completely. “A warning would’ve been nice.”

“Not like you had to speak to him.” Nancy sighs, opening her textbook to the page indicated.

You stare at her pointedly, opening your book to a random page. “I sat next to him.”

Nancy instinctively knows something is up, seeing something was on your mind. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“You’ve barely given me a chance.” You comment sarcastically, looking over at her expectant face. “He…he asked me out.”

To say Nancy is surprised at this development would be simply, an understatement. “I’m sorry?”

You grin, finally letting that smile you’ve been hiding take over. “He’s picking me up at 7.”

“Like your mom will let you go out on a weekday.” She squints, knowing your mom’s tendencies to make you prioritize school over anything else.

“…which is why I need you to cover for me.” You hesitate, grinning shyly when she gives you a look of utter disbelief.

“Seriously?” You nod, pleading with her silently. “Fine. But you owe me big.”

You promise to make it up to her.

When the bell rings signifying the end of the day, your heart beats rapidly as the time for your date comes closer and closer. Nancy said she wouldn’t be able to help with your conundrum of the fact that you’ll need a dress and a way to get from your house to Nancy’s.

As you sit next to her while she writes a rough copy of an article wondering who you could possibly get to drive you. You might be shit out of luck. Like an angel, a freckled redhead appears out of nowhere. “Nance, is that the cousin?” She asks, sitting right across from you.

From the look on Nancy’s face, you’re unsure how close they actually are. “Yep.”

“Cool! I’m Robin, over-sharer, anxiety ridden, fast talker. Nice to meet ya.”

You take her extended hands, sort of hypnotized by her warm green eyes. “You too.”

“Hey, Steve busy?” Nancy asks, a million thoughts behind her head.

“Probably not.” Robin offers, getting up from the table. “Why?”

“Oh, she needs a ride.”

Robin eyes you, a smirk landing on her face. “I can convince him.” She side eyes, gesturing for you to follow.

You follow her around the school to the front where you face a handsome lanky dude sitting impatiently as he waits for his friend. When he turns the window down to ask who you are, you realize he’s not just handsome, he’s hot. God, you’ll have to reprimand Nancy for leaving that detail out. “What’s with the guest?”

“She’s Nance’s cousin. She needs a ride, would you mind?”

“What am I, a chauffeur?” Steve asks, face shifting into a deep scowl.

You stop Robin from responding, having an immediate comeback. “I had to listen to my cousin bitch about you for hours. Hours. I think I deserve a little compensation for my time, don’t you?”

Steve smirks, looking from under the hair falling into his face. “Whatever, get in.”

“Where you need a ride to?” He asks as you get into his backseat.

“My house.” You pause, hesitating to say the second location. “Then Nancy’s house.”

Steve squints suspiciously at you in his rear view. “Why two locations?”

“So my date can pick me up tonight.” You admit, glancing out the window shyly.

Robin turns in her seat, jaw dropping open. “Isn’t this your first day?”

You shrug, biting back a smile. “So?”

“Oh shit.” She glances to Steve and back to you. “Who? Do we know him?”

“Um, probably.”

“We know him.” Robin states.

“Turn here, third house on the left…” you tell him, getting out of his car as soon as it stops.

When you get inside your house, you explain to your mom you are way further behind on school than you thought you were and will need some time to get caught up. She asks how late you’ll be, and when you say midnight, she doesn’t even hesitate to let you go.

Thank god you don’t lie, because this should not be this easy. Your hands ruffle through the box of dresses by your bed, grabbing at a few you know look good on you. They’re stuffed into your backpack, cursing yourself for not unpacking your makeup earlier. Hopefully Nancy will be nice enough to lend you some. (You doubt it.)

You rush a love you out to your mom and back into Steve’s back seat, out of breath from running up and down the stairs so damn fast. God, the things you were doing for your goddamn date.

Nancy only lives down a few blocks from you, thus the easy carpool your moms figured out until you get your car. God, in Houston you could’ve just taken a METRORail, you didn’t need a damn car. You thank Steve profusely, thankful for his saving grace.

You would rather tell every member of Hawkins Senior class personally a fun fact about you than go out with Eddie in the same thing you wore to school. You’re shy, not pathetic.

“You don’t owe him anything if you tell us who asked you out.” She calls out of her open window, face full amusement. “C’mon!”

You wait as they pull forward, Steve shaking his head at his best friend’s shenanigans. “It’s Eddie Munson!” You shout, laughing as she shouts a what in utter disbelief.

You wave as they take off, thinking you and her could actually be great friends. She has the kind of spunk you look for in a friend, the same spunk you’ve witnessed in your cousin. A large part of you wonders why they’re not friends.

When your Aunt Karen wonders why she wasn’t alerted, you give the disclaimer you’re just there to catch up on the schoolwork. Your Uncle Ted insinuates Houston must be so far behind Hawkins, and you grit a smile in response, an indent on the tip of your tongue from your teeth. Most of your lessons from the school day you had learned last year, already earning top marks on those questions. The only class that was remotely hard was calculus.

It was borderline hilarious.

You run up the stairs, stomach in knots.

Nancy is nice enough to let you use her makeup, grinning up at you with amusement as you ruffle through the dresses you so hurriedly packed. She gives a definite yes to a dress you knew stands out but worry at the way it just brushes against your thigh, and the neckline dives deeper than what you’re used to.

When it cascades down your body, the look in her stark green eyes tells you everything you need to know. This was the dress. Nancy is kind enough to do your hair, talking quietly with you as she curls your hair.

The half hour leading up to 7 has you lying on her bed, freaking out. She does the homework you’re supposed to be doing, answering your questions vaguely. She tries to make you feel better, grinning cheekily as she never imagined her sweet cousin going on date with Hawkin’s resident metal head.

When two honks occur down the street, you sit up starkly at the sound, biting your lip as you glance to her. “Go. I’ll distract my parents.”

She does, asking them for faux advice in the living room as you sneak past them to the front door, closing it with the most care you could muster. When you don’t hear any commotions, that gives you the go ahead to run down the street to the large van that sticks out, headlights on as it sits idly.

You peer up at him through the passenger window, waving as he unlocks it for you. The lopsided smile on his face starts that heat up again, like he turns on burners all over your body at will. The door shuts behind you, and you smile up at him shyly when he turns down the music.

“You look…wow.” He compliments you, watching the way your eyes look up at him, that beautiful shine.

You assess his outfit, a leather jacket worn with a graphic t-shirt and jeans with rips at the knee. He looked casual, but damn fine regardless. Him losing his metal accessories and devil-may-care look probably would’ve disappointed you, anyway. “So do you.” You offer back, taking in the way he looks as he starts his van and pulls out.

“Thanks.” He winks, turning at a traffic intersection. “So, there are several places we can go, the movies, Hal’s Diner, Benny’s Burgers, bowling alley, the Drive In, up to you, sweetheart.” He insists, driving his van around the small town.

The only thing you want at the current moment is to be in close quarters with him, with the need to kiss him crazy, a need you’ve experienced far too much this quickly. There’s only one thing that allows that. “Drive in.” You decide, the prospect of those same close quarters sending a thrill down your spine.

Eddie signals left, the drive-in location the opposite way from where he’s been driving. “Sounds good, love.”

Eddie doesn’t ignore the way you subtly avoid eye contact from him, shyly looking at your near bare thighs. By the way, were you trying to get a rise out of him with this wonderfully slinky dress you’re wearing? The moment you crawled into his van he was overthrown by your sweet perfume and the way your dress smooths over your gorgeous curves. It’s too hard, impossibly hard, to resist leaning in for your sweet scent, to nuzzle his nose in your neck. The idea that you don’t want to leave the intimacy of the van any more than he does is enough to bring the urge to readjust the crotch of his jeans.

By the time he pulls up into the far corner of the lot, turning on his radio so it connects with the movie mid-beginning credit scene, you take in the sparce parking lot, only a few vehicles spread apart sporadically. Well, you wanted intimate. You wanted close, now you've got it. His freshly showered self with the mix of his cologne just adding fuel to the ever-increasing fire.

This fire suddenly sends the need to squeeze your legs together, not completely understanding the feeling, but there’s an inkling. An instinct that on some level you know what it is, but no one ever warned you it could be this intense.

The first act of the movie is shared by you and Eddie laughing at the same jokes together, grabbing candy from his hands when he offers it. You sip on a straw in a glass coke bottle, if only to calm the nerves combined with heat that has completely overshadowed any sense you seem to have. Eddie leans back comfortably in his fabric covered seat, a hand landing on your bare thigh.

Oh, that turned up the heat several notches. It starts to become clearer that this heat is what can now be more clearly defined as a want. A want for…more of his hands, further up, him, close to you. Closer.

As your thighs tense and clench under his touch, Eddie can’t hold back any more like he planned. His other hand is tucked under your chin, lifting your big eyes to look up at his. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip, your mouth parting as you look up at him with stars in your eyes. “Can I?”

Your eyebrows furrow, breath stuttering as you peer up at him. You nod your head, glancing at his shiny pink lips. Every inch of air is tugged from your lungs as he leans forward, lips open as he places them on yours.

Eddie had every intention of kissing you delicately, the way he knows you deserve to be kissed, gently and patiently. As soon as the whimper leaves your throat and vibrates into his mouth, he forgets his good intentions. The kiss turns dirty, fast, the pressure of his spread hand increasing in the best fucking way, making your body fold involuntarily towards him.

Just when you’re enjoying the feeling of his tongue against yours, mewling pathetically against his lips, Eddie starts to kiss down your throat. You sigh, leaning back as that heat finally gains a resolve. Oh, god you're horny. Is that what that is? No wonder teenage boys are such perverts.

The combination of teeth and tongue is everything you needed and more; every muscle feeling like jelly as his lips and hands work like magic over you. Eddie licks a strip up to your ear, a startled and blissful moan filling up the car. He skips right past the pleasantries, past any inclination that you were anything other than wild for eachother. “You ever touch yourself, sweetheart?”

Only God knows why, but the dirty sentence just makes you hungrier for him, more eager. However, the answer to that jarring question is an honest and stuttered, “No.”

Eddie separates from you, giving you a look, you can’t quite place. “Wait, really?” You confirm it, breathing heavily, gasping as his eyes visibly darken. “So, you’ve never cum before?”

The sentence makes your eyes widen, gulping at that gorgeous face of his. You think you know what he means, but you still need clarification.

“Orgasm, princess. Have you ever had an orgasm?” He asks, a hand placed on your cheek as he watches your reaction.

Oh. That’s what you thought. That’s an absolute and definitive, “No.”

His fingers increase their pressure, a reflex of from his reaction. God, you’re more innocent than he even knew. The idea of even teaching you what it means to get off sends a swoop through his gut, picturing you looking at him with those wide eyes as he corrupts you.

God, does he want to corrupt you. He wants to corrupt every inch of you, turn you into someone who begs him to skip class so you can guzzle on his cock. The way you stare up at him waiting for a response, eyes glazed over as you wait for him to continue kissing you, as if you don’t even remember you’re at a drive in to begin with.

His cock has never hurt so much from the blood pulsing through it, probably an angry red at this point.

“Can I give you one?” He asks, thumb starting to rub on your bottom lip again.

“An-an orgasm?” You stutter, voice squeaking through the question. He’s gorgeous, the way he stares down at you, those same chocolate brown eyes making that heat pool. Despite the fear, the arousal is greater. “Uh, sure.”

He smirks, watching your eyes dart back and forth nervously. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.” You confirm, pulling him for the kiss you so desperately crave. You weren’t sure how it happens, your hands having a damn mind of their own. Despite him pulling away, he slips back into the kiss easily, the hand on your thigh and hand on your face making you feel dizzy.

You’ve had kisses before, but you knew you were missing something in them. At last, you’ve found it, desperately clinging onto his kiss. God, he’s good at making you turn into mush, relaxing into his seats almost completely.

His hand inches up your thigh, waiting for you to protest. Your breath hitches as he gets closer and closer. “I'm gonna make you feel so good.” He promises, his hot breath turning you into a liquid. Finally, his hand lands on the cotton of your underwear, his strokes tugging mewls into his open mouth. “Shit, you’re soaked, baby. You even know how much you want me? Probably confusing, hmm?”

He puts pressure at the top, rubbing small circles and it feels like fire is set to your center, gasping as your concentration falls apart. His fingers feel good, in a way you didn’t think was possible. Words in your mind echo the thought of how damn good he feels, mouth attempting to tell him, but nothing comes out but wanton gasps.

Eddie watches you wither in his chair, legs opening for him. Sure, giving you an orgasm is a fierce turn on, but knowing you’ve never experienced any type of pleasure or want is sent straight to his cock. He remembers learning how good it felt to start rubbing his cock when it got hard, how often he started doing it when he realized it led to something.

All he wants to do is turn you into a pervert, one orgasm at a time.

That same warmth that’s made home in your gut starts to build, your thighs tensing up when it occurs to you what its building to. “Fuck.” You gasp, Eddie humming at the swear that leaves your lips. “Close, and I haven’t even really touched you, hmm?” He muses, lips starting to add a second sensation on your neck with his hot and wet tongue.

He pushes your underwear aside, fingers finally making direct contact with the wet slick of your folds. “Eddie.” You gasp. The skin on skin makes your head spin, clutching onto his leather jacket with desire. The pleasure jumps up thirty notches, that build reaching an all-time high. Nothing has ever felt better, never so fantastic. Again, now you understand why teenagers are such perverts.

“Let me see you cum, I can feel it coming, baby.” He whispers, licking his lips.

He slides a finger deep in you, the sudden intrusion alien but welcome. On the edge, you become even more completely desperate for him. How was his finger even better? How was that possible? The feat thrills you, happily and willingly giving into everything he gives you. “Damn. Baby. You look so fucking good, think you can cum for me?”

His fingers hook within you, and it pushes you over the edge you’ve been staring down, stars invading your vision, the heat you’ve felt everywhere, all at once. Your tight entrance pulses around his fingers, twitching, not aware of the loud, whiny moans that Eddie’s sure the concession stand less than twenty feet away can hear, but he’s proud of it, grinning maniacally at his hard work.

He guides you through it, thrusting his fingers as he watches you come apart under his touch. When you stop shaking, his hand rubs your pussy gently, admiring the slick that is now pooled down your thighs and even onto his chair. He smirks, catching your eye when they finally open to face him. “How’re you doing, love?”

You forget to be shy in your smile, grinning maniacally as you grab him, yanking him in for a hot, wet kiss. It’s even dirtier than before, attempting to show him how grateful you feel for his magical fingers. “That was…so…good.” You mumble, smiling wider when you can feel him do the same.

“Feels good, hmm?” He asks, his fingers still stroking you gently.

“Jesus.” You answer, thighs convulsing involuntarily.

Eddie chuckles, amused that it takes you cumming to cum out of your shell. “You’re pretty like this, you know?” You roll your eyes, and he can feel the dismissal of his compliment. “Can I eat you out, baby?” It shouldn’t be this embarrassing, but it is. You barely know any of this terminology, and he can feel you tense up below him, your once liquid limbs turning to steel. “You have no idea what that means, do you, baby?”

You shake your head, gulping in the embarrassment.

“That’s ok. Of course, I don’t mind helping you.” Eddie doesn’t mind. When he says that he’s under exaggerating, not showing an ounce of his true feelings. How much does it take for you to squirm under his dirty words? How much patience does he have before he begs you to let him shove his hardened cock down your throat. How long will it be until you’re riding him like a porn star? If he was even slightly sleezier, he’d bet on it with someone. “I’d make that pretty pussy feel even better with my tongue.”

Oh. That sounds miles better than anything your brain could’ve come up with. You bite your lip, staring up at him with pure want. “You’d do that?”

“If you’re willing to come into the back with me.” He muses, nodding his head to his elongated trunk. You turn your head, facing a fleece blanket placed on the floor of the van with a few pillows. Did he do this for you, or is it always this nice?

Eddie doesn’t think you can get any cuter, but when you nod excitedly, starting to crawl into the back before he can say anything, he’s proven dead wrong. He’s never been so happy to be wrong. As you crawl, he watches your ass, your underwear still pulled to the side as the shine on your folds is still visible in the light of the movie.

He smiles, crawling as soon as you land awkwardly on the floor of the van. You sit cross legged waiting for him, one spaghetti strap fallen off your shoulder as you bite your lip anxiously. It doesn’t help Eddie that the strap on your shoulder starts to reveal a breast, just peeking at the top of the nipple. He’s barely seen you, just at the tip of the iceberg of touching you, and he’s about to pop from the anticipation.

How are you doing this to him so easily?

Eddie leans in for a kiss, something as soft as he wanted to give you the moment he saw you sitting in the desk next to his, but his hormones got the worst of him. He kisses each bare shoulder, admiring the way you relax into it. His long fingers reach to the already fallen strap, fingers brushing as he tugs it down further, fully exposing the partially exposed tit. Your heart races, loud, too loud, in your temple and you wonder if he can hear it.

Eddie can’t, as heartbeats are usually inaudible to the naked ear. He can hear, however, the way those sweet breaths get louder, faster, and even more utterly pathetic for him. Eddie feels a goal take over his mind like a parasite, one he welcomes with a bed made. He plans to make you moan and whine louder so that everyone within ten miles can hear how good you feel, what a good whore you are—he’s getting ahead of himself.

Right now, he focuses on making you feel comfortable, helping you become at ease so you will never be self-conscious with him, never afraid of being too loud, or too eager. He can’t imagine ever thinking otherwise with you. He thought he knew the definition of impossible, but now he knows he had no clue.

Every sensible, distinguishable thought has left your brain, too focused on how good his tongue and teeth feel as he expertly works on your beaded nipple. His brain is going a million miles per hour, yours left behind in the middle of a desert. His hand guides the other strap down your shoulder, fully exposing your chest, the soft material falling so it sits wrapped around your hips.

Teeth scrape against the curve of your breast, as if his tongue is attempting to taste every inch, every centimetre of it. One hand smoothing the skin just below them. Wet kisses trail down your torso, tongue dipping into your navel, the sweet swell of your stomach, his dull nails digging into your soft flesh, the pain adding to the beauty of the mixed sensations.

Your pussy is raging in fire, shouting for the same attention he had been so generous at providing. He feels your thighs tensing, attempting to provide friction for yourself where you need it the most. “Does it hurt, baby?” He asks, mouth now at the base of your neck. “Does that sweet pussy hurt for it?” You nod, rubbing your thighs like a damn cricket. “Oh, I know, I’ll make it all feel better, don’t you worry.”

He admires your face, the way your eyes are closed with the muscles beautifully crumpled up.

“Lie down for me, and I’ll eat that fucking pretty pussy.” Without hesitation, you lay down, shifting your body so you can lie comfortably on the floor of the van.

When you do, his hands tug at the fabric around your waist, not pulling it off you, just clutching it like a vice. They slink under it, fingers tight on the waistband on your panties as he pulls them down your legs. As they leave your feet, pulling them around your heels, Eddie stares at the drenched middle, fingers playing with the thick slick that had gathered. Eddie seems to have a talent for stealing the air from your lungs, doing so as you watch him taste them. “Taste so fucking good, sweets.” He makes a show of placing them into his back pocket, shooting a wink when you give him a questioning look.

He adjusts himself onto his forearms, both hands landing on the top of your thighs as his head dives in between them. Your thigh muscles tense in his hold, begging him for mercy, any kind. “Eddie…please…I need…I need—”

He chuckles, bending over your wanton body. “I love how you say my name, but I’m gonna make you scream it.” He mutters, the scent of your arousal making his vision fizzle.

Finally, finally, his tongue touches you, relishing in the immediate whine that leaves your lips. He hums against you, enjoying the way your legs move restlessly. The first touches are so delicate, your heels digging in his (still) clothed back and grinding your hips to force more contact. “That’s a girl, take what you want from me.” He praises you, hand stroking your thigh gently.

The simple instruction drives your hips to grind more, Eddie’s tongue licking up your slick folds harder in response. At this point, fire isn’t a hot enough word to describe the heat in your pussy. Eddie starts to focus on your clit, his ears suddenly muffled by your thighs abruptly closing on his head. He starts a rhythm, switching back and forth, listening to how your sweet whines answer him.

Any thoughts occurring in your head are long gone, all out of your mouth before your brain even knows you’re thinking it. You wonder how you didn’t think of this, ‘how the first thing you thought when you saw Eddie not how good he would look between your legs’?

Answer: the best thing you’ve ever seen in your life. (Spoiler, there will be better things.)

Eddie is more than happy to play with you, to listen how you react to every touch he provides. So far, his favourite sound is when his tongue enters your sopping hole, fucking it gloriously. It was the first truly uninhibited sound he managed to pull from you. Every decision he made for you was purposeful, doing his damn best to send you over the edge again. He wonders how willing he is to put off his own pleasure for the sake of yours.

Honestly, to hear you come apart repeatedly is 1000% worth it to him, even if he has to rut against the floor of the van.

“Cl-close, Eddie.” You tell him, that sudden ending sneaking up on you. “So, so, so, so, good!”

Eddie takes your admission with pride, and as the stars invade your vision, your every limb tensing as you cum, he keeps going.

In your post orgasm haze, the over sensitivity of your pussy is overwhelming. However, his continuing and relentless mouth feels so good you relish in it, absolutely sure your legs will be sore from the constant convulsing. You whimper through a hushed and delayed swear, your hands weaving through his curls and tugging on his scalp.

His thumb meets your clit, rubbing feverishly and driving another orgasm out of you faster than you ever expected. His name is music to his ears as you shout it when the orgasm takes over you. “Fuck, Eddie, mouth feels…ah!”

His brown eyes open, nose nuzzling your clit as he stares at you through those darkened eyes. His tongue licks a long stripe, chin resting the mound of your pubic bone. “Think you can handle a few more?”

Your chest heaves, struggling to catch your breath as you lift your head up to face him. Your head feels like a weight, too heavy on your neck. Your mouth opens to answer him, but the weight of your head wins, landing back on the van.

Eddie works your clit again, watching your breasts move up and down as you struggle to catch your breath. “Maybe not that many more, hmm? Maybe just one?” …if he’s strong enough to hold back from giving you two.

Stopping at this point would give you a break you need, but at the same time you can’t bear to, Eddie’s tongue acting as a siren’s song. You’re hypnotized by him. “More, please. Please keep going.”

“I love hearing your voice beg for me. Your whimpers are the best thing I’ve ever heard in my life, sweets.”

Eddie dives in again, your choked whimpers telling any near neighbors that you simply don’t remember they exist. They’re not important enough to care about anymore.

As much as you are sensitive to every single touch, even over-stimulated, you welcome the next three orgasms he gives you. At the end of your third, or sixth, orgasm, Eddie rests his chin on your mound again, staring up at you as you recollect yourself. He’s patient, watching the light making its way back into your eyes.

Eddie nearly asks you a question, when your hand reaches out to grab him by his leather collar. He lets out a yelp of surprise, his fully clothed form an odd juxtaposition against your completely naked one. Well, save for the dress still on your waist. Your lips meet, tongues gliding against each other beautifully, and you taste yourself in his mouth. Even with your brain as foggy as it is, your body feeling as weak as it does, the number one thing you can focus on is getting those clothes off him.

Your hands fidget on the harsh leather collar, forcing it off his back. “Take it off,” you tell him, Eddie grinning cheekily in response. As soon as his jacket is off, you feel the graphic shirt start to come off with it. The reveal of his patched treasure trail, his bare skin against yours a marvel of sensations. You become impatient, attempting to hurry the process of taking his shirt off.

A symphony of laughter leaves his lips as his shirt finally is tossed off to the side, watching your eyes marvel at his tattoo littered chest. Your tits pressed against him pulls a groan from his lips, a sound that drives your legs to tug his tented jeans down against your bare pussy. If you thought his tongue felt good, it’s nothing compared to his hips against yours.

His voice is strained, dripping in husk. “Sh-shit, doll. I-I need you. Need to feel that virgin pussy wrapped around my cock. Need it so bad, please.”

Eddie begging like this being such a turn on is a surprise, to say the least. And from the pleasure he gave you, you’re willing him to do whatever he wants to you.

Whatever. He wants.

“Really? You want me?” You ask, whining as he ruts again.

“Desperately.”

Your hand moves down to the button of his jeans, undoing it with shaky hands and even shakier breathing. “You gonna take my virginity, Eddie?”

Somehow you knew this would make him crazy. You enjoyed it, enjoyed the crazy, adored his moan in approval. “I’m gonna take you, baby.” He grunts, starting to move his jeans down his ass, legs, taking his briefs with them.

He’s quick about it, tongue against your skin as he grabs the dress around your waist and slowly drags it down your legs, tongue dragging down along with it. Slyly, he holds a condom from his pants pockets between two fingers. “You ready?”

You bite your lip, making the bottom lip swell from the constant fidgeting. “I’m on birth control…” you admit, only on it to regulate a heavy flow.

He makes a show of tossing the condom over his shoulder, grinning at his crazy eyes. “Well, shit, darling.” He leans in, feeling the size of him as it brushes against your hip. He’s big, right? “Before I enter that pussy, I need you to do me a favour.”

“Hmm?” You ask, the only thing in your mind is how good his bulge felt when it rutted up against your heat. If that felt that good? Sex with Eddie…your mind goes dizzy from the need.

Eddie takes your hand resting by your head, wrapping it around his hardened length. The moan that leaves his lips is deep and rough. Your unsure fingers allow him to assist you, getting a hold of the rhythm. When you do, he lets you take over, face falling in your neck when your grip tightens. “Okay, I can’t take it any longer.” He whispers, gentle, goosebumps erupting in their wake. “Here, help me, will you?”

You don’t ask, only because you don’t have the chance to, when his hips help you brush the head of his cock against your wet entrance. You tease the two of you simultaneously, brushing it numerous times, both of you gasping in harmony. “Oh, you little tease.”

His hand replaces yours, whining as the head finally, finally brushes into your entrance. “Eddie.” You whisper, clinging onto him desperately. “S-so, so, so full.”

“Yeah?” He asks, both winded by the feel of you and by the blissed look on your face. Maybe if he kisses the middle of your eyebrow enough, he can settle every wrinkle you demonstrate from the pain beautifully mixed with pleasure. “Look at you, so drunk on it, did you ever think a cock could make you feel this good? Ever think how much you could want to be fucked so desperately?”

You shake your head, drunk on his words, drunk on his cock. “More, please.”

“Think you can take it?”

You whine impatiently, legs attempting to pull him in harder. “Eddie.”

He smiles as you fall into his trap, pushing in more than he knows he should. He can’t help it, the smile that takes over your face is the perfect reward. “I thought you were shy?”

You roll your eyes, knowing when someone is this close to you, has seen this much of you, there is barely any time to be shy. “Shut up.”

He listens, kissing you deeply as his hips start to move. Your hand weaves itself into his hair, whimpering into his ear as he hits, deeper, harder.

You can’t fully understand the sounds coming out of his mouth, the once coherent, cocky sentences turn into mumbled groans, and it’s refreshing to know he seems to want you as you did him, craved for you the same way. A string of words on repeat come from your mouth, just his name.

The only thing you seem to be able to think of is Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, EddieEddieEddieEddie…

“God, your tight pussy, I’m gonna cum soon…” At least, that’s what you think he says. “Gonna fill you up…” You tighten around him, enjoying the prospect of it. “Gonna see it dripping out of you.”

He doesn’t know how it’s possible you tighten around him more.

“God, you take me so well, it’s like you were made for me, made for my cock.”

Head? Empty. Cunt? Full.

Him? Perfect.

“Fill me up, please.”

“Listen to those dirty little words, gonna turn you into a filthy whore.” He whispers, whining together with you in bliss as his hips rut a final, harsh, jagged time.

Time seems to be endless, as he whispers in your ear, hands on his broad back when he settles, keeping his cock warm. Time is so endless; you don’t even notice the movie turning off and the subtle turnover of engines and wheels driving off past the van.

It takes a poor teenage employee to knock on the van doors, politely asking if you could leave because the drive-in is closed, and they need to lock the gate.

To say the way you avoid their eyes after hurriedly putting your dress back on turns Eddie on would be an understatement.

To say when you waltz with him hand in hand down the hallways the next day turns into a sideshow, would be an even bigger understatement.

You sit on his lap during lunch, curious to the reaction of the other boys sitting with him. When Eddie slips his hand under your skirt and plays with your clothed cunt, he knows he’s just starting to corrupt you as you attempt to seem normal.

He’s just getting started.

Regular taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

Taglist requests: @trixyvixx @thirddeadlysin @rogerfxckingtaylor @bunnsandroses @angst-lasagna @whatwedontdointheshadows @tlclick73 @barbedwirebats @poofyloofy @skrzydlak @josephquinnsfreckles

Thanks for all the love!

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader smut

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fumifooms · 1 year ago

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Dad always said I was like him

Meijack and Chilchuck Tims Dungeon Meshi, Ryoko Kui

^ 1: Moony moonless sky, Fatima Aamer Bilal / 2: Bug like an angel, Mitski / 3: Woodtangle, Mary Ruefle / 4: The Third Hour of the Night, Frank Bidart / 5 & 6: FROM THE MAKERS OF "TWO-MOM ENERGY DRINK," IT'S "LET YOUR FATHER DIE ENERGY DRINK,", Daniel Lavery & Cecilia Corrigan / 7: Batman: Year Three (1989) / 8 & 9 : FROM THE MAKERS OF […], Daniel Lavery & Cecilia Corrigan / 10: Wilt, CJ the X / 11: How Do We Forgive Our Fathers, Dick Lourie / 12: Milk and honey, Rupi Kaur / 13: And My Father's Love Was Nothing Next To God's Will, Amatullah Bourdon / 14: Moony moonless sky, Fatima Aamer Bilal / 15: Someday I’ll Love Ocean Vuong, Ocean Vuong / 16: untitled, Joan Tierney v 17: Drunk, The Living Tombstone / 18: unknown

When your father tried his best to provide for you but he worked all the time and even when he was home he was either tired or stressed and he’s always liked to get drunk to relax and cheer up. When you know he values work ethics and respectability so you grew up to be capable and quiet. And when he says you’re like him you’re sort of puzzled, does he really know you so little, or does he know himself so little? But you like the feeling of your father ruffling your hair so you accept it, and still you stand next to your mother just as silent and just as stoic as her during family gatherings. He leaves again and again and when your mother leaves him nothing changes, really. You wonder if it’s more telling that you know him better than he seems to himself or that you don’t know him as much as you wish you did, or that you don’t think about him all that much these days. Out of sight, out of mind. And he’s never really been there, even when he was there, after all.

#It’s ok they do get in touch again and he prob at least lives to 40 #Alright I’m ready to be normal about chilchuck again #Spoilers #I guess?#dungeon meshi #chilchuck tims #meijack #chilchuck’s family #meijack chils #Web weaving #alcoholism #cw alcohol #webweave #A couple more i liked are like a rearview mirror we’re not as close as we appear line and this french one from #Kristina Gauthier-Landry that goes like hands full of trout running up to you / look what i caught look / how much you love me #And this other one about chocolate coins that a dad arriving from work in middle of the night gives the happy little daughter running up #And it’s so anticlimatic and about transactional relationships and oughh ough it’s a good book #I am Chil is a complex absentee father truther sorry. Idc go see my analyses if you want don’t argue w me here #posts for which i am the target audience #Oh oh another one : So were we close? Or was it just the big things that held us together and the small things that let us fall apart?#The word father rotted in my mouth #Bc it’s left there to rot get it get it………..#Sigh. Like father alike daughter #I’m a truther that she’s more like her mom demeanor wise

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yourstrulynobody · 1 month ago

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(My own SAMS episode + thumbnail for funs)

CW: (IMPLICATIONS/TALK OF) KILLING, DEATH

What If Sun DIED... BECAUSE OF NEXUS?! In VRChat

(I was in a trance doing this so I finished it in like an hour yesterday👌❗// I had like two other projects I started the same day but never finished, too... Lets ignore that—)

(more info under cut :3)

SCRIPT:

—Takes place in "Sun Is Forced To Make A DEADLY CHOICE!!".

—What caused major change: Dark Sun doesnt intervene.

—Everything is mostly the same. Mostly on how it played out.

—When Nexus says: "And that is why Im choosing to kill your brother right now!", he looks over at Moon rather than looking at Sun.

—Moon would rush to Sun, screaming: "SUNNY!", but he wouldnt make it. (Bonus: Sun would try reach out to Moon, whispering: "Moony?..")

—Moon cradles Sun's limp body. He takes Sun's bells (on their wrists), and stuffs them in his pocket. By this point, hes already made a decision: he was going to kill again—for Sun, he knows Killcode would be proud.

—Moon is unable to hear anything the entire time as a ringing noise is stuck in his head, but his body reacts on instinct; hes done this and he can do it again. He doesnt know who is pulling him away, but he knows the self-proclaimed "Dark Star God" was dead and thats all that matters.

—Solar snaps Moon out of it as he fixes Moon in his lab.

—They talk and Moon, realizing that he will never get Sun back, starts to sob.

BONUS:

—Sun cannot be returned as Nexus made sure to get rid of all his backups /if he even has any/.)

—Moon will not make nor see someone else as a replacement for Sun. Sun was his brother; he'd rather kill again than get someone as a replacement.)

Is this all my pent up rage and stress or something because I just finished my exams yesterday and this is the first finished digital art piece I did....

Anyway :D!!!

This was loosely inspired by my old and first fanon SAMS thumbnail and episode titled: "What if NEXUS KILLED SUN?! in VRChat" all the way back in Dec. 16, 2024 (same thing happened there, but now its more dramatic)

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thewertsearch · 4 months ago

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@necrowyrm asked: happy new year!!! enjoy the last little bit of homestuck before act 6! Anonymous asked: You have NO IDEA how much I was looking forward to your reaction to this flash :D @teddy-bearer-of-bad-news asked: a very late congratulations from me for making it this far! i gotta say, saving CASCADE for new year's is probably the smartest thing i've heard all week. may your experience be nothing short of righteous, comrade Anonymous asked: Cascade … Even years latter knowing it almost by heart, every once in a while I will take a little quarter of an hour to rewatch it, Say what you want about Hussie but there is a good reason Homestuck became so iconic. @adeptarcanist asked: The leadup to Cascade was honestly my favorite sequence in Homestuck, and maybe one of my favorites in any media ever? The way the narrative splits apart into all of the different scenes swirling in towards the critical moment, both advancing main plots and finding time to spend a moment of melancholy with characters who’d been left behind (The Jaspers and Nepeta scene :( )… it’s such a strong narrative device, and the tone it generates is impeccable. @calamitascalliope asked: I literally watched the flash again, and it still gives me chills every single time. Welcome to your post-Cascade life. You won't be able to think about anything the same ever again @iris-in-the-dark-world asked: "she looks so cool… but she’s so tragic… but she looks so cool…" has become a brainworm for me. i too love the handmaid's design btw, cascade time has been i think the most anticipated non-personal event of the entire year for me. i'm so excited @publicuniversalworstie asked: I want you to know that I also opened Cascade and started watching with you right after I saw your "oh my god it has chapters" ask, and I finished just as you posted "I will never be the same" !! And I bet lots of other people did too <3 so it's like we all watched it together!!!! Happy New Year and thank you for liveblogging!!!! It's been a pleasure！(and will continue to be) @krixwell asked: I would like you to know that your "Right, we're good to go!" and "oh my god it has chapters" posts were posted right as I was outside watching midnight fireworks ring in 2025 for the Central European timezone. Happy new year! @captorations asked:

hey remember when rose just up and fucking said that. anyway congrats on reaching cascade! it absolutely wrecked me back in the day, i think i stared at those flaming curtains for a solid ten minutes as my brain permanently reconfigured. the first few notes of the track alone still give shivers. getting your reaction to cascade was a wonderful birthday present. (speaking of getting older: aradia 🤝 dulcinea also got that "distressingly short lifespan only to die early anyway" story thread going on. the parallels are paralleling.) anyway happy new year and congrats you are… slightly less than halfway done with homestuck. have fun!

Hey, guys. Cascade was so fucking good.

Like, there's really no competition; this is the best Flash page in the comic thus far. Peak music, peak animation, and absolutely a peak narrative. It tied up mountains of plot threads, providing complete answer to questions we're been asking for literally thousands of pages. It completed over a dozen arcs, both big and small. It made me gasp three times in fourteen minutes. It let Jade become a furry.

11/10, and I'm glad people had as much fun here as I did on New Year's Eve. Happy 2025, and happy Act 6!

@morganwick asked: Sally, predicting Cascade: "I have approximate knowledge of many things." @morganwick asked: "You literally have the whole world in the palm of your hands." -Sally to Jadesprite, December 16, 2024 (You might also want to reread post/770701212350857216 in light of recent developments.)

Hah!

I mean, based on her powerset, it made sense that Jadesprite would do something like this eventually, but it's pretty funny that she did it more or less immediately.

And in the end, CD really was a tricky little bastard. We'll definitely need to keep a closer eye on him, next time around.

Anonymous asked: Take a moment to consider that if anyone were to use the Homestuck website as it stands now instead of the Collection program, Cascade would have been presented in the YouTube player in Standard Definition, artifacted to hell, with a clear boundary showing the dimensions of the video from the very start. Preservation is so important.

Jeez, you're not kidding. The 1080p is fine, I guess, but it certainly doesn't hit like the Flash version does, especially with its lack of moving panels.

I know something had to change when Flash kicked the bucket, but surely there was a better way to preserve the video's soul.

Anonymous asked: to give you some of an idea of what homestuck fandom looked like during this time period, im cribbing from a very popular homestuck post: “first, this upd8 was something that we had been waiting for for WEEKS. A literally unprecedented wait period at the time. We were used to suckling at the teat of daily updates, a constant stream of conversation and plot twists and buildup, and as EOA5, we were finally going to figure out what all these countdowns and plot threads and disconnected elements were building up for. And when the progress bar reached 100%, and when the page FINALLY loaded on 10/25/11, it was chaos. This was 2011, a primetime peak point and growth period of Homestuck fan density.” (…) “MSPA crashed, as it had started to during the last few big [S] updates. Hussie had already bought new servers in advance, but even when allegedly thousands of dollars were spent it couldn't handle the accidental DDOS attack of Homestuck fans. People were up all night waiting for this upd8, the curiosity was killing me. I know at some point he was receiving at least 1 million unique visitors per day to his site [correction: according to Hussie’s tumblr, upwards of 2 million during this time], and even though Hussie had foreseen such traffic and thusly hosted [S] Cascade on Newgrounds, a dedicated video streaming site, Newgrounds was similarly unprepared for the sheer amount of people frantically mashing the play and refresh buttons, and also crashed. Immediately. MSPA and Newgrounds crashed definitively for at least two nights in a row” (…) “Andrew Hussie has gone on record to say this was one of the few times he thought Homestuck wasn’t worth it, because the sheer unbelievable cost (was it $10,000?) [correction: according to Hussie’s tumblr, it looked like it was going to cost $100,000 to keep [S] Cascade up for several days] of servers and the chaos of no one able to see the upd8 and crashing nearly every site after. He was tweeting during the whole debacle, stating he was reluctant to put it up on Youtube because of all the moving elements of the flash, and style, and how youtube degraded the quality of the file size, and how he tried to scratch out buffer time and pauses by putting periods of silence between each section of the 14 minute upd8, the longest upd8 yet” “So after Newgrounds patooted, he didn’t put it on youtube and instead put up the entire flash file on Megaupload, where it could be downloaded in it’s entirety to be watched. UNFORTUNATELY, Megaupload also crashed very quickly, which Hussie felt much headache over. But before that happened I managed to get the file, since I happened to be up very early that night! Next it was on dropbox, which didn’t crash but had “link unavailable” on and off. ”Spoilers were flying everywhere, people didn’t understand everything that had happened, and by the time the timeline of events in and out of [S] Cascade was all straightened out, people became even MORE hype. Like this whole thing lasted at least four days, and on top of that, the upd8 was good. Fandom exploded.” it is impossible to quantify the experience. The fact hussie was going to have to fork over A HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS to host it is crazy. I am never going to be over it.

Cascade's complete obliteration of the Flash-hosting internet says a lot about huge Homestuck truly was - but I think an even bigger indicator of the comic's success is the fact that Hussie dropped literally thousands of dollars on server upgrades to host the thing. That's not an investment you make unless you're expecting some serious returns.

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 5.2 #asks #also happy belated birthday @captorations. what a birthdate to have fr fr

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winchestersisterimaginessss · 9 months ago

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My Sister’s Keeper

Dean went to hell and Sam left his little sister (16/17 yo) to fend for herself. Dean gets back and he is pissed with Sam and they have to find her. Fluff

Warnings- swearing, angst, fluff lol

A/N- I kind of changed the way Dean was brought back. Instead of going right to Bobby he found Sam first. Let me know if you think I should do a part 2?

“She’s a fucking kid Sam,” Dean let out an angry yell. He couldn’t believe that Sam had ditched their baby sister when she needed him the most. His heart ached as he thought about the times he reassured her that when he was in Hell she would always have Sam and that he would take care of her. He knew that she still wasn’t convinced and it made leaving so much harder, but he had no choice. After all, Dean had raised her and Sam had left them both multiple times. His heart panged when he thought about where she could be all alone. The look of horror on his face when he came to realization, “A young girl at that!” Dean grimaced. God forbid someone touched a hair on her head, they would be dead and Dean would make sure of it. He couldn’t imagine his baby sister alone and scared fending for herself. Sure she was tough, but she was just a kid and he knew her better than she knew herself. He knows that when she claims she’s okay after a hunt, its clear she isn’t as her body betrays her words and she trembles until he or Sam rub her back and let her know that she’s safe. It doesn’t take an idiot to notice the flash of panic on her face after a door slams or a loud noise is heard. Or when they have to calm her down during a panic attack or comfort her in the middle of the night during a nightmare. Or the way she clings to Sam or Dean’s shirt every night when she falls asleep. She was tougher than hell, but at the end of the day she’s just a kid who was forced to live this life. Dean looked at Sam and saw the look of regret that filled his face. “You better fucking find her Sam or I swear to God,” Dean trailed off grabbing his phone to call Bobby, putting it on speaker phone. The phone rang a few times until Bobby picked up, “Hello?” “Hey Bobby it’s Dean, have you heard from Y/N,” Dean asked as he shot a look at Sam. Bobby replied, “I talked to her last week and she said her and Sam were getting close finding you a way out,” Sam’s heart panged as he realized that she told Bobby he was with her so no one would worry about her. She never wanted to be a bother to anyone and he felt even worse knowing she was trying everything in her power to get Dean back while he ran off with a demon. Something that none the less probably cost her her soul. He should have been with her and he will never forgive himself for leaving. But he thought he was doing the right thing in the moment. Now looking back at it he wasn’t sure how he thought that because right now he was terrified at the thought of her being alone or worse, hurt. Sam’s emotions were interrupted by Bobby speaking again, “And I can see that it worked. Welcome back boy.” “Thanks Bobby, do you have an address of where she might be?” Dean replied. Bobby hummed “No, but I have a town.” Dean let out a sign of relief. He grabbed the keys and turned to Sam, “You better hope she’s safe Sam. Let’s go.”

They got into the car and Dean took off. They were about 3 hours out from the town that Bobby sent over. Luckily it was a pretty small town and there was one motel that they could pretty much pinpoint where she could be staying. The car ride was agonizingly quiet and Sam was forced to be stuck in his thoughts on how awful of a brother he’s been. He was too worried about killing Lilith while she was too busy trying to find a way to bring Dean back. He was fucking selfish and he should have been focused on his only living sibling left that was trying to bring back their other non living sibling. He decided to break the silence, “Dean I’m so fucking sorry, I screwed up man and I screwed up bad. I’ll never fucking forgive myself.” Dean scoffed, “Yeah you shouldn’t be able to forgive yourself Sam. She’s just a kid, I don’t understand how you could EVER leave her like that. She needed you the most and you left her. We don’t even know if she’s alive,” Dean gripped the steering wheel and pressed the gas harder thinking the worst possible scenario. He continued, “She found a way to bring me back and we know how that story ends Sam.” Sam filled to the brim with guilt, “I’ll fix everything, I promise Dean, I won’t let anything else happen to her.” The car went back to silence as both brothers continued to hope their baby sister was alright.

It was around 1am when they finally arrived at the motel. The engine roared as Dean turned the car off. They got out and hurried to the front desk. “Hi. how can I help you?” The man behind the desk asked. They both pulled out their FBI badges and stated who they were looking for. The guy pointed them to a room and they rushed to what they were hoping was Y/N’s room. She’s always been a light sleeper so when Dean started to pick the lock to her door, she immediately heard it. Her heart dropped and she grabbed her knife to give her a fighting chance against her intruders. She quickly glided across the motel room and put her back against the wall. It was pitch black, but she could make out two figures. One was much taller than the other, but they were both pretty big which made her gulp. There was no one way she could take on the both of them and she knew that. They picked the lock with ease and started to make their way into her room. They took a few steps in and that’s when Y/N charged at them. The taller one of the two immediately turned around and just before she could make contact with him, he grabbed her. She immediately dropped her knife as he pinned her wrist back and slammed her against the wall. She let out a yelp and braced her head for impact, but instead of feeling the hard wall against her head it was the palm of a hand. She was confused, but she still whimpered terrified. “Please,” she cried, “please don’t hurt me.” As she pleaded, the light to the motel room flicked on and she was finally able to make out the person in front of her. “Hey hey it’s alright,” it was Sam. “Sammy,” she whimpered. Still clearly dazed, confused, and frightened. Sam loosened his grip on his sister and wrapped his large arms around her small frame, “Yeah, hey shhhh bug I got you. I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.” She cried, flinging her arms around him and holding him tight like he could disappear at any moment. To be fair, he could disappear at any moment and he did. They stayed like that for a few moments before rage took over her. She pulled away, crying and started hitting him. “How could you Sam,” she cried. Slapping his chest and hitting him over and over again, “How could you fucking leave me. I-I needed you Sam. I needed you and you left me,” she sobbed. She was weak with exhaustion, but Sam let her hit him because he deserved every single blow even if it barely hurt him.

Dean stood back watching his little sister. He was taken aback by how fragile she looked. She definitely lost weight as she was much skinnier. He noticed dark heavy bags under her eyes like she had been crying every single day for months straight. He couldn’t take it anymore, his sister was clearly suffering and he wasn’t around to help her. In fact, no one was around to help her. He couldn’t watch her crumble any longer so he came up behind her and embraced her. He pinned her frailing arms down with his and held her in a tight hug from behind. She fought against him, crying when Dean calmly spoke, “Hey hey hey Y/N/N I’m going to need you to relax for me alright?” She stood frozen, “De?” “Yeah, I got you sweetheart, I got you. I’m so sorry,” He released his hold as she turned around and launched herself onto him. Dean wrapped his arms around her and she gripped onto Deans shirt for dear life. She whimpered, “De I was so scared.” Dean felt his heart drop even further, “I know kid, I know. Shhhh it’s okay, I’m here. I got you.” Dean tightened his grip on her and rested his clenched jaw on her head shooting Sam a look. Sam watched them both, feeling sick to his stomach. How could he have done this to his baby sister? This is no life for a kid. He knew that too and that’s why the pit in his stomach only grew bigger. A sob interrupted Sam’s thoughts as Y/N’s emotions began to escalate. He watched as she collapsed, falling into their older brothers arms. Dean quickly sunk to the floor with her as her breathing hitched. He could feel her heart hammering against her rib cage and knew he needed to get her out of her panicked state before she passed out. “Hey hey hey hey Y/N/N breathe for me sweetheart, breathe.” She felt her chest start to tighten which frightened her even more. Her breathing was erratic at this point and she dug her finger tips into deans arms. “Hey kid, you’re having a panic attack okay? It’s alright. I’ve got you. You’re safe okay?” She nodded still trembling, still gasping. He repositioned her so she was sitting in between his legs with her back pressed against him to feel the rise and fall of his chest. “I need you to breathe with me. Can you do that sweetheart?” Dean felt her nod and continued “Yeah? Okay. We’re going to breathe out for 10. Come on bug 10…9…8…7…” She matched Dean’s breath which ended up hitching on 7. Dean reached down to rub her arms, “Keep going kid. You got it. 3…2…1…” He walked her through breathing in and out a few more times until he felt satisfied enough to where he knew she wouldn’t pass out. He sighed in relief, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on her head, “That’s it sweetheart, I got you.” He could still feel her heart pounding though so he pulled her onto his lap like he did when she was a child and ran his fingers through her hair. “It’s alright, I’m here now and I’m not leaving. You’re safe with me kiddo. I’ve got you.”

She sat on the floor with Dean for what felt like hours while he comforted her. Eventually Sam made his way over unable to see his baby sister hurt any longer. He sat down and brushed her hair away from her face, “I’m so sorry bug. You have every right to be upset with me. I let you down and I caused you so much pain. I just thought I was doing the right thing for all of us. If I could go back in time, I would change it. I’m so incredibly sorry for everything, but I’m here now and I’m not leaving you ever.” Sam let a few tears escape his eyes. Y/N reached to grab his hand, “I forgive you Sammy. I’m sorry for hitting you.” Sam chuckled. His baby sister was too nice for her own sake. “I deserved it,” he said. She shot her head back up and looked between her two brothers. “How did you get out?” She asked, not knowing if she really wanted to know the answer. She was scared that a crossroads demon finally took Sam up on his offer for his soul. Her heart rate picked up again while she waited for her brothers to give her an answer. “I don’t know how I got out. I thought it was either you or Sam who figured it out, but Sam didn’t,” he trailed off looking at her with worried eyes. She blinked, “No it wasn’t me. I tried Dean, I tried so hard to save you. I- I tried. I’m so sorry. I-I couldn’t figure it out.” Dean’s face softened, “Hey sweetheart it’s okay. Thank you, but I wish it wasn’t put on you in the first place. I would have never wanted this for you. I’m so sorry.” He could tell she was filled with so much guilt when she shouldn’t be. It crushed him and he rubbed her arm, “I’m here now.” Y/N had so many questions, but all she knew was that she was back with her brothers and that’s all that mattered to her. She was exhausted and eventually let the darkness flow over her. “Get some rest kid, we’ll be here when you wake up,” she heard Dean say. She could finally sleep peacefully knowing she had both of her brother back.

#supernatural #supernatural imagine #spn #spn imagine #sam winchester #sam winchester x sister!reader #sam x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x sister!reader #winchester sister

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strawberryslurpy · 3 months ago

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The Great-Novel-Length-Pynch-Fic List

By strawberryslurpy aka your resident pynch addict

I keep searching through fics on AO3 by word count and half the time it’s just Kinktober fics and that is not what I want I want something that’s comparable fiction to novels that are considered literary works of art!1!1!1! In other words, I’m picky. If you are too this may just be the list for you. Enjoy 😛😛

1. Concorde, Anonymous, AO3 (must be a member to read), 176k words

What if Adam was removed from the Parrish household at age 10? And what if he became the ward of a certain dreamer?

This fic had me in a CHOKEHOLD genuinely killed me and revived me. If you enjoy novels that are time jumpy and show rather than tell than this fic is for you. It’s confusing in the fun literary type of way and it is so well crafted and well articulated. I am a huge huge fan.

2. Magnetic by MonsieurBlueSky, AO3 (must be a member to read), 231k words

“an AU in which Ronan never befriended Gansey and after the death of Niall Lynch, Gansey isn't there to pull Ronan back from the edge. Kavinsky is there instead, ready to push him over.”

ABSOLUTELY AMAZING NO NOTES GENUINELY PHENOMENALLY EXECUTED I adore this fic and everything about it. The way the author is able to examine ronans relationships and how magic impacted them is just so so so lovely. I read this in one sitting and I sobbed for hours after finishing. Please read the tags, there is graphic depictions of suicide, self harm, substance abuse, domestic violence, etc. it’s all very canon typical but elaborated on.

3. Violent Delights (Violent Ends) by sunmoontruth, AO3, 200k words

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58209568/chapters/148221808

Oh. My. God. Holy. Fucking. Shit. HUNGER GAMES AU. Genuinely such captivating writing, the story pulls bits and pieces from the original Hunger Games, but there is so much that is original and fresh that this fic becomes less of an AU and more of a stand alone work. And with everything going on in the world now, in America where I live, this more graphic adult version of the hunger games truly hits where it hurts. Phenomenal characterization, such an amazing adaptation. I am floored beyond belief.

4. (The Time It Takes) To Believe in Fate by LydiaStJames, AO3, 100k words

“When he was 16, Adam walked into a forest in Henrietta, Virginia and exited in 1800s Ireland. The day he spent with the grumpy but attractive farmer lingered with Adam for years, but the forest didn't seem like it would appear again. That is, until Adam returned to Henrietta for his father's funeral and the forest calls him back once more.

To Ronan.”

GOD SO GOOD SO WELL WRITTEN. I have re read this one too many times to count. It is beautiful. It’s also such an intriguing concept and such a unique and original AU that it feels so disconnected from the original canon in a way that makes it much more enticing. Like the characterization is spot on and it’s so cool to see how these characters react to such an odd set of circumstances relative to their original canon.

5. Seek Ye The Living by charactershoes, AO3 (must be a member to read), 40k words

PYNCH FLEABAG AU PYNCH FLEABAG AU

Adam is a priest. Declan and Ashley are getting married. Ronan is having a faith crisis. What’s new.

6. Divinity by Cazio on AO3, 67k words

Magic can’t heal everything, especially when Ronan lacks the knowledge to dream a fix all. In other words, during his first semester at Harvard Adam gets sick. In true Adam fashion, he completely ignores it. But eventually it becomes too much for him to evade.

This fic is emotionally devastating. But, for some weird reason, it’s a comfort fic for me as someone who is chronically ill. It is a different type of illness and a much different type of circumstance but to see Ronans characterization when faced with something so devastating, and to see Adam get taken care of with such love. It means a lot when that is something I’m so deeply afraid I’ll never find. Please please please be aware of the tags and archive warnings.

For now these are my favorite long fics that are pynch centric but also just beautiful examples of literature that is so well written it feels like a disservice to label it fan fiction. I’ll update more as I read more!!

Lots of love,

Your local pynch dealer

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probably-writing-x · 2 years ago

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The Stars That Shine

Summary: could you do something w conrad based off of mary’s song oh my my my by taylor swift 🥺

Author’s Note: Im so sorry I struggled so much writing this but I hope you love it and it’s what you were hoping for <3

It was like there was just something between you and Conrad that everyone else could see even when you couldn’t. You’d grown up in the house next to his in Cousins and so, every summer without fail, you spent every waking moment with him. It was like summer started so nothing else mattered. He was two years older than you and for the majority of your life he’d made that abundantly clear - he treated you like a little girl in comparison to him. He saw you in the same way he saw Jere, younger than him and so someone he had to be responsible for.

When you were 8, he threw you into the pool and then fought you when you tried to get back at him for it. You’d slipped on the concrete and cut your knee, and Susannah had told him he was too big to be fighting you. He’d patched you up with a plaster over the cut and bought you an ice cream from the van when it came past.

When you were 10, he punched a boy that jumped the queue in front of you over at the boardwalk. You’d been queuing to use the karts, and a boy had treated you like you were invisible. Conrad grabbed your arm and pulled you behind him, turning the guy around and clocking him in the jaw. He bruised his knuckles and you bought him fries from the stall to make up for it. You remembered it every time you ended up back at that boardwalk.

When you were 12, he got dared to kiss you one night when the group of you were all camping out at the beach. He refused at first and both of you forgot about it. But, later that night, he’d stopped you on the sand and told you that he never backed down from a dare. You ran away before he had the chance. Neither of you mentioned it after that day.

When you were 14, you realised for the first time that you liked him. He was getting ready for a date and you watched him fix his hair in the mirror, the pain settling on your chest that it wasn’t you he’d be with. He’d told you to wish him luck and you couldn’t find a word to respond with. A few hours later, Conrad had returned and told you dating wasn’t for him, he’d shook hands with you that he’d never go on a first date again. You’d laughed and taken the bet, hoping to God for just a moment that the next one would be with you.

When you turned 16, it was like Conrad saw you completely differently. You turned up in Cousins that summer and he saw you as a whole new person. He’d looked at you on the driveway like he was looking at a stranger, until his hand stretched out and he ruffled your hair on your head. You blushed under his touch and prayed he didn’t notice.

But there was just something so different about that summer. You felt Conrad’s eyes on you whenever he had the chance, the way he listened in to what you said just a little more intensely, the way he defended you when the boys started being dicks. The little things that just didn’t feel the same as they normally did.

It was that same summer that Conrad first took you out in his truck. His father had bought it for him for Christmas and got Jere one too - now that both of them could drive. Conrad had always complained that he’d have to wait for Jeremiah but it didn’t seem to matter now that he had his car. It started with just little trips to the store, spending a little longer with each other browsing through the aisles before he took the long way home. And then one night, when you couldn’t sleep, it felt like everything changed.

———

You made your way slowly downstairs, breezing past your parents’ room where they both slept soundly. With no real reason why, you just couldn’t sleep tonight. And there was only so long you could lay in bed waiting for sleep to take you.

You slip on a hoodie over your bralette and shorts and grab a pair of flip flops, heading out of the back door and into the yard. It was so much more peaceful at night. You’d sleep out here if you could.

It was rare you spent much time at home in this place, however. All of your best memories were made in the house next door - Susannah was the hostess and your parents always accepted that. You walk down the length of the garden alongside the hedged fence joins the two yards, your eyes flicking into their side.

That’s when you see him. Illuminated by the lights in the water, seemingly giving him an eerie glow, his legs drifting back and forth under the surface from where he sat at the edge of the pool.

“Con?” You hiss into the silent air and he instantly bolts his head up to look at where the noise has come from.

He smiles when he sees you, standing up from the poolside and wiping his hands on his shorts, “Are you stalking me (Y/l/n)?”

“Don’t flatter yourself Fisher,” You roll your eyes, wrapping your arms around yourself.

He smirks and makes his way over to you until you’re both stood in front of each other, separated by the short hedge between you.

“Why are you awake?”

Conrad shrugs, “I never sleep early.”

You nod, “I can’t sleep.”

You feel the way his eyes watch you, the way they seem to melt into your skin. The way you seem to heat up just a little under his gaze.

“Do you want to go somewhere?”

“Now? Con it’s like 1am,” You frown, glancing back up to him.

He shrugs, “Do you have anything better to do?”

And so, he disappears back into his house and you take the alleyway at the side of yours, waiting for him out the front against the passenger door of his car.

Only moments later, he steps outside, swinging his keys around one finger as he makes his way over to you. You both clamber in and he drives off without another word.

You look out of the passenger window at the passing cars and don’t notice the way he watches you. The way his eyes are on you as if they can’t be torn away. Conrad wasn’t exactly sure when things had changed - or if they’d ever changed at all. He just knew that he saw you now and saw someone he couldn’t be without. Like someone had made him see you in a completely different light. Had he always felt like this and only now realised?

“Have you seen the-“ You turn your head back around and notice his eyes solely on you, feeling a blush burn at your cheeks, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I just-“ He stops himself.

“Focus on the road Fisher,” You roll your eyes, drawing your knees up to your chest on the chair.

“That’s my sweatshirt,” He points out, turning another corner as the two of you drive down another country lane.

Eventually, he parks the car up on the hills overlooking the town, both of you still sat in the front seats staring out over the dark view.

“So why couldn’t you sleep?” Conrad asks you, leaning his head back against the headrest.

You shrug, “I don’t know. Just stuff on my mind I guess.”

He nods, “Go on.”

“Do you-“ You stop yourself, shifting in your seat so that you’re sat sideways, facing him directly, “Do you feel like… I don’t know, like this summer has been different than before?”

You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows the lump in his throat, “In what way?”

“Come on Con,” You scoff, “I feel like I stranger showing up here again, I know you’re all looking at me like I’m a new person.”

He jumps the gun quickly to correct you, “It’s not like that, I know you’re still you.”

You roll your eyes, “Then why are you being so different with me?”

“I just-“ He stops himself, reaching out to brush your hair away from your face, as if he wants to frame your features in the perfect light, “It just feels like this summer I actually woke up. Saw what was right in front of me.”

“And what’s that?” You stop yourself from smiling, feeling so nervous with the way he cupped your cheek.

His thumb brushes along your jaw, until it is at the base of your chin, “You.”

Slowly, cautiously, like he’s giving you both the time to overthink, he draws you into him and you pull to him like a magnet. His breath fans over your lips before you close the space between you, his lips soft and uncertain against yours. You hadn’t kissed anyone before, you didn’t have a clue on what to do. But his hand keeps you pulled into him and his fingers are in your hair and his lips move against yours like they were meant to be there. He holds you like he’s been waiting to for a short forever.

Conrad’s hands move lower, pressing against your back to pull you into him, both of you angled awkwardly over the console of the car. He fumbles in his seat to draw you close to him despite the block between you and both of you laugh against each other.

“Terrible place for a first kiss,” He mumbles against you, his forehead pressing against yours.

You smile and pull away from him, “I think we’re just impatient.”

“Oh I think we’ve both waited long enough to do that,” He scoffs, “C’mere.”

One hand drops to draw his chair as far away from the wheel as it will go before they’re both back onto you, gripping and grasping at your hoodie to pull you over to him. You giggle as you clamber over onto his lap.

He grips your waist as you settle down onto his thighs, your noses bumping together in the small space.

“Hi,” You grin, holding both of his shoulders as if convincing yourself he was real.

His hands slip beneath the waistband of your hoodie, for no other reason than to convince himself that you were real too, that he could feel you there.

“Hi.”

———

You and Conrad had stayed together for the following year without any hiccups. He drove to your home, you drove to Boston, you met in the middle in Cousins. You spent Thanksgiving with his family, and he came to yours after Christmas. You called each other nearly every night and the long distance never seemed to feel like too far. All up until when the two of you were back in Cousins. Your parents hadn’t come this summer but you had, and you stayed at Susannah’s place. It was the most time you and Conrad had ever spent together, waking up together, going to sleep together, it was all you’d been wanting since he’d first kissed you in that car.

But all pieces of heaven come with tiny bits of hell. And it didn’t take too long for the perfect bubble to burst.

You’d been at the beach at a bonfire party, and you’d been accepting any drink that someone offered you. It was starting to hit you a little bit, the sort of buzz that warmed your veins and heightened your confidence.

“Where’s Con?” You frown at Jeremiah, squinting around the mass of bodies to try and spot your boyfriend.

“I don’t know,�� Jere shrugs, “I think I saw him with Steven by the fire.”

You nod and trail your steps in that direction, stumbling a little on the uneven sand.

“Hey!” An unfamiliar pair of hands grab your waist, “Come and dance with me.”

You push them away and turn your head back to see a boy you don’t recognise, rolling your eyes.

“Oh come on, don’t be boring,” He encourages, “Dance with me.”

His hands snake around your waist again and you push them off.

“Get off me!” You exclaim, turning around to face him.

“Oh is that how you’re playing it?” The boy smirks, “What have you got a boyfriend or something?”

“I-“

“Hey, do you want to back the fuck off?” Conrad’s voice bellows from beside you, coming up towards the boy and shoving him square in the chest.

He stumbles backwards on the sand but catches himself before he falls.

“Who the fuck are you?” The boy scoffs, looking up to meet Conrad’s eyes before looking back at you, at the way Conrad shields you with his body, “You’re her boyfriend?”

“How about you leave her alone?” Conrad waves the boy off, watching as he walks off from the both of you before he turns around to face you.

“God he wouldn’t get off me he-“

“We’re going home.”

Conrad’s voice is cold, emotionless - a way you’d never heard him speak towards you.

“Wh-“

“We’re leaving,” He snaps once again, “I’m driving.”

“Con wh-“

He holds your arm in his grasp and tries to lead you away from the party, getting you as far as being just slightly away from the big crowd.

“Conrad get off me, you’re hurting me!” You exclaim, pulling your wrist from his grip, “What’s wrong with you?”

“(Y/n) you’re drunk and we’re going home,” He says harshly, looking at you with eyes that didn’t feel like his own, “Now get in the car.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” You wrap your arms over your chest, “Why are you being like this?”

“Because you’ve got guys fucking trying it on with you, thinking they’ve got a chance with you, and I’m stood right there (Y/n)!”

“Nothing happened!” You half-laugh, “He grabbed me and I told him to stop. What the fuck is wrong with that?”

“You think they don’t think they’ve got a chance with you?” Conrad raises his eyebrows, “Are you fucking blind?”

“No I’m not blind Conrad but I’m not going to fucking cheat on you with the first guy that shows me attention. Who the hell do you think I am?”

His shoulders drop a little like he’s realised the effect, but Conrad being Conrad will only let the mask slip for so long before he’s back to the coldhearted demeanour he seemed to have adopted for the night.

“Okay, we’re taking both of you home,” Steven walks over to interject, “I’ve not been drinking, I’m driving.”

You look at Conrad for a moment longer like you’re hoping he’s going to change his mind and reach out for you and apologise but he doesn’t make any move to do so.

He walks off ahead with Steven and you walk behind with Belly and Jeremiah.

Everyone is deathly silent on the drive home until you reach the house and they mumble a quick ‘good night’ before going into separate bedrooms. Conrad still hasn’t looked you in the eyes and, as you sober up more and more, you’re convincing yourself he never will.

“Con can we please-“

You pause as you watch him rummaging through the closet to pull out a pillow and blanket.

“What are you doing?”

“Sleeping downstairs,” He returns bitterly, turning around towards the door.

“You can’t be serious,” You scoff, “That’s it? You’re not even going to talk to me about it?”

“I’ve said what I wanted to say,” Conrad shrugs, “We’re not going to agree so now what?”

“We fight it out Conrad. We talk about it like fucking adults,” You shake your head, “We don’t just give up and act like each other’s worst enemy.”

He doesn’t respond.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m unbelievable? I’m not the one with a guys arms around my fucking waist!”

“What the fuck was I supposed to do?” You yell, unbothered about every other pair of listening ears in the house.

Conrad doesn’t reply once more, stepping past you to walk into the corridor.

“You know what? Go fuck yourself Conrad,” You state coldly and he glances back only momentarily to watch as you slam the bedroom door, feeling it shake the room around you before you fall to the floor in tears.

The only other sound comes from his feet creaking the stairs on their way down.

—

The following morning, you’re up before anyone else in the house. You could barely sleep in the night, feeling oddly cramped in the spacious bed, feeling cold in the too-hot room.

Eventually, you give up on trying to sleep any more and instead make your way downstairs.

The couch is empty, apart from a small pile with the pillow and blanket stacked on top of each other. You frown a little at the sight, desperate for the calm of seeing Conrad asleep and peaceful. Your eyes draw outside to the garden where you can just about make out the shape of a body across one of the sun loungers, tucked away in the shade at the side of the pool.

He must be freezing.

You grab the blanket from the couch and tuck it under your arm, stepping outside as quietly as you can to reach Conrad.

His arms are wrapped over his chest and his heads tilted to the side, stretching out his prominent jawline. His breaths are calm and even and you’re conscious as ever to not wake him as you stretch out the blanket to lay over him.

You’re just about to turn away when you see his eyes start to flutter open just a little.

“(Y/n)?” Conrad’s voice croaks as you turn back towards the house.

You grimace a little and look down at the floor, “I- I thought you might be cold.”

Certain more than ever that this wasn’t the time to start up another argument, you start to make your way back inside with hurried steps.

“(Y/n) wait!” Conrad calls after you, “Will you stay?”

You pause in your steps and turn around to face him, “I-“

But it’s easier to not say a word, as if you don’t want to ruin the moment. You walk over to him slowly and he shifts over on the lounger so that there’s one thin half of it for you to lay on. He stretches out an arm and you lay down, resting your head on his chest whilst his other arm drapes the blanket over you. Both of you are silent at first, as if wanting to breathe in every ounce of contact you’d been missing.

“I’m sorry about last night,” Conrad says, trailing one hand up and down your back, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

You nod, “I’m sorry too. I should’ve just listened to you and I know you we-“

“Baby,” He speaks so softly you’re sure your heart swells at the feeling of him coming back to you.

You lean up slightly, just enough to rest on your elbow and turn your head to face him.

“I was in the wrong,” He assures you, “I’d been drinking and I saw you with that guy and I just flipped and I shouldn’t have.”

You nod, resting a hand on his chest, “It was kind of hot when you shoved him though.”

Conrad chuckles, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you between his legs, letting you lay over his torso, “You think?”

You shrug, “Just yell at the guy more and not me next time.”

He smiles softly, “Noted.”

———

Arguments came rarely and calmly between the two of you after that day. When you did disagree, it was softer and sadder - less fuelled and less aggressive. Conrad never raised his voice at you, and you never raised your voice at him. You told him when you were upset and he told you when he was irritated. It worked.

You’d been together for five years before things changed again. You were a year out from graduating college and Conrad was practically waiting for the day when you would. He’d already graduated so he came to visit you on the weekends when he could, he worked a job in a research lab in Boston and he’d call you when he finished to tell you about what he’d done that day. The plan for after you graduated was to get the money to buy your parents’ Cousins house from them. The two of you, in Cousins, in the place you’d fell in love. It would be a dream.

You were back in Cousins for the summer after your third year of college and you were, of course, staying with his family and the Conklins. Everything had been completely normal until this one day where it felt like the whole house’s mood had shifted.

“Morning babe,” You yawn as you walk downstairs, into the kitchen where Conrad and Jere are speaking in hushed tones.

They stop abruptly when you walk in.

“Hey!” Jeremiah smiles a little too widely, “I’m gonna… I’m gonna head out.”

You frown as he hurries past you and turn back to Conrad.

“What was that about?”

He shrugs and walks over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, “Jere’s Jere.”

You rest your head against his chest and breathe in the scent of cologne that clings to his clothes.

“Do you fancy waffles?” He suggests, his hands moving up to your shoulders to massage the skin over the material of your baggy t-shirt.

You pull away from him and narrow your eyes, “Waffles?”

“Don’t look at me like that, Im being romantic,” He rolls his eyes at you, walking away to get the ingredients from the cupboard.

“Oh I’m not complaining,” You grin, pushing yourself to sit on the countertop, “Did I forget an anniversary or something?”

“Can’t a guy do something nice for his girlfriend without an ulterior motive?” He questions you, walking over to open the cupboard beside your legs, pulling out the waffle iron.

You shrug, “We’ll see.”

As he stands back up, he leans in quickly to kiss you, “I’ve got some errands to run later but I’ll be back in time for dinner, Belly suggested we all go out.”

“Our for dinner? We never go out for dinner,” You frown, “Why would we-“

“Stop being so suspicious,” Conrad scoffs, “We’ll go somewhere nice.”

“You’re weird today,” You joke and he rolls his eyes at you once again.

—

Later that day, Conrad’s still out and you get a text from him telling you he’ll meet you at dinner rather than coming home first. You’ve been lounging around the house since he left, soaking in the sun in the garden before you came in to shower.

Belly knocks on your bedroom door as you’re laying across the bed watching The Office.

“Hey!” She grins, “Do you know what you’re wearing to dinner?”

You frown as she drops down onto your mattress, “No I’ll probably just put a jumper on or something.”

“I think-“ She looks around your room, “I think we should dress up.”

“Dress up? You’ll never get the boys to agree to that,” You laugh, “Where are we even going?”

She shrugs, “You’ll find out.”

You lean up onto your elbows and narrow your eyes at her, “Why’s everyone being so suspicious today? What aren’t you telling me?”

She laughs and her mouth moves like she can’t find the words, “I’m not saying anything.”

“Belly!” You exclaim as she hurries off from your bed.

“Just… wear something nice,” She sticks her head around the frame of your door, “Maybe that white dress that Conrad loves.”

You glance over to the closet and glaze over your appearance in the mirror. Maybe you should make an effort, it was rare you were ever going anywhere fancy enough to do anything like that. But they all seemed set on making this night a good one - who were you to question that?

Within the hour, you’ve done some light makeup, brushed through your hair and curled the bits around your face, and pulled on the white dress that Conrad loved so much.

When you step out to walk down the stairs, Belly, Steven, Taylor and Jere are all stood looking up at you.

“What the fuck is going on?” You laugh, “I feel like I’m going to prom.”

“Wh-“ Steven coughs, glancing at the others, “We’re just, um, you know, we don’t want to be late.”

You grab your purse quickly and hurry down the stairs, “Calm down, Im ready now.”

They follow you outside and you all walk over to Jere’s car where you go to open the back door.

“Um,” Belly stops you, “You can sit in the front.”

You look at her with a puzzled expression before climbing into the front with Jeremiah, watching as the other three pile into the back.

“Seriously guys what the fuck is going on?” You question as Jere pulls off from the driveway and starts down the road.

“What are you talking about?” Taylor shrugs, “We’re just hungry.”

“Everyone’s like treading on eggshells with me today, it’s weird,” You comment, “Con seemed like weirdly nervous before he left earlier too, I’ve never seen him run out of the door so quickly and I-“

You pause as the sights around you seem to change, Jeremiah taking a turn down a country lane.

“Jere this isn’t the way to the restaurant we need to go…”

You stop yourself once more as his face breaks into a grin that it’s impossible to hide.

“Seriously what aren’t you telling me?” You turn around to glance at the three of them in the back, all of their heads close together looking out of the windscreen.

Belly nods her head in that direction and you turn back to the front, your lips parting and every single sensation in your body seeming to ignite and disappear all in one moment.

There, in the exact spot where he’d first kissed you, is Conrad.

There’s a scattering of rose petals laid out across the grass and candles lining the edge of the cliff that dips down towards the town.

“Oh my god,” You exhale, glancing at the others in the car with tears already in your eyes.

“Go on, I think he’s waiting for you,” Jeremiah nods, squeezing your arm.

The other three look at you with widened eyes and bright smiles on their faces as you open the passenger door and step out.

“I was worried Jere would take you the wrong way,” Conrad calls over to you as you walk over towards him.

“Conrad this is-“ You stop yourself, glancing around at the sight that you’re sure is something out of a dream, “I don’t even know what to say.”

“You look beautiful,” Conrad reaches out his hands for you to hold, “I- God, I’d planned this whole thing and now it’s like I don’t know where to start.”

You step just a foot in front of him and squeeze his hands, looking up at him with watering eyes.

“(Y/n) I love you,” Conrad smiles back at you, “And there are a thousand words I could say now to tell you that, but nothing will be more important than telling you that I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. And so…”

“Oh my god,” You release again, watching as he lowers down onto his knee, reaching back into his pocket to pull out a small velvet box.

“(Y/n) (Y/l/n) will you marry me?”

“Oh my god,” You repeat once again as if they’re the only words going through your brain, your eyes spilling with tears.

Conrad looks up at you with overwhelming emotion in his eyes, “Well?”

“Yes!” You laugh, grasping either side of his face in your hands as he stands up onto his feet, “Of course! Yes!”

He looks down to push the silver ring onto your finger before wrapping his arms around your waist, lifting you up into his grasp before he lowers you down to the ground. His eyes shift into that same adoration they’d held for you when you first came here that night, and he leans in to kiss you with the same excitement as that first time too.

At the sight, a chorus of cheers extend from the car and you both glance over to see all four of them staring out the window with wide grins over their faces.

You laugh through the tears in your eyes and Conrad tightens his arm around your waist, pulling you as close to him as humanly possible.

In that moment, in that perfect moment, you think of your six year old self, when you’d been a blushing mess meeting Conrad for the first time. Your twelve year old self so terrified at the thought of kissing him. The sixteen year old self that first kissed him in that car. And every year since of loving him.

You see yourselves getting married, your families laughing and telling you they knew it would be this way all along. The two of you growing old together, watching your kids grow up too. And, eventually, being sat in the same spot on this same cliff overlooking this same town, with the boy who’d held your heart for your entire life.

The boy who’d always be your Connie.

#tsitp #the summer i turned pretty #conrad x reader #conrad x you #conrad x y/n #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher x y/n #tsitp imagine #tsitp one shot #tsitp drabble #tsitp blurb #tsitp request #tsitp conrad #tsitp x reader #tsitp x you #tsitp x y/n

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thewinter-eden · 19 days ago

Text

Blood Sugar Virus (16)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Genre: Horror, zombies, strangers to lovers, angst, suspense Pairing: Kang Yeosang x female!reader Warnings: based on the Wanteez Zombie episode, ages are based on current Ateez rather than the time at which the actual episode was filmed, zombies, language, some gore, there's another bug - this was influenced by wine and therefore very soft (FLUFF WARNING) Also inspired by Yeosang's cherry blossom Insta post <3

Story Summary: You (stage name Sugar) are the co-captain of a horror acting group. You and your guys are the ones the companies hire when they want to stage a zombie, ghost, or any vaguely horrific and dystopian episode. So when you get hired by Ateez to develop a zombie program, it's just another routine that you've done a million times. Everything's going exactly according to script--until suddenly it isn't, and it starts getting a little too real.

🏆 Esteemed Moot: @ramadiiiisme

⭐️ Reader Spotlight: @furfoxsake22

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“You know, yesterday, I would have given anything for just a day off.”

Your blonde companion turns his head towards you as you break the stretch of silence. He’s silent, thoughtful, waiting for you to finish whatever it is you’re trying to say.

“I’ve been daydreaming about the perfect day off for months.”

He matches your wistful little smile, resting the crown of his head against the wall.

“I’d sleep in—until ten o’clock. A goddamn luxury. Then I’d get up and make a cup of coffee, and drink it on my balcony, and not open my banking app to make sure my autopay bills haven’t overdrawn me.”

You close your eyes and wish the thought of a peaceful morning didn’t make you want to cry right now. “I’d do nothing. For hours. Have some lunch, watch the sky, listen to music, curl up on the couch and read my magazines.”

His eyes are still on you as you shake off the hundreds of memories of your childhood, of busy yard work Saturdays and house cleaning Sundays and evenings during the week vacuuming the floors and washing dishes and doing laundry until the day has run out of hours.

“I’ve never done nothing. God, just once, I wanted to do nothing for a day. A day without chugging through homework and listening to lectures. A day without slogging through paperwork and memorizing scripts. A weekend without raking leaves or mowing the lawn or cleaning something that doesn’t need to be cleaned.”

Inexplicably, there are tears pricking at your eyes. You don’t know why you’re talking about this.

It doesn’t matter.

And Yeosang doesn’t care.

Why are you telling him about your ideal day off in the middle of a parasite-infested zombie apocalypse?

Maybe, you think, it’s because people want their innermost desires to see the light of day before the end.

And what a pitiful desire yours is.

“So why haven’t you had one?” He asks quietly, in that thickly low tone of his.

“It feels wrong.” You can’t help the sheepish grin. “I try sleeping in some weekends, and I wake up at 9:30 feeling like I’ve wasted my morning, and therefore I’ve already lost at the day. As though you can win days. I try having a slow morning, sipping a coffee and nibbling a donut or something equally sinful, and I just start staring at the dishes in the sink. Or the pages in my work bag. I can’t just do nothing without feeling guilty about it.”

His eyes are soft as they hold yours, shining gently in the fluorescent lights. “What would you do after you read your magazines?”

The mortifying ordeal of being known strikes you then as blood rushes to your cheeks and heat rises in your neck at the realization that he’s listening to you, internalizing your stupid words, spending potentially the last day of his life listening to you spout nonsense.

A shameful laugh topples out of your mouth gracelessly. “Ah, forget it. What’s the point, right?”

He pushes out a foot to nudge yours again. “Tell me. I want to know.”

For a minute you’re frozen, debating. Do you crack open your chest and bleed out all of your softest, silliest daydreams of the perfect Studio Ghibli-type day? Or do you seal yourself up and distract from the mess of vulnerable truth that you’ve already vomited all over the both of you?

But he just relaxes against the wall, his eyelids lowering ever so slightly as though you’ve got him in some sort of peaceful trance, waiting for your next words.

So you suck in a breath and avoid his eyes with all of your strength. “I’d put on clothes that make me feel confident. And maybe that’s why I haven’t had my perfect day yet. I’m still waiting for those clothes or that body to come along. I’d pack my book and my music and my camera and I’d find somewhere beautiful to walk. I’d stop somewhere along the way for a hot drink to carry with me, and take a hundred pictures of the sky. Maybe it’ll be late enough in the afternoon to watch a pink sunset.”

Yeosang’s lips part as he smiles at the embarrassed words that are fighting past your nervously tight throat, and you see glimpses of the sharpness of his teeth.

You would think that after a night like this, the thought of sharp teeth would turn your stomach and give you nightmares, but when Yeosang smiles that canine, wolfy smile, you have to stop yourself from staring at him long enough to memorize every stroke of his features.

Your mind has turned to pudding.

There’s something wrong with you.

You must actually think you’re going to die.

“Then what?” He nudges gently.

“A morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs.” You quote timidly. “I’d find the prettiest, most aesthetic restaurant within walking distance. Maybe I’d sit inside a warmly lit dining room, with pretty dishes and good food, or maybe I’d order street food from a vendor and eat the best food I’ve ever had while the cold of evening makes my nose numb. I’d love to watch the stars come out, and walk back to my apartment underneath them. Go back home, feed my cat, watch my favorite movie, have a glass of wine, boring stuff.”

“You have a cat?”

A smile tilts your cheeks. “Yeah.”

“What’s their name?”

“Ponk.”

Yeosang’s face screws up with a confused, unbelieving expression. “Ponk?”

Laughing at the downward slant of his mouth and the side-eye he gives you without reservation, you kick at his foot. “She headbutts things to get attention. That’s the sound it makes. Ponk. Ponk. Ponk.”

He laughs back, grinning wide and eyes narrowing, mimicking your little ponk, ponk, ponk as he taps his head against the wall. “Her name is Ponk,” he croons lowly. “That’s so cute.”

You sigh heavily, hoping with everything in you that your sweet little cat will be okay. That you’ll be back in time to feed her and be greeted by her happy little chirps and listen to her ponk her little head against the wall as she wraps her body around the doorframe.

“Jeju Island,” he says suddenly. “In the spring you can walk among the prettiest cherry blossoms you’ve ever seen. There’s a market vendor there with the best street food, and you can eat it next to the water and watch the stars. As for your hot drink, Cafe 9 is so pretty. There’s a view of the rolling hills from every window. You can stop in and get your drink on the way.”

You watch him fill in the missing details to your day dream with far too much emotion in your chest for the subject matter, and he isn’t even looking at you. He’s watching his hands tie knots into a piece of thread he’d pulled from his pants.

“Jeju Island,” you choke out quietly.

His eyes lift to yours, and he smiles at you. “And Cafe 9.”

“I’ll do it,” you say. “Someday.”

“Someday,” he says.

You swallow thickly, completely embarrassed by your raw display of yearning, and do your best to scoop out a little of his heart, too, while you’re still wielding the shovel. “What about you? What’s your perfect day?”

He takes in a long, thoughtful sigh, and then settles back in and smiles at you with a little shrug. “I would take some time to myself to spend in the gym in the morning,” he clears his throat and glances back down at his busy fingers. “But other than that, your picturesque do-nothing day sounds perfect to me.”

You’re struck still, and for no good reason.

It’s a meaningless conversation, an unimportant topic.

So why do you feel like you’re going to melt directly into the floor?

“I think, if I survive this—”

“Shhh,” he stops you abruptly, pressing a finger to his lips, and you’re reminded of his self appointed role earlier in the evening, shushing everybody for the slightest sound.

You scowl and kick his foot again.

You don’t take kindly to being shushed.

“Sugar.” He grabs your flailing foot and levels you with a serious look. “Shh.”

And that’s when you hear it.

The wooden scrabbling of the third parasite. You launch yourself to your feet, scooping up your weapons. The same awful, sickening feeling is still rooted in your gut, but your ego can’t quite take another mortifying display of pathetic fear right now, so you do your best to pretend to be brave.

Yeosang tugs you back by the sleeve, ushering you behind him. “I got it, stay back.”

You try to move up next to him, insisting that you can help, that he doesn’t have to do it alone, that you’re not sacrificing him or relying on him to save you.

He just sweeps you back with one arm. “I’ve got it.” He says again. “It’s the last one anyway.”

And he does, killing the hideous wasp just as quickly as he killed the second one, and you finally, finally let yourself relax.

JIMIN

He’s halfway through his twentieth attempt at plugging in the same two passcodes (the only ones he’s ever been given), spitting obscenities into the abused keyboard, when he feels it. A sharp, stabbing sting in his lower leg, digging deep into the muscle. “Shit—what the fuck!” He kicks his chair away from the desk, flinging his leg out reflexively.

Something hard and heavy flies off his ankle, striking the wall. He sees it right as it skitters frantically away to a dark corner of the room, something big and black and vaguely insect.

His leg is still throbbing, a trickle of blood running into his sock. He yanks his pant leg up and sees a deep puncture wound, now ebbing a steady stream of red. “What the fuck?” Jimin leans down, staring at the wound, eyes wide with shock. “The fuck.”

He drops his pant leg and spins the chair, peering into the shadows of the corner at the huge bug thing had fled to. Passcode and lockdown forgotten, he crosses the room and squints into the darkness, hearing the scrabble of tiny legs as he gets closer.

Frightened by his approach, the thing bursts into the light to run from him, and he jumps back.

It’s a giant insect. He thinks maybe a beetle or an ant, or, seeing the stinger on the rear, some kind of wasp.

“Ugh, hell no.” He finds his footing, watching it scurry desperately for a hiding place, and leaps forward with angry vindication. Jimin’s shoe comes down on the creature as hard as he can stomp it. His shoe cracks through the hard shell of the insect’s back, and it gives a tiny squeal. Jimin stomps it again, crushing the head and body into the floor.

It dies in a slimy mess of broken shell and blackish blue flesh, coating the bottom of his shoe.

“Gross.” He scrapes his sole against the floor and watches the viscous trail of dark insides smear the linoleum. Satisfied that the thing is nothing more than a pile of slime, he hops away from it and looks for something to clean the rest of his shoe.

Under the desk there’s nothing but a couple of cardboard file boxes, one of them with the lid askew. He grabs it and sits back down in the chair, scraping the bottom of his shoe with it.

As he does, he catches a glimpse of the contents. A container with air holes, one side eaten through.

It must have been what the wasp thing had crawled out of, he reasons, and carefully pulls the box closer with his other foot.

Once sure that there was only the one, now empty, bug box, he plucks it out with two fingers and tosses it towards the obliterated carcass behind him. In the bottom of the file box is, naturally, a handful of Manila files, which he pulls out and tosses on top of the desk.

The puncture in his calf tugs at his frustrated attention, and he quickly scans the room for a first aid kit. His eyes fall on the side wall where the medical supplies are clearly stocked on a shelf: a selection of generic first aid kits, a fire extinguisher, an AED kit, a few baskets of bandages and sports compresses.

Limping to collect one of the kits, he returns to the chair and focuses the next few minutes on doing what he can to soothe the aching sting in his leg.

“This is fucked.” He mutters, working. “This whole goddamn day. This whole fucking, dystopian, apocalyptic, goddamn fever dream.” The wound spray sets his leg on fire all over again. “God, shit, fuck.”

Dropping the remainder of the kit unceremoniously on the floor next to him, Jimin’s eyes fall to the other file boxes, his mind returning to the hellish wasp that stabbed him after eating it’s way out of containment. “What kind of fucking high school science experiment—this whole building is a film set, why the hell is there actual lab shit in here?”

He grabs the rest of the boxes and pulls them out from under the desk, flinging the lids off and peering inside with his good leg hoisted up in preparation to stomp the shit out of whatever’s inside.

Just papers.

More files and pages and loose leaf note paper.

No insects.

“Thank god.” He grumbles, turning back to the computer to resume his initial, rudely interrupted task. “Why the hell isn’t this passcode working.”

SUGAR | YEOSANG

“How long has it been?” Yeosang groans, stretching, adjusting his uncomfortable posture. All of the chairs are jammed into the makeshift barricade, which, theoretically, could be dismantled at this point, but neither of you want to get up and move closer to the three bodies and the mangled wasp remains.

You crane your neck to find the clock on the wall. “About half an hour.”

“This was supposed to be restful.” He gives a half laugh, repositioning his legs, and then repositioning again. “You didn’t say we’d be locked in a room with parasites.”

The mention of the god-awful insects turns your lips downwards, fixing him with an unimpressed glare. “Say parasites one more time, I think I forgot the worst thing I’ve ever lived through.”

Snickering, pulling his leg out of reach of your half-hearted kick, Yeosang lifts his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, sorry. No more discussion of insects.”

You’re halfway ready to pick up one of the books that you’d hurled at the wasp and lob it at your decidedly not funny companion, but it’s about ten feet away from you and splashed with insect guts so you can’t even convince yourself it’s worth it.

“I could sing to you.” He suggests playfully, testing your wrath again.

Since you know he’s teasing, pushing your buttons, merely attempting a complete diversion of conversation topics to get your mind off of the nastiness at the other end of the room, you turn mock-interested eyes to him. “Really?”

His face flushes pink again and he stammers for a second before managing an awkward smile that looks absolutely full of regret. “Uh…sure, if you really want me to.”

You can tell he really, really doesn’t want to serenade you in the middle of this miserable situation, and you absolutely don’t want to sit on the floor and listen to him croon some acapella version of a pop song that was designed to be performed practically with exploding cannons and a million screaming girls as a backtrack. “No. I don’t. It’s not really the time.”

Yeosang actually takes in a full, relieved breath. “True, true, not really the time.” He’s seconds away from thanking you for not calling his bluff when he notices the teasing smirk finally surface on your face. He rolls his eyes and huffs, awkward shyness making way for exasperated defeat. “Okay, yeah, make fun of the guy who’s just trying to make light of a difficult situation.”

“You’re right, I should have politely shut up so you could sing a lullaby to me and the dead guys over there.” You feel terrible, absolutely sucky, destined for hell, for referring to the deceased men at the front of the room so casually, but if you spend one more minute thinking about how they ended up that way, you’re going to sob all over yourself, and that would be worse than Kang Yeosang of Ateez singing his way through the zombie apocalypse.

“I wasn’t going to!” He complains. “I was kidding, I didn't think you'd actually want me to sing to you.”

Taking mercy, you let the topic drop and return your gaze to your hands in your lap. There’s blood under your fingernails, sweat and grime dried in the creases of your fingers. Your nose wrinkles in disgust as the scent of blood from your saturated clothes finally reaches you, and you find yourself scooting further away from Yeosang.

You had been appropriately spaced before, a good few feet between you, but now you edge yourself a significant distance away from him and settle yourself on the cold hardwood floor near the opposite wall. When you look up, he’s watching you with confusion.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, and lifts his shirt to give it a sniff. “Is it that bad?”

Waving a hand dismissively at his worry, you pluck at the damp redness of your clothes. “It’s not you. I’m covered in…the man who died…and I can smell it. And if I can smell it, I’m sure you can smell it, and it’s not a very pleasant…” You drift off, not even really knowing why you’re trying to explain yourself. You had been laying in a pool of a dead man’s blood and it’s painted the entire back of your clothes, seeped down to your skin and hair, making you look and smell like some kind of gruesome mortuary accident.

“Oh.” His eyes coast the seams of your clothes from your collar to the hem of your pants, and he abruptly pushes himself to his feet. In the next second, he’s flung the door of the closet open, digging through the shelves and boxes back here. “Uh…” His thoughtful voice emerges from the space, followed by sounds of scraping cardboard and scooting plastic.

You’re entirely too confused to move.

“Here’s a lost and found box.” You hear him say from deep within the closet. “Hmm,” A few seconds pass and then you hear him make a small sound of success. “I found a sweater, it’s an extra large though. Should work.” More rustling, more scraping, a grunt of exertion and you imagine he’s reaching for something.

“Uh, Yeosang, it’s fine—” It’s not, you’re hoping beyond hope that he finds even more than a musty abandoned sweatshirt, but you suddenly feel embarrassed that he’s digging through a classroom closet that hasn’t been used for actual education since the nineties. “It’s probably been cleaned out since anybody stored anything that isn’t a prop in there.”

“Yeah but groups like ours have come through here, doing programs like this—well, not like this, but you get me—” His muffled voice floats to you. “It’s more than likely that terrified suckers have left things behind, or actors even. You know, a lost shoe here, soiled pants there—”

“Yeah, you can leave any soiled pants where you find them, thanks anyway.”

Soft laughter rewards your glib comment and you find yourself smiling.

“Success!” He exclaims softly, and emerges from the closet, covered in dust bunnies but carrying a thick gray sweatshirt and a pair of pink sweatpants. He also has two packages of wipes in his hands that you recognize as the brand that your company keeps on hand to help clean the actors and clients of the sticky, syrupy, fake blood once the programs are over. “They smell clean, I promise. The sweater smells like somebody wore it but it’s not sweaty and it’s definitely not soaked in blood so I’d call it a win.” He holds the items out to you proudly, and you lift yourself to your feet with a sensation of awe that would be more suitably matched to being presented with a million dollars.

“Oh my god.” You have got to stop tearing up at the most mundane things. “Oh my god, you’re an angel, I’m…” You reach to take the clothes and stop at the sight of dried blood on your palms and forearms. “Ugh. I’m covered.”

His eyebrows jump with realization at your conundrum, and he places the clothes on the nearest window sill, focusing instead on the packages of wipes. “Here, I found these too. They say they’re for use on skin, I checked.” He pries the plastic lid off and peels back the sticky flap, tugging out three or four big wipes.

“Yeah, they’re ours, we use them for—” You’re stunned into silence when he steps into your space, taking one of your hands and gently scrubbing the soapy wipe over your stained skin. His hand is wrapped around the back of yours, his brow furrowed with intense concentration as he drags the quickly reddening towelette across the skin of your hands and forearms, completely oblivious to the warm flood of shock running through your body.

Yeosang works in complete silence, so busy cleaning the dried blood off your palms and the spaces between your fingers that he hasn’t noticed that you never finished your sentence. Finished with your left hand, he drops it and tosses the soiled wipes to the floor, snatching up another few from the package and scooping up your right hand.

It’s adrenaline making your heart pound in your chest like you just chugged an entire bottle of wine. It’s residual panic, leftover fear, old traces of frantic disgust at being chased by zombies and bugs. It’s definitely not the heat of his breath on your wrist, or the scent of whatever he puts in his hair mixed with perspiration and old perfume, or the fact that now you know what his skin smells like, or the feeling of his slender fingers wrapped around the back of your hand.

You’re not having warm fluttery feelings for a freaking pop star in the middle of a zombie outbreak.

It doesn’t matter that he keeps making little low humming noises in the back of his throat as he makes progress in breaking the crust of dried blood on your skin. It doesn’t matter that when he readjusts his grip on you and turns your hand so he can wipe at the crease of your thumb, he leans even closer into your space to see if he’s still seeing traces or if he’s just scrubbed your skin pink.

You’ve been silent for too long. “Um…I…” You choke on the words that barely pass your lips, clear your throat, and try again. “Thank you, I think it’s good now.” You have to get out of his grip. You have to get your personal space back before you do something really, really stupid. You tug your arm back, and with your skin moist with soapy residue, your hand just slips right out of his.

He drops the dirty wipes and lifts his head, flipping his hair out of his eyes, and blinks at you. “Oh, there were a few towels in there, too. You can go in there to change and use the towels. They’re on one of the shelves on the right, at about my shoulder level.” He gestures at the approximate height, which is roughly at your chin.

When you hesitate, he lets his arm drop. “It’s safe. No one in there.”

Like you’re a child afraid of the monster in the closet, or under the bed. It’s not why you hesitated, but it’s a good enough excuse that you don’t argue it.

“Okay, thank you.” You back away from him, scooping up the blessed clothes, and slip around him before you can say anything else. The closet is cramped and messy where he had shoved things around to look for your replacement clothes, but you step in cautiously and turn to grab the doorknob.

He’s already there, dutifully pushing the door shut.

Except, as soon as he does, you’re absolutely shrouded in complete darkness. “Aw, shit.” You mutter.

“What? What is it?” The door cracks, letting in a sliver of light. “Oh, it’s dark in there, isn’t it?” His hand slips through the narrow space, slapping at the wall around the door frame. “I’m not feeling a light switch. Is there a light in there?”

You don’t know.

How would you know?

It’s too dark to see your own feet, much less a lightbulb on the ceiling. “I have no idea, I can’t see shit.”

“Okay, hold on.” He swings the door wide open, and then steps away, out of sight. “I’ll go back to where I was sitting. You can change with the door open.”

This does not make your conflicted brain work any better. Yes, you can now see in the small space, but now you’re about to strip in virtually the same room as a very attractive and kind person whom you’re supposed to regard with only the utmost professionalism. “I mean, I don’t need the door open.” You try, reaching shakily for the knob. “I’ll be fine. I’ll just go by feel and if I’m wearing it backwards by the end of it then who cares?”

“No, leave the door open.” He says, his voice traveling from the other side of the room. “There’s stuff all over the floor and your socks are already wet anyway. You don’t want to slip and hit a shelf or a mop bucket or something.”

“How do you know my socks are wet?” What a fucking weird detail to say out loud.

“There are bloody footprints on the floor.”

“Oh.”

He’s right, anyway, your socks are sopping. It’s been irking you for the past thirty or forty minutes.

“I’ll stay over here. I promise.”

You believe him. Trying desperately to calm your anxious nerves, you peel your sticky shirt off your back and tug as many wipes from the package as you can fit in your palm, making awkward work of trying to clean your back and neck of the poor man’s blood. When you think you’re sufficiently soaped, you find one of the towels he’d indicated and hope you get the rest of it off your skin.

In a few minutes you’re changed into the clean sweats, your hair bundled in your fist, your arms and shoulders weary from reaching to try to clean yourself. You step into the doorway so you can hold onto the frame and flip your hair forward, scrubbing two handfuls of the wipes through your hair and over your scalp. The cleaning solution is probably going to be hell on your hair but anything is better than the current state of it.

By the time you’re done, you’re surrounded by discarded pinkish towelettes, your hair smells like baby wipes, and you’re wearing a towel turban like you’ve just stepped out of the shower. “I look ridiculous, I’m wearing strange clothes from a strange closet, and my hair is full of hand soap.” You grumble, staring down at your bare feet. You wish with all your might that he had magically found a perfectly clean pair of socks back there, but it is what it is. Maybe after the lockdown lifts you can find your duffel bag.

You don’t even know where you dropped it.

Maybe in the office downstairs with Rose?

Wherever it is, there’s fresh socks and underwear in it, and deodorant—all of which you’re no longer wearing.

Yeosang chuckles softly, looking up at you from where he’s drawing on the chalkboard. “Well, you look great.”

“I look like shit,” You argue, making your way over to see that he’s made an empty tic-tac-toe board. “But thank you for finding these, I feel like a whole new person.”

He smiles at you and nods meekly, handing you a piece of chalk. “It’s this or Hangman.”

You draw a big X in the upper right hand corner of the board. “I’ll play Hangman next but if your word is ‘zombie’ I will kick you.”

< last chapter | masterlist | next chapter >

tag list : @mysterysold @threevracha @igotajuicyass @velvetmoonlght @ramadiiiisme @mrsminseochoi @nightshadeblooming @furfoxsake22 @marvolos @lunaryoongie @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone

#ateez #kang yeosang #yeosang #ateez x reader #kang yeosang x reader #yeosang x reader #bts #black pink #park jimin

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ur-ghost-gf · 2 months ago

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holy shit i haven’t written anything in literal years but i miss it more and more every day so take this i guess

please forgive me if this is bad or if anyone is out of character or if my grammar is weird, thank you <3

.·:*¨¨*:·. .·:*¨¨*:·. .·:*¨¨*:·. .·:*¨¨*:·.

harry vanderspeigle x reader (18+)

(resident alien)

summary: you wake from a restless sleep to harry pounding on your door. he’s desperate to hide from the government and is willing to employ some interesting tactics to try and blend in.

warnings: almost smut, language, harry being being harry, naked cuddles

word count: ~1.6k

.·:*¨¨*:·. .·:*¨¨*:·. .·:*¨¨*:·. .·:*¨¨*:·.

The sun made a rare appearance from beyond the thick winter clouds above the small town of Patience. Birds fluttered about in the trees outside your bedroom window, their joyful chirps stirring you from your already restless sleep. You lifted a hand to your face and harshly rubbed your tired eyes. Yawning as you blinked awake, your gaze hit the ceiling fan that quietly spun above your bed. The blades were coated with a thin layer of dust. You hadn’t exactly been up to menial tasks in the past few weeks.

Not since Sam died.

Taking a deep breath, you blindly reached for your phone amongst the thick blankets. It felt like you had been tossing and turning for days. You finally grabbed your phone and mentally braced yourself for the ungodly hour.

7:16. AM.

Good god… I’m gonna die of old age before I manage to sleep again…

You threw your phone back into the bed and let out a frustrated groan. Grabbing the blanket, you rolled over and forcefully squeezed your eyes shut.

Come on, come onnn… What is wrong with you? Sam is gone and you not sleeping isn’t going to help. And you know Asta and Harry would never let anything happen to you. Everything is fine.

You let out a deep breath, your muscles relaxing and your mind starting to settle. The warmth of your blankets paired with the space heater on your nightstand finally began to lull you to sleep.

Until a series of loud bangs rattled your front door.

Your eyes shot open as you sat up. Another series of loud bangs shook your small cabin, your heart starting to race and your chest tightening with fear. What the hell? Your eyes stayed trained on your bedroom door as you blindly searched for your phone yet again. Just as your thumb found the power button, ready to click it rapidly to initiate a call for the police, a faint yell from outside made you freeze.

“(Y/n)..! Are you home, I need you to be home..!”

Was that… Harry? You sat still for a long moment before finally willing yourself to stand. Grabbing your robe from the floor, you hastily threw it on and rushed to the front door. Harry began pounding at it once again, and you had to wait for him to stop to finally open the door. You squinted as the bright light of the morning sun engulfed you. Harry looked panicked, almost frightened, as he stole a quick glance behind him.

“Oh (y/n) thank goodness you are home, I… am in some trouble.”

You rubbed your eyes in an attempt to adjust them to the light, confusion replacing the fear that had been so heavy in your chest.

“Trouble..? What do you mean trouble? Harry, it’s seven in the morning, I-“

“Please! We are running out of time, they will be here soon…”

He looked at you earnestly, something about his expression making you realize this may be more serious than it seemed.

“I need to hide. They only followed me here, they are unaware that you are my friend.”

Your heart fluttered as you mindlessly stepped aside to let him in, a sweet smile pulling at your lips. Harry rushed past you without a second glance. You simply watched him go.

We’re friends..?

Harry began to wander around your cabin, lifting random things and opening random drawers and cabinets. You silently followed him for a moment before the cold floors on your bare feet began to sting.

“Um… Harry?”

The man paused, holding one of your couch cushions. He simply stared at you expectantly. It made you oddly nervous.

“Do I… Uh… Do you got this? Like, do I need to be awake for this?”

He seemed to ponder your question before putting your couch cushion back into place.

“I suppose not. I am simply hiding from the government. You do not need to be involved.”

You opened your mouth to respond, though you were left speechless. Deciding it would take far too much energy to ask questions, you simply nodded and returned to your bedroom. You climbed back into bed, pulling the blankets up to your chin and tucking them around you. Your eyes fell shut, though your thoughts raced faster than ever.

What the hell is going on? Why would the government be after Harry? Is he a criminal? No, there’s no way. He would never. Also, it doesn’t matter. Friends don’t question friends. And Harry is my friend.

A shiver ran the length of your spine.

Harry is my… friend… Oh my god was Asta right? Do I like Harry?!

You gasped and jumped up as your bedroom door burst open. Harry rushed inside and slammed it behind him, momentarily struggling with the lock. He was rambling before you could compose yourself enough to speak.

“They are here, the government is here! They will try anything to get me. I can no longer hide. I must…”

He looked at where you were sitting in your bed. You could practically see the gears in his mind turning.

“Blend in… Yes! I am the husband and…”

Your eyes widened as he began to unbuckle his belt.

“Harry..?”

He practically ripped his shoes and jeans off, pulling his jacket and shirt off along with them as he climbed into the bed. You squealed as his hands found the tie to your robe.

“And you are the wife! And we…”

Your skin burned like hellfire as his large hands skimmed your sides. Something about him had you paralyzed. You could merely stutter as Harry pulled off your top, exposing your chest to the cold morning air. He was momentarily mesmerized at how quickly your nipples hardened and how your face flushed. However, there was no time. He subdued his urge to grope at your tender flesh and instead pushed you flat onto your back. Your eyes were the size of dinner plates as you watched him pull down your sleep shorts. You were completely exposed.

“H-Harry..?”

Your trembling whisper fell on deaf ears as he pulled the blanket over his back and moved to climb on top of you. Your heart stopped at the feeling of his unexpectedly hard cock pressing against your thigh. Harry simply offered you a proud smirk.

“We will have sex. It is the perfect way to blend in! They will never see it coming, they will be like ‘wow that is just a husband and a wife having sex and they are-‘“

The feeling of Harry’s fingers tracing down your thighs seemed to jolt you back to reality.

“No, no, no Harry wait!!”

He immediately froze at your refusal, almost seeming confused. You gripped his wrists with shaking hands, attempting to choose your words carefully as you searched his blue eyes.

“What if… Instead w-we… Maybe just… cuddle? Naked? Then they might think we were… you know… Before they got here..?”

Harry contemplated your idea for a long moment. Your grip on his wrists loosened as he chuckled awkwardly and moved to lay beside you.

“Ha ha! You are so smart and they are so stupid (y/n)!”

He outstretched his arms and gestured for you to come closer. You relaxed and let out a breathy laugh.

“Thanks Harry.”

Hesitating for the slightest second, you crawled into Harry’s arms and let him pull you against him. His skin was hot, almost concerningly so, but it practically beckoned you to get closer. Your limbs entangled together, your head resting against Harry’s chest. His heart thumped erratically against your cheek.

“That is why you are my friend.”

You laid still for a long moment before lifting your head. Harry met your gaze curiously.

“I… I like being your friend, Harry…”

He simply smiled, his lack of response or reaction making you grab his chin sternly.

“No, Harry. I mean I… really like being your friend…”

His eyes widened as your gaze fell to his lips. Your thumb grazed his cheek lazily, and Harry found himself compelled to pull you into a feverish kiss. His hands fell to your waist, making you squeak as he moved to pull you on top of him. Pulling away for just a moment, he rested his forehead against yours and took a ragged breath.

“I… really like being your friend as well, (y/n)…”

You smiled, biting your lip as you glanced towards your bedroom window.

“Ya know…”

You turned back to Harry with a devious smirk, your hands falling to his chest.

“I would really hate for you to… not blend in…”

He shared your glance towards the window before nodding promptly.

“That is a good idea. You are a very smart and loyal human.”

You simply blinked at him.

Human? Is this some weird god complex type thing?

Harry pulled you closer and captured your lips with his once again. This kiss felt slower and more passionate. You found yourself melting into his touch.

Ah what the hell, I can be into it…

Lisa sighed as she tossed away the binoculars she was using. David frantically tapped away at his laptop from across the van.

“I’m telling you, this has to be it! That signal is supposed to lead us right to him!”

Lisa shook her head. Her annoyance was about to get the best of her.

“I’m telling you that can’t be him.”

David looked up at her, confused. She scoffed and got up to situate herself back in the driver’s seat of the RV.

“Aliens don’t have sex. Dumbass.”

#harry vanderspeigle x reader #resident alien x reader #harry vanderspeigle x y/n #resident alien x y/n #harry vanderspeigle x you #resident alien x you #harry vanderspeigle smut #resident alien smut #x reader #reader insert #resident alien #reader smut

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blouisparadise · 1 month ago

Text

We recently received a request for a new non-Larry rec list. If you missed our first two, you can find them here and here. We hope you enjoy this list and show all of these fics some love. If you want us to continue making rec lists, please be sure to show support by liking and reblogging this post to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Far From Reality | Louis/Henry Cavill | Explicit | 1,138 words

Henry and Melissa looked like the perfect couple. Nothing could be further from the truth. Because the most famous relationship of the moment couldn't be more fake, a simple trick to pretend. A strategy to hide the fact that the great tycoon, Henry Cavill, was fucking the rock star of the moment, Louis Tomlinson.

2) On The Borderline Tonight | Louis/Ethan Hawke | Mature | 1,470 words

Louis is an artist in need of inspiration. He finds it one sunny afternoon in a Brooklyn coffee shop.

3) Partition | Louis/Liam Payne | Explicit | 1,553 words

Harry, Zayn, and Niall took one limo to the premier and Louis and Liam took the other. What Liam didn't know was that Louis had just been listening to Beyoncé...lets say, he was feeling inspired...

4) In Your Arms Tonight | Louis/Henry Cavill | Explicit | 1,692 words

Louis closed his eyes and let the music move him where it wanted him to go. He was feeling relaxed, almost peaceful when an arm snaked around his torso. He gasped as he was rocked back into a man’s larger body. “You’re gorgeous” the man’s voice whispered in his ear, gravelly and low.

5) Say Yes To Heaven | Louis/Ethan Hawke | Mature | 2,818 words

Later when he’s back at the apartment with Oli, as Louis is somewhat dreamily waxing poetic about Ethan, Oli interrupts.- “Does he quote Shakespeare when you fuck?” he asks, poking at the sizzling eggs on the stove. Louis’ cheeks turn suspiciously pink. Oli peers at his face. “Oh my god, he DOES. I KNEW IT.” He triumphantly brandishes his spatula in the air.

6) A Sudden Desire | Louis/Agent Whiskey Explicit | 2,558 words

Save a horse, ride a cowboy.

7) Sweeter By The Day | Louis/Pedro Pascal | Explicit | 2,673 words

"Never felt this sensation, a kiss to every scar, eclipse my expectations, shock to my heart" - Hayley Williams A one shot about domesticity, coffee, and love.

8) I Miss You, I'm Sorry | Louis/Zayn Malik | Explicit | 2,871 words

Louis spends some time with Zayn in his hotel room after his LA show. they smoke. they fuck.

9) Bet On It | Louis/OMC | Explicit | 2,945 words

“We should make a bet,” Louis says out loud, waiting for Dante to look up from his tablet and see Louis’ pouty lips. “Not a fucking chance.”

10) Give Me Life, Give Me Pain, Give Me Myself Again | Louis/Joel Miller | Explicit | 2,951 words

Joel can’t give Louis everything he needs, but it’s enough for the night.

11) Heaven Beneath His Skin | Louis/Henry Cavill | Mature | 3,251 words

Louis is a petite farmboy who fell in love for the first time.

12) Yours Is The Only Ocean | Louis/Tom Hardy | Explicit | 3,390 words

In which Louis finds out the man he pulled at a club turns out to be famous UK wrestler and boxer, Tom Hardy.

13) Take Me Somewhere, With A World Less Silent | Louis/Dev Patel | Explicit | 3,429 words

Louis' boyfriend comes home earlier than expected from a trip. Domesticity and fluffiness ensue.

14) To Reach A Port We Must Set Sail | Louis/Henry Cavill | Explicit | 3,907 words

On holiday in Southern Italy, Louis and Henry go on a special outing.

15) Flame Colored Paradise | Louis/Mads Mikkelsen | Explicit | 3,282 words

A side smirk widened Mads’ lips. He looked like a sight straight from heaven in his dark three-piece suit, hair in perfect place, a relaxed look on his face, as if he hasn’t had a hard-on for the last half an hour. Louis loved how Mads was always perfectly composed, never a single strand of hair out of place. He could have his whole cock buried in Louis, with the boy falling to pieces in front of him, but not a single drop of sweat would dampen his face.

16) Sun And Summer Wind | Louis/Oscar Isaac | Explicit | 3,934 words

Louis and Oscar, Guatemala, archaeology, and (something like) dancing.

17) Softer Than Satin | Louis/Joel Miller | Explicit | 4,077 words

“Wanna go back to bed,” Louis whispered languidly, voice partly muffled by his boyfriend’s lips on his. “Mm, but we just got up, baby,” Joel murmured. Lips touching softly with each syllable. Hands groping the soft flesh around Louis’ hips, kneading at the skin there and feeling his curves.

18) Not To Be Disturbed | Louis/Zayn Malik | Mature | 4,078 words

Zayn Malik is on tour in Frankfurt in 2018 and by chance runs into Louis at a coffee shop. An innocent time of reconnecting and escaping the pressures of stardom finds both opening up to long held feelings the latter strongly harbors but is shy to submit to.

19) I Had No Doubt In My Mind | Louis/Pedro Pascal | Explicit | 4,165 words

“She could’ve just talked to me, we could’ve found a way. I don’t understand why it has to be like this,” Oscar looked up at Louis, eyes shining with unshed tears. Louis felt for him, he didn’t know what he’d do with himself if Pedro just left one day. He couldn’t even imagine a life without him by his side after so many years together. “There’s nothing you can do right at this moment, love, so the best thing is to relax and rest, try to take your mind off of it for a little bit,” Louis said, hoping his tone and smile came off as sympathetic.

20) P Is For | Louis/Pedro Pascal | Explicit | 4,394 words | Sequel

Louis and Pedro, winter in New York, a coffee machine, and bilingualism.

21) I Want Yesterdays Love | Louis/Dev Patel | Explicit | 4,789 words

“We’re going on holiday before the term starts again,” Oli announces in their kitchen the day after the art opening. Louis looks up from his cereal bowl. “Who is we?” “I’ve rented us a cottage near the beach. Me, you, Calvin, Rick, and Dev.” Louis makes a noncommittal noise but can’t deny his heartbeat racing at the mention of Dev.

22) Depth Of Oceanic Gunfire | Louis/Henry Cavill | Not Rated | 5,138 words

After she left, Henry finds Louis crumpled amongst the white linen sheet like a wilted lily, nose red and lips trembling as he reaches up to kiss Henry. In the corner of the room, he saw his father raise his hand at the cowering figure of a blue-eyed ten-year-old. He kisses Henry and as the field somewhere blooms in blood and smoke and gunpowder, he thinks this is how much I love you. They come to escort Henry a week later. The world lets out a pained scream somewhere.

23) Where Art Thou? Why Not Uponeth Me? | Louis/Jacob Elordi | Explicit | 5,408 words

"Did you need anything in particular?" Jacob asked again, eyes not quite meeting hers. Louis then decided to tease. "Particularly, yes. A question perhaps.” This is going to be fun. Louis thought. "So how did this," she rattled the handcuffs for emphasis, "get in the possession of your belongings, hm?" Louis asked sultrily.

24) Sweet Dreams Turn Into Coffee In The Morning | Louis/Henry Cavill | Explicit | 5,675 words

Louis has spent most of his early adult life taking care of his adopted niece, Avery. When she goes away to boarding school, he starts to realize what he's been missing has been right in front of him.

25) Down Comes The Night | Louis/Pedro Pascal | Explicit | 5,974 words |

A love story set in the 18th century. Pedro is a painter, commissioned to create a wedding portrait of Louis, a young man who has just left the convent. Louis is a reluctant spouse to be and Pedro must paint him without his knowledge.

26) Wicked Games | Louis/Liam Payne | Explicit | 6,541 words

Liam is a very high end prostitute and Louis lives across the hall from him.

27) Take A Ride Into The Danger Zone | Louis/Jensen Ackles | Explicit | 7,561 words

“You’re so tiny and weak, you could never be anything other than the submissive little pillow princess you are.” Jensen teased, moving Louis’ wrists to hold them with one hand only as he used his now free hand to grab and knead at Louis’ meaty bum, he brought the boy closer so he was sat on top of his bulge. “I would never know if I’d be good at domming because you never let me try!” The boy whined, squirming in Jensen’s lap, trying to set himself free from his boyfriend’s large hands.

28) Cold Spring | Louis/Pedro Pascal | Explicit | 8,260 words

Louis is a coffee shop owner and Pedro is his newest customer.

29) Maybe. | Louis/Zayn Malik | Mature | 8,963 words

“Here again to start fights with your petty insults, Tomlinson?” Zayn seethed and Louis raised his eyebrows. “Mate, chill,” he said, his insides charged up as he felt Luke’s arm wrap around his waist from behind, “Who said I was talking about you?”

30) Running Is Different Than Going | Louis/OMC | Explicit | 9,018 words

On the run, the last thing Michael expects from a stranger is help. Louis offers him everything he needs so he can keep running, but makes it harder than ever to continue doing so.

31) Let's Break The Internet | Louis/OMC | Explicit | 9,505 words

“I’ll tell you what,” Sam leans forward in his chair and steeples his fingers in front of his face, “If you actually make an account and sell nudie pics and porn for more than three months, I’ll believe you.” Louis purses his lips, ignoring the returning blush on his cheeks at the thought of having to film himself in compromising positions or taking photos of himself without any clothes on. Raising his chin defiantly, Louis accepts the challenge. “Fine,” he agrees, “But when I win, you have to make one too.” Lips quirked, Sam nods and holds out a hand, “Deal.”

32) The Devil's Backbone | Louis/Pedro Pascal | Mature | 9,735 words

1925. Louis has escaped an abusive relationship and seeks to lay low in Montana. When a hit is put out on him by his ex lover, he makes an unlikely alliance and finds more than he ever dared hope for.

33) Lights Go Down | Louis/Zayn Malik | Explicit | 10,449 words

Louis is in need of the perfect dom, and the best dom in the club has just parted ways with his regular sub. Can Louis be the sub Zayn wants?

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The media thinks omega singer Louis Tomlinson is dating alpha actor Sebastian Stan because they bump into each other all the time. Everything changes when they accidentally bond.

35) My Home Is Your Body | Louis/Henry Cavill | Explicit | 15,341 words

He had seen who had made his senses go haywire. His ex was in the front row, five feet in front of him. He felt his eyes on him even as he mechanically made his way to the end of the runway, hoping to God he didn’t look like a maniac. Everything was a blur. He somehow managed to walk the rest of the way without falling or emoting anything. Why was he HERE? Of all places.

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Louis is a lonely queen married to an odious and imopotent king. Everything changes when he meets the new royal physician.

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40) All Tumults And Feelings | Louis/Carlos Sainz J | Explicit | 24,458 words

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Louis keeps trying to make peace with his past, but it’s hard when the past is all too present.

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inky-writing · 3 months ago

Text

Carlisle Cullen x Reader

Warnings: nightmares, depression, sadness... once again, english is not my first language, so i’m sorry for any mistake 😭

Word count: 3,103

Book II - Chapter 3: Void

September 16, 2005

The air in Forks felt heavy. It had rained all morning, but now the skies were thick with clouds. Y/N sat on her bed, by the window in her room, her knees drawn to her chest as she stared out at the streets. Bella hadn’t come home after school, and Charlie’s tension had filled the house like a storm cloud.

Downstairs, the front door opened and slammed shut. Harry Clearwater’s voice drifted up, low but urgent, as he spoke to Charlie and a few officers who had gathered at the house to organize a search party.

Y/N clenched her fists, her chest tightening. She had seen Bella earlier that day, but something had felt… off. She had barely spoken, her eyes distant, her movements sluggish. When Y/N asked if she was okay, Bella had brushed it off with a forced smile. Now, that memory gnawed at her.

A knock at her bedroom door startled her.

“Y/N?” Charlie called. “Come outside, please.”

She hurried down the stairs after her uncle, her pulse racing. The front of the house was crowded with people, Harry, Officer Peter, and a couple of other deputies she didn’t recognize. Charlie stood, his face pale.

“What’s going on?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“We’re organizing a search party,” Charlie said, his tone calm but betraying his worry. “Bella didn’t come home, and her truck is still at school. No one’s seen her since.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted. “I… I saw her at school, but…” She trailed off, guilt washing over her. She should have pushed harder, should have made Bella talk to her.

Before Y/N could continue, a silhouette was exiting the forest.

Sam Uley stepped onto the street. In his arms was Bella, limp and unconscious, her face pale as death.

“Oh my God,” Y/N whispered, rushing forward.

Charlie’s face crumpled with relief and fear as he reached for his daughter. “Bella!”

“She’s alive,” Sam said quickly, his voice calm but firm. “I found her in the woods. I think she’s been out there for hours.”

Charlie took Bella from Sam, cradling her as if she might shatter. “What happened? Why was she in the woods?”

Sam shook his head. “She hasn’t said a word. I don’t think she even knows what’s going on.”

Y/N hovered nearby, her eyes darting between Bella’s still face and Charlie’s frantic movements as he carried her to the couch inside.

“Get a blanket,” Charlie ordered. “And call a doctor.”

Y/N hurried to grab a blanket from the closet, her hands trembling. When she returned, Bella’s eyes fluttered open, and she muttered something incoherent.

“It’s okay,” Charlie said softly, brushing her hair back. “You’re home now. You’re safe.”

But Bella’s expression remained vacant, her gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the room.

Later That Night

The house was quiet again. Bella had fallen asleep. Y/N retreated to her room, feeling an ache in her chest.

She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the amulet she had found under her wardrobe. The intricate design and the deep purple amethyst in the center seemed almost alive in the dim light. Without thinking, she slipped it over her head. The cool metal rested against her skin, and for a moment, she felt a strange sense of calm.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, breaking her thoughts. She reached for it and frowned when she saw the name on the screen.

Carlisle.

She hesitated, then answered. “Hello?”

“Y/N.” Carlisle’s voice was as warm and steady as she remembered, but there was a hint of something else, like concern.

“Carlisle,” she said softly, her throat tightening.

“I wanted to check on you,” he said. “I heard about what happened with Bella.”

Y/N closed her eyes, the weight of the evening crashing over her. “She’s… okay. I think. She’s asleep now, but she was so pale, and she looked… empty. I’ve never seen her like that before.”

“I’m sorry,” Carlisle said gently. “I know how close you two are.”

Y/N swallowed hard. “It’s just… everything feels wrong. Bella’s not herself, and now you’re all gone too. It’s like everything’s falling apart.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and when Carlisle spoke again, his voice was softer. “If you ever need anything, Y/N, anything at all, you can call me. Day or night. I’ll answer.”

Her eyes burned with tears. “Thank you, Carlisle. That means a lot.”

“Take care of yourself,” he said. “And take care of your family.”

“I will.”

After they hung up, Y/N sat in silence, staring at her phone. The ache in her chest felt sharper now, but at least she wasn’t alone.

She lay back on her bed, the amulet warm against her skin. As her eyes drifted closed, she thought she heard a whisper, a soft, familiar voice speaking in a language she couldn’t understand.

But she was too tired to think about it.

Carlisle’s pov

Carlisle stared out the window of their flat in Vancouver, the phone still in his hand. The Cullens had left Forks just days ago, but it already felt like a lifetime.

He couldn’t shake the feeling of Y/N’s voice, her pain, her confusion. He had felt it too, it was a strange connection that went against logic. And yet, as soon as he tried to focus on it, the feeling slipped away once again, like sand through his fingers, and he was tired of not knowing why.

Esme appeared in the doorway, her expression soft. “Everything okay?”

Carlisle nodded, slipping the phone into his pocket. “Just checking in with a patient.”

Esme smiled, but something in her eyes seemed… watchful. Carlisle pushed the thought aside, forcing himself to smile back.

Still, as he gazed out at the moonlit forest, he couldn’t ignore the unease settling deep in his chest.

Something was wrong, and he would find out what.

October 2005

October crept into Forks with its biting chill, painting the small town in shades of orange, yellow and brown as the leaves began to fall. The Cullens had been gone for a month now, but their absence lingered like a ghost. The once-bustling corner of the cafeteria where they used to sit was empty, exceptionnel for Bella who sat there alone ereyday school day, and their grand house at the edge of the woods stood silent.

Bella had retreated into herself. She went to school, came home, and barely spoke a word. At the dinner table, she pushed food around her plate without eating much, her hollow eyes fixed on nothing in particular. Charlie had tried to get her to talk, but Bella’s responses were short, her voice monotone. Y/N watched her cousin with growing concern, but she didn’t know what to do.

Y/N, on the other hand, had thrown herself into research, her curiosity about the amulet and the Coven of Circe becoming an obsession. She wore the necklace constantly now.

One evening, as the rain pattered softly against the windows, Y/N sat on her bed with her laptop open, her fingers typing rapidly as she dug deeper into the history of the Coven of Circe. She had discovered that the coven was an ancient group of witches who had existed since the times of Ancient Greece. They were, for some of them, said to have descended from Circe herself, the sorceress who lived on the island of Aeaea.

The coven was rumored to possess great powers, control over the elements, the ability to talk to animals, and a multitude of others, but also a connection to forces older than time itself. The amulets, Y/N had learned, were symbols of the coven’s power. Every big family of the coven was said to have one, each stone unique and it also stated that they were passed from generation to generation, through the women.

But how had this necklace ended up under her wardrobe? She had never seen it before, and she sure didn’t pack it when she moved.

The thought gnawed at her, but before she could dive deeper into her research, there was a knock on her door.

“Y/N?” Charlie’s voice came from the other side.

“Come in.”

Charlie stepped in, his face lined with worry. He held a plate of food in one hand. “You didn’t come down for dinner. Thought you might be a bit hungry.”

Y/N gave him a small smile. “Thanks, Uncle Charlie. I just got caught up in something.”

He placed the plate on her desk, his eyes scanning the room before landing on her necklace. His brow furrowed.

“Where did you get that?” he asked, nodding toward the amulet.

Y/N’s hand instinctively went to the necklace, her fingers brushing against the cool metal. “I found it,” she said vaguely.

Charlie’s expression softened, but his eyes held a glimmer of something, recognition maybe? “You know… your mom used to wear one just like that.”

Y/N froze. “What?”

He nodded, leaning against the doorframe. “I remember seeing it when we were teens. I don’t exactly remember it, but it had a similar look. She always said it was a family heirloom.”

Y/N’s heart raced. “Did she ever say where it came from?”

Charlie shook his head. “Not that I remember. She was always kind of secretive about it. Your dad used to joke that it was something magic.” He chuckled softly at the memory, but Y/N’s mind was reeling.

“Do you think… do you think it could’ve been passed down to me?” she asked, her voice hesitant.

Charlie shrugged. “Maybe. Your mom was always a little… different. She had this way about her, like she knew things no one else did. I didn’t understand it then, and I still don’t now.”

Y/N stared at the amulet, her thoughts racing. Could her mom have been connected to the Coven of Circe? Was this necklace more than just an heirloom?

Charlie straightened up, giving her a warm smile. “Anyway, don’t stay up too late. School tomorrow.”

“I won’t,” Y/N promised, though her mind was already spinning with questions.

That night, the house was quiet. Bella’s door remained shut, as it had every night since the Cullens left. Y/N lay in bed, the amulet warm against her skin, her thoughts a tangled mess.

She thought about her mom, her soft smile, the way she always seemed to know when Y/N needed comfort or advice. She had been different, Y/N realized, but in a way that felt magical.

The whispers were there again, faint, like a breeze brushing past her ear. The ancient language, the one she couldn’t understand, sent shivers down her spine. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block it out, but the whispers seemed to grow louder, more insistent.

As sleep finally claimed her, Y/N dreamed of a woman standing under a massive oak, her hair blowing in the wind, the same amulet around her neck. The woman turned, her face shrouded in shadow, and whispered something Y/N couldn’t hear.

When Y/N woke the next morning, her bed was damp with sweat, and the amulet felt smehow heavier.

Over the next few days, Y/N tried to keep herself busy, but Bella’s presence, or lack thereof, was a constant reminder of everything that had changed.

Bella still barely spoke, her eyes dull and lifeless. Sometimes, Y/N heard her crying late at night, but when she tried to comfort her, Bella pushed her away.

Y/N wanted to help, but she didn’t know how. It was like Bella had built a wall around herself, and no one could get through.

One afternoon, while Y/N was alone in her room, she pulled out her laptop and opened a new search tab.

The Coven of Circe family connections.

As the search results loaded, Y/N’s mind churned with questions. Her mom had been connected to this somehow, she was sure of it. Maybe if she dug deep enough, she could find answers.

But as she scrolled through pages of information, her eyes landed on a passage that sent a chill down her spine:

The amulets are said to choose their bearer, passed down through generations of witches. It is a mark of power, a connection to the ancient magic that flows through their veins.

Was this why the whispers had started? Why she felt drawn to the amulet?

And if so… what did it mean for her?

As the rain continued to fall outside, Y/N leaned back on her bed, clutching the amulet tightly. The answers she sought were out there, but she had a feeling that finding them would change everything.

November 2005

The cold, damp air of November settled over Forks. The trees, now bare, stood like skeletons against the ever grey sky, and the ground was constantly slick with mud because of the incessant rain. Inside the Swan house, the atmosphere was no less dreary. Bella grew more and more withdrawn, her once-pale complexion now ghostly. She barely ate, spoke even less, and spent her nights tossing and screaming in her sleep.

Y/N had grown used to waking in the middle of the night to the sound of Bella’s screams. Each time, she would rush to her cousin’s room, only to find her curled in on herself, trembling. Bella never wanted comfort, and she refused to explain what the nightmares were about. Y/N would quietly retreat to her room, helpless but concerned.

As much as Y/N worried about Bella, she couldn’t ignore the strange things that had seemed to happen to her on a daily basis now. It began with small incidents, objects appearing where they shouldn’t be and when she needed it.

One morning, as she got ready for school, she thought about how much she wanted a chocolate bar. It was a fleeting thought, one she didn’t even pay much attention to. But when she turned to her desk, there it was: a perfectly wrapped chocolate bar sitting as if it had always been there.

At first, she thought Charlie might’ve left it for her, but he denied it when she asked.

Then there was the time she forgot her chemistry manual at home. She was panicking, she needed it for today lesson and, when she opened her locker, there it was, sitting neatly on top of her books, even though she was sure she left it on her bed that morning.

The incidents became more frequent as the days passed. A pen she thought she’d lost appeared in her pocket. A notebook she needed for an assignment was suddenly in her bag. It was as if the universe was bending to her will, but she didn’t see it happen, it just… did.

The strangest part of all was the cat.

It had started following her in late October. She first noticed it sitting at the edge of the school parking lot, its orange eyes fixed on her. Since then, it seemed to appear everywhere she went: perched on a fence outside her house, hiding in the bushes near the diner, even sitting on the windowsill of her bedroom late at night.

The black cat never came too close, always keeping its distance, but its presence was constant.

Vancouver - Carlisle

Far from Forks, Carlisle sat across from Alice and Jasper in a small café tucked into a quiet corner of Vancouver. The three of them had chosen this location for its privacy, a place where they could speak freely without fear of being overheard.

Alice was the first to break the silence. “It’s been weeks since we’ve seen you, Carlisle. What’s going on?”

Carlisle sighed, his hands folded on the table. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

Jasper raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“It’s Esme,” Carlisle admitted, his voice low. “She’s been… watching me. I don’t know how to describe it, but it’s like she’s always aware of where I am and what I’m doing. I’ve noticed it more since we left Forks. She’s never been like this before.”

Alice tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “Watching you? In what way?”

“She’s subtle,” Carlisle said, choosing his words carefully. “It’s not obvious. But I feel her eyes on me, even when she’s not in the room. And there are moments when I think about… things, about my feelings, and it’s as if they’re still snatched away before I can fully grasp them.”

Jasper exchanged a look with Alice. “Have you talked to her about it?”

“No,” Carlisle admitted. “I don’t want to accuse her of something without proof. But I can’t shake the feeling that something is off with her lately. It’s like there’s a fog in my mind whenever I try to think about certain things when she is around.”

Alice leaned forward, her golden eyes sharp. “Carlisle, you’ve always been the most rational among us. If you’re feeling this way, there’s a reason. But…” She hesitated, her gaze flickering. “If something was happening with Esme, wouldn’t I know?”

Jasper nodded in agreement. “And I haven’t felt anything from her. She’s as steady as ever.”

Carlisle frowned, his frustration evident. “That’s what worries me. If she’s hiding something, she’s doing it well.”

Alice and Jasper both fell silent, their expressions troubled.

Finally, Alice spoke again. “We’ll keep an eye on her from afar. But Carlisle… don’t jump to conclusions. Esme loves you. She is your mate. Maybe this is just… something we don’t understand yet.”

Carlisle nodded, though he wasn’t entirely convinced. “Thank you, both of you. I just needed to talk to someone about this.”

Vancouver - Esme

That night, as the house grew quiet, Esme sat alone in the living room, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She had overheard the conversation between Carlisle, Alice, and Jasper, at the café. Her enhanced senses picking up every word despite the distance when she had followed him.

Her act was slipping, and she knew it. Carlisle’s suspicion was growing, and if he continued to push, the others might start to notice as well.

Dominic’s voice echoed in her mind, his words a mixture of reassurance and warning: You must stay in control, Esme. They can’t know the truth. Not yet.

Esme closed her eyes, her grip tightening. She had come too far to let everything unravel now.

But as the hours ticked by, she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that her carefully constructed web of lies was beginning to fray.

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