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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 6 months ago

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fellow + gidel ssr time fellas

(This bastard took an entire soft pity :(( but hey, I got a Dorm Uniform Jade dupe and finally FINALLY my first Dorm Uniform Floyd on the way, so I ain't too pressed about it.) RISE UP FELLOWIVES NOW’S YOUR TIME

***Character profile, voice lines, Groovy, and vignette spoilers below the cut!!***

First off! His official profile, coffin, and candy (Fox Candy):

(School) Grade/Class: None

Birthday: May 17 (Taurus)

Age: 26

Height: 181 cm

Dominant Hand: Right

Hometown: ???

Club: None

Best Subject: Mathematics (specifically Arithmetic)

Hobby: Watching theater

Dislikes: Saving money

Favorite Food: Apples

Least Favorite Food: Potatoes

Special Skill: Sewing

We finally get confirmation of Fellow’s age! (He had previously said in Playful Land that he was 20-something.)

I love that Fellow’s best subject is math Deuce is jealous/j; it makes so much sense given that his inspiration, Honest John (and Fellow himself) aren’t good at reading. It’s that whole “kids are either good at math or English” stereotype. In Japanese, the phrase 算数 is used. 算数 refers to arithmetic, or very basic math taught in elementary school (adding, subtracting, multiplying, and dividing). That specific phrase explains Fellow’s elementary level of understanding. His dislike being saving money is also related to numbers; he spends the money he has right away to get by in the moment. Fellow doesn’t really have the skill or the luxury of financial planning, he has to focus on the here and now, looking out for both himself and Gidel.

OMG, his favorite and least favorite foods???? 😭 Playful Land has apple (core) flavored candies and popcorn… and again, this is a reference to Honest John and Pinocchio’s first encounter! He takes the kid’s apple and eats it, lol cnsvwiwguwkw Potatoes being his disliked food… Maybe it’s because it��s the “poor” man’s vegetable? Because potatoes are so versatile, keep for a long time, and are filling because of the starch content, Fellow might resort to eating them a lot, so perhaps as a result he got sick of the taste.

What I find most interesting about Fellow’s profile are his listed hobby and special skill. He largely comes off as despicable and a slimy scammer (which he is, don’t get me wrong), but we can see different sides to him in these details—both the inner child that had his dreams trampled but remains hopeful about the future and the big brother figure/guardian to a child. Gidel is actually formally referred to in Fellow’s profile as his (non-blood related) brother, which made my heart melt 🥺 TWST must know I have a thing for beastmen who act shitty but are actually excellent mentors to the children/j

Fellow enjoys watching theater. It’s a way of transporting you away temporarily to new worlds with crazy stories and emotional performances. When words aren’t enough, you sing. And when singing isn’t enough, you dance. It’s an area that’s so full of life and joy, at least from the audience’s perspective. I’m thinking that watching theater must have been a form of escapism for Fellow, especially with how accessible it is (think of like street performances). Watching theater might also serve a dual purpose of teaching Fellow how to come across as amicable and friendly, which says a LOT about his character. He’s resourceful and able to learn from unconventional sources, then is able to apply those skills to real world situations.

Fellow’s special skill being sewing is surprisingly very cute! If you’ve taken one look at his and Gidel’s designs, we may have already spotted some of his handiwork. There’s mismatched fabric patches on their clothes!! The stitches look so clean too. The patterns not matching is probably because Fellow just used whatever scraps he was able to get his hands on, but I also like to imagine that he tried to make the best of the situation by incorporating the mismatched fabrics in a fun way (like the diamonds in his pants).

Next, can we talk about the composition of that GROOVY????

It’s another reference to the same Pinocchio scene! Fellow’s holding his book like Honest John did and it looks like he’s trying to teach Gidel the alphabet from words scratched on the sidewalk. Notice how the C is written backwards too 😂 He even wears glasses like when Honest John was trying hard to act like an intellectual.

And Gidel!!! Pencil and pad of paper in hand, he looks so interested to learn (something which was hinted at in Playful Land). Gideon in the film is also shown with a pen and pad of paper, scribbling down nonsense as Fellow pretends to diagnose Pinocchio.

Gidel glances up at Fellow with an expression of admiration. I love how wholesome their relationship is depicted as, it leaves a warm feeling in the heart.

The framing of this Groovy is very interesting. We have Fellow to our left—a direction has historically been associated with evil (in Italian, the word for left is even sinistra, as if to imply something sinister) and in the darkness. Gidel is the one to our right and in the light. It presents Fellow to us as someone who has given up on his dreams—but not completely, since we see some light touching his hat, gloves, and highest features + he is currently teaching Gidel and still has dreams of opening his own school. Gidel is shown in the light because he’s still a naive child that doesn’t understand how the world works. His dreams haven’t been destroyed yet, and there’s hope for him to have a better life since Fellow is looking after him and instructing him.

CHECK THIS OUT, GIDEL FOLLOWS FELLOW TO CLASS LIKE MARY'S LAMB OR SOMETHING????? Gidel pops out from under the desk or out of/behind Fellow's cape! Gidel also joins Fellow on the homescreen.

Some of Fellow's expressions are so priceless... For example, look at him in Flight! There's an unsure face and a little bead of sweat. (He makes a lot of pathetic accompanying sounds too, lol) Flying takes magic, so he's probably not confident or powerful enough to maintain flight for long stretches of time--though when he does nail it, he looks ultra smug.

ADGKVAVFOOEFIEQOfsl HIS SHOCKED FACE

How uncool, Fellow-san...

His attack sprites are very similar/identical to what we saw in Playful Land--Fellow's just playing for the opposite team now.

Gidel hops into battle to assist, so I guess they count as the first two-character card. It's been a while since I've seen these animations, but I think I can appreciate them a lot more now. I'm noticing new little things like how Fellow adds a bunch of showmanship into his attack, little flashy flourishes and even presenting Gidel with his arms splayed, as if welcoming a star to the spotlight. The attention to detail really is crazy for these.

If you want to read his voice lines in full, you can find an excellent fan translation of them here! I'll just be remarking on things I noticed while combing through the voice lines myself:

First off: bro calls himself Fellow Hones-SAMA???????? OKAY, KING 😭 Love that confidence you got goin' on there...

bifabsiyofbefe Love how he just reads a textbook and then flat-out admits he has no clue what the heck it's saying. Hey, honesty is a virtue.

Ace 💀 He has the balls to play a prank on an adult... I kind of want to know what the prank was, but at the same time I feel like I should be shaking my head and telling him off for doing it in the first place. I do appreciate that Ace being shitty brought out Fellow's true personality there for a second though, I live for it when Fellow gets real steamed and starts shouting that the NRC students are brats or that they should drop out if they have no motivation in school.

The way Fellow automatically clocked that Kalim is way too trusting and would surely be in danger even if he wasn't the one to come for him... Fellow, watch your back. Jamill WILL come for your sketchy ass for what you did back then.

I didn't find anything super interesting in Fellow's comments about Ortho, but I do think it reveals that there is value in him coming to school. It's only at NRC where Fellow can see such a curious thing like Ortho, and that speaks to the value of really going out there and being exposed to different things. That's part of Lilia's own growth arc too, and a large part of why he now spreads that same rhetoric.

Fellow remarks that Ramshackle is "pretty sweet", which means one of two things: either this is the refurbished post-book 6 dorm OR it's still the shabby pre-book 6 dorm, but since Fellow and Gidel have never really had their own stable housing, even run-down old Ramshackle seems like a massive upgrade.

Fellow and Gidel must have been so happy to see that lunch at NRC is free and served buffet style (so there's no limits to how much you can take). On top of that, they got dead chefs from 5 star restaurants staffing the kitchen! Those two really hit the jackpot, I hope they eat well.

AVUSDGVUADOVIAISDBIDAS THE DIALOGUE IMPLYING FELLOW CASUALLY BYPASSED THE SCHOOL'S BARRIER AND OTHER SECURITY MEASURES... So Chenya-core of him, really. Fellow may not have magical might, but he's seriously street smart to have found a way in like he has.

Small detail but I appreciate how Fellow has lines which call attention to Gidel. It doesn't just remind us that Gidel is there too, but it also demonstrates to us that Fellow actively tries to include him in the conversation despite Gidel's muteness (a condition which may lead others to outright ignoring him or talking down to him).

LAST THING (though it's not in MysteryShopTL's linked post): in his birthday greeting to the player, Fellow says that both you and him don't have talent for magic, so you should get along. I didn't think the game would acknowledge the player and Fellow's similarity in that sense, so it was very nice to be proven wrong.

And to finish off this post (which ended up being way more massive than I thought it would be), a quick summary of the vignettes!! If you want to read them in full, please check out MysteryShopTLs’ post!

In vignette 1, Fellow and Gidel are putting on a street performance in Silk City. Fellow collects fees from the onlookers and then tries to milk more out of them by spinning a story about how Gidel is a puppet that can walk without strings. Buuut Gidel moves like a normal living being and sneezes, which ruins the ruse and leads to the crowd getting mad at them. The duo run off, but Fellow reveals that while the locals were looking at Gidel, he used magic to steal some of their precious metals and jewelry. In the next vignette, Fellow and Gidel have moved on to Fairest City. It's said that they live a nomadic lifestyle and hop from place to place, never staying for too long in any one location because word of their scams may spread and cause a situation where they cannot reasonably make money through their lies. (Cute detail: Fellow listens to Gidel's suggestions on where they should go next and even praises Gidel's smarts.) This time Fellow's trying to auction off a magestone that he claims will allow anyone who holds it to use magic. The people of Fairest City don't believe him and give him the cold shoulder, which upsets Fellow (since he really hates it when others look down on him). He ends up using his UM to get his audience to be more pliant and manages to sell the magestone for a pretty penny. At the end of this vignette, Fellow drops a line about how he and Gidel are so free, how they can do whatever they want since they have nothing holding them back. I really love that thought~

AND IF YOU THOUGHT VIGNETTES 1 AND 2 WERE FUNNY HAHA TEEHEE CUTE, WAIT UNTIL YOU SEE VIGNETTE 3 💀 VIGNETTE 3 FELT LIKE IT WAS A TARGETTED SNIPE ON MY HEART

The setting is Sunrise City! Fellow and Gidel are being chased off by an angry person they tried to rob. It looks like they're unsuccessful today and will be going hungry. Gidel tries opening a random can of OIL in search of food, so Fellow scolds him and tells him to leave it be. Apparently Gidel does this a lot when he's hungry (just grabbing random shit and trying to eat it), even though Fellow has tried teaching him how to read. THIS IS WHAT THE CONTEXT OF THE GROOVY IS, FELLOW SQUATS DOWN (like we literally see his 2D model lowering) AND DRAWS IT ON THE GROUND FOR GIDEL TO SEE. O is for orange, I is for ice-cream, and L is for laugh. Fellow realizes that L is the only non-food word, but he couldn't come up with anything else. I wonder if like... this is some common game they do to distract from hunger. They have to imagine the food they could have but can't. And L being "laugh"? That can't be a coincidence. Fellow could have used any other L word as an example, even if he couldn't come up with a food that starts with L. It makes me think he picked "laugh" on purpose in an effort to lift Gidel's spirits and to try and distract from their circumstances.

Aaaah, as I was saying! Fellow gets upset that he doesn't know as much as your average 26-year old would since he never went to school. Gidel seems to sense his frustrations and reassures him with a pat, which reenergizes Fellow. He says he'll try to find some food, so Gidel should focus on making a fire. While gathering wood to burn, they come across a job posting by a shady rich man that Fellow and Gidel supposedly did another job for in the past. Fellow suggests that they check out the job and if they don't like it then they can leave. ADSKJBBSLDIADBLUBAB These are the events leading up to Playful Land... meaning that Fellow’s showmanship is wasn’t something he developed at the amusement park, but as a general coping and survival mechanism to get by day-to-day.

I uh. May or may not have cried a little at Fellow and Gidel's really wholesome interaction 😭 I MEAN YEAH OF COURSE I'M A SUCKER FOR BIG BROTHER CHARACTERS (and we certainly see that in how Fellow scolds Gidel and looks out for his wellbeing, both in the vignettes and in Playful Land) but also???????? ? ? ? ? ?? ?????? ? ? ? ?? I love Love LOVE how Gidel is shown to be supportive of Fellow as well. Fellow as the older person, the adult, and the able-bodied one of the duo is pulling most of the weight when it comes to getting resources and handling communication. However, Gidel plays an important role in their dynamic as well. He's the heart and the emotional support that Fellow needs when he's down in the dumps and being hard on himself. Gidel not only serves as a "reason" for Fellow to work hard (to support a child), but he also gives Fellow motivation and hope that tomorrow can be another day. YOU CAN REALLY TELL HOW MUCH THESE TWO CARE AND LOOK OUT FOR ONE ANOTHER OTL

OOOOOOOoooOOooOOGGHHHH MY HEART *clutches it* I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE, I CAN'T HANDLE THE ONII-SAMA OF IT ALL

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hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch · 1 month ago

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This randomly came to me and its silly but I definitely think Rio would react like this

Rio: Agatha! My mouth is burning!

Agatha calmly: Sweetheart your mouth doesn’t burn you don’t have tastebuds

Rio: I don’t have tastebuds?! That explains why I’m with you!

Agatha: That doesn’t make sense but anyway just put the candy down

Rio: Why did you buy this?!

Agatha: Stop yelling you’ll wake the whole neighbourhood! Stop eating the sour candy!

Rio: But it’s my colour, I can’t believe I’ve been betrayed by my own colour! Why is green evil?

Agatha: I don’t know?? Apparently something to do with sour apples because they’re green or whatever but please put the candy down

Rio: But it’s so good

Agatha:….What the hell do you want from me?

Rio: To help!

Agatha: Okay put the candy down and wait 10 minutes, then have some more and do that for a few hours and see how you feel

Rio: Okay!

10 minutes later

Rio: Agatha!

Agatha: Yes my love?

Rio: I don’t think I want sour candy again

Agatha: Good choice

Rio: Now, I’ve got to go and deal with some souls that I missed

Agatha: Yes that’s it go and be death and pretend you didn’t just have a breakdown over some sour candy

Rio growls

Agatha: Did you just growl at me?

Rio: Erm no? Gotta go! *quickly disappears*

Agatha: It’s been a century and she still growls at me like a rabid animal I picked up from the forest

#marvel #mcu #marvel incorrect quotes #marvel imagine #marvel au #agatha all along #agatha harkness #rio vidal #agathario #agatha x lady death #lady death

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lovebugism · 1 year ago

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Ok but what about Eddie dating a reader who snores and the gang is like wtf but he finds it cute.

ty for requesting anon! this is dedicated to everyone who gets sleepy at 5pm like i do hahah — eddie's girlfriend falls asleep during movie night and it's a big deal in the sweetest way (sleepy gf!reader, established relationship, 1.4k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

A masked serial killer slaughters a group of pretty teenage girls. Their screams are high-pitched and painfully artificial. The murderer’s chainsaw is way too loud and far too dramatic a weapon. The bright red blood splatters across the baby pink bedroom in several obnoxiously vivid splotches.

Eddie Munson has never been more grateful to be alive in the golden age of slasher films — the absolute peak of godawful cinema.

He turns to the pretty little thing dozing on his shoulder and grins quietly to himself.

You’re the purest essence of beauty in all forms, but especially compared to the barbaric horror flashing across the television screen across the room. In the darkness, the neon glow paints you in varying shades of blue, green, and dark red.

You’re so pretty it hurts.

Eddie didn’t think he could love anything more than dumb slasher movies. Not until he met you, anyway.

“Tired?” he whispers to you when your lashes flutter across the apples of your cheeks.

It’s hardly seven o’clock — the sun has just barely set over the horizon — and more than anything, the tiny trailer is filled with fake screams and faker blood. Most people would be too horrified to be so drowsy. Not you, though.

Everyone’s always admired your relationship with sleep, but maybe just a little extra now.

Your features are blurry with the longing of slumber. They scrunch in refusal when you shake your head, cheek rubbing against the soft cotton of Eddie’s thrifted tee. “No,” you hum with a softness that says otherwise. “‘M just cozy…”

Everyone knows what that’s code for.

All the gang was over for movie night — some more begrudgingly than others (Steve, namely). The brunette boy shares a side eye with Robin on the other side of the couch before both of them turn to look at you.

Lucas sits on the floor and stuffs his face with popcorn, which he almost chokes on when he laughs. Max giggles at the boy in response from where she’s sandwiched between him and Dustin.

Each of them can practically count down the seconds until you’re fully asleep.

You inhale once — deeply, sharply. The curly-haired boy turns his wrist to check his watch.

“7 p.m…” Dustin observes with raised brows. He nods to himself like he’s impressed. “That’s gotta be some kinda record, right?”

“I’m pretty sure she was out by six when we were at Steve’s yesterday,” Robin tells him as she leans over Lucas’ shoulder for the popcorn bowl he’s holding hostage.

“Full on snoring by six-thirty,” Steve concurs through a mouthful of candy. “And her legs were on my lap, too, so I couldn’t move for, like, two hours.”

“What about last movie night?” Max questions with pinched brows. “I’m pretty sure she was asleep before it even started.”

Lucas shakes his head. “She was just napping, right? I’m pretty sure she woke up, like, halfway through.”

Dustin nods — the official connoisseur of you and all your sleepiness. You had been asleep by the time Steve turned The Outsiders on, but your internalized love for Dallas Winston had woken you part of the way through.

“It had to be scrubbed from the records,” the boy explains like it’s something a whole lot more official than you just being tired. “It only counts if she stays asleep.”

“What if her eyes are closed, and she’s using your arm as a pillow, and you don’t have any feeling left in your fingers?” Robin questions with narrowed eyes, recounting the events from the last movie night in question. “What about that?”

“Still doesn’t count,” Dustin shakes his head with a feigned sympathy.

Eddie listens to them with a distant smile on his face. They’re not making fun of you exactly, just noticing all your little idiosyncrasies that he loves so much. It’s what makes you you — the quiet, sleepy girl that’s all but the glue of the group.

If you’re somewhere else when everyone’s all hanging out together, and not snoozing on someone’s shoulder, something just doesn’t feel right.

“Isn’t she the fuckin’ cutest?” the boy muses amidst the light-hearted banter, the horror movie long forgotten.

His bright smile and twinkling eyes are met with a group of deadpanned stares.

It isn’t because you aren’t cute, because you are. Why else would Robin and Steve let you use them as pillows even after their appendages have long gone numb? You’re like a cat sleeping on their stomach — it’s too much of an honor to wake you.

Their dumbfounded gapes are more so a result of Eddie’s adoration for you. Because you’re you, and Eddie’s… Eddie.

You’re polar opposites.

You’re quiet and sweet and gentle, and Eddie’s never been any of those things once in his life.

You’ve brought out a softer side of him — one that none of them thought a brash metalhead like him could ever have. He talks to you far sweeter and far more gently than he’d ever speak to the rest of them. Mostly because he knows you get spooked too easily and that you always wince whenever people yell. And his PDA is an innocent kind, full of held hands and forehead kisses and boops to the tip of your nose.

Eddie Munson is so soft for you that he lets you drool on his shoulder and unknowingly steal all the covers from him when you fall asleep during movie night.

He’s so far gone for you that he’ll let you drag him to bed when most people his age are heading out to party for the night — just so you can drool on him and take all the covers from him in his bedroom, where you can sleep more comfortably than on the couch.

It’s all so sweet, it’s downright disgusting.

“It’s gross how in love the two of you are,” Steve monotones, the only one brave enough to say it out loud even though they’re all thinking it.

“I know,” Eddie affirms with a wide grin. “It’s amazing, huh?”

They all grumble under their breaths about it, obviously not as mushy with adoration as he is.

It isn’t his fault they’re miserable because they don’t have their own soulmate who gets tired at 5 p.m. and snoozes on their shoulder accordingly. They’d be a lot less crabby if they had someone like you to gush about.

Not you, though. ‘Cause you’re his and everything. But someone just like you, maybe.

Everyone dissipates when the credits of the movie start to roll — either to get more food, or use the bathroom, or stretch their aching limbs.

Eddie stays unmoving. He doesn’t want to wake you up.

You begin to rouse on his shoulder, shifting as you wake with a deep inhale-exhale. Your eyes flutter slowly open, and through the haze of sleep, you notice the empty living room and the scrolling names on the television screen.

“’S the movie over?” you question, slurred with the heaviness of slumber.

Eddie nods lazily against the couch.

He’s about as tired as you are now, with his legs cocked up on the coffee table and his head lolled back against the cushions. “Yeah. It’s okay, though. You didn’t really miss anything,” he assures with a crooked smile.

“Didn’t mean to fall asleep…” you murmur, like you’re embarrassed to have slept so soundly.

“I know,” the boy hums softly to you. “’S okay…”

Your temple rests against his shoulder once more. “Wake me up before you start the next movie?” you ask when Eddie presses a lingering kiss to your hair. Your eyes are already fluttered shut again.

“Sure,” he answers, despite lacking any real intention to wake you.

He’d much rather let you sleep. He knows you need it. He doesn’t mind that you get tired before the sun has set, even though he knows how much you hate it. He couldn’t love it more, personally.

So, he lets you fall back asleep on his shoulder and tries to ignore how much it makes his heart swell. His ribcage shakes with the intensity of how much he loves you — how privileged he feels that you trust him enough to drool on his shoulder and not be embarrassed about any of it. You know he loves you too much for any of that.

“She still asleep?” Steve questions when the gang settles back in the living room. He rattles M&Ms in his palms before chucking a handful into his mouth. When Eddie nods, the boy snorts. “I’m glad it’s your arm falling asleep this time and not mine.”

Eddie’s glad for it, too.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: fictober!

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astro-stars · 1 month ago

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@restless-soulz okay you sent several so im gonna do each in seperate posts! (also i may have done every dorm cause i wanted to show off all my borders)

anyways headcanons!

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts: Can fold paper into perfectly symmetrical shapes without measuring. Also hates peeling fruit because he finds it messy.

Ace Trappola: Always knows where a vending machine is, no matter where he is. Also despises raisins because they "ruin cookies."

Deuce Spade: Has an uncanny ability to fix squeaky hinges but doesn't realize it's a rare skill. He can also never say no to pudding.

Cater Diamond: Can whistle in several pitches at once, like a human harmonica. Has an odd hatred for glitter glue because it gets everywhere.

Trey Clover: Can tell if a cake will collapse just by looking at the batter. Hates eating fondant because it’s “cheating” in dessert making.

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar: Always knows the best spot to nap, even in new locations. He absolutely despises cucumbers but will never explain why.

Ruggie Bucchi: Can find loose change anywhere. Also, he hates eating fancy food because it's "too small and too weird."

Jack Howl: Has an oddly good sense for detecting storms before they happen. Doesn't like eating cheese because it "smells funny."

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto: Can perfectly mimic the sound of coins dropping or keys jingling. Secretly avoids eating popcorn because it gets stuck in his teeth.

Jade Leech: Can name every mushroom he sees and their uses. Strangely dislikes marshmallows because they're "too boring."

Floyd Leech: Can pop his joints in and out in unsettling ways. Refuses to eat bananas because they’re “too mushy.”

Scarabia

Kalim Al-Asim: Can untangle anything—necklaces, headphones, or strings—almost instantly. Oddly, he doesn’t like eating figs because “they look weird inside.”

Jamil Viper: Can tell what spice is in a dish just by smelling it. He refuses to eat canned pineapple, claiming it’s "offensive to the fruit."

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit: Can perfectly tie a bow on the first try, no matter the ribbon. Hates eating candy apples because it ruins his lipstick.

Epel Felmier: Can open any jar, no matter how stubborn, but dislikes eating cauliflower because it "tastes like nothing."

Rook Hunt: Can track anyone just by their footprints or scent. Avoids eating scrambled eggs because they’re “too ordinary.”

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud: Can troubleshoot any device with a single glance. He avoids eating gelatin because it reminds him of "weird textures in horror games."

Ortho Shroud: Has memorized every cheat code and shortcut for games from the last 20 years.

DiasomniaMalleus Draconia: Can sense when lightbulbs are about to burn out. Hates eating fondant because it tastes “artificial.”Lilia Vanrouge: Can imitate almost any bird call. He refuses to eat oatmeal because it’s “too boring for his adventurous palate.”Silver: Can fall asleep anywhere, even during loud chaos. Dislikes eating overly spicy food because it disrupts his serene mood.Sebek Zigvolt: Can remember every lecture word-for-word but avoids eating seafood because it’s “too slimy.”

I LOVEE MY BORDERSS

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carolmunson · 1 year ago

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you get me closer to god | kas!eddie (dark)

entry for my fall frenzy requests. this request comes in from @edsforehead: 'something with kas!eddie in a graveyard.'

a/n: y'all, i don't know. i kind of snapped with this one. sort of canon compliant. inspired by a post that i saw that said that after vampires feed they have an insatiable desire to breed afterwards. steve also makes an appearance cause i love him.

tw: 18+ MDNI, dub-con, dub-con, dub-con (reader does get into it). use of hypnosis, coercion. blood play, blood drinking, biting. very obvious power dynamics at play here. death of minor character mentioned. p in v smut, rough and sensual. oral (f-recieving), monster-type-fucking. mild chasing trope. some religious elements if you squint??? anyway i listened to closer by nine inch nails on a loop for this if you wanna know the general vibe. let me know if there is anything i missed and need to put on here!

October 31st, 1998

Your niece had a better haul than you ever did at this age, it seemed like every house on the fancy side of Hawkins was giving out full size candy bars. No one ever gave you full size candy bars. The Harrington's had outdone themselves this year, hoards of kids picking out wrapped caramel apples and passing out spiked cider to the parents. Humming and smiling while the adults hugged their parkas to their chests, kids running up and down the stairs of the cul de sac of Hawkins Mansions. Decorated to the nines -- you were happy that most of the street would tire her and all of her friends out. "Auntie!" she calls out, hurrying over to you while her pink and purple puffer coat swishes with her. Alycia glitters against the lights of the houses in the dark of the night, the red sequins on her leotard making her easy to find. Your sister-in-law made her a headband fitted with red horns with a pointed tail sewn into the back of the red tu-tu from her Spring recital to match. A Dancing Devil she called it -- for newly six, she was a pretty creative little bug.

"Auntie look," she yells, running into your legs. The spiked cider sloshes in your cup that you hold high over her head so it doesn't spill onto her. She holds up a decorated caramel apple covered in eyeballs made out of sugar.

"Gross, Leesh," you giggle, "It's got eyeballs all over it!"

"They're fake eyeballs, Auntie," she explains like you're stupid, "They're not real eyeballs."

"Oh, thank you for telling me. I didn't know," you giggle, catching Steve watching the two of you chat. Your cheeks burn, that crush from when you were fourteen and he spent the summer working at the mall never fully fading. He's married with four kids now so you should probably get over it. "How're things?" he asks from the curb, coming over to sneak Alycia a couple of Reese's cups. "They're good," you shake your head with a shrug, "They're fine. Out here with the rugrat while her mom's at work." "How's the family, your mom?" he presses, arms crossing over his broad chest that stretch the sleeves of his tan workwear jacket.

"She's doin' okay," you smile tightly, "Always a little hard for her this time of year."

"Five years now, isn't it?"

"To the day," you say with a lilt, "Gonna go visit him after I drop her with her grandparents. My dad'll be so thrilled to steal half her stash."

Your laugh is a little hollow when he squeezes your shoulder comfortingly, he slips a candy bar into your hand, too before saying his goodbyes -- set of twins running around his ankles.

Hawkin's bravest fireman somehow off duty on a night like this turns before you take your niece's hand to leave, "Be careful out there at night. You know it's not always safe."

"You don't believe in all those rumors, do you Harrington?" you laugh.

"Don't have to believe them or not," he says seriously, pushing his wire rims up his nose, "I know they're not rumors."

"Happy Halloween, Steve," you say dully, "Goodnight." You both wave, Alycia's little hand in yours while she rattles off a million words a minute about the skeloton outside of the Sinclair house. The moon glows down over the street, dark clouds slicing it like a broken plate.

You rarely visit your brother on the day of, especially since there's always idiot teenagers running around the place. Not exactly easy to mourn when some loser in a Scream mask keeps trying to scare you.

It was quiet, your Docs crunching on mid-fall frosty grass -- some of it already half dead with the season. Commotion from the town in the distance had dulled into mostly nothing now that the kids had turned in for the night. Families turning their porch lights out, settling in for scary movies and sugar highs.

You squeeze the bouquet of baby's breath and eucalyptus a little hard in your hands when you walk through the tombstones. The low lamps along the walk way casting the grass and asphalt in a looming orangey glow -- not offering much light beyond their posts. The moon does the work, still looking shattered amongst the thin gray clouds sliding through the sky.

You hear some giggling, the rustle of leaves, the snap of twigs. Always an outlier of kids doing spells or a Ouija board out here this time of year -- old Chief Hopper coming down to make them scatter and take their weed. You walk off the path when you get a decent way in, crossing away from where the cemetary mostly turns to forest. Four 'Happy Birthday To Yous' into the brush and then a left, two head stones, then a right -- it's the third headstone on the fourth row. No light to shine down on you this time, just whatever's left in the sky. You take your big yellow scarf off from around your neck to lay over the grave, giving yourself a place to sit so your spandex covered thighs didn't have to touch the grass. Your mom would kill you if you got grass stains on the red trench she let you borrow -- a makeshift Carmen Sandiego costume if anyone asked.

You sit, laying the bouquet right at the granite edge, tracing his name before letting your hand drop. You don't say anything for a while, letting the cool wet air run over you in waves. You wonder if the wind blowing is him saying hey.

A few cemetery patrons come by, pay their respects to their loved ones and leave. Some superstitious, some religious. They fade out after a while. The loneliness is comforting, just you and your brother hanging out together like before. Despite being six years apart, it felt like you both always had some weird wonder twin telepathy. He was never really one for a lot of words.

"Didn't that guy tell you not to come around here so late?"

You jump at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, turning around to see an even more unfamiliar person. Wild curly waves messy around his face, cut in 80s shag perfection. His face chiseled, jawline pronounced with soft stubble, soaked in fake blood. It trails down his neck and stains the white of the baseball tee underneath a leather jacket; fitted over top with a battle vest that rivaled the metal heads of the 70s.

"Who're you, huh? You following me?" you ask. You swallow nervously, finding solace in seeing a few other cemetary visitors mosying around. The faint giggle of more mischeif causing teenagers in the distance.

"Sorry," he laughs, a warm laugh that meets his eyes, "Didn't mean to scare you. I um, I saw you over by the cul de sac, overheard him say somethin' to you. I was with my little cousin -- dressed like a mermaid, I don't know if you remember."

You think back to Leesh's pal of trick-or-treaters, scanning them in your head to recall a little girl with big brown eyes and a makeshit Ariel costume on under her jean jacket -- covered in patches much like his.

"Yeah," you smile, "I remember. But that didn't answer my question -- are you following me?"

"Nah," he grins, shaking his head, "I'm visiting someone -- this was just a happy accident."

"Oh," you respond quietly, "Who're you visiting if you don't mind me asking."

"My mom," he shrugs, scrunching his nose, "Halloween was her favorite holiday so I always try to come say hi."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you offer in condolences, "Did you um -- did you grow up here? I feel like I'd remember you."

"Nope," he sighs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans while his wallet chain jingles next to his thigh, "Grew up with my uncle."

"Oh, nice," you nod, "Well um --"

"Who're you visiting?" he interrupts, sitting on the gravestone next to your brother's; hardware tinkling prettily as he does.

"Pete," you say, hand out to gesture towards the shiny granite in front of you, "My brother."

"Nice to meet you, Pete," he turns his head, curly hair flouncing over his shoulder, "Pleasure."

You laugh, he laughs with you -- you have to laugh about it or else you'd have to deal with the alternative. You're pretty sure you're all cried out about your brother now.

"What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"He worked construction," you shrug, "Took an overnight shift five years ago by the quarry, an' it was Halloween so he was workin' by himself -- no one to spot his safety gear. Must've fallen off the rigs or something and since it rained a lot that year the quarry was basically a lake at that point, hit his head and drowned. His body was completely banged up and waterlogged, they could only ID him from his pass in his pocket."

"Shit," he nods, "That's -- that's fuckin' awful. I'm sorry."

You shrug, "Bitch of living, I guess."

"Hm," he nods, "I wouldn't know."

"What do you mean?" you ask with a cocked head, eyes lingering on him while his linger on you. "Don't worry about it," he smirks, the kind that makes your heart flutter; cheeks getting hot at the sound of his voice. "You know something," you start, "With this whole get up -- and you're not from here so you might not know -- you look just like --"

"Eddie Munson?" he asks, with raised brows, "Yeah, my aunt's been telling me that forever. That's why I sorta dressed up like him for Halloween."

"That's dangerous around Hawkins, especially this time of year," you warn him, standing up from your spot and picking up your scarf. You shake it out to get some of the grass of the underside. You hardly notice the way his eyes trail from your shoes over your calves to your thighs.

"Some people say that he went right to hell after that earthquake since he killed that girl," you explain, shrugging the trench off some to fit the scarf on under it, "And now he's a demon that haunts Hawkins and terrorizes the town."

You both laugh, though his drops to a low and guttural hum. Nearly a growl. You lift your head to see him just a foot in front of you now, and you can really look. You can really see him. The paleness in his skin, tendrilled navy veins raising through it as he leans close to you.

At this distance it's clear that the hollowness in his eyes isn't makeup, but the sparkling brown is sunken into his skull. His brows darkened and determined while he looks at you.

At this distance, it's clear that the blood on his jaw is real.

"They're close," he says with a sly smile, "Really should've listened to Harrington, sweetheart."

You swallow hard, icy sweat in a film on your body while he takes a step forward.

"Those rumors are true."

The icy air shreds your throat as you run, heaving it in and out in gasps. Your calves scream, thighs aching while you sprint through the brush of the forest; trench and scarf long forgotton somehwere amongst the trees. You try to ignore the way twigs and branches swipe at your face, slicing you and scratching you with unforgiving whips. You let out a cry while you speed, leaping over roots and piles of leaves all while trying to listen with peak percision. Is he close? Is he getting closer? Can he see you?

You stop behind a log near a dip in the earth, rocks above it. Climbing in you heave, trying to catch your breath -- you aren't really made for this. You don't know how girls in the movies can run that long without needing a break.

With a deep inhale in, you hold, using the quiet to try and hear him but there is nothing to be heard. No rustling, no creaks in the wood or in the wind.

You catch your breath, slowly creeping out of your hiding space while the darkness hones -- trees blocking out some of the moonlight. You take a step and then another, trying to make as little noise as possible.

Your efforts are of no use though -- you stomach turns at the sound. The flap of wings, leathery wings -- big. A shaky breath in gives you the courage to turn your eyes up. On one of the taller branches above you he sits, pale and domineering, "Hi, sweetheart."

You bolt again, depserate and sobbing while the cold air is no longer a hello from your brother but mother nature's cruel bite on your wet cheeks. You can barely take in breaths without pain in your throat and chest, turning left and right and left again to lose him but from above he can predict your every move.

When you hear silence again you take another turn, a mausoleum broken down a short distance away. You crawl your way in, wet earth and cement hitting your nose while you gasp and heave for the second time. You listen for the wings for moment, a few moments -- a calm washing over your back when you're sure he's gone.

You take a step back further into the darkness to be sure you're unseen. Deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. One, twice, three times.

Another step back and you bump into a pillar making you jump, a screech wrenching from you.

Not a pillar no, not by the way a set of claw bites into your shoulder.

"Would've been a good hiding spot if it wasn't for me finding it first, right?" he quips, "Bummer." "Y-you can't d-do this," you cry, "The r-rumors are true they'll -- they'll look for me! Steve knows about you!"

"Oh, babe, that's so cute," he muses with a giggle, "Why do you think I'm still here, huh? Steve's just like me, he's bitten too."

"B-but--"

"Why do you think he believes in all those rumors, huh baby?" he asks with a lilt, "Cause he's one of 'em. Well -- not all the way, I guess. Not like me."

"He blows my cover he blows his whole operation," he grins, sharp teeth bearing themselves at you, "Why d'you think he only works night shifts?"

"I -- don't -- I don't," you sputter, "Pl-please d-don't bite me, d-don't eat me I -- I'll do whatever."

"You're too funny," he says in your ear, deep and grizzly while you're rooted to the spot under his clutch, "I already ate, sweet girl. But you'll make a fine dessert."

You don't know how you get there but it's not like home -- it is but it isn't -- dark and deadly; covered in slithering vines. You're too petrified to ask; but whatever this place was, despite the spores in the air and the rubble from the walls -- it was much nicer than the trailer he grew up in.

"Shh, shh, shh," he coos, claws deep in your shoulder while he wrenches you to a bed covered in plush linens -- satin and full. In the blur around you it could almost be a movie set; the booms of red lightening, dripping pillar candles in heaps around the room.

You whimper at first when his claws release, hot blood oozing against your sweater. The pain pulses like a dull thud, spit flooding your mouth while you move to your side to wretch but he catches you by the root of your hair. You wail in fear, smelling the decay in his breath, the sweet subtle rot of your surroundings.

"It's not polite to cause a scene in a stranger's home, right princess?" he asks with a soft lilt. He holds your gaze, warmth spreading over you when he smirks again -- and despite your fear, you can't look away. You aren't even sure if you want to look away.

Your body goes slack on the comforter, melting into itself like a dropped marionnette. "Very good," he purrs. Hazy, you feel his hands on you -- losing their warmth while they sneak under the hem of your sweater. The pads of his fingers are soft in comparison to the tips of his nails, grazing your stomach and sternum before reaching up to cup your breasts. He lets out a shallow breath, squeezing the delicate flesh softly in his palms -- so gentle despite his rough demeanor.

His thumbs graze your nipples in slow circles earning him a mewl from your dry throat.

"So easy," he giggles in a whisper. You nearly pout when his hands slide down and away from you; beginning the unhurried removal of your clothing. He moves glacially, eyes remaining on yours, wraiths of whispers in a lanuage you don't understand fluttering in the air around you -- in one ear and out the other. Part of you wants to scream and thrash while he slides off your spandex, rips the seams of your panties, destroys your socks.

His clawed hands shred your sweater, snap your bra at the straps until all your clothes are left in a heap on the dusty floorboards by a forgotten desk. He crawls over you like a predator, undressed himself now: some how bigger, more hulking than before. His shoulders are broad, muscles flexing while skin so white it's nearly blue stretches over it. Whatever is down here has completely infected him, you can see it in the color of the veins beneath his skin, the slight red in his pupils, the dark blue hues under his eyes.

His wings lift high around him in an arched half circle, tips appearing behind him like a hybrid of horns and halo at once.

"Could smell you from here," he leers, "since last night. Christ, fucking drooling over you like a kid."

You whimper again, body jolting in pain when his nails pierce your thighs when he parts them. Fresh ichor spilling from the wounds in deep sanguine and he doesn't seem to care about the mess he's making while it drips onto the sheets. His cavalier manuevering comes off as though he likes to play with his food before he eats it.

"And I don't know what it is, angel, how my senses find the right ones," he rasps while he leans forward to your blood soaked shoulder; serpent tongue slipping out to lave over it, "But you really called to me this year; think you might be the one."

"The o-one wh-what?" you sniffle. His tongue slides over the lacerations on your shoulder again, sucking slightly from the new wounds. He lets out a groan, using free hand to rest on the side of your rib cage for support.

He deatches from the well he drinks from, tip of his nose running over your decollatage and up your neck. In inhales over your jugular, pressing a wet kiss under your jaw before getting to your ear.

"The one I mate with, sweetheart," he breathes, "The one I breed."

Breed? You heart sinks like a stone into your belly, body tensing in a freeze while you think of what to do. How to get out of here.

"Wait," you gasp, arms coming up to push at his chest and push him away, "No, please, wait -- you can't."

You push and push but he's a stone pillar, he barely moves, his muscles barely push inward at your assault. He tuts, the click of his tongue between his teeth almost a chitter. He noses your cheek before looming over you, tips of your noses brushing. He catches your gaze again, the whispers start while the air blows in through the broken window. Obedire domino tuo, obedire domino tuo, obedire domino tuo. His lips aren't moving but you can hear his low voice in your ears, barely there, swirling around in your subconcious while the wind whispers with it. Another flash of red lightning illuminates him in a streak, the rumble of thunder vibrating your belly and chest. His hand floats up from your rib cage while you settle, cupping your cheek to slide down to your jaw and over your neck. The touch is nearly comforting, dipping you back into a haze like before.

"You were saying?" he asks.

"Hm?" your brows pinch, his voice muffled and far away.

"That's what I thought," he says smugly, head dipping back down to your neck where his lips drag over your delicate skin. His breath leaves a patch of wet heat that lingers when he moves down over your chest, fangs peeking out behind his full lips when he drags them over the swell of your left breast.

A gentle gasp escapes you, eyes fluttering closed when the tip of his tongue teases your pert nipple, blowing cool air against it once soaked with his spit. He flicks against it again, alternating sides, presses kisses over them in clear ownership. The more he tasted of you, the more it belonged to him.

With each touch and tease of your tits the more you gasp and whine beneath him, he chuckles from his belly, moving down to your sternum.

"And I died a virgin, can you believe it?" he asks with a cocky lift to one of his brows, "Now all I gotta do is smile and girls like you 'll just fall into bed with me."

There's cotton in your ears, all you can do is nod slowly while blood still leaks from your shoulder and thighs. All you can feel is his mouth and hands travel further and further down. The wind howls and the low chant in the back of your head changes tune but in the same cadence; over and over again: vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis.

He licks a stripe up the back of your thigh to catch a bead of blood before it reaches the mattress, savoring you. He feeds from the gouges he left behind for a moment before inching forward to the apex of your thighs. Eddie inhales your scent deeply, the earthly musk of you making his mouth water in a mix of metal and spit. His nose brushes against the untrimmed hair of your mound, ghosting himself over it drunk with attraction.

Your body heats up with mild embarrassment, flexing while your hips writhe slightly underhim. Almost as if he can hear your thoughts he kisses the crease of your thigh, "Nothing to be embarrassed about, baby. Girls don't let it grow like this anymore n' it's such a shame."

You want to speak up and explain it's just 'cause you haven't had the time but your tongue doesn't know how to move anymore. Too tired to speak, too caught up in how he feels, how he touches, how he takes what he wants. You relent again, body relaxing; pliant while he spreads you apart for him a desperate moan pulling from you when his tongue -- still soaked in your blood -- glides from the pool of slick at your opening all the way up to your clit.

You almost gag at the way your body betrays you, sending a spread of electricity over your nerves from your core to your finger tips. "More," you whisper, not even believing you're begging for him, "Please, more."

Eddie's smug in his response, smiling with his eyes while he looks up at you from between your legs, "And good manners? You spoil me, princess."

Your back arches in a soft curve when your hips push back into the mattress, pressing yourself into his waiting mouth. He groans again when your body drips for him, leaving a damp sheen on his cheeks and chin. It's not about your pleasure despite how much of it he's bringing you, but about your consumption. He's devouring you. Licking his plate clean from the outside in.

The moans he takes from you spur him on, getting you further and further away from the fight you put up before. Spilling over for him like a puddle while you writhe, a hand reaching out to rake through his hair. His own reaches up from aroud your thigh to hold you by the wrist tight to your side.

"Hands to yourself," he murmrs, soft lips wrapping around your swollen clit to suck expertly on the bud. You whimper, tugging at his hold but it only makes his grip more intense, pinning you there without much a fight. Not even enough to distract him from the task at hand.

When his tongue sinks back down into your soaking core you feel it, the heat pulsing through your belly while he lets the muscle dip and swirl in your wetness. Your thighs twitch and shake when his nose bumps your sensitive clit, his free hand coming up to gingerly rub circles over it in tandem.

"Oh my god," you whine, "Oh my god -- K-kas don' -- oh my god, ohmygod." He snickers, contining his movements, murmuring a quiet, "God's not here, baby."

Another roll over your hips sends you reeling, his tongue gliding in long strokes when finally the coil in your belly snaps. You fall apart beneath him, loud moans and high pitched squeals while he consumes you through it. Your body vibrates, thighs clamping down over his ears, blood from the slices in your flesh staining his hair and jaw.

He hums low when you settle, gasping for breath on your already dry and scratchy throat while you come down.

Eddie rises slowly, shoulder blades and wings moving with him while he crawls up your body. Smooth and languid like a snake, his torso hovers above yours while he settles his hips between your thighs. You look up at him, his shape, the way his eyes have blown black, the newfound sharpness in his features. A creature, a monster in your wake — not the same person you saw at the cemetery.

“Oh,” he coos when he sees your eyes glassy and rounded upon him, “So precious.”

You're much weaker now, mind and body, the stings across your skin from the broken branches and his sharpened nails a pain you've become better accquainted with. You take another breath of calm, arms resting by your head with your palms up towards the ceiling. He takes the moment of surrender to hold them down against the bed. The pressure of his hips against yours keeps you pinned, but you barely fight -- maybe squirm, maybe whine. No thrashing, no screaming, the whispers echo through the wind again:

Vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis.

"So, so, precious," he whispers while he leans forward, kisses pressed to one cheek and then the other slow and controlled. He inhales again when he dips down to your neck, piercing fangs dragging over the vein there. You feel the push and then the pain, the unbearable blinding pain of his teeth ripping through you. Through your skin, through the muscle, the pulse of his mouth while he holds himself there.

You cry out, nearly a scream while he holds himself there -- just enough to infect you, just enough to get the poison in. The pain reaches a blinding peak, bile growing up your throat, eyes filling with a white hot surge of anguish and then -- Nothing. Euphoria. An unknown lightness you hadn't felt before.

He releases, still holding tight to your wrists above your head when he raises up over you again.

"Open," he instructs, and in your hazy gaze you obey. Your tongue flattens against your chin without command.

"Very good, sweetheart," he praises, collecting the blood left on his lips and in his cheeks to spit it directly into your waiting mouth.

"You can close now," he grins, "And swallow."

He grunts, hips sliding against you so that you can feel his length between your legs; the girth alone sends a chill to the part of you that is screaming inside your head. How is it supposed to fit? How is he supposed to get this inside you? "Don't worry," he laughs, "It'll fit."

When your vision snaps up at him he laughs again, "I can hear you in there, princess. I can always hear you."

He dips down again, tip of his nose sliding over your cheek to your ear, "So be very careful what you think about."

He doesn't need his hands to guide the head of himself into your already needy center. It's a stretch, delicious but nearing painful. It's not something you've ever even dreamed of taking before; thick, large, inhuman.

Your legs lift on their own accord while he pushes in further, getting half way while you let out a choked sob.

"Aw, shh, shh, shh," he mocks, easing in more, "C'mon you can take it."

"You can --" his hips snap in hard for the rest of him, letting out a ragged grunt when the rest of him disappears inside you, "--take it."

You mouth hangs open in a desperate oval, face crumpling when you become so full of him -- all encompassing. A part of you now, buried deep within. He moves, dangerously slow and controlled; methodic in how he thrusts himself deeper and deeper inside. "Mmm, that's it," he growls, chest to chest with him while his hip grind at a deliberate pace. You feel his hot breath fan out over your lips, forehead pressed against yours. He's not hot, he's not cold, just skin against yours while it flashes with heat. You go from shaking to sweating with minutes in between.

When your hips roll to meet his thrusts you moan, the tip hitting you so deep in your core that stars burst behind your eyes. "There we go," he grins mischeviously, "S'at feel good, pet?"

"Ooh, yes," you hiss through gritted teeth, actively trying to bounce yourself againsth him now that your body has started accommodating his sheer size. He raises himself up on his hands like a cobra, snake like peering down at you while he meets the roll of your hips with an unforgiving thrust.

"Good," he oozes the word out like smoke, deliciosly deep seated in his belly when he thrusts hard again. He mumbles a quiet musing to himself that you can't hear -- too gone in the lightness in your body, in the way nothing hurts, in the way you're so full.

Can finally fuck you how I wanna.

He gets up, sitting back on his haunches while still inside you, pushing your legs up so your knees end up by your ears. With this leverage he sinks in deep. You don't even know how far in he is, just that he's in and he's there, he's everywehre, he's outside and in.

Eddie locks eyes with you, that same smirk from the cemetary that made your stomach flip dancing across his devilish features, "Tell me you like it."

Your mouth moves before your brain can hesitate, "I like it." "Tell me you need it," he demands, tone measured and sure.

"I need it," you say back, your voice coming out broken and weak, "Please, I need it."

He pulls back and punches forward, hard enough that you gasp at the impact. He grips you hard by the backs of your legs, thrusts starting slow and building at an unrelenting pace. His eyes are wild; boring down at you through from under furrowed and determined brows. If you had any mind left, you'd think that he hates you by the way he stares.

"Fuck," he snarls, leaning forward over you, one hand pressing down on the mattress next to your head, "Shit -- fuck, that's it. That's fuckin' -- shit, you're fuckin' mine." "Say you need me."

"I need you," you choke back without thinking, barely able to breathe at his speed. The coil tightens deep inside of you again, tears pouring down your cheeks in waves -- not even crying, just recieving. Absorbing him. Your body rocks like a boat on unsteady waves pinned beneath him, the only sounds are the whispers in your subconcious, his growls and sputters like an animal above you. The lewd slaps of skin against skin, the squelches of him pushing you to your limits.

He steadies himself over you, nose to nose again while he fucks you. Really fucks you. Impressed with himself, he lets out a breathy chuckle when you throw your head back -- eyes shutting tight with a pornographic scream.

"Oh GOD!" you cry out, "Oh my god."

His fingers and claws catch your chin with a firm shake, eyes snapping open to meet the knowing glare of his ruddy brown ones.

"Your god," he starts, panting into your mouth, "is right here in front of you."

You swallow, mouth falling agape again when you feel the bite of his nails on the fat of your cheeks. "Right here," you repeat, dazed and overwhelmed, "N'..n'fronname."

"Right here in front of you," he nods, leaning down to brush his nose against yours while his thrusts slow to a steady pace. It's then that his lips meet yours, the kiss searing with desire and claim when his tongue slides into your mouth. You can taste the metallic twang of your blood in his mouth, sighing into it while he guides the kiss. Breaking away and coming back in; rushed and heated each time while he feels himself get closer to his peak.

His forehead presses against yours, one hand finally releasing your wrist to hold your head in place over your hair. You keep eye contact with him, not even sure if you're blinking, if you even need to blink. You rasp breaths, mouth and throat dry and aching while you breathe into him. You're close, teetering on the edge while he pushes you up with his hips to rest your lower body on his knees and thighs.

"Come undone," he murmurs, "Let go for me."

The command ripples through you, bursting through your belly with a warm heat. You welcome it, eyes rolling, cries pouring from you in words you don't think you understand. He encourages you, offering you rough sweet nothings while you pray to him, beg for him, ache for him.

That's enough to send him over; seeing you completely at his mercy now. Obedient, trained, devoured.

He snares and snarls, growling while he comes deep inside of you. The hand on your head wraps painfully in your hair like it did before you started -- uncaring, brutal. The heat of his seed pools deep within you like the heart of your orgasm. Glazed over you groan, hips rolling up in one final cant to receive him fully. Your vision vingettes while he unsheathes from you; fluids leaking onto the sheets. You're empty and the room spins with a new blackness, you're fading. Fainting? Dying?

The fuzziness continues to darken arouns you, around him, until he's all that's left in the tunnel of your vision. "That's a good girl," he soothes smugly, "Very well done."

Your gaze and mind fade fully to a staticky black.

You wake, you’re not sure how much later.

Still on the bed and still undressed but your arms feel tight – a tug reveals your current state. Bound to a post on the headboard by a triple handcuff knot, dense hemp rope keeping your arms above your head.

You whine and struggle, coming to your senses now – no one knows where you are, you barely know where you are. An underworld – hell. Somewhere.

“Don’t look so terrified, sweetheart,” his smooth honey voice is heard before he appears in the candle light again, “I’m right here.”

“Wh-why am I –” you swallow thickly, coughing and sputtering with how dry your mouth and throat are now, “Why am I tied up?”

He looks at you with faux concern, brows raising, “Oh honey, are you okay?”

He reaches out, pushing your hair away from your face, “Don’t be stressed. Y’know something – I just realized, I never offered you anything to drink.”

“My uncle always told me you should take a girl out to dinner before makin’ the van rock and look at me,” he gestures at his chest, tutting at himself, “Where are my manners, huh?”

Your lip wobbles while he looms over you, “Are you thirsty?”

You nod, he grins – cheshire like, fangs glinting in the light, “I thought you would be.” He gets up, lazy and confident in his walk across the room. His body looks like marble, chiseled with the running and hunting you realize he’s been doing for over a decade. Stronger than ever; ethereal in his post orgasm glow.

He pulls his hair back while he walks, holding it up away from his neck while your eyes travel down his back where his wings have tucked in under the skin. You gag when you see them move above his blades, rippling beneath the tattoos he has there. He’s dressed in only shorts; silk – likely stolen to really own the whole vampire thing he has going on.

You take in a shaky breath when he gets what he needs, dropping his hair back to his shoulders when he makes his way back to you.

He holds the dagger coolly in his hand before gliding the tip down the center of his wrist. Blood blooms from the wound; he doesn’t even flinch.

“Open, princess,” he murmurs. Your lips clamp shut, shaking your head no while fear takes over – rot in your chest. He catches your chin again, forcing you to look at him like before.

“Open,” he repeats, slower. His voice reverberates like a gong between your ears.

Your mouth opens on its own accord and the smell of his blood becomes the most alluring scent you’ve had pass your nose in years. You latch on to the laceration, swallowing and sucking deeply on the wound while his blood and body quench and feed you better than any meal you think you’ve ever had. You feel revived as you devour him, eyes fluttering closed while the fill feels never enough.

“That’s it, keep goin’,” he encourages under his breath, “Won’t have to keep asking you to do things twice once this is all over with.”

You break away to breathe, gasping like you’re coming up for air, drowning in him.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’ll be just like me, sweetheart,” he says, chuckling when you eagerly lean forward to drink him again, “After a night of some deeply insurmountable pain; and then nothing. Just mine. Undead and mine.”

“But y–you said you were – I’m –” your brows knit in confusion, “You didn’t h-have to d-do this; whatever you um – whatever you bred me with will die if you do this.”

“Oh, no, no,” he laughs evilly, “I didn’t breed you quite yet.”

He pulls his arm away, wiping the blood from your chin with his thumb roughly.

“Consider what we did a, uh…hmm,” he takes a second to think about it with a hum, shrugging cheekily, “A soul bonding experience.”

“You’re disgusting,” you spit.

“I’m delicious,” he corrects, smearing his blood from your chin to your cheek, “If you do say so yourself.”

He gets up again, pulling the covers out from under you to tuck you in. The chill getting to you in a way it never gets to him; you might as well be warm while you turn into actualized death.

“I can hear you, remember?” he asks, tapping your head, “You won’t be totally alone with me. There’s…shit there are plenty just like us.”

“Like Steve,” you pipe up groggily.

“More than just goodie two-shoes Harrington,” he groans, “God, do you ever shut up about him?”

You sniffle in response.

“I mean this place, this – dimension,” he says, “It’s more than just Hawkins, and there are so many more like us; even up there.”

He points upwards with a sharp nailed finger, “All around.”

“And now that you’ll be just like me,” he smiles, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you in the crook of you waist, “There’ll be all the time in the world to breed you.”

Your vision blurs, either from tears or from another fade, you aren’t sure. You can feel a slow burn through your veins, a rush of blood. You whimper.

“So it begins,” he smirks, running the tip of his finger over your nose bridge.

“Oh!” he says, eyes bulging, “Before I forget, and before I lose you – because you’ll be such a pretty blank slate when you come to – I felt like I should be honest.”

He gestures dramatically, a maniacal grin pushing his cheeks up to his eyes while they spark, “Again with my manners, it was so rude of me to introduce myself to Pete’s grave at the cemetery. We’ve met before! Can’t believe I had almost forgotten.”

Ice in your body fights the burning in your veins, you gag, bile coming up to singe your throat.

“And y’know, I didn’t mean to drop him in the quarry when I was done with him,” he says with a scrunch of his nose, like he accidentally wrote the wrong tip on a restaurant check, “Really, my mistake, but Christ did he hit every piece of limestone on the way down.”

He lets out a hearty laugh while he remembers it, your brother's body bouncing off rocks and metal before slipping under the water. You swallow your sick only or it to rise back up with a vengeance, staining your skin red while it seeps out of the corner of your mouth. You tug on the ropes in retaliation, hot angry tears stinging your eyes.

“All that fallin’ did a number on him – which is good because it really took the heat of anyone knowing it was me. I just wasn't as clean about it back then. Much better now though,” he nods, finishing with a superior and charming look like he just told a bedtime story.

He leans forward close to your face while your vision pulses in fuzzy black, browning out while he looks down at you.

“And I’ll tell you something, babe…”

Fading, fading, fading.

“He tasted divine.”

masterlist | fall frenzy | ko-fi

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #kas!eddie #kas!eddie munson #vampire!eddie munson #vampire!eddie #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fan fiction #tw: dubcon #tw: dub-con #dark!eddie #dark!eddie munson

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callmelittlebuttercup · 2 months ago

Text

Lollipop - One Shot

Pairing: Jackson!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Reader attempts to help Joel with his carpentry, but the two can't keep their hands (or mouths) off of each other for long.

Warnings: SMUT!!!, MDNI 18+, pre-established relationship, oral (both f! & m! receiving), unprotected p in v, facial, pet names, dom!Joel, sub!Reader, reader is a tease, brat!reader, brat tamer!Joel, carpenter!Joel, taunting, tension, Joel is a simp!!!

~~~~~~~~

There was tension in the air of Joel’s garage on a Sunday morning when you were helping him build a table for a new house he was helping to fix up. Well, more like watching him, since every time you’d try to touch a tool he’d grab it from you. After he’d grabbed the screwdriver from you, you huffed frustratedly and plopped down on a nearby stool. “Why am I here if you’re not going to let me do anything?” You asked as you pulled out the piece of candy you’d found in a jacket you’d traded for earlier this morning and popped it in your mouth to fight the boredom. “Last time I checked, you followed me in here.” Joel grunted as he sanded a slab of wood. You saw his eyes flit to the bulge of the lollipop in your cheek and then back down to his work. “Oh. Right. Well, it looks like you don’t need my help. Bye!” You sang as you stood up off of the stool and headed toward the door.

Before your hand could reach the doorknob, Joel’s voice ground out again, “Wait.” You looked back at him expectantly. “I actually do need your help with somethin’..” He said. It seemed almost painful for him to admit. “And what would that be?” You asked curiously. A flare of excitement shot through your chest. You knew Joel wasn’t going to let you leave so easily. “Need you to hold these two pieces together so I can screw y- them.” He explained. You bit down on your lip to hide a smirk and sauntered over to where he was standing at the workbench. “Ok boss. Show me what needs doin’.” You said, fruitlessly attempting to imitate Joel’s southern drawl. He gave you an annoyed look before shoving a block of wood into your hands.

“Hold this against the bigger peice. You gotta press them together real hard or else when I start drillin’- Stop suckin’ on that thing so damn loud, m’tryna tell you somethin’.” Joel growled as he dropped the wood and snatched the delicious ball of sugar from your mouth with a loud pop. You dropped your piece of wood angrily, “Hey! Give it back you asshole! That’s the first candy I’ve had in years.” You push yourself against his chest and reach past him to grab at the candy in his hand, but he moves it even farther away from you. You stop moving and stare into his dark eyes, “Give it back.” He stared back at you just as intensely as he popped the sucker into his own mouth and stuffed it into his cheek, “Or what?”

The lack of space between your bodies sent butterflies fluttering through your stomach, but you stayed strong against the stubborn man. “Give. It. Back.” You said between clenched teeth. Joel smirked lightly, “Wouldn’t you rather suck on somethin’ else?” Your mouth fell open in disbelief and a blush rose to the apples of your cheeks. “Don’t act so shy, darlin’.” He whispered as his face got closer and closer to yours, the paper stick of the lollipop poking into your cheek. You scoffed nervously, “Joel, I’m no-“ your words were cut off by Joel’s arms wrapping around your waist and hoisting your ass onto the workbench. You let out a surprised squeal, then smirking, he pulled the lollipop from his mouth and pushed it back into yours. “What was that?” He whispered against your neck as he peppered kisses over your skin. The taste of cherry filled your mouth again and you forgot what you were going to say.

“You forget, don’t you, baby.” Joel whispered as his callused hands teased at the bottom of your t-shirt. “Uhuhh.” You breathed. Your hands slide up the backs of his chisled arms as they worked their way from your sides to the edges of your breasts. “Just take my goddamn shirt off, Joel.” You blurted. “That’s no way to ask for somethin’.” He scolded, continuing to tickle your sensitive skin with his fingertips. “Please- take my goddamn shirt off.” You breathed. “That’s better.” He smirked against your skin before sliding the shirt up your torso and over your head, messing up your neatly brushed hair. He smoothed a hand over it as he tossed your shirt to the floor, stopping at the base of your skull and pushing you backwards with his chest to lay you down on your back. The lollipop was pulled from your mouth once again and tossed to join your shirt on the sawdust covered floor. You frowned, but not for long. Joel pressed his lips hungrily to yours, and your tongues met, left to fight for dominance as they had many times before.

Your hips were now flush with Joel’s. You felt his rock hard length fighting for freedom through the layers of his boxers and jeans. Your throbbing core was doing the same. You could feel the wetness fighting its way through your panties and onto your skirt. The skirt you’d worn for this exact occasion. It was rare for you two to be in the garage alone and to not end up in a similar position to this one.

You gasped as he took one of your nipples into his mouth, tonguing and sucking the sensitive thing. “I know baby, you love that don’t you?” He whispered into your skin. “Yes, Joel.” You agreed weakly. “I know what else you love.” He practically purred, leaning backwards and taking the edges of your skirt in his hands and pulling the fabric up over your knees and bunching it at your stomach. You felt the cold air on the backs of your thighs as he lifted your knees to hang on his shoulders. His face slid down the center of your thighs as he made his way to your pussy. He hooked a finger into the fabric and pulled it to the side before placing a light kiss to your pulsing lips. You shuddered, and your knees pressed together at the sensation of his tongue on the most sensitive part of you. He moaned into you and your hips arched forward, begging for more. He sucked gently and you felt his tongue flitting against you. Your hands moved up to grab bunches of your own hair and pull it gently, trying anything you can to avoid letting go into Joel’s mouth so soon.

But your efforts were fruitless, and soon you were a vibrating mess against Joel’s busy mouth. He wrapped his hands around your thighs to keep you from pulling away so he could get every last wave of pleasure out of you.

He rose up from your core with a satisfied grin and pressed his wet lips to your belly, leaving kisses all along your abdomen and chest until he reached your lips. You moaned as you tasted yourself on his tongue. “That’s right baby, you taste so good.” He whispered against your lips.

Joel gave you a moment to recover while he pressed kisses to your collarbone and cupped your breasts gently with his calloused hands. But your recovery was fast and soon enough you were aching for more. You slid your hand down his torso and hooked your finger into the buckle of his belt. “I need you, Joel.” You practically whimpered. “I need you, baby.” He cooed as he reached down to help you unbuckle and remove his belt.

Your breath shuddered as he teased your throbbing clit with his rock hard length, and it suddenly caught in your throat as he slid into you effortlessly. “God, you’re so wet.” He said through his teeth. You were too stunned to answer. Too overwhelmed by the satisfaction of being stretched by him. He started slowly thrusting into you, and when you squeezed his biceps, begging for more, his pace quickened.

Your eyes met his and he took in the ravished look on your face. “You knew what you were doin’ coming in here with that thing in your mouth, huh?” Joel grunted as he thrusted into you, harder with each pass. You were dumbstruck by how good he felt inside you, using every inch of himself to fill you up, and could only manage a breathless giggle. “You’re fuckin’ bad, you know that? Distractin’ me from my work.” You squealed as he lifted your back off of the bench and turned you around to perch there on your belly, his cock never moving from its place inside you. “You work too much.” You teased breathlessly. The sting of Joel’s hand smacking your ass lightly pulled a high pitched cry from your lips. “I’m makin’ money for your spoiled ass.” He mumbled, leaving a biting smack on your other asscheek.

Fed up with Joel’s teasing, you pull away and turn around to face him again. “Who’s fault is it that I’m spoiled?” You ask with a devilish grin as you lower to your knees in front of him. He stares down at you with hooded eyes. You can see that his cock is painfully hard and twitching impatiently. “If you want to come on my face you’re going to have to take accountability, Miller.” You baited. His chest rose and fell in an exasperated sigh as you touched him everywhere else but his pink, glistening length. Your hands ran along his thighs, his happy trail, and moved to cup his balls, causing him to jump slightly. “Say it.” You whispered, shooting him a challenging look from the floor.

His lips pressed together and he took a fistful of your hair, tilting your head back to get a better look at your face. “It’s your fault for being so damn pretty that I just can’t say no to my girl.” He ground out as he reached down and pulled you back up onto the table by your waist. You gasped and giggled as he did so, “No- that’s not what you were-“ your argument was cut short by him entering you again. Your shocked eyes met his hungry ones. “You know it’s true.” He challenged as he fucked you, “You know I can’t resist you.” His words sounded far away as you felt yourself coming closer and closer to the edge.

Joel saw your eyes gloss over and began to thrust even harder and leaned away to swirl his thumb around your clit. Your jaw fell open and your nails dug into his shoulders as you held on for dear life. “Joel, I’m gonna-“ you gasped. “C’mon baby, give it to me.” He cooed. And you did. You fell apart all over him in a mess of gasps and whimpers as waves of unfathomable pleasure washed over you.

Breathing heavily, you leaned up to kiss Joel deeply and pressed your forehead to his as you pulled away. You could tell he was nearing his undoing by the faraway look on his face, and before you could say anything he pulled out. You quickly slid off of the work bench and lowered to your knees with your mouth open, ready to catch his sweet release. Joel let out a guttural groan as he let go and you closed your eyes as the pearlescent ribbons fell onto your face and chest. When there was no more left to give, Joel’s strokes slowed and he leaned against the workbench. Once he came back to reality, he reached down with his other hand to run his fingers through your hair. “My pretty girl.” He whispered breathlessly, staring down at you with glossy admiration. “You still owe me another lollipop.” You chided as you licked remnants of him off your bottom lip.

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

A/N: Helloooo! I apologize (yet again) for dropping off the face of the earth! This semester was a bitch but I've had some time over winter break and wanted to get this out for us since we've all got Joel on our minds with the release date for TLOU season 2 :') Hope you enjoy!!

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literaryvein-reblogs · 1 month ago

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Writing Notes: Cliché

A cliché is an expression that was once innovative but has lost its novelty due to overuse.

Tips on How to Avoid Clichés in Writing

Clichés play such a big role in how we communicate that it may seem impossible to avoid using them in your writing. However, clichés can often be rephrased to convey the same meaning as the original expression. Here are some steps to take if you find clichés in your work:

Think about the meaning of the cliché. Use a dictionary to identify synonyms that could replace the word or phrase that is cliché.

Decide whether or not you need to include the cliché. Often, clichés are unnecessary placeholders in writing and can be deleted.

Rewrite the sentence with new words in place of the cliché. For example, if you’re describing a musical with the cliché “comes full circle,” the description could be changed to say that the musical “returned to the themes with which it started.”

Common Clichés to Avoid

There are a number of clichés that are so overused that they should be avoided like the plague (including that one). Here is a list of clichés you should avoid.

“The wrong side of the bed.”

“Think outside the box.”

“Loose canon.”

“A perfect storm.”

“Can of worms.”

“What goes around comes around.”

“Dead as a doornail.”

“Plenty of fish in the sea.”

“Ignorance is bliss.”

“Like a kid in a candy store.”

“You can’t judge a book by its cover.”

“Take the tiger by the tail.”

“Every rose has its thorn.”

“Good things come to those who wait.”

“In the nick of time.”

“If only walls could talk.”

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

“The pot calling the kettle black.”

“The grass is always greener on the other side.”

“Beating a dead horse.”

Example: “As red as a rose” —a universal descriptor for the color red that is now commonplace and unoriginal.

Other examples of clichés include demarcations of time, such as “in the nick of time” and “at the speed of light.”

Clichés also include expressions about emotions, such as “head over heels” to describe love, and the phrase “every cloud has a silver lining” to express hope in difficult situations.

The word “cliché” comes from French.

It was first used to describe a stereotype: a metal plate used for printing an image.

Both the words “cliché” and “stereotype” derive from printing jargon but now have negative connotations.

Why You Should Avoid Clichés in Writing

Overused clichés can show a lack of original thought, and can make a writer appear unimaginative and lazy.

Clichés are often specific to language and cultures and may be a communication barrier to international readers.

Some old clichés have been repeated for so many years that the original reference is archaic and irrelevant.

When it’s OK to Use Clichés in Writing

There are a few instances in which the use of a cliché as a literary device is acceptable, but clichés should always be chosen wisely. Here are some examples of admissible usage:

To sync with a readership. Clichés of idiomatic phrases and slang words can work for specific audiences. If you’re writing for a baby boomer audience, the cliché “back in the day” would make sense. By contrast, millennial readers would be familiar with the cliché “the struggle is real.”

To simplify. Clichés can be used to explain beginning level concepts. For example, a how-to guide for expectant mothers might use the phrase “Remember, you’re eating for two!”

For characterization. Writers might have a character use clichés to demonstrate that they are not an original thinker.

A thought-terminating cliché is a phrase that offers a reductive answer to a complex idea.

The term was popularized in the 1961 book Thought Reform and the Psychology of Totalism: A Study of ‘Brainwashing’ in China by physiatrist Robert Jay Lifton.

They are also known as semantic stop signs or thought-stoppers.

Here are some examples of thought-terminating clichés:

“To each his own.”

“You win some, you lose some.”

“I’ll cross the bridge when I get there.”

“Take it or leave it.”

Source ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

#cliche #writing notes #writeblr #writers on tumblr #literature #writing reference #dark academia #spilled ink #writing prompt #creative writing #writing tips #writing advice #light academia #on writing #writing inspiration #writing ideas #writing resources

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brittle-doughie · 16 days ago

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I don't know how the reason at of the fandom feels about Candy Apple cookie, but I feel sorry for her because Shadow was probably the only Cookie that ever showed her even a subtle of compassion. And not wanting to be abandoned she’s constantly praising/worshipping him outta fear he’ll toss her aside, and sees anyone who takes his attention as a threat which explains her obsession with him.

Imagine the first meeting with Candy Apple despising Y/N Cookie but after some time, she starts seeing Y/N Cookie as a parent figure thanks to their compassion and being the second cookie to ever show care towards her, that’d be so sweet!

That was kinda the direction I was thinking of going with Candy Apple. At first, she’d be annoyed with Shadow Milk having a fixation on Y/N Cookie throughout the venture, wondering what makes them so special!

But throughout the whole time you’re there, you’ve been the one giving Candy Apple praise and affirmations. This makes her slowly warm up until she’s actively responding positively to your praise, finally earning that validation for what she does!

#brittle answers #candy apple cookie #cookie run #cookie run kingdom

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meazalykov · 4 months ago

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dance moms

laura freigang x dancer!reader

summary: after moving back to germany, to escape the chaos you've suffered in the states, you meet a photographer (who happens to be a footballer as well.)

a/n: if you don't know what the american reality show "dance moms" is, I'd do some basic research in order to understand the first part of this fic <3

growing up at the ALDC felt like being in a pressure cooker.

you were only two years old when your mom, isla, moved the both of you from germany to pennsylvania in the united states.

she put you in dance classes as soon as she could. at first, it was exciting—you loved the way your body could express emotions through movement. you loved gaining flexibility and having a routine. you loved performing and getting to put on pretty costumes. but that changed the moment dance moms came into the picture.

at just eleven years old, you were pulled into the chaotic world of reality TV. cameras followed your every move, every mistake.

abby lee miller’s constant critiques weighed you down, her screaming echoing in your head long after rehearsals ended. she changed since the cameras started filming her.

“you’ll never be good enough if you don’t push harder, y/n!” she’d shout during practice, her words biting deep into your skin like needles.

there were moments where you had solos. those were the dances you loved the most. you always scored very well and got on top of the pyramid whenever maddie wasn’t.

sometime during season four, there was a significant moment that didn’t leave your mind for a while.

you stood in the wings at a competition in san diego, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath after your solo. the adrenaline rushed through your veins, but it was dulled by the sinking feeling in your stomach.

you’d stumbled on one of your turns—something that wasn’t like you at all. but it was there, clear as day, right in front of the judges and the audience. and now, you were about to face abby.

as soon as they announced the results, you knew it wasn’t going to be good.

second place. you’d lost to maddie. again. but what made it worse was that you weren’t just up against anyone—this was a week where you were up against the candy apples. abby’s biggest rivals.

this meant that her mood was already sour, and you knew this was going to tip her over the edge.

the second you stepped into the dressing rooms, abby’s gaze was already locked on you, her face a storm of frustration and anger.

she didn’t even wait for everyone to sit down before coming at you.

“second place?” abby barked, her voice sharp as a whip. “second place, y/n? you know that’s not acceptable. not here!”

you flinched but kept your head down, your heart racing. you wanted to explain—to say that the stumble was a mistake, something you couldn’t control—but you knew it wouldn’t matter. not to abby.

“what happened out there?” she demanded, sitting down in her chair, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

“you stumbled on a turn, y/n. a turn! something you should be perfect at by now.”

you swallowed hard, your throat dry. “i know, abby. i’m sorry. i—i just—”

“sorry isn’t good enough,” abby cut you off, her voice dripping with disappointment. “you don’t get to be sorry when you’re given this great opportunity! maddie would’ve never done that and her first place showed that!”

the mention of maddie stung more than anything. it always felt like you were in her shadow, no matter how hard you worked. no matter how much you tried to prove yourself.

abby’s golden girl could do no wrong, and you were left picking up the pieces when you didn’t measure up.

“you’re better than that,” abby continued, pacing back and forth in front of you.

“you’re one of my best dancers, but today? you danced like an amateur. you embarrassed me, y/n. you embarrassed this entire team.”

her words hit you like a slap, and you felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. you didn’t want to cry—not in front of abby, not in front of the other girls—but it was hard to hold it in.

“abby, i’m—”

“don’t say you’re sorry again,” she snapped, her voice rising.

“i don’t want to hear it. i want you to do better. no more mistakes, no more excuses. if you want to be a star, you need to act like one. and today, you didn’t.”

you stood there, frozen, trying to keep your emotions in check as abby continued to berate you.

it felt like the weight of the world was crushing you, and all you wanted was for the ground to swallow you whole.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, abby huffed and shook her head. “go. i don’t want to look at you right now.”

with those final words, you turned and walked away to get ready for the group dance, your body feeling heavier with every step.

backstage before the group, you caught maddie’s eye, and she gave you a small, sympathetic smile. but it didn’t make you feel any better. nothing could right now.

you wanted to scream, to cry, to ask your mom why she let you stay in this mess, why she let abby tear you down like this.

your mom stood by you and seemed like your biggest supporter. but as the years passed and you became a fixture on the show, you started to wonder why she allowed it.

why she let abby break you down, week after week.

“mom, why do we keep doing this?” you asked one evening after a particularly brutal competition weekend.

“why do you let her treat me like this?”

“it’s for your future, y/n,” isla had said, eyes clouded with hope—or maybe guilt.

“you’re going to be a star.”

but that wasn’t how you felt. you didn’t want to be a star anymore.

after six seasons on dance moms, you were burnt out. drained. you’d lost your passion for dance, the thing that once gave you joy now filled with dread.

when you turned sixteen, you’d had enough.

“i can’t do this anymore,” you told your mom one night after another exhausting filming day. “i want out.”

isla had hesitated, but eventually, the both of you left the show. the cameras stopped rolling, but the damage had already been done.

the chaos, the constant pressure to be perfect—it stripped you of any love you had for dancing. you couldn’t even look at a dance studio without feeling a knot form in your stomach.

you grew distant from your mom too. it was hard to understand why she had put you through it.

“why didn’t you just protect me?” you’d whispered one evening, tears filling your eyes. but isla didn’t have an answer that made sense.

by the time you turned 19 in 2019, you were desperate for a fresh start. you packed your things and moved back to frankfurt germany, your birthplace.

germany felt different—calmer, quieter. your mother didn’t come back with you which relieved you.

it was exactly what you needed.

over the next few years, you dove into therapy, trying to unpack the trauma of your childhood. it was slow, difficult work, but through it, you discovered a few other hobbies like photography, and ceramics. you went to university too.

and then, suddenly, almost unexpectedly, dance found its way back to you.

therapy helped you see it differently—no longer as something tied to pain, but as something that had once been yours. something beautiful.

by 2022, you were back in the studio, dancing again, feeling lighter than you had in years.

you built your own studio in a nice neighborhood in frankfurt. you weren’t a dance instructor now, maybe someday, but you used the space to practice or hire (emotionally available) dance instructors to help you.

one afternoon, while you were in the middle of a lyrical practice, your friend macy and her sister, sara, showed up at your studio.

the three of you had become close since you moved back to germany.

macy went to your university before you both graduated. she had nice tan skin and long raven colored hair.

her older sister sara is a footballer who plays for frankfurt frauen. sara was like an older sister to you, while macy was your confidant.

“y/n, you’ve gotta hear this,” macy said, leaning against the doorframe with a grin.

you wiped sweat from your forehead, raising an eyebrow. “what now?”

“sara’s photographer friend wants to take pictures of you, specifically, for her portfolio, she’s been keeping up with your instagram content!” macy explained. sara nodded in agreement.

“you know, someone who can capture those insane moves of yours,” sara chimed in with a laugh.

you hesitated for a moment, but to your own surprise, you agreed. “okay, sure. why not?”

both macy and sara looked shocked.

“wow, that was easier than i thought it would be,” macy said, her eyes wide.

“yeah, thought we’d have to convince you a little more,” sara added with a chuckle.

two days later, you found yourself at a field location, waiting for the photographer.

the sun was setting, casting a warm golden glow over the area, when you saw her—laura freigang.

she was taller than you expected, with an easy smile and a camera slung over her shoulder. you couldn’t help but notice how attractive she was, and you made a mental note to ask sara about her later.

“you must be y/n, i’m laura” laura said, walking up to you.

“that’s me,” you replied, feeling a little flustered as her eyes met yours.

the shoot started, and laura was immediately in her element, capturing your movements with film. she had a way of making you feel comfortable, encouraging you to move naturally.

“that’s perfect, just like that,” she’d say, her voice soft but confident. the tone of her voice made you feel a certain type of way as well.

you danced freely, twirling and leaping in the open field, and every now and then, you’d catch her smiling at you from behind the camera.

there was one moment where laura calls you out for something,

“where are you from in america?” laura asked.

this was during a water break after shooting yourself doing high kicks and pirouettes.

“i was born here, but i lived in pennsylvania after i turned two. for a while i lived in california but that was until 3 years ago, when i moved back here.” you swallowed, thinking about the distant memories of your childhood.

“pennsylvania! i went to penn state for a while!” laura says, surprised.

“that is so cool!”

afterwards, there was definitely some flirting going on—small comments, lingering looks. after the shoot wrapped up, laura lowered her camera, looking at you with a playful glint in her eyes.

“you know, this was fun. thank you for doing this for me. we should do it again sometime… maybe over dinner?”

you blinked, caught off guard but quickly recovering.

“are you asking me out on a date, laura freigang?”

she smirked. “i guess i am.”

you smiled. “okay, i’m in.”

two days later, you were sitting across from her at a cozy restaurant, the low hum of conversation filling the air.

the two of you clicked instantly, talking about everything from the shoot to your different interests. halfway through the meal, you said something which confuses laura.

“do you have other hobbies beside photography? you seem like a pretty busy woman.” you smirk.

“i’m sorry?” laura’s eyebrows raise.

your eyes widen, afraid that you said something that is offensive.

“wait i’m sorry– its just sara tells me that you’re a photographer so i wondered if you do other things. do you go to another uni here after you left penn state or if you do modeling or–” you pause as laura giggles.

“i’m flattered that you think i am a model– but i play for frankfurt and the german national team with sara...”

your eyes widened in surprise. how did sara not tell you this? she just made it seem like laura was just a photographer in frankfurt.

“wait, seriously? you’re a footballer and a photographer?”

laura grinned. “yeah. i like to keep busy.”

you couldn’t help but laugh, feeling more flustered than you’d like to admit.

“that’s... really impressive,” you said, feeling a little shy under her gaze.

as time passed, you started going to laura’s games, cheering her on from the stands.

your bond deepened with every date, every conversation, until one day, laura asked you to be her girlfriend inside of her living room.

the soft glow of the floor lamp laura has casting a warm light over her space. you sat on her couch, legs curled under you, a half-empty cup of tea resting on the table in front of you.

you’d spent the evening like this, just talking, laughing, and enjoying each other’s company. but now, a comfortable silence had settled between you, the kind that felt intimate without needing to be filled.

laura sat beside you, her arm resting along the back of the couch. you could feel the warmth of her presence next to you, and every so often, your hands would brush when one of you reached for something or shifted in your seat.

each touch sent a small spark of electricity through you, a reminder of the feelings you’d been harboring for her since that photoshoot months ago.

“you’ve been quiet for a bit,” you finally said, glancing over at her, noticing the way her jaw clenched slightly, like she was trying to find the right words.

she looked at you, her eyes soft but searching. “yeah, i’ve just… been thinking,” she said quietly, her voice low and a little hesitant.

“thinking?” you asked, your heartbeat quickening just a little. you couldn’t help but wonder what was going on behind those light colored eyes of hers. “about what?”

she took a deep breath, turning her body slightly toward you. the air in the room shifted, something heavier settling between the two of you. “about you,” she said, her voice steady now, like she had finally made up her mind about what she wanted to say.

your breath caught in your throat, and you felt your chest tighten. "me?" you asked softly, not sure where this was going, but the intensity in laura's gaze was undeniable.

“yeah, you,” she repeated, her eyes not leaving yours.

“we’ve spent a lot of time together these past few months, nearly everyday, and i’ve really gotten to know you. i didn’t expect to feel this way when i first met you at that shoot, but,” she trailed off, her hand moving to gently take yours, her thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “i can’t stop thinking about you.”

your heart raced as she spoke, her words settling in the space between you like a confession you’d been secretly waiting for but never expected to hear.

“laura…” you started, but the words caught in your throat, your emotions tangled up in the moment.

“i know this might be a lot,” she said, her grip on your hand tightening just slightly, “but i really like you, y/n. i don’t want to keep dancing around it anymore.” she paused, her eyes softening as she looked at you, her vulnerability laid bare.

you both giggled at her pun before she spoke,

“can i be your girlfriend?”

“what wait?” you were surprised.

“will you be my girlfriend!?”

for a moment, you couldn’t speak. your mind raced with thoughts of every moment you’d shared, the way she made you feel without even trying, the way her presence made the world seem quieter, more bearable.

you’d known this was going to happen someday, but hearing her say it out loud made it all feel more real than you’d imagined.

“yes,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. but the word hung in the air like a promise, and the smile that broke across laura’s face made your heart feel like it might burst. “yes, i’d love to.”

her smile widened, and she leaned in, her forehead resting against yours for a moment, the closeness of her sending a shiver down your spine.

"yay," she murmured softly, her breath warm against your skin.

your fingers intertwined with hers, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to let go of the fears, the doubts, the baggage from your past.

in that moment, it was just you and laura, your hearts laid bare, and the quiet understanding that something beautiful was beginning between the two of you.

you chuckled softly, pulling back just enough to look at laura fully. “how about i cook for you? tomorrow night?” you suggested, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

"i’m pretty good in the kitchen."

laura raised an eyebrow, smirking. "oh really? a dancer, a university graduate, and a chef? you're just full of surprises."

you grinned, leaning in closer, your voice dropping to a playful whisper. “you’ll have to find out for yourself.”

and as she pressed a soft kiss to the back of your hand, you couldn’t help but feel like this was exactly where you were meant to be.

it didn’t take long for fan pages to catch on. suddenly, everyone was talking about how one of their favorite childhood dancers was now dating a german footballer.

fans were floored and happy for you-- but to you, it was surreal in the best way.

as you sat next to laura after one of her games, her hand wrapped around yours, you couldn’t help but think that despite everything—despite the chaos of your past—you’d finally found happiness.

my masterlist is here if you want to read more!

a/n: wrote this two months ago but i wasn’t sure if i liked the writing and the concept😭 ill still post it anyways

#laura freigang #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #gerwnt #dance moms #meazalykov #eintracht frankfurt

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tarosunshine · 1 year ago

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엔하이픈 𐙚 VAMP﹗

genre fluff vampire au 𖹭 warning blood jealousy pairing — OT7 x fem reader

— they use their powers and abilities.

NOTE : this is based on the webtoon ! (kinda)

𐙚 HEESUNG : read mind

“hee, where are you?” you called him in your mind since you couldn't see him anywhere. you hoped he could hear you wherever he was. thanks to the hustle and bustle of the place and the people, you couldn't find him, and he hadn't brought his phone with him either. “i'm near the caramel apple stand” you spoke again in your mind. about 10 minutes ago, heesung had gone for ice cream, while you had stayed in line for the ferris wheel, but they closed the game, so you had to move.

luckily, seconds later, you heard your boyfriend's voice behind you. “here you are. your favorite, babe” he handed you the ice cream with a smile. “i thought you wouldn't listen to me” you also smiled when you saw him and grabbed the cone. he grabbed your free hand, and you started walking. “if you call me, i will always listen to you, love” he said as he tilts his head to you. then you trapped your fingers with his and walked towards the car. on the way, you explained to him what had happened to the game, so you decided to return home.

𐙚 JAY : superhuman strength

“jay...” you sighed as you left your bag on one of the empty chairs. you heard a sigh from him too. “honey, you had to see how he looked at you. and when he touched your waist? and he make you uncomfortable!” jay speaks exasperated as he frowned and sighed over and over again. he was so angry at the guy, not at you. he could never get angry with you. “here, have some water, and don't worry about that idiot” you handed him a glass on the table and turned to pour one for yourself. but suddenly you heard the sound of glass breaking and you immediately turned in alarm in the direction of your boyfriend.

the first thing you saw was the broken glass on his hand suspended in the air and how the blood began to drip down his arm and hand. “oh my god, jay!” you immediately walked over and started removing the large pieces of glass from his hand. then you ran to get the first aid kit and sat down in front of him. his eyes were still in shock. “i... i don't know what happened to me, i'm sorry” he lowered his head in shame and let you clean him up. “was that your super strength?” you mocked, smiling so he wouldn't feel so bad. “yeah. i don't know why i couldn't control it. i'm really sorry” with his good hand, he caressed your face. you smiled at him and rested your hand on his. “and i'm sorry if i scared you.”

𐙚 JAKE : pyrokinesis

it was almost midnight, and after a long day, you and your boyfriend were lying in bed while watching a movie.

“are you hungry?” jake asked as he stroked your hair. you shook against his chest, but something suddenly came to your mind. “although...” you spoke, raising your face, looking at him with smiling eyes. he suspected what you would say and moved his hand away from you.

you immediately got out of bed and headed towards the kitchen as jake followed you with a smile and rested his arms on the table, looking at you. when you turned to see him, you had a bag of marshmallows. you waved in the air, and he shook his head smiling. “you know i can't use my powers all the time. it's dangerous, love” he approached your face and kissed your cheek. “just one... please?” he couldn't refuse if you looked at him with those eyes. “fine” he agreed, now kissing the tip of your nose. you smiled and stabbed two marshmallows with two forks, then you handed him one, and a small flame came out of his finger, starting to melt the candy. you looked at his hand fascinated, as if it were the first time he had done it. jake chuckled when he saw your face and then held out the marshmallow to you. you kissed his cheek in gratitude. “thank you.” “always, love.”

𐙚 SUNGHOON : half werwolf and half vampire

just a few seconds ago, you had stopped paying attention to what sunghoon was talking in front of you. “did you hear me, babe?” he asked, looking at you with puppy eyes. you smiled when you saw him and denied it. “sorry, sorry... are your fangs bigger than before, hoon?” you asked, changing the subject since that was what had distracted you. “my fangs?” he spoke, touching the tip of one of them with a finger and furrowing his eyebrows. you nodded, looking at his mouth.

“it must be because tonight is full moon” he commented, carefully looking at his teeth on the screen of his phone. you nodded, remembering. “well you look cute” you rested your hand on his cheek. he approached your face with a silly smile, causing his fangs to stick out, and he give you a small kiss, who turned out in a needy and long one. “ouch” you put your finger over your lips, feeling the pain. he looked at you worried and grabbed your cheeks. “oh, i'm so sorry. it wasn't my intention. i think i got a little too excited” he ran his finger over the small trail of blood. “i didn't though they were so sharp” sunghoon covered his mouth with his hand while he continued caressing the injured place with the other. “it's okay, don't worry” you smiled, to reassure him.

𐙚 SUNOO : mind controler

you had been at a party for a couple of hours, but you weren't having such a good time. it was already starting to get boring, so in a few minutes you would leave, or well, that was what you had planned until you saw a group of boys talking animatedly in an area that you had not paid attention to. and one boy in particular caught your attention, one with red hair. you looked at him several times, and his fox-like eyes hypnotized you for a few seconds. you didn't realize when your body moved on it's own and you advanced towards them, but you stopped and blinked, confused. this time, you made your way towards the exit but then heard a male voice behind you, and when you turned, you found the redhead, who smiled.

“hi” you meet his kind eyes as he tilts his head slightly to the side. you returned the greeting, somewhat embarrassed.

⋆ 一

“i can't believe that you used your powers the first time we met, kim sunoo” you says somewhat offended as you looked at your boyfriend with furrowed eyebrows. the boy smiled, embarrassed as he looked away. “and they didn't work” you scoffed as you poked his cheek several times. he tightened his arms around you, looking with those eyes that tried to manipulate you that time.

“yes, and i'm sorry about that” he apologized, pouting as he approached your face, but right after that, his lips curved in a sweet smile. you wanted to pinch his cheeks. “are you trying to manipulate my mind right now?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. so he raised both eyebrows and looked at you offended. “i promised i would never do it again, honey. seriously” he spoke before giving you a small kiss on the lips. you giggled and hugged his waist. “hm, then i just like you a lot.”

his smile remained for a few seconds, then he slowly kissed your lips again, placing his hands on your cheeks as he gently caressed your skin. “i definitely like you more” he says and nods, and in one movement, he makes you fall over his chest, hugging and wrapping your body with legs and arms.

𐙚 JUNGWON : teleportation

“i miss you, won” you spoke with the phone in your hand and pouted as if your boyfriend could see. you heard his cute laugh. “i miss you too. a lot. and you have no idea how much i want to see your face, but remember that i'll be back tonight” he reminds, and you could hear a couple of things falling where he was. “yeah, you're right” a sigh left your lips, trying to ignore the noise on the other side. you heard a guttural noise from him, then a curse. “sungwon? something wrong?” you asked a little worried. he didn't answer you. on the contrary, he cut off the call. you frowned at your phone as you moved it away from your ear. “what's wrong with him?” you murmured, puting the device aside and laying on your back on the couch of the lonely house.

“did you miss me, my love?” a pair of dark glasses and a charming smile appeared in your vision. you almost fainted from shock. “yang jungwon!” you gasped as you rested one hand on your heart and sat down. he jumped over the sofa, sitting at your side. “it was a lie that you missed me?” he asked with a sad voice. then you grabbed his face with a smile and gently removed his glasses. “i reeeally missed you.” in one movement, you pulled him towards your body, and he wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close to him as he hid his face on your neck. “did you just use your powers at daytime?” you asked, smiling. as he got apart a little from you, his lips twisted into a smirk and nodded. “because i want to see you. i couldn’t wait” he complained and burry his face in your neck again, inhaling your essence happily.

𐙚 NI-KI : teleportation, shadow manipulator

“it's always the same with you, nishimura” you complained and rolled your eyes as you began to walk with your arms crossed, ignoring him. the sound of his giggle reaches you. “of course! i know you love me” his mocking tone was evident, but you just ignored his words, leaving him behind.

“you know this would look bad if someone saw us, right?” he also whispered, looking at you with the same smile. you frowned and immediately moved away from his body. “oh, no... look, a teacher!” he pointed out surprised, you turned your head and saw the shadow of a teacher. you gasped and moved closer to him again to hide, but you immediately heard his amused laugh against your forehead, and you slowly looked up at him and sighed, realizing what he did. “stop using your powers and stop making fun of me.” you pushed his body and walked away from him, heading towards your classroom. he follows you, and you hear his mocking laugh again.

“love you? yeah, right. i don’t even like you” you muttered as you mocked his expressions. but suddenly, his figure appeared in front of you, and you collided with his chest. “nishimura!” you looked up, looking at him pissed. you met his gaze that was darkened. “you do not like me at all? i'm sure you do” he spoke, looking into your eyes with a playful smile. “nishimura, you can't use your powers here” you whispered as you looked everywhere. luckily, everyone was in class, so you took him by the shoulders, making sure no one saw, and moved somewhere where no teacher or student would see you.

#lim ⋆#˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #enhypen drabbles #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jay #enhypen jake #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunoo #enhypen jungwon #enhypen niki #enhypen vampire au #enhypen au #enhypen headers

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torasplanet · 1 year ago

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❝𝙅𝙀𝘼𝙇𝙊𝙐𝙎 𝙎𝙇𝙐𝙏.ᐟ❞

PLUG!E. YEAGER + BIMBO!F. READER ft. PLUG!C. SPRINGER

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ; you wanna get jealous over some crack whore and show your ass to connie? fine but now you gotta ride eren while connie watches. have fun.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 ; riding, slight degradation, unprotected sex, drabble, overstimulation, p in v, exhibition, mean!eren, mean!connie, threesome(mentioned), drugs, high sex, dacryphilia, cuckolding w armin(mentioned), college au, skin color not mentioned, ib

It didn’t bother Eren that much when you sat in the backseat of his car with a pout on your face while watching him deal to a dope-feen bitch who was touching all on his forearm, he could see where you were coming from and couldn’t get mad at you for being jealous, he just found it silly that you were getting upset over a crack whore who he didn’t even spare another glance after handing her the drugs she asked for.

You sitting there with a pout and your arms crossed against your chest ignoring him when he tried to talk to you didn’t bother him either. Eren was used to your fucked up attitude by now and just reminded himself to take care of that later so it didn’t lead to a petty argument.

However…what did bother him was when you purposely dropped five dollars on the ground on your way to the gas station store while he was busy practically showing your entire ass and lace panties to Connie who sat in his passenger seat after you begged him to give you money so you could get whatever fucking candy you asked for after ignoring him for the majority of the ride. That shit bothered him a lot, he considered asking Connie to handle the deal he was currently working on and getting out of the car dragging your ass back to the car by your hair, and teaching you not to fuck with him right there but no…he had a better idea. And that idea would come into play right now.

“‘Ren c’mon! My legs hurt…” You whined out planting your hands on Eren's chest as you sat on his lap on the couch with him eight inches deep inside of you, you had already come twice and your legs were aching! It wasn’t fair how he wasn’t letting you have a break! The brunette man simply looked up at you with his red-lidded eyes exhaling smoke into your precious face which was covered in tears and your ruined makeup, he passed the blunt in his hand back to Connie who sat on the other side of the couch watching the whole ordeal with a grin on his face “Hell no, you’re gonna fuck yourself out right in front of Connie since you love showing your ass to him right?” Eren said as you gazed down at him with watery eyes, it wasn’t a question, it wasn’t even a statement you were supposed to respond to because no matter what you said, it’d just end in him giving a slap to your ass.

But unfortunately, you weren’t thinking, not at all this entire night but you never did “No! I don’t, only for you ‘rennie!” Connie snickered at your pathetic statement as more tears spewed from your eyes, you turned your head and glared at him which just made him laugh even more, you looked so pathetic. Completely naked while they were both fully dressed, sobbing, and now you were glaring at him? You looked like a kicked puppy more than anything.

Eren sat up straight at your words before gripping your jaw and turning your head to face him, you could now feel his breath on your face from how close you two were “Then explain to me why you acted like a stupid whore showing my pussy to him?” His green eyes stared daggers into your soul as you stood there looking down at him silent, you didn’t have anything to say. He knew why and if you said anything about it he’d probably torture you more for being a ‘jealous slut’ that’s how he would say it.

He narrowed his eyes at you once more before letting go of your face harshly making a sob escape your throat “That’s what I thought, now keep going.” Eren demanded slapping his hand on the soft flesh of your ass making even more tears escape your eyes and flow down the apples of your cheeks.

You glanced at Connie for help but he did nothing but hit the blunt while remaining in eye contact with you, you whined as you continued to ride him tiredly trying your best to ignore the pain in your legs. You hoped this didn’t lead to a threesome, they would be so mean to you! Armin wouldn’t just sit there and let this happen. He’d help you and tell Eren to relax and that you didn’t deserve it! Having Armin watch was way better than dumb Connie!

A combination of moans and sobs were let out into the air as you lazily rode Eren, your back arching when he hit just the right spot as the two men acted liked you weren’t even there casually talking and passing the blunt back and forth, that might’ve hurt more than your legs. Eren knew from experience that you lived off attention, you were like a Tinkerbell, if you didn’t get the attention you would just die and he was refusing to give you that. What a dick!

Wet sounds filled the room along with their chatting that you didn’t care enough to listen to, that’s if you even had enough in you to hear anything “Ngh! ‘Rennie!” You were nearing your breaking point cumming for a third time and Eren wasn’t letting you stop anytime soon, every time you even halted your movements slightly, he’d slap you on your ass or give you a glare that scared you enough to keep going but everything was too much and you stopped completely leaning forward and collapsing on his body continuing to cry loudly.

“Fuck are you stopping for?” Eren said rudely pushing your limp body off his looking at you with hate and disgust hurting your feelings even more than he already had “Too tired…please m’ sorry!” Eren didn’t even react to your pleas as you banged your balled-up fists on his chest tiredly to get him to sympathize with you somehow even just a little bit “Too fucking bad.” Eren responded, “Hold on bro, maybe she just needs a lil’ sum’ to help her.” Connie said with a laugh before standing and walking over to you, he grabbed your jaw with his hand before putting the blunt to your lips as you looked up at him your puffy eyes. He almost came in his pants right there at the sight of you.

He and Eren watched as you inhaled before Connie took the blunt away from your mouth, the springer male leaned closer to press your lips together but Eren kicked his kneecap making the gray-eyed boy look at his friend with a scowl “Fuck was that for Eren?” You watched the ordeal as you exhaled the smoke out of your nose just glad Eren wasn’t focused on making you continue, eren didn’t really like sharing. Especially sharing you but the idea of threesomes appealed to him as long as the other person didn’t kiss you.

“I ain’t even let Armin kiss her, what makes you think you can?” The Yeager man questioned making Connie scoff before he plopped back down to his spot on the couch grumbling something about Eren being too damn possessive to have threesomes. Eren’s head then turned back to you looking at you with the same lidded eyes that have been giving you little attention all night “Lemme tell you sum’ pretty…” He whispered sitting up again and getting close to your face, he gave you a small peck on your lips making you whine. You wanted more than just a stupid peck, small kisses are for cheeks not for lips.

You looked down at him with teary eyes as you tried not to let them spill out as Eren would probably laugh if you did “If you stop again, you’re not cummin’ for weeks.” The statement made your jaw drop and your eyes widen, the sobbing continued as you heard Connie cackle loudly “Better get moving jealous slut.” You pouted at the statement as they were the exact words you thought eren would call you while your salty tears dropped down onto Eren’s white tee, with these two, this night was never going to end.

#eren yeager #eren x reader #drabble ig #aot smut #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan smut #plug!eren #plug!connie #connie springer #connie springer x reader #connie springer smut #torasplanet.ᐟ #fem reader #bimbo!reader #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager smut #marls-fics.ᐟ #◛⑅·˚♡ren.ᐟ #◛⑅·˚♡connn>_<.ᐟ

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caplanbuckybarnes · 3 months ago

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Celestial Stars & Candy Apple Eyes (Castiel) (Dean)

Request: CanI request a Dean x Reader x Castiel (no Destiel) fic? Reader has been hunting with Sam and Dean for a long time (like since the events of early S1) and met Cas when Dean, Bobby and her went to the Barn (S4 E1). She had a Crush on Dean since the beginning and they kissed right before he died (end of S3) but they never talked about that again after he came back. And when she met Cas, she instantly felt a strong connection and also developed a Crush on him. So now she is conflicted, thinking both dont like her like that (Since Cas is an Angel and Dean doesn't talk about the kiss). The Fic could be right around S6, so Dean was with Lisa for a year which made Reader even more convinced that Dean didnt like her. And Cas hadn't contacted her in a while. But Dean, Sam and Reader started hunting again and called Cas a few times. During their interactions, the two boys realize how they feel and get jealous of the other for being close to Reader (or something like calling her petnames). Idk if all of that makes sense but thats the general Idea I had^^" @storytellers-randomshortstorys

A/N: you'd requested this back in April 2024, and I couldn't for the life of me think of what to do with it. SOrry for the lateness!

Summary: You're torn between man & angel, and cannot handle the jealousy anymore.

WC: 995

Warnings: jealousy, reader loves both dean & Castiel, pining

Read on ao3!

The Impala’s engine hummed a low, steady rhythm as the three of you drove through the dark backroads of Ohio. You were wedged in the backseat, your head resting against the window. Dean was behind the wheel, Sam in the passenger seat flipping through a case file.

The silence wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t entirely comfortable either. You felt it keenly, especially every time you glanced at Dean. Things had been weird since he came back from Hell. Not outright bad, just... unspoken. That kiss before his deal ran out was a moment you couldn’t forget. But he never brought it up after he returned, especially not with Lisa in the picture for a whole year.

And Cas—well, Cas was another layer of confusion entirely. He wasn’t here often, but when he was, you couldn’t help but feel the pull toward him. The two of you had this... connection. Like you understood each other without needing to say much. He wasn’t human, but he made you feel seen in ways no one else did.

“You good back there?” Dean’s voice cut through your thoughts, rough but edged with concern.

“Yeah,” you lied, offering a small smile.

Sam looked back at you over his shoulder. “We should call Cas for this. If that witch really managed to pull off a binding spell like this, we’ll need more firepower.”

Dean grunted in reluctant agreement. “Fine, but he better not be off doing Heaven’s dirty work again.”

You rolled your eyes but stayed quiet. Dean always acted like he didn’t trust Cas, but you knew better. He was just too stubborn to admit he cared about the angel.

Later, at the motel, you all regrouped in the cramped room. Dean called Cas, who appeared with the usual flutter of wings.

“Hello,” Cas said, his gravelly voice sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. His eyes found yours immediately, lingering a beat longer than you expected. “Y/N.”

“Cas,” you replied, unable to stop the smile tugging at your lips.

Dean huffed. “Yeah, yeah, great reunion. You got anything for us, Feathers?”

Cas ignored the jab and got right to work explaining the spell you’d be facing. But as the conversation went on, you noticed something odd. Dean kept glaring at Cas every time the angel spoke directly to you, and Cas—well, he wasn’t much for subtlety. Every time Dean called you sweetheart or kiddo, Cas’s jaw tightened just slightly.

Sam noticed too, of course. He wasn’t oblivious. He shot you a look that said, You seeing this?

You were trying not to.

By the time you were setting up for the hunt that night, the tension was palpable. Dean was unusually snippy, barking orders with more edge than usual. Cas stayed unnervingly silent, only breaking it to answer your questions.

At one point, you felt Dean’s hand on your shoulder as he guided you to a safer position near the abandoned barn. His fingers lingered longer than they should have, and when you looked up at him, his green eyes softened. “Be careful, okay?” he murmured.

Your heart twisted. “I always am.”

From a few feet away, Cas’s eyes bore into the scene. He stepped closer as Dean walked away, his presence like a calm yet electric storm.

“Dean seems... protective of you,” Cas remarked, his voice low.

You shrugged, unsure how to respond. “It’s just Dean being Dean.”

Cas tilted his head, studying you in that way that always made you feel like he was looking straight through to your soul. “I don’t believe that’s all it is. He cares for you. Greatly.”

You froze. “What?”

He stepped closer, his gaze intense but not unkind. “And you care for him. But you also...” His voice faltered, rare for him. “You also care for me.”

Your throat felt dry. “Cas, I—”

Before you could finish, a loud crash from the barn interrupted, followed by Dean shouting for backup. You cursed under your breath and ran toward the noise, Cas right on your heels.

The fight with the witch was chaotic, but you managed to come out mostly unscathed. By the time it was over, the adrenaline had your heart racing.

Dean was pacing, muttering curses under his breath. When he saw you, he rushed over, his hands gripping your arms as he scanned for injuries. “You okay?”

“Yeah, Dean, I’m fine.”

“You sure? Because you scared the hell out of me back there.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Cas’s voice cut in. “She handled herself well. She always does.”

Dean turned to glare at Cas, his grip on you tightening slightly. “Yeah, I know that, angel. But she’s not bulletproof, is she?”

“And you think I don’t know that?” Cas shot back, stepping closer.

You stepped between them, exasperated. “Guys, seriously? This is not the time.”

They both looked at you, their frustration melting into something softer. Something vulnerable.

Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, Y/N. I—I care about you, okay? More than I should, probably. And I know I’ve been a dick about it, but—”

Cas interrupted, his voice calm but firm. “Dean, stop. She doesn’t need your guilt. She needs to know the truth.”

Dean glared at him, but Cas ignored it, turning his full attention to you. “Y/N, I’ve felt this connection with you since the moment we met. I don’t fully understand it, but I know it’s real. And I know you feel it too.”

Your breath hitched. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.

“Y/N,” Dean said softly, stepping closer. “I don’t want to screw this up. I care about you. A lot.”

You stared at them, your heart pounding as you tried to process their words.

“I... I need time,” you finally said, your voice trembling. “I care about both of you, but I can’t just... choose like this.”

They both nodded, reluctantly stepping back. The hunt was over, but the battle in your heart had just begun.

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starlit-writer · 11 days ago

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in sickness and in health, ch. 4 - alpha!simon riley x omega!reader

here is chapter four!!!! this chapter is shorter than normal, but i needed to get this done for you guys <3 i definitely am excited to continue this, and i hope you are too!!! as always, if you want to be added to the tag list to make sure you stay up-to-date, let me know in the replies! eat well, lovelies <3

if you want to understand more about my omegaverse au, you can look at my masterpost here, and it'll help explain all of the intricacies that may or may not be explained well enough in these short-form fics!

word count: 3,070 chapter three masterlist ao3 link

Your head was pounding as you stalked through the hallways of the base, away from the gym. You didn’t know your destination, your heavy, angry footsteps becoming a monotonous beat that kept you from falling over the edge. You were filled with so many confusing and conflicting emotions, which made it hard to think, let alone even begin to comprehend the miserable cocktail thrumming through your veins. Your omega side was so enamored with Simon’s behavior, whining to stay close and let him apologize, but your more logical side wouldn’t let you. What had he done to deserve your forgiveness?

The short answer? Nothing. Sure, he stayed by you when you were sick, but he was the reason for it to begin with. Past then, it’s been nothing but fights and weirdness, and you hadn’t seen any glimpse of change or improvement. You felt lost and confused - the two sides of your being constantly at war with one another.

You were so lost in your own internal conflict, you didn’t even notice the other person in the hallway until it was too late, and your face met the hard planes of their chest. The scent of wind-carried sea salt, fresh candied apples, and the dust of a demolition site invaded your senses, and your head whipped up in surprise to find Soap looking down at you. His signature smirk was playing on his lips, but his bright blue eyes shone with concern as his hands settled onto your hips to keep you in place before quickly slipping off.

“Woah there, bonnie. Where ye headed with all that steam blowin’ out yer ears?”

You stared up at him, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water - an apt representation of how you felt at the moment. You tried to come up with something, anything to tell him, but no words would fall past your lips. The vitriol you felt towards Simon died in the back of your throat, your omega caught between wanting to defend your alpha and the reality of your situation. So you settled for placation.

“I’m fine, Soap. Not a big deal.”

It was a lie passed through gritted teeth, and Soap could tell, especially as you looked away to avoid his eyes. His gaze softened, and he brought a gentle finger to your cheek to force you to look at him.

“It’s Ghost, yeah?”

You blew out a frustrated puff of air, unwelcomed tears welling in your lash line. You were angry - angry with Simon, with yourself, with your designation, with society as a whole, anything you could possibly blame to even attempt to make sense of all of your emotions. But even anger couldn’t completely mask the bone-deep grief that had settled over you like a lead-lined blanket. All you wanted was to feel normal again. Unfortunately for you, it seemed likely for that to never be the case again. You were bonded to an alpha who, up until a week and a half ago, refused to even acknowledge you outside of mission-related conversations, and now he had become some sort of overprotective, overbearing asshole.

“I just… I don’t know what to do. I want to hate him. Gods, I want to hate him. But…”

“He’s your alpha.”

“Exactly.” You ran a hand down your face, trying to force the traitorous tears away. Soap sighed in resigned understanding, his hand settling on your shoulder. You couldn’t help but notice how his touch was angled strangely, his wrist turned out in an odd angle that just so happened to press the scent gland on his wrist right into your own scent gland right in the juncture between your neck and shoulder. You weren’t wearing your scent blockers, a medically necessary intervention to try and keep the bond sickness away. Why he wasn’t wearing his, you didn’t know, but it felt rude to point out or ask about. You tried to ignore it, to convince yourself that it was just coincidence, a mistake, but the way he pressed his skin further into yours made it hard to believe.

To confound the emotional turmoil even further, your omega was now not only at war with your logical, rational side, but also itself. Soap’s touch, his scent, felt good. Safe. More familiar to you than even your own alpha’s after the last few months. But that was just the problem, wasn’t it? Soap wasn’t your alpha. He was a part of your pack, sure, but he wasn’t your alpha. And right now? Right now all your omega wanted was your alpha, no matter how upset you were. But, you were far too prideful to actually admit that at the moment.

Instead, you gently shrugged off Soap’s touch. As his hand slid off your shoulder, an almost sad smile appeared on his lips. “He cares about you, you know?”

Your gaze snapped back to Soap’s, your lips parted in surprise. Your mind whirled, racing with conflicting thoughts, hopes, fears, and desires. Soap shook his head, that same sad smile accompanied by a small, sad laugh. “He does. He’s just shite at showin’ it. Just… give ‘im a chance, aye?”

And with that, Soap walks away, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his military-issued cargo pants, leaving you completely shocked and stunned.

—

It was nearing midnight, if the time blinking in a bright red on your alarm clock was any indication, but sleep still stubbornly refused to take you. You were sprawled out uncomfortably on your military-issued bed, the result of tossing and turning nonstop since you had laid down. After your conversation with Soap, if you could even call it that, you picked up a shift at medbay, but even your work, something you had missed deeply in the worst throes of the bond sickness, couldn’t quell the pain and anger. But even worse than the pain and anger was the confusion. Why did Soap act the way he did? It felt like there was more than what he was saying, but maybe you were reading too far into it. And right now, as shit as it felt to say it, it was the least of your problems.

It had only been a few hours since Simon had interrupted your sparring session, and the bond was stronger than it had been, even with your anger and resentment and the distance that you had created between the two of you. You still couldn’t feel his emotions very well, even when you tried to focus on it, but you just chalked that up to the fact that your own emotions were blocking him out, as strong and volatile as they were at the moment. It didn’t matter to your omega though. Your base instincts were prowling inside of you, your skin prickling with the need to be near your alpha.

And that’s how Simon’s crumpled up sweatshirt that you had thrown into the corner ended up on your bed, tucked between your pillows as you laid in the dark room. Soap’s words echoed in your ears, his Scottish brogue repeating to just give Simon a chance. You were so tired. Tired of everything. The type of bone deep exhaustion that you knew a simple night’s sleep wouldn’t fix. And that type of fatigue only brings weakness, and weakness brings irrationality. Plus, Simon’s sweatshirt was losing its scent, leaving your omega side even more on edge. Even though you hadn’t touched it until tonight, it had been sitting in the corner for a week, and it barely held the residual scent of the harsher scents of Simon’s pheromones. You knew that already, as you had unabashedly buried your face into it a few minutes ago to try and subdue your omega side enough to find sleep. But instead of finding the smoked pine, wet gunpowder, and a freshly-lit cigarette smell you knew should be there, you found it all smelling stale and rotted, which only made your omega freak out more.

You flopped onto your back, a groan of frustration leaving your lips. You picked up your phone for the umpteenth time that night, but this time your finger hovered over Simon’s contact. Soap’s words whispered in your mind again, but this time, you listened.

Your fingers flew across the screen before your more rational side could stop them.

Hey. Are you awake? We need to talk.

You threw your phone down onto your bed, your hands flying up to cover your face as another groan of frustration pushed past your lips. You hated this. All of it. You wished you could go back in time and somehow stopped all of this from happening. But, it didn’t work like that.

Simon wasn’t in any better of a state than you. He rarely slept as is, but he had found it especially hard since you had left his quarters. His thoughts were all consumed by self-deprecation and fear, and those thoughts became especially loud in the darkness of his quarters, where your sick, rotted scent still clung to his bedsheets from where you had laid for those three days. When he heard his phone buzz from where it lay face down on his bedside table, he had half a mind to ignore it, just as he had done with everything other than work the last week and a half. But something told him that it was important. He sighed, stretching his arm out to blindly grab at the device from where he was laying face down in his bed. He looked at the bright screen, his eyes adjusting to the light. As soon as he saw your name flashing across his screen, he flipped over and sat up. His heart raced as he read your text, so many worst-case scenarios flashing through his mind.

He normally wasn’t the type to worry like this. To feel anything for anyone, as evidenced by the neglect he had put you through. But, after seeing you so close to death, and his conversations with Soap and Price, he had noticed it more and more. This all-consuming desire to protect you, to be what you need. But, he would still stand by what he told you that very first day, before you had passed out. If you still wanted to break the bond, he would.

He just hoped that this wasn’t what this conversation was going to be about.

Do you want me to come to yours or do you want to come here?

His response was short, succinct. The detached words completely betrayed the way his hands shook as he typed out the response carefully, trying to give you the space to make the decision without being too overbearing.

Your response didn’t come on his phone. Instead, 10 minutes later, there was a soft knock on his door. He jumped out of bed, tugging on a pair of sweatpants. As he opened the door with one hand, the other was deftly tying the strings of his pants.

Your gaze fell down to the movement, your cheeks heating up in a flush of embarrassment before your gaze snapped up to Simon’s. Your tongue felt heavy, uncertain of itself. “Hi.”

Your scent hit Simon at full-force. You smelled better than you had the last time you were in his quarters. Your warm, caramelized vanilla, full of spice and the thinnest layer of medical antiseptic and gunpowder. It smelled much more like you, right, but there was still something off. You smelled… defeated, almost, like you had given up. And, maybe, you had.

“Hey,” he whispered back in response. He felt uncertain, something he wasn’t familiar with. “You said we needed to talk?”

You looked down at the floor, biting the corner of your lower lip. You knew what you needed, what your omega wanted, but your logical side was holding you back. You nodded slightly, keeping your gaze averted. “Can I come in?”

Simon nodded, even though you couldn’t see it, and stepped back. You stepped inside, letting the door fall closed behind you. You looked around the room, noticing how much it hadn’t changed. Simon’s sheets were mussed up, and it was clear that he had been tossing and turning just as much as you had been. You sighed softly, running a hand down your face. Your omega side was whining, begging to be wrapped up in Simon, but it had finally started to settle down being within Simon’s quarters.

Simon stood awkwardly behind you - like a puppy afraid to be seen. You felt the emotions radiating off of him, smelled it in the air. His normal scent had soured slightly, but you could tell he was trying to hide it. You glanced over your shoulder at him, and, sure enough, his hand was clamped over one of his scent glands to try and dampen the scent. He stared back at you, his brown eyes filled with a sad warmth. A frown tugged at your own lips as you saw the sadness in his gaze, a strange feeling of guilt flaring in your chest.

“What did you need to talk about?” He asked softly, his gaze unwavering from yours.

Strangely, just hearing those words from him broke something in you. Maybe it was the fact that you were exhausted, your omega so wounded and confused, or that you were so tired of being enemies - whatever the reason, it truly didn’t matter. Tears started to well in your lash line, your eyes closing to try and fight against the unrelenting tide. In the brief watery moment, you saw Simon’s face morph into thinly-veiled panic, and right when your eyes closed, you felt his arms wrap around you.

“Hey, hey, love, shhh…” Simon muttered softly as he shifted his body to press completely against yours. Your hands came up to rest on his bare chest as the tears started to flow freely. Your chest stuttered as you tried to force air into your lungs, but this was all too much and yet, not enough. “It’s okay. I got you. I got you.”

You shook your head, but you weren’t quite sure what you were denying as the tips of your omega claws dug slightly into the thick muscle of his pectoral. “I… I’m tired, Simon,” you whispered in response, your voice weak and shaky. “I’m so, so fucking tired.”

He pressed you further into his chest, your head slotting perfectly under his chin. “I know, sweetheart. I know. Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head again, not trusting yourself to speak. Not trusting yourself to keep the armor of spite and anger that you had carefully crafted over the last few months at bay. You knew what you needed. From both yourself and him.

Vulnerability.

“Tell me what you need, love. Please. You’ve done such a good job blocking me out, I can’t get a read on you. I need you to talk to me. I want to help you, but I can’t without words.”

“I-I didn’t do it on purpose,” You sobbed out, pressing your face further into his skin, angling it to get as close as you can to the scent gland on the underside of his jaw.

A small grumble shook in his chest as he pulled you impossibly closer, a huff rustling your hair. He placed his lips against the top of your skull gently, rocking the two of you slightly as you wept. “I know,” he muttered, his lips brushing your hair tenderly as he spoke. “It’s my fault. I pushed you away. I fucked up. And I ain’t gonna stand here and make excuses anymore. There was reasons for why I reacted the way I did, but… now’s not the time to go into them. Just know that… I’m here for you. I got you, love. In every and any way that you want me.”

“I don’t know how to forgive you.” The words were small, little more than a breath of shaky, pain-filled air that brushed against the thin, delicate skin of his throat.

And, fuck, if that didn’t stab him through the chest like a twisting blade. He knew he deserved it, gods, he knew it, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

“I know,” he whispered in response, but his voice lacked any real strength. He sounded hollow, like your whispered admission had completely shattered him. “I know.”

“I’m just so tired,” you repeated, your voice breaking on another sob. “I don’t know what to do, I’m so fucking… I’m torn, Simon. Every day the logical side of my brain and my omega have been at war with each other, and I’m so fucking tired of fighting it. I give up.”

“You… you give up?” Simon whispered, his voice coated in shock.

You tilted your head up higher, moving away from him just enough to look up at him fully. Your cheeks were streaked with tears, the skin red and swollen. For the first time in a long time, you could feel his emotions through the bond. The shock, the self-hatred, the pain that ricocheted through his body felt almost like your own. Even through the onslaught of his emotions, you could feel your heart, which had been so cold and detached to his, warm slightly. He cares. You blinked, trying to will the tears away enough to look at Simon - really look at him for the first time, probably ever.

“I give up on pretending I don’t need you.”

Simon blinks. Once. Twice. Three times.

“What?” he mumbled, his voice still filled with shock.

“At least for now. I’m tired of fighting it. All of it. And I might not know how to forgive you, how to trust you outside of a battlefield, but I’m tired of sleeping in an empty bed away from the man I’m mated to. I’m tired of avoiding each other like the plague. I’m tired of feeling like I’m incomplete. I’m just… tired.”

Tired. Simon could work with tired. The trust and the bond strengthening and all of that can come after. But, it’s a chance. And that’s all he needed.

“Do you want to stay the night?”

You nodded slowly, forcing yourself to maintain eye contact. You knew you couldn’t run any longer. And you knew that this, even just for a night, would help soothe your omega. The actual conversation can wait until the morning.

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