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kitasgloves · 4 months

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I'm in love with you

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— ♬ how haikyuu characters would tell you they're in love with you

— ♬ SFW, fluff, gn reader, no beta

— ♬ Kageyama Tobio

Kageyama was not familiar with romance, it was entirely foreign to him. He doesn't understand how people gain feelings for each other. He can't comprehend the enjoyment of having someone in your life. He thinks romance is trivial and doesn't bother associating with it. But as the typical turning point of every romance novel, someone was there to prove him otherwise.

You were in contrast to the setter. You met each other on your first day as the official manager of the SCHWEIDEN Adlers. Kageyama was curious about you. The sense of responsibility, resilience, and great humor oozed out of you that he can't help but be drawn. You were similar to a familiar orange-haired friend of his, but also different in many ways.

When he exhibited grey, you were bursting with colors. When he shines, you explode with light. When he took your kindness to heart, you brought out the best of him. After a long time of being exposed to you, Kageyama's heart can't help but beat so strongly when he's around you. It beats so strong that he fears he's going to need a second heart.

Kageyama has often thought about the beaming smile on your face, your melodious laughter, your hilarious comments, the scent of your clothes, the warmth of your skin, and the glimmer in your eyes. Kageyama concluded that he was probably going down with something, but what? The symptoms of his rapidly beating heart, his flushed face, and his antsy fingers are only present when he's around you. What the hell could this be?

"You're in love with [Name], aren't you?"

Hoshiumi teased him during their stretching after a practice match. Kageyama would've been quick to dismiss it with a logical response, but he falls silent and still. Ushijima takes notice.

"Hm, I notice the way you look at them, Kageyama"

"Yeah, you look all dazed and head over heels whenever [Name]'s around"

Their libero, Heiwajima added. Kageyama bites down an annoyed response and just shakes his head.

"I'm not in love with [Name]"

"Yes, you are"

"No, I'm not!"

"Yes, you are!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

Kageyama was about to smack Hoshiumi on the head when their captain Hirugami stepped in between them with a disappointed stare. Kageyama goes home that day, thinking about his feelings for you. He's come to accept that he has formed some sort of crush on you, but he tells himself that he doesn't want more from you. But as time progressed, these complicated feelings grew, clearly affecting Kageyama even when he was on the court. The coach had to bench him out one time because his performance wasn't up to expectations.

He had to do something about these stupid feelings because he couldn't afford to be constantly benched. Kageyama has thought about what the characters in romance novels do to confront such feelings. They express them through giving gifts and hanging out with their love interest. So, Kageyama copies them.

The setter tries to woo you by giving you small gifts during breaks, making sure he's as subtle as possible. He gains the courage to ask if you want to watch a movie with him. Kageyama thinks he's doing everything correctly when he compares your happy responses to the romance novels he read. As Kageyama grew closer and closer to you, these feelings grew as it began to stress him out.

What in the world is going on with him?

It's like he loses his athletic talents and logical thinking when you come around. It's like you've made him weak when all you did was behave the way you usually do. Kageyama frowns at the thought. What should he do next? In the romance novels, the character confesses their feelings.

Confess your feelings?

Kageyama swallowed as a bead of sweat trailed down his forehead. He thinks he should do it then maybe these feelings would go away. However, as he tries to set this plan into motion, he becomes speechless. The way you gaze at him warmly and tilt your head when he calls your name has his stomach in knots.

"Ne-nevermind"

He would say every time. Kageyama desperately wants to tell you how he feels about you but he can't fucking do it. And the frustration shows especially on the court.

"Ow! What the hell Kageyama!"

Hoshiumi complains as he fails to receive Kageyama's monstrous serve. His teammates have been murmuring how aggressive the setter was lately. They wondered what could have made Kageyama so angry. The coach blows the whistle and instructs them to take five. Kageyama sits down and aggressively wipes the sweat off his face. His eyes land on you handing the team water bottles, his leg bounces as he waits for you to come to him.

"Here you go, Tobio-hmmph!"

Everyone gawked in shock, their jaws dropping on the floor, and some dropping their water bottles. Kageyama has read somewhere in romance novels that characters sometimes confess their feelings with a kiss. So, he decides that if he can't say it, he'll show you instead.

When the setter pulls his lips away, he takes in the bewilderment in your eyes and the pink hue on your cheeks. He inhales and looks at you in the eye.

"I'm in love with you, [Name]"

All of a sudden, he can finally say it to you. Everyone cheers and hollers at the confession. The pink hue on your cheeks turned into crimson. You gently peeled yourself away from the setter, trying to come up with a response.

"I-uh, what?"

"I'm in love with you, [Name]"

Kageyama repeats. He sees you shield your face as you cutely shied away from him.

"You're joking"

"I am not"

"Oh my gosh"

Kageyama wasn't sure if he was getting rejected or friend-zoned. But as you regained your composure, you surprised him by pulling him by the collar of his shirt and kissing him. At this point, everyone loses it. When you both pulled away, Kageyama turned breathless as he blinked rapidly at you.

"I'm in love with you too, Tobio"

— ♬ Kuroo Tetsuro

Kuroo thinks his job at the JVA in the sports promotion division couldn't get more interesting until you rolled by. Initially, he viewed you as an adorable younger co-worker that he enjoys riling up. He couldn't help it when you gave him the most entertaining reactions. Immediately, the two of you created a bond of making the work atmosphere like a comedy show. Kuroo would purposely say something stupid to annoy you and you'll reply by scolding him or just whacking him on the head.

But under the comedic scene of your work relationship, Kuroo has taken a certain liking to you beyond the teasing remarks. He has grown to show ways in which he cares for you. When he's not being a teasing piece of shit, Kuroo checks on you like asking about your day or if you've eaten lunch. Sometimes he'd drag you to eat lunch with him, he'd even pay for the food. If the two of you were working overtime, he insisted on taking a heavy portion of the work so he could send you home early. When you'd protest, he'd make a clever deal to have you agree. Even the little things like lending you his jacket when you're cold, sharing his umbrella on rainy days when you don't have yours, and walking you home when it's late.

He wonders if you've noticed any of these things, he thinks he shouldn't care but he can't help but seek your reaction. Kuroo was in glee when he found you warming up to him and returning his gestures. You'd bring coffee for him in the morning, you'd share your lunch with him, and even invite him to one of your friends' birthdays. As time escalated, the somewhat relationship once filled with teasing was now replaced with unspoken tenderness.

Kuroo can act dumb and pretend. He can pretend he's not actively seeking you when in a crowded room, he can pretend that your smiles don't make his heart race, he can pretend that he doesn't care about your interests, and he can pretend that he's not falling for you. He would hide everything with his signature smirk and teasing comments, but secretly, he's dying to know if you would reciprocate his feelings.

So, he tries to quietly profess his love through his actions. Kuroo hints at his romantic feelings for you through the mundane things he would do at the office.

"I bought you coffee"

I'm in love with you

"Have you eaten lunch yet?"

I'm in love with you

"Here, you can borrow my jacket"

I'm in love with you

"I'll walk you home tonight"

I'm in love with you

There are times you're only treating every clue as his kindness and it's making his chest tight. Kuroo continues to do everything through his teasing.

"Your shirt looks like a clown vomited on it"

I'm in love with you

"Nice pants, [Name]. Did you steal them from your grandma?"

I'm in love with you

"You have the music taste of an edgy teenager"

I'm in love with you

"I hope no one has a crush on you yet because they're going to be disappointed"

I'm in love with you

You would always respond to his teasings with irritated sounds or physically hitting him. Kuroo was going mad at how every hint was flying over your head. He felt like he wanted to fistfight god. He was hoping, praying that you would take a hint and return his feelings because truthfully he was too scared to tell you.

"Just fucking tell them like the man you claim you are, Kuroo"

Kenma, his best friend, rolled his eyes at him when he told him everything about it. He hates how he was right. He needed to man up and tell you how he's absolutely lovestruck by you. By man up, he means getting drunk during a karaoke with all of his co-workers while singing karaoke. To be fair, the majority of the people were even more wasted than him. You were making fun of his drunken antics, filming them on your phone as blackmail later.

"You're wasted, Tetsu. Let's get you home"

"M'not drunk! Get your ass back here [Name] and dance with me!"

Kuroo pulls you against him and dances along to the sound of your co-worker's singing. You'd snort and laugh at him. He doesn't let you go even at the end of the song, he keeps dancing with you.

"Okay big guy, that's enough"

"You have nice eyes, [Name]"

He slurred and you raised a brow. You chuckled and shook your head, thinking it was just Kuroo being drunk.

"You have the prettiest smile too and the cutest laugh. I just wanna pinch your cheeks and kiss you right on the mouth"

This time you freeze and gaze at him wide-eyed. It may seem that Kuroo was beyond wasted with his drunken smiles and giggles. But you know what they say, a drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts.

"...Really?"

"Uh-huh. You put on the ugliest outfits but still look sexy anyway. You drive me crazy, [Name]"

Your heart skips a beat as heat blooms on your cheeks. While your co-workers were still partying, you took the responsibility to bring Kuroo home since he was too intoxicated. Kuroo wakes up on your couch, shirtless with a horrible hungover.

"Here drink some water and take these"

You were suddenly there to hand him some water and pills. Kuroo takes them graciously. You called him over for breakfast as he tried to recollect everything from last night. When he fails to remember what happened after drinking god knows how much alcohol, you'd laugh at him.

"I did something stupid, didn't I?"

"I got a video of it, don't worry"

"Anything else? I didn't throw up on you or something?"

"Not really but you said some interesting things"

And when you told him about everything he told you last night, Kuroo was mortified. His blood was cold but his face was hotter than summer. He watched in pure embarrassment as you sent him a teasing smirk.

"I didn't know you thought of me that way, Tetsu"

"I-I didn't me-mean it, I swear!"

"Aw, that makes me sad"

"God, [Name]"

Kuroo ran a hand up his face to his hair and tugged the roots. He swallows and sighs.

"Fine, I did mean what I said to you last night"

Suddenly, you're speechless. He leans forward, finding the courage to elaborate his feelings to you.

"You always run through my mind, I love the smell of your hair, the sound of your laughter, the way your eyes crinkle when you smile, and I just..."

Kuroo pauses to catch his breath. You look like you were holding yours as you were waiting for him to finish. He offers you a sheepish smile.

"In summary, I'm in love with you"

It happened in a blink of an eye, you threw yourself unto him and crashed your lips against his. Kuroo can feel his heart go to a screeching halt. But as his eyes fluttered close and his hands found their place around your waist, he returned the kiss like it was the most natural thing in the world. The moment one of you pulled away, it seemed like the world had stopped.

"God, Tetsu. Here I thought I was an idiot for having a crush on you"

"Well, you still are"

You rolled your eyes and smacked him on the arm as he laughed. Kuroo kissed your cheek and smiled.

"But you're my idiot"

"Shut up and kiss me more"

— ♬ Bokuro Kotaro

Bokuto was naturally a free-spirited man who easily drew people into him and is easily drawn to people. It's mainly the reason why he has gained many friends and acquaintances. Bokuto was also easily intrigued by anything, especially if it was shrouded by mystery that aroused his curiosity. So, it was no surprise when he developed a fascination with you.

In summary, you were working as the MSBY Black Jackal's PR. You were reserved, professional, and oozing with confidence. You quickly gained the respect of both the athletes and your co-workers. Your first encounter with Bokuto wasn't anything spectacular, in fact, the spiker wished he had forgotten about it because it was embarrassing.

He has done something stupid that caused chaos on the internet and local sports outlets. It affected his image and reputation as a promising professional volleyball player, including his team. And as PR, you were tasked to handle it. It was decided that he should make an official statement to clear his and the team's name, so you created a list of do's and don'ts for the athlete's guidelines in formulating his statement and giving him the freedom to construct it.

You discussed with him the guidelines and Bokuto, eager to impress you, nods his head like an excited toddler. He knows he should've listened because all of the guidelines you told him were important yet it flew over his head. Bokuto was distracted by you the entire time you were explaining everything. He watched you like a fascinated owl, taking in your features. From the scent of your hair to your minuscule habits. He imprints your face in his head instead of the guidelines.

Fueled by the rapid beating of his passionate heart, Bokuto goes to make his statement. And it was a nightmare for you working as PR, the only thing that salvaged everything was how charmingly hilarious Bokuto was. It was a headache watching him say inappropriate and unnecessary sentences while live on television. You even considered resigning. However, after the ordeal, Bokuto comes up to you like an energized kid with shining eyes.

"How was it?"

Now, you were blunt. You made no room for sugarcoating your opinions. Yet the way Bokuto waited for your response made you bite your tongue. You sighed and merely gave him a thumbs up. He cheers.

Thinking back at it, Bokuto realizes how dumb he was. But hey, at least he still has his career and survived being canceled on the internet. Everyone was aware of how Bokuto was trying to befriend you, they didn't think much of it because the spiker always wanted to become everyone's friend. Somehow, he couldn't get close to you, or rather, you refused to let him near. It was odd considering that even Bokuto managed to be friends with Sakusa Kiyoomi.

"[Name] probably thinks you're annoying"

Sakusa said one time and it made his hair deflate. He didn't mean to come off as annoying so he tried a much tone-down approach. Bokuto would briefly form conversations with you during breaks, it was mostly about ordinary things like the weather or what you had for lunch. He thinks you're slowly warming up to him by being the first to initiate the conversations. Bokuto's heart flutters at you sharing your interests with him.

He knows things are taking a drastic turn when he finds himself sleepless at night. It was important for an athlete like him to have a good amount of sleep yet he failed to shut his eyes and fall into slumber. Bokuto's head was filled with impossible scenarios, romantic scenarios involving you and him. Bokuto would reach to brush your hair behind your ear, you'll wipe the rice off his cheek, you'll hold his hand, and he'll spin you around. Bokuto's eyes shoot open at the sound of his alarm, he checks the time and realizes he's thirty minutes late.

"Shit! I'm gonna be late for the practice match!"

He thankfully arrives just in time to stretch and play the match. While everyone was making fun of him for forgetting to put his hair up in his usual hairdo, you were giving him concerned glances. This was the fifth time he was late, and his performance on the court was less energetic, and he seemed sluggish too after practice.

"Bokuto"

You called out during the water break. Bokuto flinches but faces you with a bright smile.

"Hey hey hey [Name]! What's up?"

"...Are you okay?"

"Of course! Why wouldn't I be?"

"You seem...tired. Have you gotten enough sleep?"

You watched as he let out a nervous chuckle and it was enough to answer your question. You sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You should prioritize your sleeping schedule because it's affecting your plays. I know I am not your manager in the team but it could seriously affect your image during official matches"

"Right, yeah. Sorry, I'll work on it! I don't wanna put any burden on you as our PR"

"Bokuto..."

This time you look him right in the eye and Bokuto's heart skips several beats.

"I don't care about you putting a burden on me, I have handled much worse than you"

You tilt your head towards Atsumu and Sakusa, Bokuto has to hold back a laugh at that. You suppress a smile.

"I care about your well-being and health because you're my..."

You paused, casting your gaze away. If Bokuto's hair was styled up it would start to deflate right now.

"Because you're my friend"

You finished with a hint of pink on your cheeks. Bokuto holds back the urge to clutch his chest at the rare display of cuteness from your usual stoic face. What you said both gave Bokuto a sense of hope and despair. It meant that there was a possibility you could view him as more than a friend or a friend only.

He's been overthinking about it since then, resulting in losing more sleep. Bokuto didn't want to disappoint you but damn it these feelings are getting really complicated! He figured he had to let it off his chest someday or he was just going to continue suffering by carrying these unspoken feelings.

Bokuto tries to ask you if you want to go out and see a movie. The first time, you decline. But he doesn't lose hope. He asks again if you want to go party with him at a club with the team, and you are quick to say no. Well, third time's a charm.

"[Name], would you like to grab dinner with me tomorrow?"

"No, I'm sorry but I have something planned for tomorrow evening already"

Ouch

Bokuto brings a fist to his chest and falls down to his knees in a dramatic display, having to be rejected for the third time. You might as well have stabbed him right in the chest. All of a sudden, you extended him a small envelope. He gives you a puzzled look. He takes it and it was an invitation to your friend's birthday party, his eyes went wide at the bold and italic instruction that one must bring a date.

"Huh?"

"See, I can't grab dinner with you tomorrow, I need a date for my friend's birthday party. I'm wondering if you're willing to be my date"

"Yes!"

The spiker grins at you and raises his fists up in victory in a ridiculous manner. You chuckled and shook your head. Bokuto literally pleaded with his friends (a.k.a. the entire team) to help him get ready for your date with him tomorrow. Bless them because they had his back from his outfit to styling his hair.

Bokuto arrived at your place to pick you up and my god did he almost fainted at how gorgeous you looked that evening. When you linked your arm with his on the way to the venue, he felt like tearing up. But he keeps it together. Everyone at the party complimented his looks, the way his hair was swept back to show his handsome face, and his tasteful choice of clothing. He thinks the night was going well. After your friend blows their candles, the party resumes.

There was lively music, and people scattered around either dancing or talking. But you and Bokuto were stuck in your own world, sipping champagne and exchanging hushed jokes. When a soft melody begins, Bokuto holds his breath and says a silent prayer.

"Would you like to dance with me, [Name]?"

He asks while extending his hand out. You take it with a nod and he feels like his body is floating. Everyone was waltzing with their partner and when Bokuto placed his hands around your waist he froze. Panic is visible on his face.

"What's wrong, Bokuto?"

"I don't know how to waltz"

"Oh, then let me teach you"

Bokuto's heart melted. There was trial and error. Bokuto keeps stepping on your foot while making an absolute fool of himself and earning a few amused giggles from other people. You only smiled patiently at him as he found the perfect rhythm.

"Holy shit, I did it!"

"Congrats, you're a quick learner"

The spiker smiled proudly at himself and you couldn't help but laugh. As the gentle music continued while you two waltzed on the dancefloor, Bokuto gulped. This was his chance! His chance to tell you how he feels. However, you opened your mouth first.

"Bokuto, do you have feelings for me?"

Crunch!!!

You winced as your face displayed pain when Bokuto stepped on your foot, rather painfully. You both pulled away. He becomes frantic as he apologizes profusely, ruining the moment between you two. Great, he fucked it up. He couldn't meet you in the eye.

"Bokuto"

He looks down at his feet, his face featuring an embarrassed flush. You sighed.

"Bokuto, look at me"

He continues to behave like an embarrassed child. You grabbed his broad shoulders and forced him to look at you.

"Kotaro"

Your eyes met his and his chest tightened at the way you finally said his first name. You were giving him a soft look, silently assuring him that everything was fine. Bokuto draws in a sharp inhale.

"I'm in love with you, [Name]"

A lot of people turned their heads at the loud proclamation. Your eyes went wide and your face heats up at the sincerity of his tone.

"I've been in love with you since the day I met you. You're just so interesting and I've been thinking about you so much that I couldn't sleep properly"

Bokuto confessed. A few people gasped, it seemed like the music was fading away too. The blush on your face intensified as you watched him rigidly.

"I want to touch you, hold you, and kiss you. I want to be the one that makes you smile and laugh. I want to spend the rest of my days with you if you'll allow me"

There was a collective sound of 'aww's from the moved audience watching the spectacle. You open your mouth to say something but Bokuto keeps going.

"I want to buy a house with you, pay taxes with you, and grow old with you. I...I want to marry you!"

In a flash, Bokuto gets on one knee making everyone gasp as if he's going to pull out a tiny box with a shiny ring. You frantically wave your hands around.

"Wait, stop! This is going too fast! I'm pretty sure you don't have a ring right now, Kotaro"

"Oh, shit, you're right"

Bokuto stands back up on his feet. You quietly went over to him and grabbed his large hands. The weight of the people's anticipating eyes goes unbothered to you.

"I suppose you have beat me, I meant to confess to you first. I'm in love with you too, Kotaro"

And the crowd goes wild. Bokuto lets out a scream and picks you up in his arms spinning you around like he'd imagine. The cheering goes deaf in his ears as he focuses on the sound of your laughter. It fills him with absolute happiness as nothing could compare to the joy of knowing you're in love with him too.

Although it seemed like a win for him, it ended up being a workload for you as PR because someone filmed the entire scene and posted it on social media as it went trending. Now everyone was dying to know who was the person that Bokuto Kotaro ended up offering his heart to.

— ♬ Oikawa Tooru

Contrary to popular belief, Oikawa had no luck when it came to romance. Sure, he had gorgeous looks, a hot bod, a charming personality, and a heart of gold. But he had no one to willingly lend his heart to. He had relationships in the past, all resulting in failure. But then he didn't mind, he didn't mind if he had no one to hold or share his secrets with. The Oikawa then wouldn't have cared if he didn't have someone to kiss. However now, he's growing conscious.

Oikawa was no stranger to being a heartthrob. He was used to being surrounded by people thirsting for his attention. Sometimes he reveled in it. But he thought how nice it was to have someone in the crowd to lock eyes with and smile because they saw him as who he really was. Perhaps, he's been consuming too much romantic media lately.

The setter is a hopeless romantic who believes in true love even though he hasn't technically encountered it yet. But he wishes to. Oikawa was growing tired of the media portraying him as a cool and super-talented athlete. He's just a stupid guy who's a volleyball nerd and obsessed with astrology. He's not out at night hooking up with someone, he watches Ghibli movies and listens to popular love songs. Oikawa was just an ordinary guy who wanted to be loved for who he truly was.

When he arrived back in Japan to have a vacation and reunited with his best friend, Oikawa wasn't expecting anything to happen. He thinks this is just another long vacation and after that, he'll return to Argentina and be back to the pathetically single moron that he is. And then he met you. Iwaizumi's roommate. Previously when he returned to Japan, Iwaizumi lived alone in his apartment, so he was surprised to see you answer the door instead of his childhood best friend.

"Woah, you're not Hajime"

You said and gave him a glance from head to toe. Oikawa stood stiffly with an awkward smile, hugging all his luggage. You raised a brow.

"You friends with Hajime?"

"Yes, I'm his childhood best friend"

Judging from the way you called his best friend by his first name, he thought you two were close. You furrowed your eyebrows and suddenly snapped your fingers.

"Oh, you! Heard a lot about you from my roommate, you're Oikawa right?"

"Yep"

"Cool, come in! Hajime was out doing some errands"

You smiled and opened the door wider to let him in. The apartment was livelier compared to the last time he visited. There were plants and aesthetic decorations that filled the spaces. Oikawa settled his things down by the living room and took a seat. You were only wearing a pair of shorts and an oversized shirt as you walked to the kitchen.

"You hungry, bud?"

"Oh, no thank you"

"Good, I don't know what to feed you. Hajime does the cooking around here"

You laughed and the setter found himself chuckling. Your demeanor was welcoming and interesting. Oikawa watched you walk around the place tidying up, seemingly to make everything more presentable. Oikawa decides he wants to get to know you more.

"The last time I visited, Iwa-chan didn't have a roommate"

"Really? Well, I kind of begged him to let me stay here since my last place was shitty"

"So, how long have you known him?"

"Long enough to know he's obsessed with Godzilla"

You and Oikawa shared a laugh. You settled in the living room, plopping on the beanbag across from the setter, and chatted. Somewhat having a playful interview and getting to know each other. The way you matched Oikawa's personality impressed him greatly. Why the hell has Iwaizumi not introduced you to him yet?

You were a breath of fresh air. You talked to him without regard for his popularity, hell, he thinks you don't have a clue he's a famous athlete. Maybe you didn't give a shit, either way, he was glad. Both of you found a lot of common interests like volleyball and astrology. Oikawa for the first time felt like someone had finally glanced at his true self.

By the time Iwaizumi arrived at the apartment, you and Oikawa were blasting Taylor Swift in the speakers and talking about zodiac signs while sprawled out on the floor. There was a mixture of shock and disgust on Iwaizumi's face.

"Hi, Hajime!"

"Hi, Iwa-chan!"

You both greet him enthusiastically. Iwaizumi closed the door and crossed his arms, giving you two an odd look. He pointed at his best friend.

"How long have you been here?"

"Long enough for me to know all of your embarrassing high school moments"

You replied with a mischievous giggle. Oikawa copied you. Iwaizumi mumbled to himself as he entered the kitchen while rubbing his temples. Oikawa was going to stay for a week, occupying the couch to sleep on. But the two of you grew close so quickly and suddenly, that you two would lay your mattress in the living room and have some sort of slumber party every night.

Oikawa expected to catch up with Iwaizumi but instead ended up bonding with his roommate instead. How could he not when you literally matched his energy so well? It was like you were the missing piece of his soul that made him whole. Like the Yin to his Yang, the sun to his moon, or the water to his fire. It seemed like the planets aligned when he met you.

His stay in Japan was unexpectedly filled with new memories with you. The two of you were always out and about either partying or exploring. Iwaizumi witnessed how his best friend slowly carved a special place for you in his life. The man witnessed everything. When you two would get home at five in the morning wasted, later Oikawa would assist you when you're throwing up in the toilet. When you two would get into stupid arguments, mostly Oikawa would get upset and you would be the first to apologize as you two made up. When you and he would blast loud music in the speakers and have a mini concert, Iwaizumi got a complaint from the neighbors.

And most importantly, Iwaizumi witnessed how his best friend was falling in love with you. From the tender stares to the caring gestures, it was no mistaking that Oikawa had feelings for you. Iwaizumi knew the setter well, how he was a romantic but could be devasted and hurt because of it. How he desperately worked himself to the bone to become better. And how he longed to have someone who saw him past the charms.

Oikawa pouted when Iwaizumi forced him to hang out with him and Matsukawa and Hanamaki. The four of them went out for drinks and did some catching up. However, Oikawa was occupied texting on his phone, most likely chatting with you.

"Hey! Iwa-chan give that back!"

The setter whined when Iwaizumi snatched his phone and pocketed it. Matsukawa and Hanamaki laughed at him.

"Are you seriously talking to [Name] right now?"

"Huh? How did you know?"

"Iwaizumi filled us up with your unfolding romance with them"

Hanamaki replied. Oikawa glared at him and blushed, Iwaizumi and Matsukawa shared amused laughs.

"Just admit it Shittykawa, you're in love with [Name]"

"I am not!"

The way the setter immediately denied provided a great amount of proof. Oikawa loved to deny the truth, especially how painful it was. He denied how he wasn't naturally born with talent, he denied the fact he hasn't gone once to Nationals, and he denied how he was harboring strong feelings for you.

Because the truth was he was petrified. Now, that he found someone who can make his heart beat so fast, he doesn't want to fuck it up. Oikawa doesn't want to fuck up the friendship he had with you. Oikawa was sure you only saw him as a friend and only held platonic feelings for him. He thinks confessing to you would just fuck up everything, so it was better to stay as friends than ruin what he had with you.

"Just confess, you idiot"

"I can't, Mattsun!"

"Why? Are you scared?"

"...Yes"

Oikawa exhales. His friends shared a look. He was about to leave Japan tomorrow. He won't be seeing you again for god knows how long. His heart aches at the thought of being so far away from what he deemed as his soulmate. He felt so stupid for falling so easily. Curse his stupid heart and stupid feelings.

"Oi, you're not stupid for falling in love, okay?"

Iwaizumi reassured him. Oikawa gives him a grateful smile and gulps down his beer.

"I know. It's just never met someone who made me feel so complete and I would hate to ruin everything because I admitted what I feel"

"That's love, dude. You get happy and hurt at the same time"

Hanamaki said. Matsukawa gives him a pat on the back as he tries not to get teary-eyed.

"I shouldn't have returned here"

"Hey, cut that out. How else you would've met [Name]?"

"Yeah. Just tell [Name] how you feel and if all goes to shit, you'll still have us"

"No homo tho"

Everyone shared a lighthearted laugh. Oikawa has really been counting his blessings but meeting you was the greatest blessing of all. As he finishes another glass of beer, Oikawa takes a confident stand.

"Okay! I'll tell them how I feel!"

All of his friends cheered and patted him on the back. Oikawa thinks it will be fine, even if he'll inevitably end up sobbing like an ugly baby on his flight tomorrow back to Argentina. As he returns back at the apartment, he sees you scrolling on your phone. When you see him enter, a warm smile spreads on your lips and it makes his knees weak.

"Hey, Tooru"

"[Name], can I tell you something?"

"Sure! I got something to tell you too"

"Oh, you go first!"

Oikawa insisted. He was nervous as fuck, he needed spare time to prepare how to spill his feelings for you. But you shook your head and laughed.

"Nah, you can go first"

Shit

"No, I insist"

"Come on, Tooru. I don't mind"

"No, you go first"

"No"

"Yes"

"No!"

"Ugh! Fine!"

You raise a brow as he runs his hands down his face with a frustrated groan. Oikawa looks you in the eye, his eyes growing wet the longer he stares.

"I've been thinking this through and...fuck! I can't do it!"

The setter turns away and collapses on the couch. You give him a concerned look and join him on the couch.

"Hey, you know you can tell me anything?"

"I'm leaving tomorrow, [Name]"

"I know, it's making me sad as fuck, Tooru"

"I...I don't want to leave"

"But you can't"

"I don't want to leave you"

Oikawa sniffs. You frowned and grabbed his hands, he looked at you. Your gaze meant something deeper, like you were gazing directly at his soul, witnessing his flaws but seeing past them by holding his hands. Oikawa was convinced you have always seen the real him no matter how much he pretended. And he stares back at you like you're the best thing that has ever happened to him in his life. Oikawa inhales.

One, two, three...

"I-"

"I'm in love with you, Tooru"

You blurted out. Oikawa's eyes bulge out of its sockets. His mouth goes agape as his face displays sheer bewilderment. You nervously smiled.

"Sorry, I can't stand seeing you leave without telling you how I feel"

"[Name], what the fuck?"

"I understand if you don't feel the same-"

"I'm fucking in love with you too, [Name]"

Oikawa finally confesses. You gasp in response before letting out a breathless laugh. He doesn't miss the way your eyes became glassy.

"Oh my god, tell me you're kidding!"

"No! Never! [Name], I'm in love with you. I was about to tell you but I got nervous"

"We're fucking idiots"

You said as you both burst out laughing. Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes both from relief and joy. As the laughter subsided, you both gazed softly at each other. This time Oikawa grabs your hands.

"[Name], you have completed me. You see me as who I am and I just want to be on your side all the time"

He goes to kiss your knuckles turning your face red. Oikawa sighs as he traces your knuckles with his thumbs.

"But I have to leave you behind, here in Japan. I wouldn't mind if you want to start a long-distance relationship"

"Oh, about that"

"Yeah?"

"Remember when I said I was going to say something to you?"

"Oh, wasn't that the confession?"

"Nope!"

You grinned and went over to your bag and pulled out your passport and a flight ticket. You showed it to Oikawa.

"I'm coming with ya to Argentina!"

"Oh my god!"

Oikawa couldn't control himself as he picked you up in his arms and spun you around the living room. You laughed as he excitedly babbled how he was excited to return back to Argentina with you. Oikawa felt like the luckiest man alive, striking the ultimate jackpot to romance. Because he gets to be with you, who made his heart whole.

©kitasgloves (do not steal or copy)

#— ♬ ©kitasgloves #haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fic #haikyuu fluff #kageyama x reader #kuroo x reader #bokuto x reader #oikawa x reader #Spotify

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 4 months

Text

Yves (yandere oc)

Tw: stalking, infantilization, obsessive behavior, reader cheating on yves hypothetically, gore

enjouy

Yves is a man who knows how to take care of himself well. Adorning expensive scents, maintaining his hygiene, and diligently attending his regular self-pampering saloon, manicure, and facial treatments. His skin is porcelain, supple, and free of any imperfections. His hair is full, lush, shiny, pitch-dark; soft, and smooth.

He is a man who values the importance of physical fitness, strength, and the sculpting of the body, daily exercise in his modest yet sophisticated home gym is a must. Though he also understands the essence of moderation in training, he has a towering stature with a lean, muscular frame; no one in the right state of mind would ever call him frail or weak. But no one would accuse him of taking performance-enhancing drugs either.

His fashion and mannerisms exude class and elegance. His aesthetic and tastes are nothing to scoff at, very few could meet his standards. Even if they could, it would be close to improbability to keep up.

He presents his best image of himself to the world every day without missing a beat. There is no such thing as 'sloppy' in his vocabulary. All things are done with such precision and care, his rouge immaculately lining his sultry lips. A dusting of bronze eyeshadow accentuated his emerald irises and sensual yet steely, calculating gaze. Clad in quality clothes that usually cover him from the neck down, he moves fluidly with them with such grace; as if it was his second skin. Yves dislikes having anything loud and overwhelming on him, his palettes are of black, white, greys, and neutrals. He does not like to stand out. But he will; in a room filled with commoners. As he seems ethereal.

His money matches his spoiled lifestyle. It is unknown what he does for a living, but what he brings in a night, is more than what a normal, middle-class worker earns in a decade. Yves prefers not to discuss about his line of work, however, all you need to know is that he works remotely; and his hours are extremely flexible. There are times, rare, but possible, that he has to physically travel to someplace. He would be away for days and come back as pristine as ever. However, to the trained eye, he comes back exhausted, irritated, and freshly scarred. Perhaps that is why he loves to conceal. He does it so well.

He loves so obsessively, so consumingly; and he hides it well. Yves notices each and every minute detail about you. From the number of breaths you take when you're calm versus in an agitated state, to the fidgeting between your index finger and thumb behind your back. All of it means something, and goodness, does it help to accurately predict your next move.

Without a doubt, he knows you more than anyone. Even yourself. You don't come even close to the knowledge he gathered on you. He would know what you're feeling before you even realize it. The body works faster than the brain, and the mind gives up before the body, as they say. He observes and appreciates what no one sees or deems important. You are under his constant scrutiny with or without your awareness. Yves knows what you like, he knows what you hate. He knows what you will like; he knows what you will hate; and he is never wrong. Not ever.

Drives upon digital drives of data are stored within his office, graphical statistics, images, annotations, hypotheses, diagrams, conclusions, and many more, of one study subject: You. Not all of them were stored in hardware. Yves has a library, bookshelves upon bookshelves of research-level papers in monstrously thick paper binders with him the sole author. There is a section where his information vault is full of academic papers related to you and your behavior, where he could appropriately draw conclusions and compare his findings with others.

His collection spanned over years, decades, even. He studies you intensively and he enjoys it. He reviews the extensive hoard of dossiers on you to keep his mind sharp, and memory fresh. All while you go on living your life normally, without suspecting something is awry. Everything you do is data. Precious data.

Yves knows what you want at any given moment and your words or awareness aren't necessary.

He orchestrated the ideal meeting sequence. Whether that be a meet-cute at the local cafe, a charming first encounter by picking your fallen papers after you 'accidentally' crashed into him, a flirty exchange that escalated into something more at a lonely bar, having his attractive dating profile appear on your monitor screen, being paired up as a classmate or colleague for a project, being your saving grace from an abusive home or partner, being your "blind" date your friend set you up with, as the religious, alluring man that takes your attention away from the lord at churches, the man who offered his umbrella when you're stuck in the rain, maybe even just starting off with innocent small talk in the elevator that leads to months of brief chatter, but no progress; all of it has one common denominator: it is specially tailored for you and no one else.

And you will inevitably fall for him. Yves knows you but you don't know him. He knows what gets you excited, flustered, giddy, and hot under the collar. Most importantly: he is patient. Like a predator stalking its' prey, his patience knows no bounds. He will not slip up and make a silly mistake because he wants you so badly. He absolutely does, but he is a man of discipline. Yves achieved full control over himself, and that is what made him so menacing. No human has ever done so except him.

Perhaps, you might be suspicious of him. You're pleasantly surprised when he dims the lights that have been irritating you for a while without you saying anything. Then, it happens again; Yves hands you a refreshing bottle of your favorite drink as you're starting to feel thirsty and lethargic. And again; he politely dismissed your friends when you're silently starting to feel sick of socially interacting with others. And again; You're cranky because you received an itchy or painful rash, maybe you live near stagnant water, and mosquitos are common. Yves would almost instantly relieve that by wordlessly applying a special ointment on your skin. He knows what to do.

And again; You're craving seafood, maybe. Then, tonight's date is at an exquisite restaurant that serves only the finest salmon, crabs, lobsters, and whatever else you might want. Lucky guess? And again; he toggles the control panel for the air conditioning unit to cool the room further. You then just realized you're starting to feel a bit too warm for comfort, but you haven't even broken a sweat yet, how did he know? This cannot be a coincidence.

It's delightful, not needing to ask. Not needing to demand or beg someone to make your life easier for you. Having a second 'you' doing the things necessary to keep you comfortable and happy. Having someone to read your mind.

But, then again. Someone is reading your mind. It can make one feel naked and vulnerable. As if, you can't even have the privacy of your own thoughts anymore. All that is visible and invisible is broadcast for everyone to witness. If you're the type to overthink, this could induce some sort of paranoia.

Bold of you to assume that Yves hasn't accounted for that yet.

If his calm, no-nonsense demeanor, reassuring smile, and gentle gaze aren't enough to lull you into a false sense of security; maybe his quiet, baritone, seductive voice with a charismatic coupling of a posh European accent would do the trick? It is quite possible that still wouldn't be able to soothe your nerves. No matter what, Yves always has something under his sleeve to overcome every obstacle in his way.

His body language is outstandingly alluring. He utilizes his looks and his hair, you might catch him leaning forward and playfully twirling a lock of his hair around his slender fingers. He appears to be tremendously interested in you and enamored by you. If that is what you like. Otherwise, he would keep his composure. Have a faint smile on his lips as his eyes are trained on you. Nodding at appropriate times.

Yves has exemplary table manners and etiquette, and his posture is confident and tall. He prefers to listen; of course, he does, as he rests his hands on his knee; his legs are delicately crossed and still. Best be careful of what you say and when you say it; And how you say it. He always remembers.

Yves takes care of you much, much more than he takes care of himself. He is already a marvelous chef with indeterminate years of experience but for certain, more than a decade. Cooking healthy and delicious meals for you and himself. He actually prefers to cook instead of going out, he knows your portions and the nutrients your body truly needs to feel satiated. He knows how you like your eggs done or if you even like eggs at all. He is an expert in making dishes tasty and simultaneously fitting your dietary needs and, or restrictions.

It's only fitting that he lives in a richer neighborhood. However, he isn't swayed by flashy displays of wealth in the form of purchasing mansions, luxury cars, and yachts. Yves owns a modest two-story house with a modern finish. As modest as a billionaire could be. However, it is small enough for Yves to be successful in maintaining the cleanliness and the state of the building himself. He has no hired help, unlike his neighbors. He is responsible for scrubbing the entire house from top to bottom every week. He is responsible for keeping his lawn trimmed and even. All of that, he still has ample time to accompany you everywhere you want him to be, keep up with his self-grooming rituals, and conduct his extensive research. It's almost as if Yves has 72 hours a day instead of the regular 24.

His humble abode follows a modern gothic aesthetic. Dark yet soothing. Unfortunately, he has a very strict set of rules as to how his home should appear to him, you, and others. Fussy about the choice of curtains, floorings, flooring, bathroom towels, and even the cutlery available in the kitchen; he would politely express his displeasure if you were to tamper with anything without his approval. However, he will provide a large room for you to express yourself, Yves will be more than happy to provide whatever you require to make your designated room purely yours.

Although he finds delight in serving your (almost) every verbal or silent request, he isn't spineless. Disrespect and rudeness are unacceptable, he will not entertain you if you're treating him as subhuman. Yves made sure you understand that he is deserving of esteem and dignity as well. He does that by calmly but firmly explaining that he does indeed love you and would do anything to make you happy. But he will not accept unnecessary callousness from you. Hence, it is not at all advisable to take your frustrations out on him.

"I understand you're upset that this happened. I have your best interests at heart, I have been nothing but compassionate to you. Please, do not act cruel towards me." That is what he would have said in such events. His scolding glare, stern body language, and muted yet assertive tone are usually enough to snap anyone out of their anger, retract their hurtful words, and hang their head in shame as they mutter an apology.

Yves will relax, soften his gaze, and fully demonstrate his appreciation for your remorse. The reward for your desired behavior is dependent on your files. It could be as simple as a forehead kiss, or it could be a platter of intricately cut fruits. Regardless, his main priority will always be solving your problems and making you the happiest version of yourself.

Perhaps, to a select few, you're undeterred by him calling you out. Maybe you would amp up your mistreatment towards him. No matter, he knows what to do. He is the master of bending reality by meticulously carrying out his convoluted plans. He could orchestrate the perfect circumstance without you ever suspecting he has any involvement in it, and it will influence you to change your ways, to be kinder towards him. Rest assured, he will never mirror your actions, as he believes it's unnecessary and horrible to treat the love of his life that way.

You could have tried to beat him into a pulp out of the blue and he would have never thought of doing that back. Of course, he will appropriately defend himself and obviously, you will not listen to reason. So he stays eerily silent as he blocks all your hits or restrain your wrists enough to protect himself, but not enough to hurt you. Or he simply walks away. Again, depending on the situation and your personality. Are you going to cause yourself harm? Or will your tantrum stop when he pays no mind and it's all for show?

Could it be that you're having a meltdown out of overwhelm instead? Quite unlikely, Yves would have swiftly eliminated all the factors that can cause a mental or physical overload before it happens. Nonetheless, Yves is not an omnipotent, omnipresent god (but he is close to being one) and you, as a human, are facing constant changes. That is why he has to update his database often for any new observations and review past records regularly.

On the topic of keeping records, his collection indeed includes your medical history. Even that unknown to the hospitals. The number of scrapes and cuts you have gotten, even paper cuts, the time and date you received that minor injury, and how long it takes to heal. Your genome sequence and many reports on your probability of developing certain diseases. Your dental records, your blood work archives, any and every radiological image taken of your being, your prescription details, vaccination history or lack thereof, and many more.

Yves could recite the values on a blood test you took a decade ago by heart. He would accurately and nonchalantly describe the figures on that sheet of paper. As if he was reciting the alphabet.

He will undeniably be the first person to notice that you're falling ill or close to catching a cold. You might think he has a 6th sense that detects your sickness before any symptoms start to arise. But his sharp eyes, nose, ears, and mind already picked up on all the signs that doctors will miss.

You could be his little prince or princess while you're unwell. He would be at your beck and call with no complaints. Yves would fix up a hearty meal, spoon-feed you, and stay up all night comforting you to sleep. He has no problem if you get any mucus, vomit, or other bodily fluids on him. He will settle your situation first, valuing your dignity and feelings of utmost importance before cleaning himself up.

Or, maybe you feel pathetic. Maybe you would very much prefer to continue working or studying and going about with your day. You don't like the feeling of being pitied or pampered just because you're sick. You don't like having your autonomy taken over just because you're temporarily weakened; or permanently disabled. Yves understands that.

Yves allows you to have your cake and eat it too. You may think that he's not watching or caring because he isn't around you. But he always is; and to a certain degree, you knew that. He made sure of it. Yves is always a couple seconds away from helping you. Though, you wouldn't know that a lot of the time, you're living a lie.

The thesis that you're slaving over for months despite your chronic illnesses, sacrificing a few years off your lifespan, you got an outstanding award for it. But your actual thesis is in Yves library; it was abysmal. You would have definitely failed if he hadn't intercepted the network and swapped the file with a wonderfully written one instead. Written by the man himself after he spent as much time studying about your course as you in secret.

It's a miracle you passed your final exams even though all you did in the past month was break down into a messy puddle of tears. Nothing a bit of hush money between your lecturer and your significant other couldn't fix.

The balance sheet that you're supposed to submit to your higher-ups. That would have landed you in jail at worst and fired at best. You did it while you were severely sleep deprived and the numbers were all wrong and there were many missing figures that Yves had to locate. If you pay attention, the red pens in his pencil holder are almost out of ink.

You would have poisoned your customers if he didn't buy the entire ruined batch of bread from your bakery. All this while, you thought Yves was an event manager who chose your business as catering.

You would have killed hundreds of passengers if he didn't sneak into the hangar and tightened that one bolt you missed. Either due to carelessness or otherwise.

He does a very convincing job impersonating a respected doctor at the hospital you work in. He forged the signature as an imposter, legally implying that "he" was the one who administered 100 times the appropriate dosage of insulin. You, as a nurse, mistook 1 unit of insulin for 1 ml. The doctor takes the fall and you get off scot-free. Maybe a bit shaken because you know the truth. At least you will be a lot more careful next time.

You're lucky he is also an expert in all things coding. Yves needs a glasses prescription change after staring at his computer monitor for so long to wipe out the bugs, faulty lines of code, and vulnerabilities. If you were to publish this for the massive corporation that you're working with, lawsuits would come flying right at you like darts.

Yves is constantly cleaning up after you without your awareness. Yet you still get all the praise and recognition for it. He is very content with that.

Yves rarely faces any ailments of his own. As reiterated over and over again, he takes care of himself better than most of the world takes care of their children; and his genes are almost invincible. However, as he is still human (even that may sometimes be debatable), he will succumb to an absurdly powerful virus and develop the flu. But you wouldn't know aside from his increased hand washing and his unusual choice to wear two surgical masks around you. He is still carrying himself with grace, fluidity, and with the energy of a healthy, young man.

If the illness is particularly contagious and he knows that it could put a severe toll on your body if you catch it, he will isolate himself and hire someone competent to take care of you from behind the scenes, out of your sight. He worries for you.

There are very few people whom he would trust. He has no family that you know of, he never speaks about his friends; only his associates. Even if you're the most insecure person in the world, only in Yves will you feel secure. He seems to devote all his time to you and more. He is a self-sufficient man who built everything he has from the ground up. It seems unfair that he knows you like he lived in your body twice, yet his last name is unknown to you. Yves said that he does not own a surname, it's a bit hard to believe him but what else could you do? You're not the one with the magnifying glass, he is.

He is a very private person. He does indulge you with information about himself from time to time. Like how he enjoys caviar on toast points, how he prefers buying high quality bags and clothes with discrete logos from obscure yet lavish designers and companies; he is fond of its' meticulous craftmanship and durability. He plays the grand piano and the harp, as evidenced by the presence of a grand piano and a harp in his designated music room; things that you would expect him to like or dislike based on the stereotypes of rich people.

You already made assumptions that he spoke English and French, based on his name and accent. Which was accurate. What came to you as a surprise is that he also spoken fluent Mandarin and Cantonese over the phone before. You were watching a cooking video one day on your smartphone, there was a voice over in Russian. Yves gently rubbed your shoulder to announce his presence before handing you your glass of water. It was a shock to know that he could translate the whole thing effortlessly to English. He even offered to make the food shown for you.

It puzzled you to no end when you caught him leisurely reading a set of papers printed in Hindi Devanagari. He was sipping on his steaming cup of black tea, not needing an ounce of effort to get through the jargon. He told you that he is reading a published journal article about Ayurvedic medicine.

You asked him what other languages he speaks. "الانتظار لمعرفة." He said with a playful wink, he pushes his reading glasses back up. Yves offered you to sit on his lap while he reads his article. You may or may not have accepted the offer, he is fine either way.

He is prone to touching you. Nothing malicious in nature, Yves would always have an arm around your waist, a hand on your shoulder, locking his large, warm and soft hands with yours, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, running your fingers through your locks if you have any, hooking his pinkie fingers with yours and many more. He knows your limits and backs off accordingly, he noted when is the best time and circumstance to give you physical affection if you're the type to like the surprise.

Otherwise, he would whisper if he could give you a kiss on the cheek, forehead and the lips, or a hug. Asking for permission not too frequently and at the appropriate time. You can feel his love is lingering and undying whenever he holds you close to his chest.

Yves doesn't believe in keeping you all to himself, locking you up in a glided cage and clipping your wings. Because your happiness and health is his main priority in life and he is intelligent enough to understand that you need others to fill in roles that he may not be able to fill. Yes, you're allowed to have friends. Yes, you should visit your family, he will come with. Yes, the ones that you love aside from him are welcome into his home. Within limits.

He is, in most aspects of his life: polite, but distant to your friends and family. Yves has a separate database for all of them them somewhere in his shelves for security reasons- to keep them in check and nip any threat at the bud, but they're plainly not as vast as yours. You better hope none of them annoy him, he has access to their private messages, call logs and emails. To his disgust, a lot of them has their own infidelities to hide.

If you have decent parents who were there for most of your life, you would be astonished to see Yves speaking to them so warmly. As if he cares about their existence. His eyes pupils will be dilated as he takes in as much information as possible. It's unnerving, even you had the vibe that this relationship between him and your parents is that of researchers and lab rats.

Yves recognizes that your parents or guardians are a treasure trove of information revolving around you. Now, he understands that their memories of you may not be the most reliable, but the data is still as precious. The knowledge that your friends have of you is useless, as Yves already possesses a more accurate and objective version of it. But information from the people who raised you or taught you (I.e., teachers), he may not have them in his logs yet.

What did you like as a child? What were you like as a child? Any strange fixations you had that could better explain some of your behaviors and preferences now? Any verbal tics? If so, when did it occur? What were your "bad behaviors" and were they a reaction to unpleasant stimuli? What did you tell them about your schooling life? How much did you tell them about your life? What were the values passed down from their generation to yours? When you were a toddler, did they notice what made you cry the most? Who made you cry the most? What media did you consume, cartoons? Live action? Specifically, which ones? How did you punish bad behavior, any lasting effect on your innate reflexes? Any repetitive habits? Where did you look when spoken to, straight into the eyes, away from the eyes, downcast, or past the speaker entirely? Did you prefer your nails long or cut? Did you fit in? Did you enjoy playing 'house' with the other children? Or did you prefer to play alone? The list is not exhaustive.

The barrage of questions was carefully worded and strategically sprinkled into the conversation. His social intellect is unmatched, he could easily obtain the necessary voice recordings in three meetings without your parents feeling overwhelmed or perturbed. With his unbelievable charm, your parents instantly fell in love with him too, thinking that he's the best fit for an attentive, loving, and dependable partner.

It doesn't matter if your parents were conservatives who may be offended by how he presents himself with modest makeup as an androgynous man. No one can deny that he looks stunning in every angle. He will win them over without compromising on his identity too much. Knowledge is power and Yves is the most powerful one out there.

You might or might not find it strange that he defies the common trope of hating his in-laws. Yves gets along with your parents well, maybe a bit too well. There is an 'off' aura to each interaction; he also makes a beeline to his office when he gets back home, claiming that he was contacted for work.

Obviously, he was transcribing what was recorded and organizing them, to improve his predictive algorithm.

One thing that you may be worried about, would he secretly judge you for liking this one thing, for doing a particular activity your own special way, and disliking something he likes? No. Yves is humble, who is he to pass judgment? He is lucid enough to know that he's not at all normal. Nothing about you irks him, data is data. You may have dated before him. Maybe during with him. But he remains neutral, it just means some hypotheses are either proven or disproven. Does that mean he will not get jealous? No, he can turn into a green-eyed monster of envy. However, he has full control over all aspects of his life, even his feelings. It may not be easy, but he is fully capable.

He does consider cheating as a major betrayal and disrespect, as he ensures that the both of you had the talk, discussing what is considered acceptable and what isn't. But he never let his emotions take him over. Yves remains cold and calculating as ever. Depending on your personality, he could either confront you and come to a compromise- and update your records, or he could simply eradicate the nuisance- and update your records. Yves is a strong believer that your actions were bad, but it does not mean that you are a bad person, And you could grow from it. He words his thoughts very carefully here, guaranteeing that he doesn't label your entire being as evil. Your actions are separate from your inherent value.

Everything he does is according to your nature and what works most effectively. His goal is never to punish you for wrongdoing, it's always to love you unconditionally while advocating for himself.

Even if he has tears rolling down his cheeks upon setting sights on the surveillance camera footage that confirms your adultery.

He would be badly hurt, the pain searing through every unit of life in his body. However, Yves would still love you the same and care for you to the best of his abilities. He just needs you to understand that it is not acceptable.

If it takes brutally dismembering your lover in front of you to teach you that lesson, so be it. Let the filth smear his expensive clothes. Let the blood paint his lips even redder. Let his tears wash the smear of viscera away from his face.

Your screams will be data to him. Your hyperventilation, heart rate, and blood pressure shall be the baseline wherein you're experiencing an extremely traumatic event. It will improve his prediction.

When that's all done and over with, he will assess the situation. Have you learned anything? Do you feel regret or remorse? Will you do it again? Will you break his faith once more by outing his crimes to the public?

Once Yves is satisfied with the outcome, he will give you a tight, comforting hug. Thanking you for enduring that and appreciating your genuine apologies. This is only if he is absolutely sure he achieved what he wanted.

But thankfully, that is unlikely to happen. As you wouldn't cheat, correct? You know better. You know very well that isn't a good idea to cheat on your personal mind reader.

As long as you're kind, in line, and faithful, you will have a wonderful, fulfilling life with Yves. All the ugly, unsightly parts of him will remain hidden in the shadows. He will conceal his eyes, giving you that sense of normalcy in day-to-day life while monitoring your every step and breath. Like a magic trick, the magic lies in not knowing how the trick works.

But unlike knowing the ruses of a magic trick, you will be horrified to learn about Yves's clandestine machinations.

Don't ruin a good thing for yourself.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere concept #x reader #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #tw gore #tw blood #tw yandere #tw infantilization #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #tw reader cheating #oc yves

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galaxygolfergirl · 4 months

Text

Hey there! Long time no see! Here’s some rough hypothetical Frozen III concept art of Helsa!

Now, I can’t predict what they’ll do for the next two movies, nor am I the best digital artist, but I wanted to try my hand at conceptualizing Hans and Elsa’s visual identities for this next chapter in the franchise.

With Elsa, I decided to evolve her travel outfit from the last movie and color her in some darker blues that don’t wash her out like her white dress. I incorporated some of the rosemaling from her coronation outfit and some Northuldra stylings as well into this coat and dress combo not only to honor her roots, but also to reflect her newfound wildness and freedom as protector of Arendelle and the Enchanted Forest. That even though she has these god-like powers bestowed upon her, she's still grounded and she's still human, with newfound determination in her skills.

Hans, on the other hand, has dropped all of his facades. No longer concerned with keeping up appearances, I decided to make him look more disheveled and intimidating than his younger, cleaned up self. I've always been a proponent of the bearded Hans concept, but here I think it fits as he has no incentive to perform anymore. His only motivation is vengeance, whether at Frohana or a different antagonist, an "enemy of my enemy is my friend" situation is anyone's guess. He's colored grey and his intentions are grey, no ornamentation, nothing, only the light blue of his shirt hints at any kind of sympathy or redemption.

I also wanted to show that these two share a lot in common, and I've stated this before: Hans and Elsa are two sides of the same coin. Both were isolated during their childhoods, resulting in years of loneliness, misery, and bitterness; both try to appear poised and reserved, hiding their inner self-loathing; both are intelligent and cunning, both have a definite aggressive streak, and both seem to be be on equal footing with interesting chemistry in their very few scenes together.

Here, they are now wild and unrestrained, the main difference being that one of them succumbed to their worst intentions and desires, while the other freed themselves and learned to embrace love and peace in their life.

I'm working on doing concepts for Anna and Kristoff as well, and I'll do Honeymaren and Ryder as well to round out the party, so stay tuned! Digital art takes a long time! Especially when you're still learning how to do it! 🙃😅

#helsa #frozen #frozen 2 #queen elsa #prince hans #disney #artists on tumblr #digital art #concept art #frozen 3 #frozen 4 #disney frozen #elsa of arendelle #hans

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dyhayc · 2 years

Text

A Polaroid Is Worth A Thousand Words

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader (Fluff, Humour, Smut)

Summary: It’s summer break! You, your boyfriend, and your friends go on a road trip to meet with the Byers in California. Chaos ensues

Word Count: 7.9k

Warnings: Self-esteem issues/previous negative body image, MDNI 18+, explicit consent, protected sex, innocence kink, corruption kink, praise kink, a little dumbification, a little hand kink, a little oral fixation, a hint of temperature play, a hint of a choking kink, fingering, piv penetration, semi-public sex, virgin!reader, blatant misuse of a popsicle

A/N: I was inspired to write this because I had to pack for my vacation to a beach area. I know this is pretty divergent from my regular stuff. I try to write fluff only (and honestly this is my first time writing anything nsfw) but I’ve been thinking about this specific scenario a lot and I had a long plane ride so… yea. The intrusive horny thoughts won today

Also most of this was written pre-part 2 so I’m just gonna ignore cannon lmao. I actually haven’t watched it yet (I made the mistake of opening Tumblr because I forgot it was July 1st and instantly saw a spoiler, so I’m aware of… things). This can be considered an AU because I know that it doesn’t match up with s4 pt2 at all

The last sentence is a gift for all the people who miss Eddie

Light wash or dark wash? A dilemma that has taken twenty precious minutes from your life. Space in your luggage is limited, and you’re too indecisive to make a choice. Which pair of jeans to bring isn’t the first tough fashion decision you’ve had to make tonight. Over half of your closet is scattered around you. Clothes on hangers struggle to grip onto every ledge available in your room.

Typically, you’d pick the most comfortable clothes from your closet and call it a day, but you and Eddie made a deal. He’d told you that if ‘86 was his year, it would be yours too. At first, you pretended not to know what he was talking about, but he’d just raised his eyebrow, and you knew he knew.

High school had caused a lot of insecurities about your body, mainly because of your “friends” who were catty at best and downright rude at worst. Every day, they’d rate each other’s outfits. However, when it came to you, they always commented about your body rather than your clothes. There had never been a day where you’d felt comfortable in your skin. Getting together with Eddie was one of the best things to happen to you. He helped you to gain your confidence back after years of suppression. He’d always gone out of his way to help you; it was how you’d met.

It was dark that night. The grey storm clouds looming over Hawkins threatened to release a torrent of rain at a moment's notice. They’d been around for days, intimidating but never actually storming. Unfortunately, luck was not on your side. The rain was predicted to pour the night of your graduation.

Even though graduating is a momentous occasion, the ceremony was boring beyond belief. The school had been too cheap to rent a venue, so the entire class of ‘85 and the accompanying families were squeezed into the gym. The speeches were shallow, it smelled like homecoming, Tammy Thompson performed a horrendous rendition of your class song, and to top it all off: you didn’t even get your diploma, just the holder. Everyone had to return with an ID the next day to get the real thing.

Afterward, you were dying to get home, but your friends wanted to attend some grad party. And by “grad party,” they meant going to an abandoned barn and getting shitfaced with half the class. Parties had never been your thing, much less one where everyone would be so fucked up. Maybe you were naive and wanted to believe your friends cared about you, but you didn’t expect them to be so upset that you didn’t want to go.

Thinking you would be hanging out with your friends, your family had left. To make matters worse, it was sprinkling meaning the storm had finally started. If you walked home, the rain would only fall harder, meaning you would get soaked. You asked your friends to drop you off at home, but they said, “The only place we’re going is the party. You’re either coming with, or you’re walking.”

You walked.

Down the jagged streets, you trekked for a few blocks. It was miserable. Your heels hurt your feet, but there was no way you’d walk through the muck and debris barefooted. Your robes were massive, inconvenient, and so thin the wind blew right through you. You were right about the rain. Effectively soaked, you were sure you’d be sick the next day. The disappointment got to you. What was supposed to be a happy day felt impossibly terrible. Sniffling, you weren’t sure if the water on your face was tears or raindrops.

A pair of headlights blinded you, so you raised your arm over your eyes to block the brightness. Brakes screech as the vehicle comes to a stop. Lowering your arm, you see the driver’s side window roll down. Inside is someone you never expected: Eddie Munson.

He seems as confused as you but leans out the window to shout over the wind, “Need a ride?” Considering your options, walk home and potentially get frostbite or ride in a van safe from the rain, you chose the van. Thinking back, it was stupid to trust a man in a van offering to drive you home in the middle of the night, but in the moment, the thought that he may be dangerous hadn’t even crossed your mind.

Running across the street, you open the door and put your soaked cap and holder into the van. Thank goodness they hadn’t given you your actual diploma; it would’ve been ruined in the storm. You unzip the gown, shimmy out of the thin, itchy fabric, and then sit in his passenger seat and shut the door. Embarrassed about the massive wet spot you’re going to leave, you mutter shyly, “Sorry about your seats, Eddie.”

You realize too late you’ve used his name, despite never talking to him before, but he didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he was distracted by the beautiful and, quite frankly, fancy dress you wore underneath your gown. So distracted, he took a second too long to respond, “It’s fine. This van has seen worse.” Unsure of what he means, you don’t reply and buckle your seat belt. He continues, “So, where are you headed? The party is the other way, y’know.”

You wrinkle your nose as tears gather in your eyes again. Vigorously shaking your head, you declare, “I wanna go home.” His eyes soften when you tack on a weak “please,” to your request.

He nods, “Of course. Where do you live?” You notice how his tone becomes gentler, his energy lowering to match your mood. He accommodates you effortlessly, but the thought only hurts your heart, knowing your friends would never do that for you. Hearing your address, he pulls a u-turn and drives toward your house.

You’re both silent, but he keeps glancing at you. Finally, he voices the words he’d been holding back, “Are you okay?” There’s hesitance in his voice as if he doesn’t know whether or not the question will break the relatively calm air of the ride. You genuinely consider ignoring him for a moment before deciding that would be incredibly rude.

Fidgeting with your fingers, you attempt to summarize your night, “I just- Well, after graduating, my friends wanted to go to the party, but I didn’t. I don’t know why they got mad. I guess they didn’t want to drive over to my house cause it’s out of the way. I live far from school, so I kinda get it, I guess.” You couldn’t help but make excuses for them. You didn’t know any better.

Though you couldn’t, Eddie recognized how toxic your friends were and pointed it out, “Sounds like you have shitty friends. A real friend would’ve driven you anywhere you wanted.” You stare at your feet. Deep down, you’ve always known your friends weren’t good for you, but they were comfortable, familiar. He just voices the thoughts you’ve been too scared to acknowledge yourself.

Internally, you rewatch every moment they’d treated you poorly, every time they’d disregarded your feelings, every time they’d been… shitty. “You’re right,” you say softly before laughing in disbelief and repeating louder, “you’re right. They are shitty friends. I can’t believe I didn’t know.” Turning to look at him, you smile, “Thank you.”

He seems baffled at your sudden realization, unsure if you’re being serious, but he still smiles back. “Y’know,” he offers, “Since you’re now friendless, you’re gonna need new friends.” Your eyes widen in alarm. How could you forget? Seeing your panic, he quickly adds, “Maybe I could be your friend?”

Insecurities bubble in your chest, and you question, “But what if you don’t like me? Like, when you get to know me?” Right as you voice your concerns, he pulls up to your house. Parking in front of your home, he unbuckles his seatbelt and turns in his seat.

“Why don’t we get to know each other right now? I have nowhere else to be.” Almost six months later, you’d found out that he had somewhere else to be: the party. He was planning on making bank from the drunk graduates who wanted to party hard. The funds he could’ve gotten probably would’ve paid for two or three months’ rent.

You agreed to chat, excited he wanted to talk to you. Both of you had stayed up for hours talking about anything and everything. You’d only left because you got so tired your eyelids wouldn’t stay open. For the next few months, you saw Eddie around a lot. You also met your new best friends, Steve and Robin, during that time. Working at Scoops-Ahoy was a fun, positive experience. It was even more exciting when Eddie would visit you, though Steve and Robin teased you endlessly for it. At least, it was fun until the “mall fire,” when you experienced the horrors of the Upside Down for the first time.

When news spread about the disaster, Eddie spent hours searching for you. When you’d finally been reunited, he’d confessed that the experience made him realize he couldn’t deal with the idea of losing you. At first, you were confused and thought he was trying to break off your friendship, but he realized you didn’t understand and told you point-blank he wanted to be your boyfriend. You were ecstatic and rushed to let your friends know about your new relationship. They had been excited for you, though Robin and Steve told Eddie privately that if he hurt you, he’d be in deep shit.

Your first date had been perfect. He took you to a park for a picnic. His cooking skills were… subpar, but it’s the thought that counts, and he had obviously tried very hard to please you. And, if that wasn’t enough, he gave you a polaroid camera. He said it was because he wanted to capture every beautiful moment with you. Your teasing about his cheesiness was to cover the way your heart swooned at how sweet he was.

Smiling at the memory, you search through your things to get the camera. Finding it in your dresser drawer, you grab a bunch of extra film and some colourful markers to shove in your backpack. Even though you’ve successfully packed a few items, there’s still the wardrobe dilemma left. With a groan, you return to your jeans and begin the internal debate again.

It takes a few hours of sorting and a break to eat dinner, but you’ve finally chosen all the clothes you want to bring. Now, all that’s left is your swimsuits. You grab a one-piece to be conservative, though it’s not your style. Going back in, you pull out a few mismatched high-waisted bottoms and bikini tops. Putting those away, you move to shut your drawer but hesitate.

Last summer, you were heading to work when you saw the cutest bikini set in the window of a store. It had a strawberry print and frilly detailing with ties on the top and bottom to adjust the size. That swimsuit haunted your thoughts your entire shift, so when you headed home for the day, you bought it. You were at the peak of your negative self-image then, so you never wore the bikini out. It was pretty, but it drew attention to insecurities you hadn’t felt comfortable showing in public.

You’re still not sure if you have the confidence to wear it, but your promise to Eddie makes you bring it anyway. If this is supposed to be your year, you want to wear your favourite bikini. And, if you have doubts, you can probably ask Robin what she thinks? She wouldn’t lie to you.

Content with everything in your luggage, you head to bed and mentally prepare to be stuck in a car with Dustin for hours. You love him like a little brother, but he does not do well when he can’t move around.

You slept in a little that morning, getting up at ten. Sitting in a car is oddly tiring, so you’ll definitely need that extra rest. Gathering up your luggage, you move it to your door. Everyone agreed to meet at your house, so you can chill in the kitchen until noon. You know they’re not going to arrive when they said they would.

Though you love him, Eddie is a hot mess who arrives at least fifteen minutes late to every event. He calls it “fashionably late,” and you agree, but for different reasons: he can’t decide what accessories to wear, so he’s never on time. Steve always wakes up late but still insists on doing his perfect hairstyle. Robin is just a disaster who can’t stick to a schedule to save her life. You adore your friends, but you also tell them to come an hour before you expect them to arrive. That way, they’re on time even if they’re running behind (and all of them always are). It doesn’t help that they’re picking up people today, which adds even more time to their arrivals.

It’s 12:26 when you hear Eddie’s favourite band faintly through your walls. Walking to the door to greet him, you lean against the pillar on your porch to watch his van pull up. You can hear Eddie bickering with Lucas and Max from your spot fifteen feet away. The second the van stops, Mike jumps out and walks towards you. “Hey,” you greet, “Fighting already?”

He rolls his eyes and replies ‘yea’ in an annoyed tone but doesn’t elaborate on the issue further. He makes a beeline for your kitchen, leaving you outside alone. Eddie is the next to go, and you watch him slam the car door aggressively before lighting up when he notices you on the porch. He throws his arms up into the air and exclaims, “My angel!” as he comes closer. He moves his outstretched hands to cup your face and whispers, “How did I get so lucky?”

You giggle, flustered, and mumble, “I think I’m the lucky one.”

He shakes his head and responds, “Wrong!” Before you can refute him, he leans in to kiss you. You reciprocate the kiss and wrap your arms around his waist to draw him closer. Both of you are too preoccupied to notice the other two kids, Lucas and Max, getting out of the van too.

Max passes you both without a word, but Lucas wrinkles his nose and makes it a point to comment, “Gross. Get a room,” as he goes into your home.

Eddie pulls away and yells after Lucas, “Be careful what you wish for. She lives here y’know!” Lucas groans, and you can hear him complaining to Mike and Max in your kitchen. You’ve never had sex before, mainly because you wanted to feel more confident in your body before doing something so intimate, but regardless, the threat is meaningless. Though, Lucas doesn’t know that. You laugh at your boyfriend, and he looks at you with his pretty doe eyes, currently filled with mischief, “What?”

Amused, you just shake your head and slip out of his grasp. Walking inside, you remember your luggage and turn around. Moving it all to the doorway, you clasp your hands and give him a little pout, “Will you help me?”

He laughs at your antics and starts grabbing your bags, “You didn’t have to pout to get my help, baby.”

Kissing his cheek, you thank him with a grin. While he’s stuffing your things in the back of his van, Steve pulls up. Robin rolls down the side window when you walk up. You greet them and get a chorus of hellos in return. Leaning your forearms on the car door, you tell Dustin the others are inside, so he runs off to talk to his friends. “Hi, Nance! I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Moving her head so she can see you, she smiles and replies, “Yea, it has been a while.” In high school, you ran in parallel social circles. Occasionally, you’d talk, but it wasn’t typical. After everything that happened with the Upside Down, you got closer. Last night, she’d slept over at Robin’s place, where you would’ve been too if you hadn’t procrastinated on packing.

Robin points out, “You’ll be stuck in a car together for a few hours. There’s plenty of time to catch up.”

Dramatically, you sigh and pout, “I wish you could be with us too, Rob.” Reaching into the car, you rest your hand on her shoulder and give Steve puppy eyes.

He cuts in, unamused, “No. I am not gonna be stuck babysitting again.” He points his finger at you, “If you wanna talk to Robin, you’ll have to sit in my car.”

Though you knew he was gonna say that, you still sigh and pat Robin’s shoulder, “Sorry, best friend.” Moving out of their way, they all get out of Steve’s car and disperse. You watch them go inside as Eddie comes up next to you. Grabbing his hand, you tug him towards your house, “C’mon, we gotta call Ms. Byers.”

When planning your trip, you agreed to call Joyce before you left. She wanted to make sure she’d have space ready for all of you to sleep. You’d tried to tell her you’d get rooms at a motel or hotel, but she’d insisted on letting you stay. She’d said it would be too expensive, and, honestly? She was right.

Everyone is in the kitchen area hanging out and chatting, so you go straight to the phone and call your friends in California. Jonathan picks up the line and slurs, “Uh, hello?” It’s obvious he had been asleep moments before. You tell him it’s you, and he responds, “Are you guys heading out now?”

You’re about to reply when Dustin comes up and asks to say something. You tell him it’s not Will on the phone, but all the teens have crowded around, expecting to speak to him. Relinquishing control, you let them do whatever it is they do. You learned early on that it’s best to just get out of the way.

Checking in with the rest of the group, you offer snacks and water if they forgot to pack anything. Everyone seems to be content with their things, though, so you just get water for yourself and Eddie. You know he’ll forget them if you put them on the counter, so you hand him both bottles. He radiates warmth that draws you in, you can’t resist leaning against his side. Glancing up, you see him softly smiling down at you, so you return it in kind.

Mike hangs up the receiver loudly, getting everyone’s attention. “They know we’re coming,” he announces, “We should leave now.” Desperation bleeds through his voice, obviously eager to get to El. You agree and usher everyone out of your kitchen. Heading out to the cars, the group splits into two. Going with Eddie is you, Dustin, and Nancy. Following Steve is Robin, Mike, Lucas, and Max. Ironically, Steve is taking more people even though he has the smaller car, but it had taken a long fight to get to these positions in the first place.

There had been quite a few rules put in place that limited the placements of people:

1. You’re riding with Eddie (that was non-negotiable)

2. Nancy didn’t want to be in the same car as Mike

3. Dustin insisted he be put with you and Eddie

4. Steve threatened not to come if he was put in a car with only younger teens

5. Lucas and Max requested to sit next to each other

The battle had been brutal, taking over two hours. Luckily, you’d been able to make seating arrangements that pleased everyone. People disperse to their respective rides as you slide into Eddie’s passenger seat, putting your backpack between your feet on the floor. The second he turns on the van, you lower the volume. Dustin leans forward with his walkie in hand, “We’re Eagle One. Steve’s car is Eagle Two.”

“When did we decide that?” you ask, confused.

He responds, “In the kitchen,” before turning on the walkie to talk to the other car, “Eagle Two, this is Eagle One, come in.”

Mike’s filtered voice comes through, sounding agitated, “No way. We’re Eagle One, you’re Eagle Two.”

Recognizing the beginning of a fight, you snatch the walkie out of his hand to break it up, “Dustin used Eagle One first, we call dibs.” You turn down the volume and toss it back to Dustin, who leans back in his seat and listens to what Lucas and Mike are saying.

Eddie glances over and chuckles, “Didn’t expect you to side with Henderson, babe.”

You stick your tongue out at him and jokingly say, “I have to throw him a bone sometimes, Eds.” Dustin exclaims indignantly in the background, but you ignore him. Nancy finally makes her way to the van, so you ask, “Everybody here? Are we ready to go?”

Eddie does a head count, though you only have four people, while Dustin calls over to the other car to check they have all their passengers. Confident you won’t leave anyone behind, Eddie pulls out, and Steve follows. Earlier in the week, your friends gathered any relevant maps they had for the trip. You volunteered to be the navigator, so they were all given to you. The route is pretty simple, though. The hardest part of your trip will be finding places to sleep.

The Hawkins scenery passes by for the first fifteen minutes until you merge onto I-80 West. From there, just follow the highway until you arrive in California. The drive should take about 35 hours, split into three to four days, depending on how much driving is done each day.

Watching grass and trees out your window gets old quickly, so you catch up with Nancy. She rests her elbows on the center console while you’re turned in your seat so you can talk closer together. After a while, you’re both gossiping instead, giggling at stupid rumours about Steve. Eddie seems to enjoy them and says he’ll remember to tease Steve about them later.

Both cars need gas, so you take a pit stop. Hopping out, you walk in circles to stretch your legs. Robin joins you and complains about Steve’s music choices. Teasing her, you laugh, “You’re in the loser car. What did you expect?” She glares and jokingly pushes you out of the way to walk inside the store.

Trailing behind Robin, you beg her to buy you an Icee. To your surprise, she does. You thank her endlessly, excited to drink it. Taking it back to the van, you show the slushie off and tell Eddie that Robin bought it for you. He jokes, “Is Robin your sugar mommy now?”

You stick your Icee-stained tongue out at him, and he takes a picture. You’re thrown off for a moment. You didn’t know he took the polaroid camera out of your bag. Huffing, you set down your Icee and try to steal the photo from his hands. He has much longer arms than you, so it doesn’t work out. Sitting back, you whine, “Why do you even want it, Eddie? I brought my camera to take exciting pictures.”

He laughs at your desperation to get the polaroid back and hits your forehead with it, “Every moment with you is exciting, sweetheart.”

The moment is ruined abruptly. “Why are you two being so lovey-dovey?” Mike questions as he settles in where Nancy had been sitting.

You counter, “Why are you being so dumb?” as you snatch the polaroid from Eddie’s hands. The developed picture turned out surprisingly well, so you decide to keep it.

“You’re not the Wheeler I expected,” Eddie comments dryly, also annoyed at the ruined atmosphere. Mike explains that Nancy asked to switch until the next pit stop; you all leave it at that. The last one to arrive, Dustin hops in with a bag of chips, and you’re on the road again.

Instead of listening to Eddie’s mixtapes, you turn on the radio this time. Flipping through channels, you settle on a random choice. There isn’t much of a selection out in rural Indiana. It gets warm in the car, but the breeze feels fantastic when you lower the windows. You all sit in silence as the smell of dry grass and humidity fills your lungs. The wind is so loud it drowns out the radio, but you don’t mind.

A new song starts, and from what you can hear, it sounds familiar. Turning it up, you realize it’s Mamma Mia, and you crank the volume higher. Laughing in delight, you sing along loudly to the lyrics. To your surprise, Eddie sings too. Dustin says something, but you can’t hear it, and you're definitely not gonna stop singing just to hear his most-likely cynical remark.

He gives up trying to convey what he was saying, instead turning up the volume on the walkie. To your surprise, you can hear Robin and Nancy singing along with you from the other car. The song is over, but everyone’s energy is still high. Rolling up your window, you listen to the group singing along with the radio, occasionally joining in when you recognize a song.

The time passes quickly with the new distraction, and soon enough, you’re at the second pit stop. Steve needed to go to the bathroom, so you found the nearest rest stop. Even though it’s going to be quick, you ask Eddie to photograph you underneath a huge tree. He gets one polaroid before Nancy notices and asks if you want her to take a photo of you both. Posing together, she snaps a picture of you and hands back the camera.

When Steve comes out of the restroom, you get an idea and have Eddie ask a stranger to take a photo of your entire group together. Corralling everyone together is a difficult task, only matched by trying to get them to pose for the camera. The end result is worth it, though, the picture is cute, and everyone looks great.

When you return to the cars, Dustin and Mike switch out for Robin and Nancy. Dustin makes it a point for you to be cautious with his walkie as he passes it, claiming, “with great power comes great responsibility.” You promise him you’ll keep it safe as you take it.

Steve is pissed that he’s “stuck babysitting” even though he threatened to ditch if that happened, but Eddie reminds him he’s too far to go back. Aggravated, Steve hisses at the teens to get in the car as he grumbles under his breath. Part of you feels bad, but another part is happy to finally hang out with Robin.

The ensuing conversation is chaotic. Most of your time is spent arguing about stupid things that don’t matter, but you’re grateful because they fill the time. Robin tried to walkie Steve once, wanting to include him in the conversation, but he was still mad, so he ghosted her.

It’s around 9:30 when you stop at a motel for the night. Anyone who has an income helps to pay for the two rooms. Sorting out luggage, Eddie takes both of yours to the room. You two get a bed, Nancy and Robin get the second, and Steve gets the couch. There’s a line for the shower, so you check up on the younger teens. They’re just watching some stupid horror movie, sprawled out randomly on the two beds. Deciding they’re fine, you tease them, “Don’t get nightmares,” before returning to your room.

The water is freezing, so you shower and brush your teeth quickly. You dress in your typical pajamas, one of Eddie’s t-shirts and a pair of shorts. Your movements are sluggish, the tiredness hitting you suddenly. Reaching your bed, you flop down onto the mattress. Eddie’s the last to shower, so you warn him the water’s cold as he walks away. The alarm clock next to the bed glares 10:13 in bright red lettering.

Huffing, you sit up and crawl under the sheets to try and get comfortable. Steve and Robin are already knocked out, but Nancy is still awake. She has the lamp on as she reads a book, but you’re glad for the light. After everything in Hawkins, you have to admit you’re afraid of the dark.

Eddie finishes his shower fast, dumping his towel in a random spot on the floor. You struggle to keep your eyes open as he lies down on his back next to you. Wiggling around, you find a comfortable position resting your face in the crook of his neck. He smells like the cheap bar soap the motel provides, but you still detect a hint of his usual scent underneath. He kisses the side of your head and mumbles, “Good night, sleepyhead,” into your hair. You fumble some words out that vaguely sound like ‘g’night.’

The following two days go relatively the same. The seating arrangements shuffle around slightly, you drive for about three hours, stop at a rest stop, sight-seeing spot, or gas station, take a few pictures, then repeat. When you get bored, you label and decorate your polaroids. You bought a photo album a few weeks ago to hold all the polaroids from the trip.

On the fourth day, you finally make it to the Byers house. It’s almost three am, so everyone just sleeps and agrees to talk tomorrow. You’re the first to wake up, apart from Joyce. The smell of pancakes leads you to the kitchen, where she’s making breakfast. “Good morning,” you say, rubbing your eyes.

She jumps, not realizing you were there, “Oh! Good morning.” Embarrassed, you apologize before asking if there’s anything you can help with. Food is scattered around the counters, and she appears to be having trouble making a meal for so many people. She motions to a cupboard full of pots and pans, “Can you cook some bacon, please? Thank you so much.”

Together, you make bacon, fried eggs, scrambled eggs, pancakes, Eggo waffles (for El), toast, and apple slices. While cooking, the topic of conversation is grim. You’re both recounting your experiences with the Upside Down and all the other terrible shit that happens in Hawkins. You’re grateful for her insight. She has a lot more experience with murderous monsters than you.

The more people that come in, the more chaotic the kitchen becomes. People snatch items from plates and fight to get food first. You’re surprised, but Joyce looks resigned, like she expected it. When El comes down, you give her the dish of Eggos made specifically for her, and she smiles at you. Observing the scramble for food, you decide to wait until everyone’s done before getting some yourself.

“So, what are you guys planning to do today?” Joyce asks, eating some toast. She has to work since it’s Friday, but tomorrow she’ll be able to hang out with you guys too.

“We’re gonna go to the beach for a few hours,” Jonathan informs her.

Lucas admits he’s never been to the beach before, and Max says, “It’s nothing special. Just sand, water, and trash.” That statement sparks an argument about beaches that you’re desperate to get away from. Pulling Robin out of her chair, you bring her to the spare bedroom where everyone’s luggage is. You pull out the bikini, change into it, and ask her if it’s too much.

She laughs in shock and says, “Too much? It’s perfect. Eddie will love it.” Then, she mischievously nudges your side and adds, “It’s sexy. He’ll love it. If you know what I mean.” She raises her eyebrows to emphasize her point and you push her out the door. Her words still give you confidence, so you put a sundress over your bikini and leave the room.

Once everyone gets dressed, you all head to the beach. For convenience, you park next to each other and open the trunks. Grabbing canopies, towels, bags, and coolers, each person brings something down to the sand. You help Steve set up an umbrella so Robin and Eddie can sit with you.

The sun is burning hot on your back so you peel off the sundress and leave it in your bag. Though you don’t notice, Eddie’s eyes are glued to you. His breath hitches at the view of your ass when you bend down. He’s never seen you wear such a revealing bikini before. The simple sight of your exposed skin makes his heart pound.

Jonathan has a cooler of drinks and popsicles that he’s offering to the kids. You ask for a coconut popsicle, and Lucas tosses one to you. Right after you start to eat it, you realize you left your sunscreen in the van. Letting Robin and Steve know where you’re going, you head towards the parking lot.

Eddie showed you a trick to open his van’s door without the key. There’s a dent in the door that will release the lock if hit hard enough. You’re about to attempt it when two hands rest on your hips. Scared, you jump and whip around, only to find Eddie behind you. He laughs as you angrily glare at him. “Sorry baby,” he says softly, kissing your cheek. His hair tickles your nose and you giggle, accepting his apology.

He holds up his keys and opens the door for you. Or at least, that’s what you assumed he was doing. Instead, he reaches inside, himself, and grabs the camera. You know he’s going to ask for a photo, so you whine, “I need my sunscreen, Eddie!” Still, he smoothly talks his way into just one picture.

Resigned, you pose for the camera, holding your popsicle out in front of you. There’s drops of melted ice cream gathering at the bottom, near your hands, but you wait until the camera clicks to do anything about it. Cupping your tongue, you gather the liquid then lick a long stripe up the entire length of the popsicle.

Eddie groans, “Jesus fucking christ,” before placing his free hand on your chest and pushing until your back hits the van. He crowds your space, hand remaining firm on you. His eyes are hooded as he looks into your wide, confused gaze. You hold your popsicle in front of his face and remind him, “it’s gonna melt.”

He pushes the popsicle away using the hand holding your camera. With the other hand, he can feel your heart racing underneath his palm. Your breath comes out in shaky pants as he slowly inches his hand upwards to rest on your neck. Leaning forward, he whispers in your ear, “God, you have no fuckin’ idea, do you?” An involuntary whine slips out, but it’s quickly silenced by a light squeeze to your neck.

“So innocent you can’t even see that I want you, huh? My sweet angel, so good you can’t recognize you’re being bad.” The way he speaks about you is reverant, like he worships the ground under feet. His big brown eyes shine with love and lust. You stare into them until your lips meet, then your eyelids flutter shut.

The kiss is intense, like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. He takes the lead and you let him, unsure of what to do. The tip of his tongue runs against the seam of your lips and you gasp, unintentionally letting him in. He explores until you have to part to breathe. A string of saliva connects your lips as you both gasp for air. He grabs your free hand and tugs you into the back of the van.

Shutting the door and setting the camera to the side, he grips your hips and pulls you onto his lap, your back fit snugly to his front. You feel his lips kissing the crook of your neck. “Do you want to continue?” The words are spoken into your skin. You nod, but he doesn’t move, “No, use your words. I need to hear it.”

“Yes, I wanna continue,” you speak quickly, adding, “please.” You can feel his smile on your skin, apparently pleased with your words. He presses wet open-mouthed kisses down your neck, starting behind your ear. Sliding his hands up from your hips, he slips them underneath the sides of your bikini cups. He massages your flesh before pinching your nipples. The sudden action makes you jolt. He chuckles at your surprise and moves his hands lower.

Fiddling around with the strings on your bottoms, a harsh tug pulls the ties undone. The light taps on your thigh signal you to lift your hips, and he throws the piece to the side. His right hand splays across your stomach and slowly heads downward. Leading with his middle finger, he continues until his entire hand cups you. His finger swirls around your hole, gathering the wetness there. The movement makes his palm lightly brush against your clit, but any stimulation is enough to send you reeling.

You’ve completely forgotten about your popsicle until he reminds you, “Don’t want it to melt, do you?” Stopping all movement, he waits for you to act. Shakily, you bring it to your lips and take a lick. Pleased, he slides his middle finger inside you with one fluid stroke. Forgetting all about your popsicle again, you let out a loud whine and focus on the feeling of his finger against your walls. He thrusts a few times, before deciding you can handle a second.

He runs the pads of his fingers up and down trying to find the spongy spot that’s guaranteed to make your toes curl. You gasp when his fingers brush against it, so he massages that area, purposefully rubbing the heel of his palm into your clit. You try to breathe, but you can’t. It feels like all the air has left your body, like your lungs have decided to stop working.

The popsicle stick is sliding out of your hand and you don’t even notice it, but Eddie does. Snatching it up with his left hand, he coos, “Do you need help, baby?” Unsure of what he’s gonna do, you nod cautiously. Bringing the popsicle to your lips, he tells you to open up. You obey, and he slowly presses it in until you can feel the freezing tip against the back of your throat. Pulling the popsicle stick back, you whimper at the loss. Confident you can handle it, he pushes it in and out matching the tempo of his hand.

The cold constantly grabs your attention as he thrusts it in all the way, every time. Now in the wet heat of your mouth, the popsicle is melting at an alarming rate. You’re trying to swallow it all, but there’s so much it drips down your chin and spills onto your chest. “So messy,” he teases, but you barely hear him, the pleasure from both ends is entirely too distracting. Attempting to ground yourself, you grip onto his right arm with both hands.

You’re getting close when he pauses to pull the popsicle out of your mouth. There’s only a little left on each side of the stick, so he eats it and throws the wood away. He praises you for being so obedient, “Good girl, you did so well for me.” You clench hard at his words and he mentally notes your response before moving his fingers again. You don’t know how he knows, but he asks, “Does my angel need to cum?”

Nodding, you squeeze your eyes shut, hard. Shaking his head, he continues, “You can, if you ask nicely.”

“Eddie!” you whine when he pushes particularly hard with his palm, “Can I please cum?” He hums in thought, pretending to consider your request. Meanwhile, his fingers are moving even faster than before, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your grip is like iron, now, fingernails digging into his skin.

He concedes, “Well, how can I say no when you ask so nicely? Go ahead.” You see stars behind your closed eyes, leaning your head back onto his shoulder. He presses soothing kisses to your neck and continues his hand motions until you try and squirm away, overstimulated.

You accidentally push back hard against his bulge and you both groan. Helping you off his lap, he gently lays you on your back. Brushing sweat-slicked hair off your forehead, he takes in all the mess on your chest. He licks all the white residue from the popsicle off of you, and you hope silently that he can’t hear your heart pounding hard under his tongue.

“Do you still wanna continue?” he inquires, chin resting on your sternum. You say yes, so he rucks up the top of your bikini. Mischievously, he sucks small marks on the sides of your breasts where the bikini will cover. He notices you watching with impatient eyes and shimmies out of his boxers, sitting on his knees. Lifting up your hips, he rests them over his thighs and gently runs his hands up and down your bare skin.

For a second he appears to be thinking, before he leans over and reaches under one of the seats. You watch, perplexed as he blindly searches, before pulling out a condom. In disbelief, you ask, “Really?”

He shrugs, “You never know when you’re gonna get laid in the back of a van.” You gawk at him, but say nothing more. Watching him put it on is mesmerizing, his hands are so nimble and big. You’re still fascinated as he grips the base of his dick and runs the tip through your folds. “I’m not gonna lie, it might hurt,” he admits, “I’ll go slow, okay?”

You just nod, the anticipation makes you feel afraid to say anything, in fear he’ll turn around and realize this isn’t what he wants. He pushes in entirely in one long movement, kissing your neck because he knows it will help distract you. The stretch burns, you scrunch your eyes at the feeling. Focusing on the crook of your neck, he bites down and sucks to make a mark.

You moan out and clench hard around him. Knowing he’s marking you is so indescribably hot that you can’t control yourself. The rational part of your brain takes over for a few seconds, and you complain, “you’re gonna leave a mark, everyone’s gonna see.”

Eddie laughs, “Well, it feels like you enjoyed it, sweetheart.” Effortlessly, he calls you out on your lie. Flustered, you stutter some lame excuse, but he continues to laugh at you.

Deciding to test the waters, he pulls out partially and pushes back in slowly. When you respond positively, he begins to speed up. The pleasure builds up and you cry out, digging into his shoulders with your nails. “Be a good girl and be quiet for me. Someone might hear you, angel,” he commands, reminding you that you’re in a beach parking lot.

“‘M sorry, I’ll try, promise,” you whimper, wanting to please him. All your energy is dedicated to keeping quiet, but it doesn’t work. With each thrust, you get louder and louder. It’s almost embarrassing how fast your second orgasm builds up, but he just feels so good.

His knuckles brush against your cheek as he coos, “Do you need more help?” You make a noise of agreement, so he slides two fingers into your mouth. They taste slightly like you. Moaning around them, you suck, which makes him groan. He rolls his hips harder, knowing you won’t be able to make noise. Every single time he hits the right spot to make you see stars. Dropping his other hand down, he rubs your clit in tight circles, increasing your bliss. It’s too hard to keep your eyes open now, so you allow them to flutter shut. The loss of sight only adds to the pleasure and you can feel your second orgasm rapidly approaching.

Eddie can feel the way your walls flutter around him. He demands your attention by pushing roughly on your tongue. Your eyes shoot open, and you look at him, vision blurred by tears. “Are you close?” he asks, his tone indicating that he’s expecting something from you. Knowing what he wants, you beg for your release around his fingers. Grinning widely, he commands, “Cum around my cock, I know you can do it. Be a good girl, cum for me.” He says more, but you can’t hear it, all senses consumed by your release. Your orgasm triggers his, and he finishes inside the condom.

Pulling out, he takes off the condom and ties the end, throwing it in the direction of the popsicle stick. You’d chastise him for being so gross if your mind wasn’t so hazy. In a daze, you watch him pick up the camera and take a photo. He takes the nearest marker, a neon pink one, and writes in shaky letters “my angel,” adding a heart to the right.

Finished, he pours some water from a bottle onto his beach towel and wipes the mess off your legs. You flinch when he presses too hard on a sensitive spot. He apologizes, cleaning you with a gentler touch. Eddie pulls your top to its proper place before finding your bikini bottoms and tying them for you. He slips on his swim trunks and nudges your leg, “C’mon, you need to rinse off.” You try to stay on the floor, but he forces you up and takes you to the beach showers outside.

With shaky legs, you struggle to stand so you opt to lean on Eddie, who wraps his arm around your waist. He turns on the water and helps wash the sticky coconut residue off your face and torso. His touch is soothing, and you lean into his hand, closing your eyes. You realize that you’re going to have to go back to the beach, so you mutter, “I don’t think I can walk.”

Turning off the water, he offers a piggyback ride. You perk up, “Really?”

He chuckles at your enthusiasm, “Yes, really.” Kneeling down, he lets you climb onto his back. Before going back to the beach, he stops by the car and hands you his leather jacket, “For the mark,” he says, tapping his neck to show you where your hickey is. You slip it on and wrap your hands around his neck, squeezing tighter and begging him not to drop you when he begins to run. “Special delivery!” he exclaims, setting you down between Steve and Robin.

You instantly drop back, “I’ve never been so glad to be on solid ground.” Dustin calls Eddie away, leaving just the three of you.

Steve has a stupid smirk on his face, which makes you squint at him. After a tense second, he asks, “Yea? You’re not glad about other things?” Realizing he’s pointing to the hickey, you pull the jacket higher on your neck, embarrassed.

Steve laughs, but Robin defends you, “Leave her alone, you knew they were gonna go make out.” She turns to you, “Next time you two are gonna run off somewhere, think of better excuses. Sunscreen and the bathroom are too generic.” You completely forgot about your sunscreen! You groan and drop your head back, covering your face with your hands. At least they think you were only making out.

Continuing the conversation, Steve starts bragging about the craziest places he’s made out. You tune out the conversation in favour of watching Eddie. He looks so genuinely happy here, with his friends, having fun. He catches your eyes and smiles wide. You grin back, content to watch him living happy and healthy.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie smut #eddie munson smut #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #fluff #humour #humor #smut #my writing

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draco-after-dark · 4 months

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Feral JD!!! I love this kinda stuff, and you already got some awesome art for it! I’ve been appreciating John Dory more and more lately, so it’s cool to find all the AUs

Got any specific scenarios you’ve been thinking about for him? Love to hear anything about it.

I also wonder about when he discovered he couldn’t read anymore, was he nonplussed? Disappointed? Didn’t realize it happened? How’d his brother figure it out and would they go about teaching him again?

I appreciate you! ✨💜👍 have a good day!

OOOOOOOOH I HAVE SO MANY ACUALLY

I'm having so much fun building his world out

I actually have a few scenarios in the works now and some mini comic ideas too, Just gotta finish them :]

The reading thing is actually an interesting point. To be honest it wasn't something I initial thought to hard about but now that you brought it up. Here are some thoughts I had on it.

(Also sorry this kinda long I got a bit carried away woops)

not being able to read does come as a shock to JD when he first realizes, It takes him a bit to come to terms with it and when he does realize its a "Shit, I really am a failure." kind of mentality.

Since he was just out in the wilderness reading and writing wasn't something he need to do, it was all about survival for him so something so simple as that never crossed his mind as a skill he could lose.

Not being able to sing/talk just sort of sprouted from when he turned grey and fully integrated himself to being alone, Truly alone. Just being by himself he never had a reason to speak, so eventual the years added up and he just couldn't figure out how to speak.

So I always figured Clay would be the first one to figure out that JD can't read. For some context JD has been away from any type of society for several years if not a whole decade at this point. just by himself out in the wilderness wander around from place to place. So loneness has set in hard and he hasn't had a conversation with someone since being on his own.

JD tends to approach his brothers when their on there own or hanging out with each other. He tends to avoid large crowds and sticks to the outskirts of pop village unless there is immediate danger within the village. They had a spider incident a week ago but JD dealt with that real quick. The village still has pretty mixed options on allowing him to stay but considering the brothers haven't even been able to get JD to come inside branch's bunker yet. It's not something the they have really considered or cared about yet.

Also for Clay figuring out JD cant read it would probably go something like this...

Being in a book club Clay can often be found reading books around pop village. So when its a beautiful sunny day. He decides that it's the perfect time to catchup on his latest book. That quickly becomes wishful thinking however when he feels the brush of fur against his arm. He's surprised to see John Dory crouched next to him head tilted leaning into his personal space. Just sort of staring at his book with a curious look on his face. He's not interacted this close to JD yet on his own, usually he only makes an appearance if Floyd or Branch are around. So being on his own with John so close makes him pretty nervous. Especially since previous interacts between the two of them haven't been the best. John may or may not have tried to attack him and Bruce at their first interaction. It was quite a shock to all the brothers when they discovered that not only Floyd but also John Dory had been kidnapped by the pop star wannabes. If Clay's being honest he didn't believe Floyd when he first told them that John Dory was still trapped some where in the dressing rooms. It didn't make any sense to him. Why would they keep leave John backstage for their big performance. Unless they had already sucked him dry of his talent. What they actually discovered Clay could have never seen coming. Their brother, their oldest brother was practically unrecognizable, In both behavior and colour. He still thinks about when they found him in that room huddled in the corner. The terrify snarl that came from him when they tried to get close. Heck. he didn't even know a troll could make such a noise. So what was he doing here with him now?

"Uh . . . hi?" Clay asked curiously his voice wavering slightly.

He could see John's ear tilt towards him so he must have heard him and was at least listening. Hopefully.

"what uh . . . what brings you here today?"

A low deep rumbled sounded out from John's throat has he lifted his hand nearest to the book and brought it closer to himself. Eyes flickering across the page. To Clay it looked as if he was trying to read the pages so without a word he tilted the book more towards JD and waited. Just watching him. As seconds turned into minutes he could feel the frustration growing inside his brother, from the way his brows knitted together, to the way he kept getting closer to the book. Like if he looked harder, tried harder it would all make sense. That was when it clicked.

He cant read. Clay thought.

He can barely talk, if grumbling even counts as talking. Can't read and chances are he cant write anymore ether.

With a scoff John shoves the book away from himself slides down from the rock to sit on the grassy earth below.

Clay felt odd. He wasn't sure what he was feeling. Pity? Hurt? No that wasn't quite right. Emptiness? A sense of loss? A mix of everything he guessed.

He never really considered how John must be feel. That it must be . . . frustrating. Not just being alone for so long that he unconsciously forgot things that always seemed so, basic. Normal to everyone. That writing and singing songs came so natural to all of them. That the once self-proclaimed leader of Brozone couldn't even read his own lyrics anymore. He could never imagine not being able to read again. Being left unable to communicate even the simplest of things, but here John was. Going through all that. Practically alone. Clay frowned well he stared down at his once proud brother and then a flicker of hope flashed through his eyes.

". . ."

"Do you want to read again?"

His ear perked up at that and his head quickly flipped back to Clay. An unreadable look in his eyes.

"I could teach you, to read, write, to talk again?"

He see the thoughts swirling through his eyes, the hope, that became to spark but that quickly disappeared as he sank back down towards the grass. I look of sadness crossing over his face as he began to fiddle with his claws.

"Do you not want to learn how to read again?" Clay aske bewilders

John huffed and stared at him with an unamused face

"well why then?"

John glanced to the side and gestured in way "carry on" sort of way.

"I don't understand."

John gave him a deadpan stare and flung his head to the side letting out a deep sigh.

Clay was thoroughly confused. what was he missing, what wasn't ne understanding. This was his brother, his older, former bossy, arrogant, obsessed older brother. So Clay wanted to try something. Something he had done in years.

"What, are you still to cocky to let your little brother teach you a thing or two?"

He huffed again, but this time it sounded more like a light chuckle followed by a quick eyeroll and after a few seconds John stared at him, one eyebrow raised like he was saying "are you serious right now?"

"So your telling me you'd rather sit on grass and feel sorry for yourself rather then spend time with your younger brother?"

Oh ya, That hit a nerve. If there was one thing John cared about it was his family, Family was apart of him and it always had been. His greatness strength and weakness. Something Clay figured out real quick when they were younger trollings. John must have felt as offended as he looked because next thing clay new he had already stood up and hoped right back up on the rock beside him.

"Same old Dory"

To which John responded by giving his brothers shoulder a shove and jerked his head towards the book down in Clay's hands.

"okay okay, will start with the basics . . ."

Don't know how in character this is for Clay but I tried guys. So yeah that's my thoughts so hopefully this makes sense.

Also if any Fanfic people out there stumble across this and start thinking they want to give try at writing some stuff for the Feral boi please do I would LOVE to read it. Like tag me please so I can read it and draw it.

Anyway imma go to bed byeeeeeee

#feral john dory au #trolls john dory #trolls band together #trolls #Feral JD au #mcdracoson asks

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judasgot-it · 1 year

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Ello o/, I really like your writing style. May i req the reader pretends to be a client but actually a member of the agency but the ADA doesn't remember the reader because they have an ability to make anyone/everyone forget they exist and used it to protect the agency also dazai is the only one who remembers them.

I'm so sorry I took so long to get to this request I've been busy with life and all of that lame stuff

Also, I hope you don't mind but I changed it a Lil to be a two-parter with Ranpo as well, I feel like he would figure it out pretty quickly

Scenario: reader visits the ADA pretending to be a client. Dazai is the only one who remembers them working for the agency. (Dazai, Ranpo)

Part 1; Dazai

"So what brings someone as lovely as you to the agency today?"

Dazai was standing in front of you, giving you his best smile. He was holding your hand and reciting his lines as if you were in a play - although between the two of you, he looked like he was giving a performance for the ages.

"Dazai, you can't flirt with everyone that comes into the agency. You know this."

Kunikida had walked over from his desk, making sure to check up on your conversation. He just wanted to ensure you actually got the help that you needed and weren't swept away by Dazai's antics.

A part of you missed this.

"Oh, we're fine Kunikida. In fact, Dazai was just going to lead me to your consultation room so he could help me with my case."

You were covering for Dazai. Old habits die hard you suppose.

"You know, you shouldn't stress out so much Kunikida, you'll get grey hairs. Actually? I think you have some already!"

Dazai took this as his chance to poke around Kunikida's head, 'showing' him his gray hairs. You had to put a hand over your mouth to stop your laughter as you watched the two of them argue.

"I'll be in the room waiting on you Dazai. I don't have all day, you know?"

You walked out of the room, leading yourself through the building. Nothing really changed since you'd been there, although you could spot a couple of new faces among those working at their desks.

It was nice to see the agency moving on and continuing to grow.

The room was a bit different as well. They had finally replaced the old chairs that had been torn in a fight.

They were now a softer, blue fabric. The room seemed more softer, especially for what the room always brought with it.

"So, you finally decided to come back?"

Dazai appeared behind you, closing the door to the room - giving the two of you some much-needed privacy.

The curtain had closed on your little play.

"Well, only to visit. I'm leaving Yokohama tomorrow so I thought I'd stop by beforehand and see how you were all doing."

You looked behind you to see Dazai smiling. Although, you could clearly tell it wasn't a happy one.

"Let's sit down, I feel like you're going to want to know a bit about where I've been. I'll tell you if you promise to keep it a secret, ok?"

You had already moved to sit down on the small office chairs in the room - they were cozy enough for what would essentially be an interrogation.

Dazai wanted answers from you. Knowing him, he was going to get them one way or another - no matter how nice he was about it.

It was hard to stay silent anyway. He was the only man who really knew your predicament. You had hunches about everyone else, but it wasn't like they could escape your ability.

Even if they had this feeling about you, they couldn't escape the gap in their memories. No matter what, you were just a blindspot to them. The moment they met you, they would forget about you once again.

"You want to know why I left the agency, right?"

The most you left behind was a vague sense of unease. Not knowing why you had a sense of dejavue over a certain book and wondering why you know so much about something.

It was a great ability to have for a vagabond.

Dazai shook his head, placing it between it on his folded hands.

"You caught me there. I know how you did it, but I don't know if I can really figure out your why."

You looked to the window.

"Why did you leave when you were happy? Is it some form of punishment? It's got me really curious."

The view was perfect. Nothing would come and distract you from having to respond to the question.

He caught you, like a bird in flight.

"Because I don't have a choice. The longer I stay anywhere, the more dangerous I become. Right now I am just a ghost - I'm sure the president knows I exist, but can never really put a thumb on it."

You tried to wiggle around in your seat, looking as if you were in complete control.

"But if I stayed, eventually the feeling of being forgotten would wear off. It's painful being ignored, but when it happens all the time I can never feel the pain - I'm numb. But the agency?"

You let a watery smile out. Being in the room, finally talking to someone that wasn't a stranger. Talking to Dazai, who actually remembered you no matter how many times you activated your ability.

It was refreshing.

The walls that you had built up were breaking down.

"We got close. But eventually, I saw that their memory would get spotty, and it was happening again. I can't stand to see the people I love to forget about me, I don't want to become a stranger to them."

You hid your eyes behind your hands, trying to shield them from the sun. That's why they were dripping tears. Telling yourself this helped stave them off.

"So you left before that could happen, right?"

You felt an arm wrap around you, pulling you close.

Dazai's jacket wasn't exactly the softest, but you stayed close as you tried to push back your tears. You knew this visit would be hard, that you would have a hard conversation - but you didn't want to break down.

You tried to mumble out some sort of excuse or apology but your words were failing you.

Which left you with nothing but silence.

"Dazai. Thank you for not forgetting about me."

You took the lapels of his jacket in your hands, pulling him closer. You hadn't hugged someone who wasn't a stranger in so long. This was a feeling you definitely missed since your departure from the ADA.

"Y/n."

Dazai pulled away, bending down so the two of you were face to face. He cupped your face with his surprisingly calloused hands, analyzing you with his soft brown eyes.

He let out a breath, in some emotion that you couldn't really place.

"Anytime."

He backed away, wiping away his serious demeanor with a Cheshire smile.

"Besides. It's not like I have a choice in it. You know, you leave quite the impression on people!"

There was something behind those words. You felt it. The way he missed you, how it was unsaid in the air but was shown in the way he kept eyeing you.

He still kept his hands on you, as if the moment he let go, you would once again fade into a burning memory that only he was cursed to hold. Like so many other moments in his life.

A part of you wanted to stay, just for him. The feeling of his hand on your shoulder as he led you throughout the building, keeping you around so you could talk to the members one last time.

But your mind was unfortunately set.

He was nice enough to introduce you to the new members who had joined in your absence - it was a smart ploy.

He was trying to bide time, keeping an arm wrapped tightly around you while he joked around with Atsuhi about some memories they had a while back.

You could see how he tried to make you seem as if you never had left. As if you were always here.

It was a really smart ploy. It almost made you want to cancel your ability just so you could see everyone understand the inside joke that Dazai had said. One that only now you two understood.

If he was quiet after you had gone, staring at the papers at his desk - well that was, unfortunately, a secret only he would know.

Part 2; Ranpo

You were set to depart Yokohama in less than an hour. In the meantime, you were meandering the train station, biding your time.

After having visited the ADA again, you felt a bit lost. You truly did want to stay - but you felt that the ramifications of that action would be worse than if you continued living as a vagabond.

Your ability altered people's memories to the point that they themself would forget about your existence one day - the curse of being able to run away at a drop of a hat.

You can always run, but seemingly never stay. Somehow, they would always forget about you. Either gradually or suddenly, you knew that it would happen.

Freedom was a blessing, but it always came at a high price.

"Is this line A? I don't really know the system around here well."

Ranpo had sat next to you, making you jump in shock.

He was looking at you, waiting for your answer. He didn't seem to recognize you - not from earlier in the day, and not from when you had worked together.

It was a blessing, you supposed.

You took a breath to calm down.

"Yeah, you have the right one. It's not coming for an hour or so though, so you have time."

You hoped he would walk away. Being near anyone from your past always made you hurt in some way or another.

He seemed stubborn though, drapping his shoulders across the back of the bench and spreading his legs out in front of him - like a starfish on a rock, leaving himself out to sunbathe.

"I think I know you from somewhere. Do I?"

That made you stop.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I just mean - have we met before? You seem familiar. I have a feeling I met you, kind of like..."

He put his hand in his pocket, unwrapping a lollipop.

"I can't put my finger on the word..."

He stuck it in mouth with a loud pop.

"Dejavu?"

You supplied it to him, hoping he would go away. A cold, sinking had settled into your gut.

"Yeah! That's right!"

He looked at you, smiling wide. You realized your mistake when you saw that he had his glasses on.

"That's your ability name, right, Y/n?"

This was when you realized how unsettlingly quiet this station was. The announcement on the intercom felt like it was ringing in your ears.

Ranpo was still staring at you, waiting for you to piece a sentence together.

"Do you remember me?"

The man shrugged, settling back down. He was comfortable enough to take up more of your space than you had realized - his legs brushing up against yours.

"No. But I know that I could - if you let me. The ADA is a detective agency, Y/n. You can't exactly run forever when you have us on your tail."

Ranpo didn't wait for you to comprehend what he was saying. He leaned in close, your noses brushing up against each other.

"You're going to keep coming back."

"So. What are you going to do then?"

He said it in a monotone voice, as a simple statement.

"And even you think we won't find you - I will. I'm the best detective. No mystery is beyond me, not even your ability."

He waved up some papers. They were notes, photos and documents.

He was tracking you.

Ranpo smiled.

"I could go for some coffee."

"I dunno. You want to stay. I'm pretty hungry right now."

He was waving the documents around in a small circle, still refusing to give you space.

It was subtle, but you weren't going to get away from him without a chase.

I'm leaving the ending super open-ended, but Ranpo catches everyone in his life in weird ways so I feel like he'd do it this way too cause if you can somehow escape him once you're on his mental list

#bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #dazai x reader #ranpo x reader

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 1 year

Note

I CAME AND I SAW THAT U WERE ALSO INFECTED WITH THE SILLY PUPPET THING,WELCOME..TO THE COMMUNITY! (Get it?)

May I request some headcanons of Barnaby,Sally and Wally meeting a Very Old Goose Puppet Y/n? Just this worn out,Raggedy and Intimidating Goose Grandparent who then absolutely babies them and teaches them self defense tricks,making them soup,maybe they worked as some sort of guard or security! Just pepaw/granny goose caring over these silly puppets.also like they could be going round the forest and a feral bear pops up,Pepaw Goose just turns around and hiss at it and the bear scampers off while Pepaw is like “Anyways-“ (Thoight would be funny because Geese are used as Guard animals)

Have a nice day! ^^ or night if it’s late!

Yeah!! I was genuinely surprised at the amount of Wally x Reader stuff here but I'm all for it!

Also ngl I've been playing a lot of Untitled Goose Game recently so,,, this ask couldn't have come at a better time /pos

........

Barnaby

Honestly, when this lad first saw you emerge from the woods...he was about to run back home with his tail tucked between his legs. You gave him quite a fright!

You were a goose who was about Poppy's height--if not taller--with ragged greyed feathers and [e/c] eyes that look nearly bloodshot, your legs and bill having stitches, and some loose stuffing falling out of your main body.

All in all...you had a very intimidating disposition.

But when you approach Barnaby, it turns out you're just returning one of his juggling pins that he accidentally flung out into the forest.

"You best keep an eye on your juggling kits, dear." You speak in a gentle, raspy voice.

"Th-Thanks...are you from the barn too?"

"A different one. I used to be a guard for the little gooselings and other farm animals in my prime years but---oh..how about we walk and talk, hm? Do you live close by?"

And that's how Barnaby got to know you! He felt bad for judging you by your appearance, as while you look scary..you're just a sweet ol' geeser (yes he's made that pun a few times and you love it) whose kind heart and soul haven't gone anywhere.

You've come to care for everybody in the neighborhood, especially the big blue dog who sometimes gets into accidents while performing stunts.

In those cases, you always know how to nurse him back to health.

At some point, he and everybody else start to see you as a grandparent, calling you [Pa/Ma]...which makes you especially happy.

Sally

When you were younger, you saw her descend to earth, thinking it was just an ordinary shooting star.

You made a wish that you'll be able to find some good friends to spend the rest of your days with. Being a geese guard was a lonely job sometimes..

Many years later, you see that same star--now one who walked and talked--strolling through the forest near your barn. And you were ecstatic, wanting to introduce yourself!

Even though Sally's never met you till now, she's flattered to learn you wished upon her....and even happier to know she made that wish come true!

Your initial appearance surprised her, but she's eager to run back to town and introduce you to everyone!

So that's where you two head to, though as you're both talking (which is mostly her rambling about the next play she's performing tonight), an aggressive bear suddenly leaps out and roars, frightening her-

Until you hiss at it, extending your wings in a threatening manner, which immediately drove the beast back into the woods.

Then you turn back to the gawking star with the sweetest, most apologetic smile. "I'm sorry about that, dearie..do continue."

And she does for a little while, but you end up using that bear encounter as a teaching moment, showing her (and the others once you meet them) how to best defend themselves against possible bear attacks (or any wild animal attack in general). You made it your mission to keep these young folks safe.

Sally would definitely incorporate these lessons into her plays, which you grew to adore, refusing to miss a single one.

Wally

It was actually Poppy who introduced you to the gang, since you've watched over the barn she's lived in since she was a little baby bird. She basically considers you her parent.

You helped her out with her anxiety issues and baking mishaps over the years, so everybody warms up to you quick after learning your ties to each other.

Wally's no different. He's not too intimidated by your height nor raggedy feathers (man knows to respect his elders).

If anything, he's impressed that your felt and stuffing are still keeping you together, but offers to help you get patched up.

"Oh thank you, sweetie!" You croon. "You know..this town is blessed to have such a kind and handsome gentleman like yourself here."

Hearing that instantly melted his heart.

Soon enough, you get acquainted with the others and take care of them if they need help with anything.

Within the neighborhood, you ensure no wildlife breaks into the grocery store and makes off with any food (especially apples), always keeping watch.

Wally admires your nurturing and protective nature, knowing you're a very wise bird who offers the best advice..

Whenever he's lost on inspiration for art projects or just...feeling stressed over whatever, you're there to help him how ever you can.

When he got caught out in a rainstorm and got sick one day, you made him some delicious soup that helped him feel better within hours.

And of course, Home's happy to see you taking care of their owner. So you're always welcomed inside.

#clanask #anonymous #welcome home x reader #barnaby b beagle x reader #sally starlet x reader #wally darling x reader #puppet reader #platonic #grandparent reader #headcanons

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atinystraynstay · 4 months

Text

When Worlds Collide - Song Mingi

Synopsis: Mingi has always been a free-spirited individual. Maybe that is why he liked America so much because of the boundless opportunities that were in front of him. Or maybe he just liked America because that's where you are.

Pairing: idol! Song Mingi x reader

Genre: Fluff, strangers first encounter

Word Count: 1.9k

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Mingi was walking around the streets of New York City aimlessly. He had a pair of glasses on, trying his best to enjoy time off and blend into the crowd. Ateez were performing in the city as part of a concert acknowledging the migration of Koreans to the United States and highlighting the impact of Korean culture.

Each of the boys were choosing to venture on their own for the day, as the concert wasn't until the next day. Mingi has always been fascinated with life here in America. From the fashion, the night life, and the hustle of the American way, he's always wanted to be a part of it in some aspect. That's one of the reasons why he loved getting to perform here in the States. He loved seeing how excited people were, especially atinys, were for a concert.

Today, he just wanted to see what life would be like if he was an American. He was grateful for the opportunities and experiences he got to experience as a k-pop idol when they come to visit, but it wasn't the same. He didn't want to be followed by paparazzi or have bodyguards around him. Mingi didn't want himself to be photographed. He wanted to be the one just soaking it all in, so it all just lived in his memory. He knew if he kept a low enough profile, he would be in the clear and be able to get a real feel for life here.

Wondering the streets, he let his senses guide him. He didn't have to be back at the hotel until 8pm for dinner with his members. They already had dress rehearsals for the show tomorrow, so he really had all the time he could have wanted. His eyes bounced along the store fronts, trying to se which one tempted him the most.

He passed by numerous bakeries, apartment buildings, boutiques, and restaurants. Mingi loved seeing the smiles on people's faces as they lived their ordinary lives. It made him a bit envious, how people didn't have to worry about being spotted and being potentially mobbed at a moment's notice. He wished he could be more aloof, but he was also blessed to have such an extraordinary opportunity of being able to perform on stage.

Mingi glanced to his right but stopped dead in his tracks. He heard the sounds of rock music coming from his right, gaining his full attention. He smiled slightly whenever he saw a record shop. However, his full attention locked on someone inside. You.

You were standing over a display of records, fingers gently pushing back record sleeves to see them all. You were wearing a black peacoat with a grey beanie on top of your head. The beanie didn't hide your curls from his view. He found himself captivated how your eyelashes touched your cheeks as you glanced down. Your cheeks were a light pink color, maybe from the heat coming from inside the store. You also wore a soft smile curled onto your lips. He had to know your name.

As one patron was about to step out, he quickly grabbed the door and held it open. The young woman smiled and thanked him, for which he nodded and smiled back. He glanced in to see you a bit better, at least better from staring in from a window. Mingi felt his stomach flutter as you began moving your way down, a bit closer to him.

Perfect. He stepped into the record shop, getting a nod from the guy behind the counter. Mingi smiled before proceeding to head to the display opposite of you. He didn't want to make it too obvious that he was eyeing you. He looked through the various album covers, recognizing a few of the artists - Frank Ocean, Post Malone, Machine Gun Kelly. They were artists he at least has added into his own playlists.

"You know, that's a really good album." The voice was soft, almost angelic. He didn't believe it was real for a second.

He glanced over to see you looking at him. You wore a warm smile your eyes flickered between his own and the album that rested beneath his fingertips. He glanced down to see a pink vinyl cover. What did he land on? He slowly pulled up to investigate. The Divine Feminine. "You like Mac Miller?" You questioned him. "I can't say I have really listened," Mingi confessed. "Well, if you're looking for someone who knows what it means to write good music, I'd start with him." Mingi raised his eyebrow, but a playful smile was curled onto his lips. Oh, I'm intrigued now. "And tell me. What does it mean to write good music?"

You smiled to yourself before looking down at the vinyls in front of you. Your fingers waltzed across the numerous plastic-covered sleeves. You pushed a few back, analyzing the covers. For a minute, Mingi thought he had lost you. He was about to apologize before you spoke up. "To create good music is to tell a story. It isn't about writing a song to make money. It is telling a story either for yourself or for other people to connect to, or to feel less lonely. It helps put words to describe situations that leave us speechless, the good and the bad."

As you spoke, Mingi noticed how your eyes sparkled. He was curious about the inner workings of your mind. You seemed to have the perfect response formulated. He loved seeing how passionate you were speaking about your perspectives. What else did you believe in? What else did you like?

"My name is Mingi," he blurted out.

You smiled at him once again, this time a bit wider. God, you had a gorgeous smile. He took note of the way your smile pushed up your cheeks subtly, making your eyes squint. He wanted to be the cause of that smile moving forward. "Y/n. It's nice to meet you, Mingi."

The way you said his name sounded like music itself. It sounded so heavenly coming from your lips. He wanted you to say his name for hours as you looked at him like he was the only person in existence. "Come on, let's go listen to that vinyl." "Where?"

All you did was smile at him. And from just that smile, he trusted you. Your smile not only mesmerized him but it made him feel comforted. You could tell him to do anything because when you flashed him that smile, he wanted to do everything for you.

You grabbed the vinyl his finger stayed on. All you did was motion your head for him to follow and he was immediately behind you.

Mingi noticed that you moved with intention. You navigated the store as if you built it personally. You led him through the aisles of other vinyls, past other customers trying to make their selections for purchase. The two of you wandered into the back that had a record player set up with two leather loveseats. There was complimentary water on a table in the middle. The room was a bit dark besides a few candles lit to create an ambiance.

"Kind of intimate for people meeting for the first time, don't you think?" Mingi teased. "What? You wouldn't consider this a first date?"

Fuck. She's hot. Mingi was at a lost for words at your confidence. He moved to sit down on the one loveseat, letting you get to work at setting up the vinyl record. Your tongue poked out a little bit from your lips as you focused on getting the vinyl out of the sleeve without dirtying it badly.

Once the vinyl was set appropriately, you smiled to smile with triumph. He loved seeing you in your element. Were you a musician? Did you just like listening to music? Whatever the answer may be, he wanted to know more about you.

"Before I play this vinyl, it's really important you know that this album means the world to me. Mac Miller is one of my favorite artists," she warned. "So if you don't like it, there won't be a second date."

Mingi chuckled lightly as he relaxed against the arm of the loveseat. "I don't think there will be an issue considering I was already interested in it. And I'm already interested in you," he winked.

You silently thanked the shop owner for keeping the back room dim. Nothing like blushing madly due to a stranger. You wanted to be portrayed as cool, mysterious, and confident. You didn't want to allow him to have the upper hand quite yet.

Gently, you moved the needle of the record player to the vinyl. The familiar sounds of the recorder beginning to spin soothed your racing heart. Music has always been a source of comfort for you.

The opening track Congratulations" began to play. You were about to take a seat across from Mingi in the opposing loveseat, but you felt his warm hand grab onto your wrist. There was no way he was going to allow you slip away that easily. He gently pulled you back until you landed beside him. His arm wrapped around your shoulder. Look who's confident now.

His fingers gently ran up and down your arm. His touch was so light that you almost didn't feel it, but it still caused goosebumps to rise on your skin. At least he couldn't detect them underneath your long-sleeved shirt.

"Do you always bring guys back here?" Mingi teased. "No, only cute ones I want to impress."

While the vinyl played, you two made light conversation. You asked the basics - where he was from, his favorite things, what he thought of New York City. He asked where you came from, about your dreams, and a few of your favorite things.

You learned that Mingi was from South Korea and he was visiting New York City on business. He's been in the area a few times, but he's never explored the city. Whereas you moved here after finishing university. You were presented with the opportunity to work for a nonprofit working with youth, so you often used music as a way to communicate both for yourself and with the kids.

Mingi was infatuated with not just your looks, but with your kind nature and energetic spirit. You were the perfect package.

Every now and then, when there was a pause in conversation, you would glance over at him. You were intrigued to know what he thought of the record. It had a bit of a jazz, r&b vibe.

Not only did you think it was beautifully crafted but you thought it fit the mood for the occasion. You two were strangers who met by chance in the busiest city in the world. Some might call it chaotic while others might call it romantic.

He noticed you looking at him. Mingi couldn't help but smirk at the effect he had over you. He kept glancing down as well. He adored the way your head slightly bobbed to the music when you weren't talking.

"My Favorite Part" by Mac Miller feature Ariana Grande began to play. You knew that it was the second to last song on the soundtrack. Fuck. What was going to happen when the song ends?

"How long are you in New York City for?" you asked. "I'm here for about 3 more days. Then I fly back to Seoul for a little bit," Mingi confessed. You didn't know where things would go between the two. That is, if there was anything meant to happen. However, if you didn't try, you knew that you would regret it for the rest of your life. He might be a one-time thing, but you craved to know more of him, to be around him, and maybe even just be with him.

"I'll make all the time for you, angel." ______________________________________________________________ Note: SO not sure how I feel about this lol this has been sitting in my drafts for the past month so I figured it was time to set it free! Maybe do a Part 2?? 👀

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dearwriters · 8 months

Note

Okay, So, I have this character, his name is Ciel. Ciel is a nervous 14 y/o trans boy who was conditioned to always act cheerful and full of energy, to act with the eccentrics of a circus performer(which he was)

Now here's the thing, he's my main character's best friend, but also has a plotline of his own. The main character is a toxic person w/ a hero complex and narrates the story(they are very unreliable and try and make Ciel seem like the toxic one)

The main character(13y/o girl) twists things to make themself seem better, how can I show that Ciel is morally grey while still having the unreliable MC villianize him?

How to write an Unreliable Narrator

Hi! Thank you for your question. What you describe is a great example for an unreliable narrator. Here are a few thought on how to create such a narrative voice:

It's all about the twist

The big thing for most stories told by an unreliable narrator is having the reader at first side with them before the relevation of their true nature. This creates the big conflict the reader is confronted by. It's not about straight up lying to the reader, it's about exploiting their natural willingness to side with the main character, since they are closest to their thoughts, reasonings and emotions. While the voice of the narrator leads them down the wrong path, foreshadowing the truth behind their narrative is essential. It's like placing clues for a mystery, so the reader can look back on the text and realize all the ways they have been led astray, while the truth was there the whole time. So think about this story as a mystery story with the crime to uncover being the obscuring of truth.

Give them a motive

Like in any crime story, the criminal needs a motive. "Being toxic" can be a character trait but in itself it doesn't add up to a motivation. If their motivation is to paint themselves as a hero, it might be crucial to explore their personality and their backstory for how this desire was produced and what their ultimate goal is.

One great example is the novel Gone Girl (spoilers, obviously): We learn about Amys story through her diary entries that paint her husband as violent, before the twist of the story reveals that she manufactured the diary to frame her husband for murder.

Another famous example is the novel Lolita, in which the narrator Humbert Humbert obviously twists the events of the novel in a way that paints him as the "victim" of the "seduction" of the 12 year old Dolores, to justify the sexual abuse he imparted upon her. The point of the novel is for the reader to be horrified and disgusted by his thoughts and reasonings, while being captivated by the hauntingly beautiful prose.

The next famous example would be The Tell-Tale heart. The fragmented prose of the text illustrates the narrators madness to the reader, thus marking him as unreliable.

Some ways to foreshadow the unreliable narrator

It can be quite tricky to place to clues that point to the narrator being unreliable. Here are some ways that can help with that:

a) Using other characters/POVs as a sounding board: A story using multiple POVs might be the easiest way to show the different narrators various reliability. The characters filter the events through their specific lenses and thus give the reader a way to piece together the truth.

b) Using the narration itself to instill doubt: this can be used by planting contradictions, by showing in real time the thought-process of the character twisting the truth, by establishing intentional "plot holes" that are later revealed to be part of the twist, by framgenting the narration in a way that indicated the narrators instability or by having the narrator justify events/acts/thoughts that are obviously twisted. Things can start out seeming very truthfull and reliable and then proceed to unravel as the narrator struggles to keep up appearances.

I hope this helped a bit.

Have fun writing!

#dearwriters #writing advice #writing help #writing tips #novel writing #writblr

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drivelikeiido · 1 year

Text

fallen for you

an impulsive matty admits his feelings for you

word count: 1.1k

warnings: just a lil bit of smoking and a lil bt of pining

notes: this is the first time i've written a fic in years so I'M SORRY, not my best by far but all the writing on here inspired me to try and write again <3 also i wanted to write some nervous matty because he needs humbled so here we go (i also wrote this first thing in the morning so even more apologies for my tired brain) oh! and the reader is in the support band for the 1975 because i'm self indulgent in my writing like that

The stars in the sky were all that occupied your mind as you sat outside the venue. The night was a peaceful calm, a refreshing contrast compared to the show your band had just performed on stage opening for the boys.

However the night's quiet is disrupted as the heavy backdoor to the venue opens from behind and Matty appears to join you, already in his suit and tie ready to go onstage, only if he knew what that look did to scramble your brain every night, it was almost annoying that someone could look so effortlessly good.

He sits down and pulls out his packet of cigarettes, inhaling deeply as he lights one up and gestures briefly to you if you want one, you silently raise your hand up in refusal, he’s enough for you right now, your legs side by side as you sit on the freezing steps. The brief contact is enough to warm your entire body.

You sit in comfortable silence for minutes, the only sounds are the slow burning of his cigarette and the tapping of his shoes on the dark ground. You appreciate him silently, wondering to yourself how you even got this opportunity and how messy it's become now that you've unfortunately grown to appreciate the frontman of the band you're touring with in a not so platonic way. Grown so accustomed to the silence and the whirling of your thoughts his sudden speech is almost startling, his confession even more so.

“I’m totally obsessed with you,”

“I've wanted to kiss you for ages you know,” he adds after a beat. The shock of his confession causes the breath to seem to leave your lungs but you manage to whisper out “and what’s stopping you?”

“Didn’t think you’d want me to” he states, still refusing to make eye contact and looking into the waves of smoke floating up into the air instead. Despite his steady voice you realise he's nervous and the thought alone is enough to make you smile. Seconds pass and the cold evening air no longer seems to faze you as you build up enough confidence to ask what you've wanted for months now.

“Do it. Kiss me. Please,” your voice barely loud enough, but he seems to hear.

Despite his nervousness he bites back the teasing comment waiting to spill from the tip of his tongue; that could wait for later, he’d been thinking of this moment for too long to screw it up, and the boys would never let him forget it if he did.

He pulls the cigarette from his lips and exhales one last cloud of grey smoke, the addictive smell that you’ve grown to associate with him fills your chest as he throws the butt to the ground. His rough hands move to cradle your face so gently as if he fears you could pop and dissolve through his fingers at any moment, as if he was scared you would change your mind or even if this was all a dream.

The kiss surprises you in its gentleness and as you move together you realise this is something you’ll never bore of, the feeling of needing his lips engraved into your skin is dizzying, a sentiment he seems to share as he leans further into the kiss, his hands cradling the sides of your face like lifelines.

When he pulls back, his brown eyes are twinkling brighter than the stars you're under and the purest smile you’ve ever seen him wear graces his lips as he fixes your hair and places any strand moved back to its rightful place. He steps back, takes your cold hand in his and squeezes, his voice low and affectionate when he says “Come see me after the show, yeah?” and with your nod he disappears back inside the venue, leaving your brain to catch up with what just happened.

You’re glad he’s gone inside so he can’t see the seemingly immovable blush that's taken permanent residence on your cheeks, you'd never hear the end of the teasing if he saw that. You stay in the cold of the evening for a little longer, the chill of the air circling you and helping to slow the beating of your heart, the memory of the smell of his smoke and aftershave and how it now seems to cling to your clothes still working to fluster you despite his absence.

As you head back into the halls of the venue you feel the need to confirm that the moment was real, and not just another cruel daydream after months on the road. You take out your phone and text him,

‘i’m obsessed with you too, for the record’

His reply is almost immediate,

‘i know, love’ .

“Cocky prick” you whisper to yourself, his proud reply so Matty it makes you giggle and works to calm any growing concerns you may have had. Shoving the phone into your back pocket you make your way to the greenroom with everyone else to wait while the boys perform, your heart beating that bit faster as the set gets nearer and nearer to the end, “Come see me after the show, yeah?” playing over and over in your head.

Once the show was over and most of the set taken down, your steps are embarrassingly quick as you walk to the back of the venue, once again to the boys' delegated smoking area, already smelling the intoxicating smoke that hung in the air that was undoubtedly coming from him. He turns as you round the corner, his lips raising into a smirk as he throws the burnt out butt to the ground, stamping it with his dress shoes. He waits for you to walk close to him, his eyes never once leaving yours before grabbing out at your shirt and pulling you flush to him, your arms moving to rest on his chest. Despite the chill in the air the heat between your bodies was enough to make your skin blush immediately. His eyes looked down at you mischievously as his fingers toy with your shirt absentmindedly behind your back.

“So you’re obsessed with me, huh?”

You huff out a laugh and look up to see that smug grin plastered over his beautiful face, his skin glowing and his curls a mess after his performance onstage.

“Don’t let it go to your head, we don’t need any more to feed your ego” you tease, poking at his forehead and watching as he momentarily closes his eyes at the motion.

His saccharine grin returns, “Too late for that darlin, you’ve confessed your undying obsession with me there’s no getting rid of me now”

You drop your head to his chest, subtly revelling in the affection as his arms wrap around you, enveloping you in comfort, making it impossible to ever imagine leaving them.

“You’re insufferable, you know that,” you laugh and despite your teasing he drops a kiss to your head,

“Yeah but I’m yours now, and that’s all that matters”

#AAAA GUYS I DID IT I WROTE A FIC #I HOPE IT'S OKAY I HAVEN'T WRITTEN IN SO LONG #sorry it's so sweet i'm not an angsty gal #matty healy x reader #matty healy fic #matty healy #the 1975 x reader #the 1975 fic #k!'s fics

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borathae · 2 years

Text

↳ Index [Day 13 - Pole Dance & Pegging]

Pairing: sub!Jimin x Mistress!Reader

Kinks: rivals to lovers, pole dancing, leather, pegging, choking, anal fingering, handjob, hair pulling, spanking, bondage, degradation & praise, dirty talk, lotsa kissing, the ending is cute

Wordcount: 4.8k

a/n: happy birthday to the sexy bastard that is Park Jimin 💗 this will also be the last time i’ll apologize for plot haahha i can’t write pwp, we stan backstory for the tension. but i guess you guys know me by now. Enjoy besties 💗

You have been eyeing him ever since practice started. His body is sweaty, his long hair tied into a messy bun. He is wearing his gear already to warm it up for tonight. Black leather pants and matching gloves. How he is able to move on the pole with those gloves is beyond you, but Jimin has always had a taste for the dramatics.

Way too much dramatics in your opinion, especially recently after your boss told you that from now on, Jimin will be performing on the big stage right in the middle of the club while you should take his place by the wine bar. You are still furious about the entire ordeal, now eyeing him with icy eyes and your arms crossed in front of your chest.

Jimin finishes practice five minutes later, locking eyes with you through the mirror.

“Oh hey there, how long have you been standing there?” he says, wiping his sweaty forehead with a towel.

“Not long”, you grumble, following him with his eyes as he jumps off the stage. He struts to you, doing so with his hips swinging from side to side.

“What do you think?” he asks, “isn’t the performance good?”

“Yeah I guess”, you shrug your shoulders, acting nonchalant about it when in reality you thought him to be very good. He just knows how to work a pole in his favour. His muscles are lean and tense just perfectly each time he uses them to pull himself up. The gloves, although you still find them way too over the top, give him a sort of alluring aura and the leather pants are so goddamn tight that you can see every single muscle even now when he is merely standing in front of you.

Jimin studies your face, pursing his lips in distaste. He knows very well that you are only pretending not to be impressed because you want to take revenge on him for taking your stage.

“I guess it’s the best performance this stage has ever seen”, he says and after bumping shoulders with you, leaves the club.

“What the hell?” you gasp, looking at the now empty doorway with annoyance bubbling inside you, “did he really just say that?”

You probably would have chased after him to call him a snob if your boss didn’t call for you to help her with setting up the rooms upstairs.

You have been working in this establishment for almost two years now. Upstairs, well-paying customers can find a night of fun and pleasure with a stranger of their choice. Gender is obviously not important, you have both male and female friends working here and ever since February, Lee is working as the hotel's first ever non-binary angel, enjoying themselves greatly each night.

You weren’t one of the love hotel angels, but worked in the club downstairs as a dancer and the occasional bartender.

Jimin joined your team about a year ago and up until recently, performed on the pole by the wine bar while you shone on the main stage in the middle of the club. Your roles however switched four weeks ago with the explanation that it was time to give another dancing angel a chance to shine. You understood your boss, but were still terribly pissed about having to give it up to Jimin.

You meet Jimin again an hour and ten before opening. Your boss, blind to your shared distaste, told you and him to get the place ready and to make sure that the poles are well prepared. Oh if only she knew what gates of hell she opened with that order.

Jimin is still out of his pants when you enter the club. His dark hair is styled with mousse and gel and a smokey eye look really brings out the mesmerising colour of his grey contacts. He is in the middle of fixing his gloves, looking over his shoulder when he hears your steps.

He scans you with his eyes. You are also wearing leather pants, torso exposed but with a wonderfully done leather harness adorning the right parts. Black nipple sticker cover you up, guiding Jimin’s eyes to your tits for just one second too long.

“What is your act tonight?” he asks, breaking his eyes away from your tits to instead ogle the huge dildo strapped to you and the bottle of lube in your hand.

“Em asked me to play Dominatrix for some business guys from Vietnam. She said they wanna see me jerking off my strap”, you explain, shrugging your shoulders.

“I see”, he says, turning away again to continue warming up. He grabs the pole and pulls himself up, stretching his legs by going into full splits in midair while his head tangles down. Like this your eyes lock and while you should probably look away and make sure the club is ready for tonight, you can’t.

“The thing you said today”, you begin, “what the hell was that about?”

Jimin finishes the movement gracefully, feet landing back on the ground without making any kind of sound. He keeps his sculpted back turned to you, looking at you through the mirror just opposite of the stage.

“I don’t know what you’re on about", he says nonchalantly.

“When you said that your performance is the best this stage has ever seen.”

“Ah that”, Jimin smirks and shrugs his shoulders, “the truth, I guess.”

“What the hell? That stage was mine before you stole it”, you hiss, feeling annoyance bubble in your chest.

“Yours?” Jimin whips around, “excuse me, that stage was never yours to begin with. You just had it for a while and now I do, because I’m better than you.”

“This is not the reason why Em gave you the stage and you know that”, you hiss, stomping to him.

Yes this always happens. Yes, this is the reason why your boss should not leave you and Jimin alone in a room. Because ever since he snitched your spot, you are always fighting.

“Oh get over yourself, I had to dance by the wine bar for eight months and I didn’t complain”, Jimin throws back, standing his ground even now when you are stomping up on stage to him.

“Yeah but I earned that stage. I dance by the toilets for thirteen months to get it.”

“Maybe you should dance there again, your shitty attitude would be fitting for that place.”

“Wow.”

You stare at Jimin. Jimin stares at you. The room is silent. The air heavy in tension.

You step closer to him, making him flee until his back hits the pole. He gasps at the coldness of it, but doesn’t break eye contact. Not ever.

“Take that back”, you growl, lips so close to his face that he can feel your minty breath swirl over his skin.

“Why should I take it back?” Jimin asks, eyes flitting to your lips. Dark lipstick brings out the shape of them, locking his gaze right onto them.

“The things I want to do you, you can’t even imagine”, you rasp, inching closer until you can feel his body heat against your skin, “oh if only”, you whisper, staring at his lips for the sole reason that you wonder if he wants to kiss you or not.

“Yeah if only”, he rasps, He gazes at your mouth with so much obsession that you wonder if he is actually going to lean in.

“I’d show you who the boss is if only I could”, you spit with distaste, placing one of your hands on the pole and with it giving him no chance to escape. Your strap is brushing against his toned stomach, making his skin prickle.

“Yeah?” he presses out, “who says you can’t?”

“Huh?”

Jimin moves until his lips are actually brushing against yours.

“Who says you can’t put me in my place? Mhm?” he rasps, forcing your eyes to flutter closed from the feeling of his lips.

“What the hell are you talking about?” you answer him, tilting your head to the side and with it, claiming even more of his lips in something that could only be described as a kiss without actually being a kiss.

Jimin moans softly, touching your waist. You growl, thrusting your hips into him to really grind your strap against his sculpted tummy.

“Do you even know how to use that strap, mhm?” he taunts.

“What do you wanna tell me?” you growl, dropping your hand from the pole just to grab a bundle of his hair instead.

“You should test it out, it’d be embarrassing if you couldn’t even move it right.”

“I can move it right, trust me”, you say, moaning softly when Jimin takes your lower lip between his teeth. He releases it a second later, gasping when within a second he is on your thigh while your hand is wrapped around his throat.

“What the hell?” he presses out, hissing when you press down on his veins to the point he goes dizzy.

“I can fuck you stupid, Park Jimin. Trust me”, you spit, grinding your knee against his balls and cock, “I heard that helps with getting your shitty little mouth under control”, you add, tensing your muscles just to make it even more intense for him, “one good fuck and you turn quiet like a good little whore.”

“You’re fucking crazy if you think I’ll be quiet”, he spits back, dragging his nails down your neck so hard that your skin burns.

You don’t mind, making his knees wobble with just a squeeze of your hand and a tense of your thigh. You step closer, allowing your parted lips brush against his’.

“Oh trust me, you will.”

“Even if I will, what’s in it for you? You can’t stand me, why fuck me?” talking is hard when you are rubbing against his sensitive cock. Especially when all that is between is the thin material of his briefs. Jimin swears that he could pass out in desperation.

“I make no difference. I fuck whoever I want to. And especially bratty little boys like you”, you say, grinding your leg against his ass. It presses against his hole. Right where it feels the best.

He gasps, doing a terrible job at preventing it from happening. You smirk in triumph, tilting his head back with the help of your hand.

“There we go. Right against my body, getting off on my knee”, you rasp, “you’re already so much more likable.”

“Well you’re still a-”, he gasps, nails digging into your arms. Jesus fucking christ, this feels so good, oh how he wants to close his eyes, “-a, a cunt.”

"Doesn’t matter what you think of me, I’ll fuck you nonetheless”, you answer him, basking in the rapid pounding of his heartbeat against your fingertips, “just say the magic word.”

“What magic word?” he croaks, fighting gravity. Your knee is too good, with any other person he would have already stripped naked and fucked their strap stupid, but not with you. You won’t get the satisfaction of getting him to beg for you. If you want it then you should beg. He has all night. Well, an hour before the club opens at least.

You kiss him roughly then and his mind goes blank, fingers desperately trying to find their home on your body. His back arches from being pressed so tightly against the pole, his ass and cock ache in need from just your knee and his lips are pulsating as you continue sucking and biting them. Your fingers on his neck keep him from pulling back, nails bruising his skin in the shape of crescent moons.

Jimin drags his fingers up and down your exposed back, pulling you closer. You hate it. You hate how good he kisses. You twist his hair in the same rude manner he scratched your back, moaning into the kiss. You have to kiss him deeper, show him that you kiss way better than him.

Jimin growls, teeth clashing with yours as he forces his tongue inside your mouth. It seems that he basically wants to merge with you, judging by how deep his tongue goes. It forces a growl out of you and for your knee to squeeze even more of him.

“Fuck”, he gasps, arching his back eventhough his pride hates him for it.

“See?” you let the kiss break, “you want me.”

“Just shut up and fuck me already, fuck”, he hisses, arching into your touch with too much vigour.

You grip his chin, holding him hostage with your dark eyes racing between his equally dark eyes.

“Where do you wanna get fucked? The floor? Against the mirror? Against the pole?” you ask him

“Uh”, he swallows heavily, eyes trying to flit at the pole.

“So the pole it is”, you smirk, “good, that’s my favourite. Turn around and spread your legs.”

“What?”

“Turn around, for fucks sake”, you order, smirking proudly when he follows without an ounce of hesitation.

“Now bend down, keep your hands on the pole.”

And so he bends down, gripping the pole tightly. His leather gloves make a soft sound from the movement, stretching right around his hands

“Good boy”, you say, spanking his ass as a reward.

He hisses and moans, legs spreading even further and ass chasing your hand. He lifts his head. Shit. The mirror is right in front of him. Jimin locks eyes with you and gulps upon seeing the dark smirk tugging at your lipstick covered lips. It is all smudged from kissing, now covering his own lips as well.

“So you noticed”, you say and rip his briefs off in one clean go, “good.”

Jimin moans, arching his back. His eyes are glued to your reflections, flitting down to his cock for just a moment. Hard and throbbing, it hangs right between his meaty thighs, screaming for attention he knows very well won’t come for quite some time. The hands running up and down his ass and the massive strap between your own legs tell him that. And he is fucking high in excitement.

“Look at you”, you rasp, squeezing his sculpted buttocks between your fingers, “such a pretty, little slut.”

“W-wait what are you doing?” he gasps with widened eyes as he has to watch you abandon his ass just to begin trying his hands to the pole with his ruined briefs.

“You’ll need it, believe me. I fuck hard”, you explain, tightening the knot, “I hope you’re even ready for that.”

“Yeah, didn’t expect anything else from you”, he says, nodding his head vividly.

“Good”, you say, dancing your hands down his sculpted arms until you have his pretty waist between your fingers, “now before we really start, ever heard of the traffic light system?”

“Yeah. Red, yellow, green. We’re good, I know what to do. Also if I hum happy birthday you gotta stop.”

“Of course, I’ll stop. Good job, I’m almost proud of you”, you say, making him scoff and roll his eyes, “now let’s get started”, you say, connecting your hands with his sculpted ass in a harsh spank.

“Fuck! Ah!” he exclaims, writhing from the burn and leaking all over the floor.

You chuckle darkly, watching his swollen cock drip, “you are so wet. Adorable. I always knew that you’re a slut for rough handling. The moment I laid eyes on you, I knew.”

He blushes and shivers at your words, avoiding eye contact.

You spank his ass.

“Look at me”, you growl, forcing him to lift his eyes.

He mewls, biting down on his lower lip while his hips squirm in your hold.

“Better. Now keep them on me as I fill you up”, you order, reaching for the lube bottle to slather your fingers with it.

Jimin’s breathing speeds up in excitement, his fingers tighten around the pole. He is aching for that stretch. He even cleaned out tonight, planning to fuck a customer later. It’s been so long since someone last fucked his ass and he’s burning up for that feeling. Especially when you are the one doing it. Jimin’s been fucking into you ever since he started working at this love hotel. He never told you, but you are the biggest fucking crush he's ever had and to have to strip him naked and peg him feels like a fanboy's dream come true.

You press your slickened fingers against his hole, locking eyes with him. And then you push, watching in delight as his eyelids flutter and his cock throbs angrily.

He sucks in air through his teeth, feeling every new inch of you slip inside. It is almost too much and yet not enough.

“There we go, take me, that’s it”, you praise, finally bottoming out. Now you have two of your fingers buried deep inside his warmth, getting squeezed oh so nicely. You curl them instantly, making slow movements right out of your wrist.

Jimin’s knees buckle, eyes almost closing. His gaze becomes droopier, his brows furrow in bliss.

“A-ah”, he moans in his sweet voice, puffy lips opening in small gasps for air.

“Slipped in so easily. You have such a greedy little hole”, you taunt, eyes locked on how much his cock is throbbing.

“Feels good”, he croaks, arching his back desperately, “one more, please.”

“One more? Don’t you wanna ease into it?”

“I’m a slut, need more”, he pleads, “please Mistress.”

The nickname feels like ecstasy to you, making your entire body feel hot in pleasure. That’s right, in this moment you are his Mistress and Jimin is nothing more than your pretty little boytoy. Oh the surge of power feels addicting.

You bury your pointer finger in his hole, forcing a trembling moan out of him. You fuck them in and out of him slowly, making sure to really curl them each time you pass his prostate.

Jimin moans deliciously, arms tensing from holding himself up and back arching at the same time. His thighs tremble each time you touch his prostate, his cock throbs and drips pleasure seconds later.

“Fuck seriously, need more”, he croaks just minutes later, looking at you with half-lidded, heavy eyes.

“Well damn, you’re eager to get stuffed aren’t you?”

He nods his head, pressing his ass back.

"Just wanna get fucked, please."

“Fine. Damn, you slut”, you say, pulling your fingers free to instead cover your strap in lube.

Jimin watches you through the mirror, chest heaving up and down quickly. He stops breathing when he feels the heaviness of your strap against his hole, finger tightening around the pole in anticipation of the intense stretch.

You buck your hips forward, feeding him your cockhead. It is almost laughable just how easily he takes you, how little he struggles.

“Holy fuck”, Jimin whispers, dropping his head, “holy fuck.”

“That’s it, swallow me up”, you rasp, rolling your hips into him until even your last inches are inside him, now sitting inside his tight little ass and stretching him out oh so well.

“Oh god", he squeaks, nose scrunching up, "oh, Mistress holy fuu.."

"What is it? You don’t like it?" you ask, rocking back and forth slowly while your fingers massage his trembling hips.

"So d-deep", he confesses, looking at you with glassy eyes.

“Painful?”

He shakes his head, “so deep”, he repeats before arching his back in a pretty slope.

"You'll get used to it", you state dryly now that you know he wasn’t uncomfortable, "ass out."

He was quite frankly overwhelmed by pleasure as you spoke the words, concentrating on the feeling of his hole getting so stretched open. This is all he wanted, needed, craved.

"Ass. Out", you growl, thrusting your dick into him in one hard, warning thrust.

"Ah! Yeah, sorry", he pants, sticking his ass out instantly.

"Good boy, that’s good. Now stay like this", you say, pressing your chest into his back, to whisper against his neck "I want to make sure you stay all nice and open for me", you rasp, twisting a bundle of his dark locks.

Jimin is eager to follow, moaning with his eyes falling closed and his ass chasing your strap in needy wiggles. You watch him through the mirror, giving him slow yet deep rolls of your hips. His ass doesn’t squeeze that much anymore, now that you are fucking him open so well. His cock is leaking again, looking so goddamn desperate for attention.

You reach to his front and close your fingers around him, jerking him off eagerly. Jimin whimpers, eyelids fluttering open for the sole purpose of letting you watch them roll back.

“Don’t stop, please Mistress”, he croaks, sobbing softly as his entire body burns up from the sensations.

"Such a good slut", you rasp, angling your cock inside of him to really hit his prostate, "I can feel how it loosens you up. You're a needy slut for getting your cock played with, aren’t you?"

Jimin blushes, throbbing in your fingers and squeezing around the pole.

"You are", you chuckle, "I could feel how wet your cute little dick just got."

He closes his eyes and whines. This is so embarrassing. You are calling his cock cute. This is so fucking embarrassing and it’s riling him up like nothing else.

“What is it? Aww, don’t tell me that I still fluster you”, you coo, twisting your hand around his heated tip.

“Oh! O-oh god, Mistress!”

You roll your slickened up finger over his leaking slit, eyes lowering darkly as you watch the pleasure contort his face into the prettiest expression.

“What is it slut?” you ask, thrusts becoming harder now that you have him pulsating around you, “feel good?”

“Yeah so g-good”, he stutters, squeezing his eyes shut as he grasps the pole tighter. This is so fucking hot, he is getting fucked, tied to a pole and with his clothes ripped to shreds an hour before the first guests arrive. You were supposed to prepare the club together, make sure everything was okay for the night and yet here you were, soiling the main stage with your nasty sex. He feels so fucking weak. How the hell should he perform tonight when just one touch of the pole will trigger such memories for him? How the hell should he keep himself upright when you fuck him into such a weak state?

“Harder”, he begs because right now all he can truly worry about is whether or not the pleasure will ever end. Those other questions are questions for future him in an hour. Right now he needs to get fucked. Hard and rough.

“Harder?” you sound amused, “oh Jimin, you amuse me”, you say and broaden your stance, “fine I guess I have to show you what I can do.”

Your hand yanks his head back by his hair, the other tilting his hips into an almost unnatural position. Not that this position is unnatural for someone like Jimin. On the contrary, he is chasing the stretch, moaning loudly when your big strap slides even deeper into his greedy hole.

“That’s it. Chase me like the greedy, little slut you are”, your words make him spiral but not as much as the spank which follows does.

“Mistress”, he whimpers, voice pitched. He raises his head, locking his eyes with you.

“Yes Jimin?” you pant, voice heavy in arousal.

“F-feels good”, he whines, before rolling his eyes back in ecstasy.

“Yeah? How good? Go on tell me how good my cock makes you feel”, you growl, burying all of you inside him while twisting your hand around his wet cockhead.

You bask in the way his eyes open in surprise and how his lips part in a shocked moan.

“Tell me”, you growl, repeating what you had done before, “tell me how good that feels.”

“So go-good”, he sobs, making his gloves squeak as he tries to hold himself up.

“I knew it”, you smirk, “you love getting fucked. You’re such a greedy boy.”

“Spank me again please”, he keens, wiggling his ass.

Slap! No hesitation. None.

“Ah yes!” he exclaims, throwing his head back as best as the current position allows him to, “more, please! More!”

With your stomach twisting in pleasure, you spank him again, watching in delight as this makes his sculpted ass jiggle.

Jimin sobs and mewls, writhing desperately and chasing you for another spank.

Spank!

He squeaks and laughs, cheeks wet from his tears and cock leaking constant streams of pleasure.

Spank!

There he is. Your greatest rival. Cock hard, ass stretched out and spanked and soft hair between your fingers while his own ruined briefs tie him to his pole. No, to your pole. For months it was your pole until he stole it.

Spank!

The next one is placed especially roughly, forcing his hips to thrust against nothing and for his body to almost fall down. Not that he can, with his wrist so tightly bound to the pole and his strong arms holding himself up. It does result however in your cock shifting inside him, so you are now able to finally watch how his hole looks as you fuck it open. All loosened up and wet. So goddam pretty.

Spank!

“Please don’t stop! More!” Jimin wails, trembling with each spank and leaking with each thrust.

Spank!

So here you are. Fucking your greatest rival against your pole and fucking loving every second of it.

“Fuck Jimin, this is so good”, you growl, spanking his ass and pulling his head back roughly, “you get fucked so good…”

“Ah, ah”, Jimin moans, convulsing when you spank his ass one last time before reaching to the front again to jerk off his swollen cock, “oh my g-god”, he sobs, knees wobbling and stomach tensing unbearably, “you, you…ah you…”

“What is it? Don’t like it?” you taunt, knowing very well that he is shaking so much because you’ve got him close.

“Close”, he presses out, spilling tears, “please close.”

"Yeah? You’re close? What should I do about that?"

"Don't, don’t, d-don't stop", Jimin stutters, "please oh god, p-please I'm cumming."

“Then fucking cum will you?” you order him, bringing him over the edge with one ruthless thrust right against his prostate.

Jimin wails loudly, barely holding himself up as his entire lower body convulses in his high. Holy fuck your strap is so huge in his small, clenching hole. Your hands feels like heaven and hell around his squirting cock. Your fingers in his hair burn so much from all the tugging they are doing. Jimin swears that for a second he actually passes out from the pleasure, only coming back to you because you slow down your movements and begin kissing up and down his spine.

This just happened.

He whimpers, shivering like crazy. You wrap your arms around him, soothing him by caressing his tummy.

“Good job”, you say, “that was so much cum, you’re such a messy boy.”

“Yeah uh”, he clears his terribly raspy throat, “yeah, fuck. Holy fuck”, he presses out, growing even more limp.

“Are you good? I’ll pull out now, yeah?”

Jimin nods his head, allowing you to work while he is floating on his afterglow. He sighs, squirting out the lube with one eager clench of his well-used hole. You trace it with your fingers, basking in just how soft you fucked it.

“So well fucked. I have to admit, that look suits you so well”, you praise, massaging his sensitive hole while loosening the knot of your impromptu bondage rope.

His arms drop instantly, knees giving up on him as he falls to the ground. You catch him before he can hurt himself somewhere, allowing his head to fall against your chest. He whimpers, wrapping his arm around your waist as he snuggles you for comfort.

“Are you really good?” you ask him, “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

“No, I’m just…” he exhales shakily, “…holy fuck, that’s how you fuck?”

You chuckle, “yeah, last time I checked that’s how I fuck.”

“What the fuck? How should I perform?” he gasps, looking at you with widened, glassy eyes.

“That’s your thing to figure out. You were the one who wanted me to go harder.”

“Well shit”, he chuckles, “I’m done for, so goddamn done”, he mumbles, making you laugh.

It is three hours into your shift and after Jimin finally finished his performance (which was a little wobbly at first before he really got into it) when you interact with him again. You have just arrived by the wine bar to ask Em for a glass of water now that the Vietnamese businessmen finally left, when you feel Jimin’s hands on your hips, tempting you to turn around.

“Lee just told me that the purple room’s empty til five, wanna go upstairs and continue?” he asks over the loud music, getting his answer by being pulled into a sloppy kiss as you push him away from the bar closer to the door. Maybe you didn’t ever actually hate each other. Maybe all you really hated was the fact that you weren’t fucking each other like animals all day every day.

#jimin smut #jimin fanfic #jimin scenario #jimin oneshot #jimin x reader #jimin x you #sub!jimin #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts oneshot #bts x reader #bts x you #sub!bts #bangtan smut #bangtan fanfic #bangtan x you #fanfic: kinktober22

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