#new record for longest fic

[8-dermestid]

i'm over sleeping like a dog on the floor

relationship: ticci toby x reader

word count: 7.6k

links: available to read on ao3

warnings: canon-typical violence, character dies by decapitation (off-screen death but on-screen head), toby is psychotic/has tics/is disabled

Working the graveyard shift as a middle-of-nowhere gas station has its perks; you get paid to do nothing but mop and organize shelves. Most nights you spend alone (or with your only coworker), until you get a regular customer for the first time since this place opened.

(like/reblogs are greatly appreciated, requests are open ✷)

As autumn passes away and winter begins to take hold of the climate, the manor becomes a hellish place to live. Plenty of well-developed people struggle with the seasonal changes—the colder air, longer nights, and dead-looking forests make seasonal depression hit hard. In Toby’s experience, however, these symptoms hit harder for the people in the mansion. The temperature drops make Jeff irritable, his decade-old burns aching as fresh nerve endings attempt to make connections to his old skin. EJ always found a way to hide in their room for months, only coming out if forced by Slenderman’s jobs or a need for food. Anyone with chronic pain had more intense symptoms, and anyone prone to stress snapped under the pressure. Tim and Brian always left before winter hit (only because they looked non-disabled from the outside and could mask until they found a place to hunker down).

Toby is no exception to this rule. The stress of incoming frost and shorter days makes him quick to anger, his tics become more frequent and intense, and he becomes more prone to biting his fingers until he bleeds. Joining Tim and Brian would be a dream, but that is all it would remain (being visibly disabled, paranoid, and psychotic beyond belief—and the hole Toby carved out in his cheek—made masking almost impossible). If he were to try and follow them to a hotel room, Toby would get strapped down and sedated in a stark-white hospital with buzzing overhead fluorescents.

The last time he went to the hospital was because he stepped on a rusty nail six months back, and Tim and Brian almost thought about tracking down EJ because hospitals and Toby do not mix. Thinking about those fluorescents makes him sick. The droning electrical hum makes his skin crawl.

Maybe tonight is the night—though the idea crawls with stressed-induced impulsivity and panic like centipedes under his skull—Toby needs to mull over this thought with a cigarette.

Jeff is arguing with nobody again and slamming his head against a wall. Sally’s running around upstairs. EJ hasn’t been home in months. Tim and Brian are who knows where, not that Toby cares, and the other people crowding this place are too quiet for Toby to care about right now. He rocks in his bed (a moldy mattress with loose sheets piled atop it, a thin, ratty blanket being all he can use to hide from the cold) 

(Hush). The quiet is safe, and breathing softly and stepping carefully is safe. It’s good practice to keep his head down when there’s incoherent screaming in the room down the hall. The clatter of overturned furniture and scratching on the walls are commonplace sounds, whether rooted in reality or psychosis. 

Toby tries to control his volume by breathing through his mouth, sniffling now replaced with hollow gasps. He’s so careful not to let any loudness escape him (not an easy feat). His diaphragm stutters, his shoulders heave in an involuntary twitch, his ribs push inward, and his spine curls sharply down. 

Do it. Deep breath in, hold for four, out for four. Grab a cigarette and a lighter, and try to take your mind off things. Toby rocks on the floor and nurses a cigarette between his teeth, letting the smoke simmer in his lungs before exhaling low. He quits rocking on the floor, rising to his feet and beginning a careful hunt, opening every drawer, opening the creaky closet door, checking the big hole in the wall, checking the drawers once more, then out the window (pulling the half-hanging curtain over to give him some sense of privacy). Finally satisfied, Toby tugs the sheet on his mattress until it slips from the corner, exposing a large hole carved into the side, its guts twinkling with bits of fiberglass.

Toby sticks his hand in, numb to the prickling sensation scraping across his skin, and pulls out a large, empty duffel bag. He crawls towards his drawers and tosses his extra clothes into a small heap atop the bag, stuffing it until it’s bloated like a three-day-old carcass. With only a few possessions to his name—his hatchets, a hunting knife, a hammer (which he puts into his pocket instead, worried about scratching his things), his CD player plus headphones, a sentimental bag of teeth, and a dented thermos—Toby is ready and packed, letting out a shaky breath as he zips up his bag. Checking around all the hiding spots again (his searching based on psychotic delusions), Toby finally pulls the moldy curtain back and opens the window, which squeals in protest. He freezes, checking his surroundings and listening for even the softest sounds of disturbance in the creaky manor. 

The mansion’s natural groans and hums make the house feel alive. It’s watching him—and watching him think of a plan to get out of this hell. The radiators creak, and the walls ache like the house is breathing around him. The walls are moving, Toby thinks. He is inside a living thing. He pries open the window, and the house cries out in protest. The chains supporting the windowpane squeal like birds, and Toby scrambles out of the window and onto the once-shingled roof in a panic, nearly slipping from the second story in a thoughtless terror. He digs into his pocket and pulls out his beat-up box of Marlboro Reds, curling up into a ball on the roof, shaky hands searching for his lighter. Toby can’t stop shaking. His neck pops in two places. He should climb back inside—crawl back into that living, breathing beast—and pretend this idea of freedom never crossed his mind. 

Toby sticks a cigarette between his teeth, digging around his many pockets for his lighter. He’s so nervous, whole-body tremors as the agonizing howls of the mansion’s other tenants remind Toby of his options: keep living within Slenderman’s walls, dirt-poor and sickly, but safe from the cruelties of the outside world, or risk contact with the outside, possibly getting strapped down to a hospital bed and drip-fed a cocktail of medications, sedated and alone. Toby’s grip is loose, and his lighter slips from his hand as it twitches involuntarily. Toby watches it slide down the roof and hop over the broken gutter, landing in a puddle beneath the house.

Toby peers over the roof—making the quick choice to abandon his duffel bag inside his room —and swings his legs over the edge, dropping down. He sticks his hand into an ice-cold puddle and pulls the cobalt-blue plastic body from the water. He rolls his thumb over the striker, shaking the lighter and trying again (flick, flick, flick, Toby can hear the fuel when he shakes it vigorously), holding the dead thing to his dry cigarette, cupping his hand to protect any weak flame it may produce. 

Nothing.

Toby throws the lighter as hard as he can into a tree, hands trembling uncontrollably, wrists flinching, fingers curling in distress. He pulls on his hair—tugs and tugs, grabbing at the curly strands at the nape of his neck and tugging upwards like he’s pulling a shirt off over his head—trying not to scream and cry about his two-dollar lighter being a shitty, two-dollar lighter. He pulls one axe from its holster and the hammer from his pocket; the next smoker he spots won’t make it home (and Toby can add some teeth to his plastic-baggie collection, whichever ones he can salvage from the destruction of a stranger’s dental record). His cigarette (with a sharp angle in the filter from an angry bite) gets stuffed back into its cardboard container, then the box, and into his pocket.

Toby picks a direction and walks, one hand tugging at his hair and the other’s knuckles white around a hatchet handle. Each tired step squelches under him. Slick leaves and muddy earth force walking to be a conscious thought; Toby, already nauseous with stress, stumbles forward, using the tall trees for support (and to ground himself on the textures of moss and lichen under his fingertips). 

Keep breathing. 

In for one, two, three, four; Hold for one, two, three, four; Out for one, two, three, four.

Keep walking, don’t stop, don’t turn back, don’t even look back. One shaky mile becomes two, then three, then four. Each threshold crossed brings Toby further from the manor and closer to freedom. 

One time, Toby had to visit a mortician’s office to take care of a sloppy kill months ago. The doctor was working late, and Toby came across the current project: some forty-something man with silver hair and scratchy stubble. The mortician had already slipped the eye caps under the man’s eyelids, and the little barbs gripped the backside, holding the shape of the lid to make it look like the man’s eyes hadn’t sunk back into his skull. Toby peeled back the man’s lips, admiring his yellowed, crooked teeth and dry gums. There were wires connecting the upper and lower jaw, keeping the man’s mouth shut with needles nailed into his bone.

The process was fascinating and morbid, and the wires and nails made Toby queasy because the man’s body was so cold. Sometimes, Toby felt like that—or that he felt trapped in that state—the stiffness, the cold, the wires and nails keeping his jaw wired shut no matter how much he wanted to scream.

Sometimes, it was him laying on the cold, metal table stinking of formaldehyde, stiff with rigor mortis with sunken eyes and guts in the viscera bag. He found the body shortly after and beat its face in with his axe until they were unrecognizable. He took three teeth (one of their wisdom teeth and two molars), the only intact thing left of them, and fled through a broken window.

Toby, rubbing his eyes, pushes them into the sockets as he stumbles past the tree line and down a crag. When he makes contact with the ground and stumbles forward in his dreary state, Toby is startled when a car blares its horn at him. The driver shouts at him, swerving over the double-yellow to avoid hitting him.

Toby stands in the road like a deer, heart pounding against his ribs. He watches the car swerve back over the double-yellow and around a wavy bend, eventually concealed by a shelf of carved rock. Turning to look across the empty highway, he spots a gas station bathed in red neons with an inviting golden light warming the interior.

An older man with a blue face mask is walking behind the gas station for the restroom, and Toby stalks behind him, axe in hand.

✸𓆟✸

“It’s getting windy now. Are you sure your bus is coming after your shift?”

“Probably,” You say, “they’d only stop if there was some looming total disaster. They operate like a Waffle House.” Walking into the custodial closet (slash break room), you grab a bucket and mop and move out to a monstrous soda spill left by a group of teenage boys (where one of them just got their learner’s permit, you’re sure of it).

Something collides with the dumpster outside. 

You think it’s someone dumpster diving again. 

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. 

“Quit being so paranoid.” Your coworker says.

You turn to Sandy, and she shrugs, straightening the 5-Hour Energies by the register. She’s pretty dressed up for a graveyard shift at a gas station, with her hair done up and pink tinsel weaved into her box braids. She’s wearing a concert tee with a little stone fairy printed on the front and leg warmers with these tall boots. Her makeup is shimmery and loud; she belongs at a club covered in confetti and glitter like it’s 2009.

“No need to be scared of the boogeyman, or… whatever they call that guy.”

“Slenderman?”

“Mhm, that. I’m sure it’s just good Photoshop, just an art project people are writing scary stories about, and parents think it’s real, and now the news is involved. It happens all the time!”

“Yeah, but…” Your words die in your mouth. 

You saw him, you swear, between the trees or houses on your walk back to your dorm. Impossibly tall, with no features, stalking you from a distance like an animal. Maybe Sandy’s right. The stress of academics and work is probably just driving you crazy, making you see things that aren’t there. The town newspapers haven’t helped your theory of delusion, as people won’t stop going missing in this area. You’re tempted to grab a flashlight and check the perimeter, just in case. You reach for one on the shelf nearby, but Sandy gives you this disappointed look.

“I’m not letting you go ghost hunting. Not good for you,” Sandy’s gaze softens, “Now I feel like a dick for buying these tickets.”

You quit mopping. Tickets? 

“Ugh, don’t look at me like that! When I bought them, there wasn’t this Skinnyman stuff—”

“Slenderman.” You say.

“Slenderman stuff,” Sandy corrects, “I didn’t buy them when this Slenderman stuff was going on.”

“...Again? You went to a concert two weeks ago.” You say, focusing on pushing the mop over the soda spill until it makes the water a murky brown.

“That was nothing. It was a house concert, this one is real and at a big venue and everything! I’m taking my girlfriend for her birthday. Please, come on! I’m sure nothing crazy is going to happen tonight. Nothing ever happens here, anyhow. We work at a nowhere gas station in the middle of nowhere—I’ll even pay you, please.”

You may be terrified of these recent missing persons cases, but Sandy does pay you handsomely when she pulls stunts like this.

“Mundy doesn’t have to know about our little arrangement. It can be off the books.”

Mundy’s your manager, but not actually in your opinion. He never shows up, carries a ‘my way or the highway‘ view of things, and rules over this run-down Shell gas station with an iron fist. You missed your cousin’s birthday because he needed you to watch over this place. He’s the worst.

“You know what? Sure.” You say.

Sandy whoops and tosses you more money than you’ve ever seen in a paycheck. She squeezes you tight and says thank you about a million times.

“You’re the best, and I owe you one—or three—I don’t care, whatever you want! Take it easy.”

Her girlfriend pulls up, tucking her stout blue car parallel to two rusty shells. “I mean it! No ghost hunting.”

She dashes out of the gas station before you can speak. According to her orders, It’s a free, lazy night for you, and your first order is doing your legitimately obtained puzzles. You grab a magazine you ‘borrowed’ from last month’s shipment. You pull out a Sharpie and fill out some blank spaces. You chew on the cap, filling in NAP for twenty-eight across. Fifty-five across is FRIDGEMAGNET. Fifty-two down is IGLOO. Eleven down is easy as you fill out the top corner of the board without much trouble—TENDER, UMAMI, MEAT, SKEIN… It’s almost too easy, or you should seriously consider the big leagues. You finish just above half the crossword only half an hour into your shift, tossing the magazine aside and switching to swiping through your phone to keep the crossword-world-record holders off your tail, as they can’t know about your prowess yet.

That girl who captained cheerleading is having a baby, and there’s also a picture of her wearing a wedding veil (not that you care, considering she stuck gum in your hair during your math final). Some Robotics club girl got into one of those Ivy leagues and is having the time of her life, and a ton of videos of your past friends drunk at a club, confetti all over their everything. You turn off your phone with a heavy sigh and set it on the far side of the counter next to the cigarette shelf, returning to your only company for the night.

You finish the crossword after nearly an hour (it technically only took you thirty-five minutes, but you wouldn’t stop getting up to try and do something productive to keep your mind off your downward spiral), and you sneak the magazine back into the pile with all the other ones that look just like it.

The door slides open, and a man who looks your age stumbles inside, brown hair dripping wet. You switch into professional mode and get your feet off the counter. You give him your standard welcome, but he ignores it and ducks into the aisle closest to the wall. 

Maybe he’s just cold and drunk, but he looks rough. His sickly gray skin—with eyebags dark enough to be mistaken for under-eyeshadow—gives him an almost zombie-esque look (like a trad-goth, but gray). He peeks over the top of the aisle and locks eyes with you, lurching back as if it burns to hold your gaze. He reaches the far corner of the store, opens one of the fridges, and pulls out a can. You watch this man pace the back perimeter and grab a few things, still meandering.

“Can I help you find anything you need?” You ask, but he doesn’t seem to hear you as he stuffs a fistful of Slim Jims in his pocket.

Whatever, he’ll eventually find what he’s looking for if the poor guy searches long enough, or maybe not, considering his apprehension about approaching the front half of the store where your register is. You feel like a cat watching a bird from the window as you watch this strange person pace around the back of the store for nearly twenty minutes. Maybe you have a staring problem, but this guy is too eccentric to look away from. He knocks into the slushie machine and hisses to himself, speaking under his breath. 

He creeps forward to the counter like a deer, a few loose bills and coins tightly held in his bandaged palm. There’s not one bit of eye contact, but his gaze is piercing as his eyes remain locked on the linoleum floors. You grab the soda can he slides onto the countertop, then nod to the Slim Jims sticking out of his pocket.

His shaky palm opens, fingers twitching as five or six individually wrapped Slim Jims spill onto the counter. You count them up and add them to the total. Then he grabs a lighter and tosses it into the pile, the lime-green case clattering amongst his other purchases.

“That’ll be $12.56.”

He hands you $9.27. It’s all he has, and his sudden nervous energy confirms that.

He seems paranoid, and maybe getting a fistful of Slim Jims in him will do him good. You look at the camera and take the money he gave you, bagging everything he piled onto the counter.

“Oh—” He coughs into his fist, his neck creaks, “You don’t have to do that.”

You reassure him, “It’s nothing.” crosses your lips as you pass him the plastic bag.

He steps back, shies away, and then flees out the door like a feral cat. You hear another car horn as this strange guy disappears from view beyond the tree line.

Another weird stranger, you think. He’s just another passerby you’ll never see again.

✸𓆟✸

That’s what you think until he shows up again two weeks later. He’s dirtier than last time,  his fingernails caked with dirt as he bumps into Sandy. He grabs a soda from the back and shuffles to the front, eyeing your name tag. He says your name as if he’s kneading the word between his teeth and under his tongue like a lozenge.

You take the Pepsi from him and scan it. He coughs up enough money to pay for it—and a little more, four dirty singles more than he needs to pay for the soda.

“From last time—I know it wasn’t enough, I remembered.” He says, wiping his hand on his jacket. He looks proud of himself.

You thank him, and he looks like he’s about to burst, squirming at the compliment like a prodded insect, shakily taking the can from you and cracking it open.

“I’m Toby,” He tips the sugary drink back, then swallows hard, “Well, my name’s Tobias, but Toby sounds better. Toby Rogers sounds better than Tobias Rogers.”

Sandy eyes you, gesturing to Toby with a long acrylic, who’s now rocking back and forth on his feet and rambling. You shrug. He’s probably not a threat. 

He seems chill, you mouth to her.

He grabs a map and turns it over in his hand. He sets down his drink and skims over the large map of the state. You take his moment of focus to take in his features, dull, brown eyes that skirt around the paper. His hair is greasy and messy, probably knotted beyond care. His clothes—beat-up hiker’s trousers, a heavy jacket over a ratty black tank top, and goggles with bright orange lenses, the right one cracked. He twitches, then turns the map to you.

“Are there any ways to go here?”

You snap from your observation, blinking as your vision is filled with the veins and artery-looking highways across this middle-of-nowhere part of the state. Toby points to some empty spot on the map, some national park (you think).

“Well, you could take the interstate highway.” You suggest, dragging your finger along the thickest vein on the map.

“Well, I’d need a car for that, right? I don’t have one of those.”

Oh. That’s the problem with this part of the country. No car, no luck. If Toby wants to leave, he would need a car—whether that be from a friend or a stranger. You tell him so: that there aren’t many options to leave if you don’t have the money to do it, which feels especially cruel considering you essentially spotted him for Slim Jims the other week. He folds the map politely and then slips it back into its container.

“That sucks, I guess,” He says, continuing to nurse his drink. Sandy makes a phone-shape gesture with a frantic expression on her face. 

Toby’s a little eccentric, but he’s not 9-1-1 call-worthy. You shoo her away to reorganize the shelves. He keeps talking at you about a variety of things. He sounds like a camper, talking about how living in the woods is better than where he’s living now, how his roommates are very noisy, and he’d rather be cold and wet and living in a tent than be in his current situation.

“Off-campus housing must be tough. Are you in a fraternity?”

“Fraternity? No, not uni,” he says, shuffling on his feet as he pulls the soda tab off the can and rolls it between his fingers, “Not uni. Not smart enough for it. I didn’t even finish high school.”

“Oh.” 

Now it’s your turn to shuffle awkwardly.

Sandy slips into the break room and shuts the door behind her, leaving you, Toby, and the blinking security camera. Toby finishes his beverage and looks for a bin to toss it (and to look polite and well-mannered). You lift the garbage bin from behind the counter (also to look polite and well-mannered).

You both talk about a variety of things. Toby seems to relax once it’s just the two of you. He asks you about working here. He asks if you like it.

“Kind of. Pay is pretty bad, but the graveyard shift means I get paid to do nothing,”

He nods, then runs his fingers over the ridge of paper maps again. His hand snaps sharply downward to grip the counter, his free hand tugging up his sleeve so he can scratch his arm.

“Is there not any other way out of here?” Toby abruptly pulls his hand from the counter and strikes his temple with the heel of his hand, “W-Why won’t anybody let me leave?” Toby’s voice is cold and jagged like glass with corrosive terror. You recoil, instinctively covering your precious internal organs with a defensive lurch. Toby does the same, pulling his hood over his matted hair and bumping into the flat shelf behind him. Besides the hum-buzz of yellowed fluorescent lamps, the store is silent. He tugs the goggles over his eyes in a rough motion, too, mumbling and rocking to soothe himself.

After what feels like an eternity, Toby finally speaks at a volume you can hear.

“Do you ever feel like you’re being watched?” He weeps, “Like, even if you sleep on the second floor, it can still see you—even if you’re hiding—and it knows exactly where you are, and you can’t do anything?”

Sleepless nights, icy chills that leave the hairs on your neck standing on end, that prey-animal feeling where you know you’re being followed and observed (but your eyes can’t catch that distant figure, tall enough to blend in amongst the trees). People stopped believing you after you cried wolf a few too many times. Calling friends in the dead of night on the side of the road did not earn you a good favor, which explains why so many people stopped talking to you after high school. You look down at your near-dozen crossword puzzles filled out on lonely graveyard shifts, down at your hands, and then you meet Toby’s frightened gaze.

“I guess, yeah.” You reply. 

Toby blinks, tugging his blue surgical mask to rest comfortably on his nose.

“Really?” He creeps back towards the counter, shuffling forward to speak quietly, “I like coming here because I feel like I’m finally alone; It feels like I’m safe here—like nothing can hurt me.”

You nod. Working here gives you plenty of quiet, something most people can not get enough of. This place can be nice as long as Mundy leaves you and Sandy.

“My house isn’t a great place to be right now. That’s why I come here a lot. Nice and quiet, no screaming.”

“I get that, too,” You say quietly, speaking as if you’re trying not to frighten a wild animal, “Sometimes everything is just… too much, yeah?”

“...Yeah,” Toby whispers, “Yeah.”

He relaxes, taking a few deep breaths before pulling back his hood and goggles. Toby then hooks a finger around the elastic band on his surgical mask and pulls it off of his face, revealing a gaping scar on the side of his cheek that looks like it was chewed through. His teeth are visible, fairly yellow (but otherwise fine-looking), and slightly crooked. Seeing Toby’s face in its entirety takes you a moment to become accustomed to, his crooked smile and slightly-bent nose are not what fills your mind. His jaw is soft and rounded, and his gray-ish skin is smattered with lighter marks of old wounds.

Toby scratches at the healed-over gash, picking at some calloused skin while his other fingers curl involuntarily.

“I don’t go out much at all—” He starts, wiping his hand on his coat, “It’s been nice, even if I’ve had to sneak out to come here, I don’t want any other guys knowing I’ve been out here to see you—” Toby scrunches up, fingers curling as he watches you process his words. 

Toby has the nervous energy of a dog retired from blood sports and brought into a quiet home, always biting the hand that feeds because it’s all he’s ever known, kicking and screaming in terror at any gentle caress, howling like you’ve flayed his skin, separating sinew and flesh. He has matted fur and mangled teeth; he limps from years of brutality, eyes darting around the peaceful setting expecting to be bitten; to be scratched; to bleed with no future of quiet.

You walk out from behind the counter and sit beside him, bumping knees. You both sit in silence, surrounded by the warm hum-buzz of fluorescent lights. Toby’s shoulders heave with a tic as he knocks his knee against yours. The small noises of the creaky building and its humming electronics (which would normally send Toby into a tizzy) didn’t make his skin crawl. He feels his chest fill with air then feels the air leave out of his nose as he takes in your features, following the slope of your forehead down to your nose and mouth, then your chin and your neck. If you were to meet his gaze now he would die, so he enjoys this moment next to you for as long as he can.

Your time together is cut short when Sandy exits the break room.

Toby’s face warms as he scrambles to his feet and scurries out the door with a quick goodbye and thank you shouted in your direction.

You feel a hot blush creep up your face from your neck, Sandy finally speaks once it creeps to the tips of your ears.

“Did I…interrupt something?” She asks, holding back a snicker.

“A little bit,” You say, stuffing your hands into your pockets, “I keep your things from Mundy, you keep mine.” 

✸𓆟✸

There are three things that, when they come together, become the ingredients for the worst shift of your life.

First: Sandy doesn’t clock in, any shift without Sandy is like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich without the jelly.

Second, and this one’s new, Toby doesn’t visit. He makes the grueling night shift a little less boring and gives you someone new to chat with and learn things.

Third, Mandy does one of his surprise visits, especially when he remembers the security cameras he installed.

He stormed in only a few minutes after you clocked in, stomping about the store and trying to find something to interrogate you so he could open the door to harsher criticisms. He finds a few misorganized cans and grills you.

“You’re supposed to put the tall cans in the second fridge, don’t mix them.”

“My bad, Mundy. Won’t happen again.” You say, holding your hands up.

Most of the time he finds minute things, but because there are hardly any customers, there’s hardly anyone to mess anything up, which means there’s not much you can do to fill out a shift. This time, however, he pulls out a little card, holding it out as if you are supposed to know what that means. He drags you into the break room and pushes the little SD card into his dingy laptop. He clicks on one of the few dozen files stuffed in the folder. 

You watch a VOD of the security footage from a few weeks ago when you spotted Toby for those three extra Slim Jims. Mundy looks like he’s about to explode, pausing the video when all of Toby’s items are dumped out on the counter.

“You rang up only three Slim Jims that night. Why do I see six going into that bag?”

You freeze up, half because that’s such a stupid thing to pull you aside for, but also because Mundy is that crazy.

“I—”

“And then here,” He scrubs the video forward, showing the following interaction the following night, “Loitering? You’re letting people run amok in here when I’m not here? To think I trusted you and Sandy to care for things on your own.”

“Toby wasn’t doing anything—”

“No, don’t give me that done,” He snaps, ”Do you have any idea, any clue, what you’re doing to this place by letting people like that loiter around my store?” Mundy shouts, “Letting—You’re letting total thugs and drug addicts hang out in here. Do you ever think about what that may do for the reputation of this place?”

You sink back into your chair, which squeals as you curl like a sun-dried bug.

“You’re lucky I’m not going to fire you, do you understand? You’re lucky. That’s all you are. If that guy didn’t pay you back, you would be handing in your uniform.”

“But he’s not—”

“Not what?!” Mundy throws his hands up in exasperation, “Do you think normal people want to shop when you let crazy people bounce off the walls? You let this guy in—dirty and probably drugged out of his mind—and you make conversation with him? Let him loiter?”

“Mundy—”

“No, I’m not even going to bother with this,” He shoves the sopping-wet mop into your hands, “If I see any more shenanigans after this—you’re done. Get mopping. I have a headache from dealing with you, especially since I’m always trying to keep Sandy under control.”

Mundy massages his temples, walking into the break room while mumbling, “Now I’ve got to replace that piece-of-shit camera, too. Always on the fritz...”

You get to mopping, and Sandy passes through the automatic doors, a tense expression on her face.

“You know, I could hear him from the break room,” She mouths, “I think I would be the same if I were the manager of a dead-end gas station, especially if it were the only thing I had done with my life.”

Sandy pulls her purse over her shoulder, “Be careful not to unscrew your arms from mopping so much.”

She leaves, climbing into her girlfriend’s passenger side and pulling out of the dirt lot even faster. Mundy exits the break room and watches you like a hawk, and you spend three hours doing purposeless chores to keep him happy; you mop the floors, reorganize shelves, and restock the fridges (which were full) until you can barely hold yourself upright.

“See? I hired you to do your job, not just loaf around all night behind the counter.”

Ugh.

✸𓆟✸

Toby comes in again a few days after Mundy’s new ordinance began, and you can tell that all of this recent surveillance is getting to your head because you immediately look up at the camera that watches the both of you as if it’s going to snap at you like a dog. He says hello, waving with his eyes squint-y from a smile.

“You look like you’re about to puke.” Toby chuckles, leaving a few bills on the counter while he heads to the back to grab a drink, “Something wrong? Is it Sandy?”

“No, just… work.” You grab Toby's drink, eyes flicking to the camera as you take the money, count it up, and give him a few coins in change.

“Is it Mundy?”

You hush him, eyes flicking up to the camera. He nods, taking his drink and starting his familiar pacing around the main body of the store. You grab the mop from the break room, though you’ve already mopped this entire place three times, and begin your familiar dance to follow Toby around the store.

“He won’t let you stay. If I let you loiter, Mundy will fire me,” You meet his gaze, and he looks like a kicked dog, “I’m so sorry.”

Toby peeks at the camera, then looks back at you, “Is he here?” He asks.

“Break room, most likely watching the footage from my last shift. Mundy’s waiting for me to slip up, so it’s been stressful.”

Toby pats your shoulder, then takes his can and finishes the rest of his drink quickly, “... I’m sorry. I can go home if being here is a bad thing.”

“I don’t want you to go, though—” You say, your voice is a little too heavy for talking to a regular—”...You know, you’re one of three customers we’ve had for weeks. Isn’t that funny? This place is a dump. I would quit, but I need the money.”

Toby watches you push the mop in a fit, pushing and pulling water across the clean linoleum tiles.

“...I have to go now. Thanks for everything.” Toby says quietly with a new coldness to his soft tone.

His sudden shift in demeanor makes you a bit nervous as he exits the store, waving sweetly at you. You wave back. Hopefully, he didn’t say thanks for everything because he was leaving forever. You watch him disappear along the edge of the highway, and you are left alone to mop the floors for the rest of the night, eventually leaving because Mundy doesn’t trust you to handle closings anymore. 

Toby scales the crag outside the gas station, slipping back into the woods with new feelings bubbling under the surface of his skin. He races past familiar trees, spotting the mansion on the horizon. He scales the wall using the only standing gutter left, and then he slips into his room through the window, angry enough to chew on his hand until he bleeds. He pulls off his shoes and flings them into his dresser. The quickest, easiest answer would be to run back there, hatchets in hand, and dismember this guy that’s been bothering you. The other part of Toby, the one he kept hold of after everything that happened to him (the part of him that’s still seventeen years old and terrified), wants to just curl up on his dingy mattress and give up. He grabs a hatchet and curls up with it in his arms, running his hand along the handle’s grain.

Maybe in a few days, he doesn’t want to scare you, maybe he can make it look like a bad accident.

There’s the clatter of furniture, the familiar sounds of home, and Toby drifts off to sleep, planning out the next few nights to prepare even if it means he won’t be able to see you. Spending the next few days in the manor is rough because everybody won’t stop asking questions. Toby hardly imagined anyone in the manor enough to notice he was still there (it took everyone nearly three weeks to notice EJ’s absence when it was too late to catch them), and it was even stranger for others to be concerned about Toby’s whereabouts.

He wishes EJ was still here, they hardly cared about unimportant things and cared even less about stupid things like visiting someone behind Slenderman’s back. They would have helped him plan, listened to Toby go through a few plans, giving a thumbs up when good and a thumbs down when bad. He instead spends the few days pacing around his room as ideas swarm his brain like locusts, biting off chunks until Toby needs to sleep and quit thinking.

✸𓆟✸

Mundy grumbles, stepping outside and lighting a cigarette as he stands next to the dumpster, eyeing the few gutted shells of cars abandoned on the lot. He twirls the keys around his finger, more stressed about adding two sudden openings online. He always hated computers.

Toby peeks around from behind the dumpster, eyes trailing down Mundy’s back, eyes boring into his spine and shoulder blades beneath his shirt. He unhooks one of his hatchets from its holster on his hip, creeping along the edge of the gas station’s wall as Mundy shuffles on his feet.

You already settled into your shift hours ago, Toby memorized your schedule so he could always bump into you. Mundy was so wound up from Sandy organizing the magazines her way that he nearly snapped and fired her on the spot. 

Any reprieve from Mundy’s surveillance would not be taken for granted. You start counting the ceiling tiles, wishing you could do a crossword right about now.

“You think Mundy’s… Okay?” Sandy pipes up, restocking the beef jerky bags on a distant shelf.

“No.”

“I mean—yeah, he’s not generally okay, but… he’s been outside for half an hour…” Sandy stands, abandoning her work, ”I don’t smoke, but that seems like a long time to be out there in… that.” 

Rain beats against the windows so intensely it’s hard to see the highway that runs parallel to the station, the only indicator that the highway still exists is the occasional flash of high beams as someone drives by. You can understand the need for a break (whether with a cigarette or a puzzle) but this torrential downpour would dampen anyone’s smoke break, at least he should be standing under the concrete awning. Lightning lights the night sky, highlighting the dark forests that swallow this little establishment. Thunder growls overhead, rolling over your mind like a cold chill.

“Something’s wrong.”

“Oh my god, please don’t go off on one of your tangents about Slenderman, I do not need that right now, especially since this is the first time we’ve had a moment without Mundy breathing down our necks. Besides, give me some reprieve since I’m handling garbage on such a stormy night.”

“I wasn’t going to!” You throw up your hands dramatically, “You’re the one that brought it up!”

Sandy looks outside and shudders, “Slenderman isn’t real, I’m not going to let your little internet ghost stories scare me.” She swallows, slipping outside and pulling the garbage bag from its canister, “You’re so paranoid.”

You watch her disappear into the darkness, the automatic doors sliding shut as she rounds the corner to toss the bag into the dumpster. You suck in a breath and push it out shakily. You hear muffled shouting, Sandy calling out for Mundy, but there’s no response. 

The store feels too big all of a sudden, you feel too exposed with the large glass sliding doors, but Sandy’s jeers about your paranoia push that nervous energy down into the pit of your stomach. 

Sandy heaves the bag up above her torso, but her shaky grip (and her laziness about tying the top of the bag) causes a plethora of things to spill from the bag. Sandy huffs, dropping the half-full bag on the ground and groping for trash in the dark.

She groped around in the dark, mind swimming with frustration and confusion. The rain soaks through her coat, and her well-kept nails are caked with mud as she picks up garbage. She feels the usual things—crumpled-up cans, napkins, and old fast food bags.

But the sudden, leathery texture that she brushes her fingertips against, a coppery tinge to the air. It’s warm, warm like a person.

A blood-curdling scream rings out after a flash of lightning turns night to day (followed by the loudest clap of thunder you’ve heard—the kind that makes the earth shake). You chuckle to yourself, but you shut yourself up when you hear her hysteric sobs mixed in with Sandy’s horrified screams.

Everything goes quiet.

“Sandy?”

Her sobs continue, you can hear her crying.

“Sandy—” You step out into the rainy darkness, “—Hey, are you there? Is everything okay? Was it a raccoon or something?”

She shouts your name with the desperation of a wild animal with an arrow through its leg, scrambling to her feet, she’s soaked and cold.

She grabs the collar of your shirt, drags you back towards the light, then locks the doors behind the two of you, and knocks a shelf over to block the door.

“Sandy, what the hell? I just—”

“M-Mundy’s dead—he’s fucking dead,” She gasps, sobbing harder than before, ”We’re next—Oh god, oh god, oh god—”

Sandy lurches and vomits, dark bile streaking across the linoleum tiles. You’re at her side in a second pulling her dark, curly hair away from her face. You guide her to sit down in the break room, kneeling in front of her as she nearly shakes herself to pieces.

“He’s dead? You’re serious?”

“His head was in a garbage bag—” A dry sob rattles her frame, ”—He’s dead. Dead, dead, dead.”

You pull out your phone and dial the emergency number, gently soothing Sandy as she tries to hush up when the line connects. You give the operator the address and hold the phone for Sandy. She sputters, trying to spit out her words. The operator asks her questions, trying to get her to relax.

She described Mundy’s still-warm head rolling out of the bag, Sandy’s skin void of its typical warmth and vibrancy. Sandy emphasizes how warm it was when she touched it, like feeling a leather bag sitting in the sun.

The operator soothes both of you, help is on the way.

After thirty minutes of agonizing silence, The approaching ambulance’s siren wailed like an angel, and the paramedics that arrived on the scene ushered you and Sandy out and swaddled you both in blankets. Tape cinched the gas station, and officers secured the perimeter, marching like ants. The rain was still heavy, and large droplets beat against the ambulance. Detectives sat across from you trying to get Sandy (in her nearly catatonic state) to recite the scene.

“I don’t know,” Sandy said, “I don’t know.”

I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know… She’s rocking herself, shivering either from terror or the cold—perhaps both—as you rub her back and try to help her calm down.

“Rich,” a paramedic shouts, which drags the detective's attention from Sandy, “Call up Morgan—We’ve got another.”

He sighs and hops out of the ambulance, beating a phone number into the small buttons and walking off into the rain.

Sandy turns to you, she’s ice cold, “...What are we gonna do now?”

Your mind can’t help but wander, the rational half of you wants to believe that this was some kind of freak accident, that Mundy just…

Well, you aren’t sure how someone could be accidentally decapitated, but maybe there is a logical explanation for Mundy’s death. He is just another number in a vast list of victims of these unexplainable attacks. Some believe in a Jack the Ripper scenario, while others lean towards the supernatural. You’ve fallen down the rabbit hole before, and with each passing moment, the idea of your past delusions being real sounds less and less insane. Sandy nudges you, interrupting your slip into panic. 

“What are we going to do now?”

“I…I don’t know.” You whisper, curling up under your blanket.

You swear you see someone moving amongst the trees, and dread washes over you like an icy bath. 

What are you going to do now?

✸𓆟✸

#mewrites #mecreepy #creepypasta #crp #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta art #ticci toby #creepy pasta #creepypasta fanfic #ticci toby creepypasta #creepypasta ticci toby #tobias erin rogers #tobias erin rogers x reader #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby x you #ticci toby x y/n #ticci toby fanfic #toby creepypasta #ticci toby headcanons #new record for longest fic #crp fandom #crp fanfiction #ticci toby fanfiction #creepypasta fanart

[arbitrarycategories]

PROUD TO ANNOUNCE MY FIRST UPDATE SINCE AUGUST!!! COME ONE, COME ALL, COME ENJOY THE CAVALRY BATTLE!!!!!!

#bnha #ruby and emerald au #bnha sports festival #bakudeku #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #kirishima eijirou #sero hanta #todoroki shouto #iida tenya #uraraka ochako #hatsume mei #ashido mina #shouji mezou #unfortunately due to monoma's chosen strategy he does not make an appearance #THIS ONLY TOOK ME FIVE MONTHS WOW #NEW RECORD FOR LONGEST UPDATE TIME IN THIS AU!!! #meanwhile my fairy tail fic gets updated like once a year rip #arbitrary speaks

[leafatlaw]

HIHI!! Im back wiht another chapter of your favorite bitb timeloop story, One Week !!!

In this chapter, Rand finds himself being dragged back to Galloway, despite his best efforts.

#sparrow writes #ok yeah go read this please #tired #im at 17k words which is #insnae to me #everytime i post a chapter its like #new record for longest fic ive written #im proud of it :)

[chxrryhansen]

౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ Cherry’s Cevans Series Rec List

thought i’d make a list of all the best cevans (characters) series i have read!! i have lots more to add and will continue to update this list🫶🏻 i will also create a one shot fic rec list in the near future💖💘💞

Preying On You Tonight - @evansbby

“Steve is the cocky, brash and domineering alpha who makes your life at university a living hell every day. You’re the complete opposite - quiet, meek and reserved. You’re convinced Steve hates you, but what happens when he finds out you have a boyfriend? (a/b/o dynamics)”

Wicked Games - @evansbby

Ari is the campus fuckboy and you’re his little plaything. But he’s telling the truth when he says he’s going to make you his girlfriend soon, right?

What A World - @onsunnyside

S.H.I.E.L.D. had a lot of secrets, you just never expected one of them to be an actual person—a blue-eyed giant, wild manbeast at that. [tarzan!Steve Rogers x doctor!reader, nomad!steve, size difference]

Just Because I Won’t Die For You, Doesn’t Mean I Won’t Kill For You - @dbnightingale24

Lloyd Hansen is just another job for you. Your last job. However, when he decides that he wants to take you for a ride and have a good time, well...how’s a girl supposed to say no?

Closer To Heaven And Closer To You - @georgiapeach30513

When your boyfriend, Ransom wants to take a trip back home to the ranch to meet your family, you are unsure.  Knowing that a rodeo is in town could only mean your ex, Frank Adler, was most likely riding for eight seconds, still trying to beat his best friend, Steve Rogers.  All you wanted was a nice time, not old memories bothering your brain.

Just Like The Caged Bird - @georgiapeach30513

You are a widow who moves back to her husband's hometown after selling your in Georgia home.  Moving in above your brother in law's garage.  Sharing the space with his friend Bucky Barnes, but your other brother-in-law Andy causes problems, along with your overprotective brothers.

Pretty Petals - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

You go on a self-improvement retreat, but not all is as it seems. (multi-character)

His Koala Bear - @kinanabinks

you and steve have been best friends since you were 5. for the longest time, he has wanted so much more from you. and it's getting harder for him to stop himself from taking it.

Belong Here - @angrythingstarlight

Steve has been looking for his perfect girl and suddenly there you are stuck in this dingy restaurant. You don't belong here, you belong with him.

Finding Home - @navybrat817

Steve finds a home with you. (lumberjack Au)

Their Doll - @kaiparker-avengerssmut

y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

No Better Than Beast’s - @lokislastlove

You’re an animal rights activist who sets out to put an end to animal testing… but it’s a risky mission. (Dark!Steve Rogers)

Doppelgänger - @boxofbonesfic

Your husband’s twin brother has always made you uncomfortable, and after two years of marriage, you finally find out why. (Dark!Ransom Drysdale + Dark!Lloyd Hansen)

Million Dollar Man - @chrisevansgoodgirl

your relationship with ransom and his insane family.

Brooklyn’s Sweetheart - @spacesnail3000

Bucky and Steve had always been meant to keep her safe and happy. As far as anyone else was concerned, that was their sole reason for being alive. Unfortunately, the things that kept her safe were not always the things that kept her happy. Lately, she was making it pretty damn hard for them to compromise.

Let It Snow - @spacesnail3000

She was his Omega, and Steve had a plan. She would love him. He knew she would.

Sweet Renegade - @cevansbrat0007

A new arrival in town leads to an unexpected complication in the form of a sexy as sin Bounty Hunter named Ari Levinson.

Evergreen, Evermore - @babyjakes

loving husbands jake and ari had always believed they were all each other could ever want or need. but one unusual summer, when their world is turned upside-down by an uncanny girl from down the street, they find that having someone to love, nurture, and care for together is the missing piece that finally completes their perfect family and lives.

A Huckleberry Is Nothing Without His Hummingbird - @dbnightingale24

Lloyd and Y/N have been amicably(ish) divorced for four years. However, when earth shattering trauma come their way, will they lean into what they truly want, or will the flames from past traumas still burn too bright?

Civil war- Brooklyn - @saiyanprincessswanie

Ten years ago the Readers world was turned upside down when her father was killed by Hydras Brock Rumlow. She believes the loves of her life Steve Rogers and James “Bucky” Barnes were also killed while trying to avenge her fathers death. Reader is now working for the FBI on a task force that is meant to take down Hydra. She volunteers to go undercover to take down Hydra. In doing so she not only puts herself in the cross hairs with Rumlow but she gets to meet the mystery men causing Hydra issues. Who are the Captain and Winter Soldier? What lengths will you go through to uncover the truth and seek revenge?

The Boston Brute - @time-for-a-lullaby

When you graduated from Northeastern University, you had your sights set on the West Coast. And then you were offered a position with the Boston Bruins Athletic Training Department. And then you met Chris. A 6′3″, ruggedly handsome hockey player dead set on making your life a living hell by pushing every button and getting on every nerve. Despite your obvious disdain for each other and the ‘No Fraternization’ clause in your employee contract, you’re drawn together in a passionate, fiery love affair that seems to burn everything in its wake. 

Planet Evans Universe - @astranva

In which Chris was a nervous mess when he met his A+ list celebrity crush, highest-paid, and the most iconic actress, you, at Vanity Fair’s 2014 after party. (Following the life of overprotective!dad!Chris x wife!actress!reader!)

Don’t Speak - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (Dark!Andy Barber)

Cat and Mouse - @queen-of-the-avengers

You’re called the Vixen because you were HYDRA’s favorite creation. You’re very hard to catch, and once you are, it’s even harder to keep you.

Let’s Ride - @starryevermore

You’re a single mom and have just moved into a new town. You have no interest in looking for love, but the funny thing about love is, it waits for no one. (Biker!Ari Levinson)

Out Of The Darkness - @sunshinexsin

Sienna Jons has lived in Boston for three years now after graduating and is running her own salon in the city. With a small group of friends sticking by her side, she's content with her life. Enter Chris Evans, a known and feared mob boss in Boston’s underground crime world. Coming out of a long relationship ended in a bitter divorce, Chris isn’t looking for anything serious until Sienna crosses his path. Trying to win her over proves difficult for the man who seemingly has it all and Sienna is not willing to be with someone who causes such destruction in his own hometown. Sienna soon finds herself entangled in the crazy, violent world of the mob and struggles to find a way to either live with the hardened man Chris has always been or get away from him before her own life spirals out of control.

Murder He Wrote - @wiypt-writes

You’re sent by your asshole boss to do a review of a Celebrity Host Haunted Mansion, hosted by none-other than the arrogant, wild-eye browed actor Lucas Lee, but you’re worried you’ve missed the boat…that is, until at the last minute, an email arrives to say they can let you in on the last admission that night, which just happens to be Halloween. (Dark!Ransom Drysdale)

Poison Paradise - @the-iceni-bitch

Robert Pronge was sure he could settle for a fake domestic life as long as he could go on killing. Little did he know that you could give him everything he needed.

A Bun In The Oven - @witchywithwhiskey

the leaves are changing—green fading into golden yellow, burnt orange and radiant red—and the days are getting shorter and colder as autumn settles in. it's the perfect time of year for baked goods, fall foliage, book stores, and to curl up next to (and get under) our favorite man with a plan, steve rogers

Wilford’s Demands - @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

Wilford places you in Curtis’ care so he can impregnate you.

In The Balance - @goodgirlofglory

One unsuspecting evening, the stranger Steve Rogers appears bloodied and in need of aid at your doorstep. You immediately catch his eye, and he forces himself upon you within the hour. Several months of repeated visits from him results in your pregnancy, and the night you find out, Steve intereceps you on your way to an abortion clinic and kidnaps you to his mansion. Will you carry the child to term? Will you buckle under the pressure of capitivity? Will you escape the grasp Steve has on you, or will you submit to it and your own, conflicted desires?

Drowning Siren - @rogerswifesblog

The Avengers found an old abandoned HYDRA base, that had been cleared after HYDRAs existence had been exposed. At least they thought it was cleared. It was the biggest experimental lab they had ever seen, the closest base to the ocean, full with creatures-dead creatures. Some of them laid still on tables, stripped with metal cuffs, open and already rotting. It was an awful smell. But then they heard something beautiful. A melody, a beautiful voice singing unbelievably gentle sounds. Walking into the building full with ocean creatures, they had no idea their life was about to change.

Vampire Kings Religion - @marvelcriminalhoe

In a world where fantasy beings roam every corner, the humans are on the bottom. Looked at as weak and disgraceful. The vampires are the opposite. They rule the land, and all of the creatures that take part of it. the current ruler, King Steven, has ruled for more than 150 years, alone. After many nights, and long talks with his most trusted hands, he comes to the long awaited decision that he will finally, take a wife. All female creatures, are to be evaluated, so he can find his perfect match. Of course, no one expects for him to choose a human. Especially not one from the church. Especially not the daughter, of the leader, of the church. The same church that detests the mythical creatures, wishing for nothing more than for them to perish in fire. How could this union possibly end well?

Ride And Prejudice - @pagesoflauren

A take on Pride & Prejudice, certain circumstances in your life have led you to take refuge and work in a farm village, particularly on the ranch owned by Steve Rogers. He doesn’t take kindly to you, having bad perceptions about city folk. Your only reaction to that is the one you deem acceptable: get annoyed at every little thing he does whilst doing your best to annoy him and still keep your job.

Love On The Brain - @howardpotts

You’re just a student, living her normal daily life in New York. One night changes everything, without you even knowing. Steve Rogers slowly introduces you to his world full of money, drugs and voilence. But are you able to handle what he has to offer? (MobBoss!Steve Rogers)

Flamingo King - @onsunnyside

The sun is brutal this summer, especially in Flamingo Trailer Park, the land of big hearts and cheap tricks, you’ve been here for years unlike your “new” neighbour, Ari. He’s older, bigger, and intimidating, the local rockstar, and you, well, aren’t you just the sweetest girl in the whole damn city?

Make It A December To Remember - @imyourbratzdoll

AGE AND SIZE DIFFERENCE IS ADDED TO ALL! SANTA AND THE GRINCH ARE LARGER THAN THE READER! THE ELVES ARE THE SIZE OF HER PALM! (a chris evans xmas universe)

This Love Is Bad - @wildestdreamsblog

You were just trying to escape your past, and Ari was trying to chase his future.

Nowhere To Run - @sagechanoafterdark

On the last day that Steve spent in your small town before heading off to basic training for the army, he made sure it was one you wouldn’t ever forget. Years later when he appears in your town he seems like a changed man in more ways than one, but you’re ready to show him that you’ve never forgotten that day. (Dark!Steve Rogers+ Bucky Barnes)

Nice To Be Kneaded - @rogersideup

Almost every news station in the country was covering the chase for the missing superheroes post-raft-escape following the Civil War. Steve Rogers face had been plastered on the cover of every news paper, fliers stapled to street lamps, posted on bulletin boards in what felt like every coffee shop in the country. It had been just a few long months shy of a year, just long enough to grow out his hair and beard to make himself as unrecognizable as he could manage. Though he was still the poster boy of disorder within the states, he found himself in the scanty town of Greenwood in the house right next to yours.

Forever And Ever More - @syntheticavenger

Ransom Drysdale may be Boston’s most eligible Alpha who has his eyes set on you. With his inheritance hanging in the balance, he won’t take no for an answer, whether you like him or not.

Hackers Heart - @bakugousaysdie

steve rogers has always been america’s golden boy, leading earth’s mightiest heroes and serving his country. you have always been bad with boundaries, a little too curious, and an absolute disruption. you are an absolute menace,so it’s only right you fell in love with the most adored man in the country.

Arranged - @time-for-a-lullaby

Living in this life, you’ve never gotten to have much say in anything. What you wear, who you hang out with, and now, who you marry and you’re dreading your arranged marriage to the Italian mob boss, Chris Evans. Expecting to suffer through a life of abuse while being kept under lock and key, you’re pleasantly surprised when Chris is nothing like you expected. He’s the most feared man on the East Coast, only brought to his knees by one thing and one thing only. You.

#chxrrys fic recs #chxrrys masterlist #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader #steve rogers #ransom drysdale #lloyd hansen #andy barber #ari levinson #chris evans fic recs #steve rogers fic recs

[ellemj]

Wear That Again: 12 Days of Smut #7

Bucky Barnes x Reader One-Shot

This fic was inspired by two things:

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8Ha16Rj/ this Tiktok edit by @the.stark.internship ( @thestarkinternship on Tumblr)

@littlemiss-yeehaw's latest smutty drawing which can be found on her blog, I've stared at it since yesterday and I'm still not over it.

Summary: Bucky ruins your brief holiday romance with a SHIELD agent out of jealousy. You'd think storming in and yelling at the super soldier would've ended in an argument and some slamming doors, but that's not what happens at all.

Warnings: profanity, some objectifying thoughts, possessive!Bucky, jealous!Bucky, thigh riding, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: I don't know how tf it's happening but y'all have me averaging 1.2k notes per day on my blog for the last couple of days and it feels surreal. Also I just want to say, I wrote Bucky out-of-character for this one-shot and this is not how I imagine he'd be at all, but it was fun to write hehe.

            “You little fucking shit.” You finally snap as the elevator doors are opening to let you out into the common living area of the tower. “Bucky, you are such an asshole.” You’re absolutely livid, and if your words hadn’t showed that then your actions sure would’ve. You’re slamming your hands down on the kitchen island before the elevator doors have even fully closed. Bucky sits on a barstool with a near straight face, completely unaffected by your rage and only briefly looking up at you as he chews through a bite of his Chinese takeout. “You’re the reason he stood me up, aren’t you? What the hell did you do this time?”

            “Wear that outfit again.”

            You’re silent for the longest moment yet, at least fifteen seconds, and Bucky thinks it might be a new record for you. He hasn’t paid attention to a damn thing you’ve said since you walked in, but he sure as hell paid attention to what you chose to wear tonight. You were supposed to be going on your third date with a SHIELD agent who crossed your path a number of times professionally before finally asking you out two weeks ago, and with it being just six days until Christmas, you were dressing for the occasion tonight. You’re wearing a tight black turtleneck sweater that’s tucked neatly into the tiniest holiday-themed miniskirt you could find. It's a sort of festively-colored tight plaid skirt that barely covers a thing, but you didn’t wear it for any reason other than to encourage your date to rip it off of you later. However, Bucky made sure the poor guy wouldn’t even get the chance to see the damn thing.

            “What did you just say to me?” Your voice is shaking but not with fear, no. It’s shaking with the sheer amount of anger that’s currently eating you alive. Bucky lifts his gaze to meet yours as he sets his chopsticks down and picks up his half-empty beer bottle from the countertop. Letting his eyes roam over the entirety of your figure that isn’t obscured by the kitchen island, he boldly repeats himself.

            “Wear that again.”

            “If you like it, I’m burning it.” You say defiantly, crossing your arms over your chest as you glare at the man before you. Bucky lets out a low laugh now, the sound is melodious but his gaze hardens and narrows as he focuses in on your face.

            “If I like it?” All he can think about is pushing you up against a wall, lifting the back of that tiny little piece of fabric you call a skirt, and fucking you until Christmas morning. If he likes it? Hell, he fucking loves it.

            “That’s it, I’m burning it.” You’ve had enough. First, he ruins your short-lived holiday romance. Then, he has the audacity to act like your outfit is doing something for him. As you said before, he’s a little fucking shit. You shoot him one last passing glare as you move around the island and start heading toward the hallway, ready to lock yourself in your room and plot his demise for the rest of the night. But Bucky just can’t let you have the last word, and he sure as hell can’t let you walk away from him looking like something that belongs under the Christmas tree. Or more accurately, something that belongs under him.

            The two of you have done this dance so many times that you aren’t even surprised when you hear his barstool slide away from the island seconds before you feel a firm hand gripping your forearm and yanking you backward. You’re not surprised when suddenly, your front is pushed roughly against the wall of the hallway and his lips graze over the shell of your ear. Frustratingly, you’re not even a little bit surprised when you feel heat rushing through your body and settling between your legs.

            “You’ll wear that outfit again, when I tell you to.” Bucky’s tone is so much less indifferent than it was only a moment ago. It’s so full of lust that it leaves you trembling, awaiting whatever his next move may be. He knows no one else is in the tower tonight, which means if he wanted to, he could take you right here in the hallway and not feel an ounce of guilt over it. Who’s he kidding? He’s done that before even with everyone in the tower, and guilt sure wasn’t the feeling he felt afterward. But he wants you in his room tonight. You and that fucking skirt.

            Bucky takes your silence as obedience and steps away from you, letting you push yourself off of the wall and turn around to face him. If you’re being honest, you’re a little disappointed. That’s all he wants from you tonight?

            “How long has it been since the last time we had sex?” Bucky questions. He knows you remember, probably down to they very hour. He remembers, but he has to make sure you do too.

            “Two weeks.” You haven’t slept with Bucky since the SHIELD agent asked you out. Bucky mulls over the length of time in his mind. He wants to remedy that, he wants to fuck you tonight, but he won’t. You started seeing someone and threw Bucky to the side so easily that him waiting two weeks to ruin your dating life was the nicest possible thing he could’ve done in retaliation. He’s not going to give you what you need now, at least not everything you need.

            Bucky’s silent as he pushes open his bedroom door and waits for you to step inside before him. He’s still silent as he sits on the edge of the bed and beckons you to stand between his legs. He begins raking his hands up the outsides of your thighs, sliding them underneath your skirt until he feels the waistband of your sheer tights. He isn’t so silent when he begins sliding those down your legs, letting out a soft groan when his hands meet your bare skin underneath. It’s been too fucking long since he’s touched you and an unfamiliar peace settles in his soul when he feels your warmth. You’re expecting him to rip the tights off, followed by the skirt and everything else you’re wearing. However, Bucky’s plan involves keeping you nearly fully clothed, and only partially satisfied. Once he has your heels and tights on his bedroom floor, he kneads your ass underneath your skirt, letting his fingertips brush over the fabric of your thong. God, he’s really practicing his restraint tonight. His cock is already hard, threatening to rip the seam of his pants with even the slightest movement, but he isn’t planning on getting his own fix tonight.

            “Sit.” He commands, gripping your hips with both hands and pulling you down to straddle one of his thighs. As soon as your clothed core makes contact with the toned muscle of his thigh, you stiffen and try to shift your weight so you won’t be so stimulated. Bucky makes an annoyed face at you before slipping one hand back underneath your skirt and drawing your panties to the side, causing your wet clit to press against the fabric of his pants. “I’m not rewarding you for spending your time with some other guy for the last two weeks, I’m not having sex with you.”

            You’re about to protest, to tell Bucky that he’s being sensitive, that the two of you never had any rules about dating, but Bucky senses your opposition and begins dragging you back and forth over his thigh. He looks down between the two of you as a wet spot quickly begins forming where your pussy meets his clothed leg. Fuck. It feels too good for you to even consider stopping and telling him that he’s an asshole. So, you go along with his guiding movements, grinding against his leg and finding just the right amount of pressure and friction to start heading toward an orgasm.

            “You didn’t have to scare the guy off.” You mutter as you lean forward, letting your hands rest on Bucky’s shoulder as you place a gentle kiss against the side of his neck. He sighs and tilts his head to the side to give you better access, but his hands continue to guide the movement of your hips.

            “Three dates were enough. I couldn’t stand it anymore.” He admits. You feel an odd sense of pride surge through you at his words, though you have no idea if he’s being honest or not. “I couldn’t let him have you like this.” You suck on the skin just beneath Bucky’s left ear and pick up the pace with which you’re grinding on his thigh.

            “Fuck, James.”

            Bucky knows this isn’t the right time for the conversation, so as you grind out an orgasm on his thigh, letting out the most heavenly moans and whimpers just for him, he tells himself to hold it together until Christmas. That’s when he’ll tell you. That’s when he’ll tell you that he wants more than the angry, hateful late-night rendezvous in his room or yours. He wants more than sitting around waiting for you to come home from a date while he nearly goes insane with jealousy. He wants more of you. Fuck, he wants all of you.

            Just as you’re coming undone on his thigh while moaning his name and squeezing his shoulders, he lets his hands snake underneath your little plaid skirt. He grips your ass with both hands, digging his fingertips into the supple skin there as he leans into your neck. You feel him take a deep breath in as you’re coming down from your orgasm high.

            “Why do you always smell so fucking good?” He asks, licking a small stripe up the side of your neck before pressing his lips against it in a soft kiss. You only hum lightly in response, your brain not quite ready to formulate a full sentence. Bucky presses a second kiss to your neck, and then a third as his works his way up to your lips. His hands move to smooth over the fabric of that little skirt that he can’t seem to get over. “Stay away from the fireplace this week. I can’t have you burning this skirt.”

TAG LIST: @sunnyhummingbee @gyokujyn @jenniferpendragon @thealloveru2 @siciliano13 @ordelixx @crist1216 @twlkdead @claireelizabeth85 @charmedbysarge @wishingforwonderland @mrsjoequinn @nixxaswrld @sweettae02 @frombkjar @hellfirebabe @edelweissbarnes @fandomsfeminismandme @missadored

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #mcu #winter soldier #the winter soldier #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #marvel

[jaebeomsbitch]

Best Friend's Kisses (E.M.)

Summary: After seventeen long years of friendship Eddie decides to fulfill a ten year old promise. Something whispered in the middle of the night. He gives you the best gift of all.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem! reader, really only mentioned like two or three times

Mid-twenties Eddie and reader. Mechanic! Eddie

Warning: Slight smut at the end, talks of insecurity, making out, flirting, swearing, and melancholy reader. MINORS DNI!

AN: This is only my third fic on here. I'm still trying to understand the formatting.

Eddie Munson had been your friend since you met him on the playground in third grade. He had defended you against some asshole kid who tried to take away your toy. Pushed him to the ground and yelled at him, you’d been inseparable since then. You saw each other through the awkward phases of becoming teenagers, watched him struggle through high school, and then eventually graduate.

Now you were both in your mid twenties, still having movie nights at the Munson’s every Friday after your shift at the record shop. You had a chance to leave, to go to college in New York but you turned it down. Not that you told Eddie, you didn’t want him to feel guilty. Truthfully you did stay for him, afraid that he might break without you but, did he really need you?

Eddie was an incredible sweetheart, making friends left and right with whoever would listen to him. It seemed like anyone that had a chance to really talk to him could see beyond the rumor around him. He was surrounded by people who loved him. Sometimes you regret staying, maybe you could’ve become something. Maybe you could’ve gotten a good degree, move your parents out of this shitty town but you were afraid.

The truth being you use Eddie as a crutch, you always had. Hiding behind him, gripping onto the back of his shirt as he yelled at another person for you, cleaning him up after he fought with a guy for groping you, Eddie was your protector in a sense. So you stay, stay in the shitty down you despise, wallow in self pity for being a fucking coward like you always are, and spending your days drinking or getting high with Eddie and his friends.

Today was a special day, Eddie had gotten a job at a mechanic shop. He always said that when he got his first paycheck he’d buy you something really special. He’d jump around from job to job until he found Earl. Earl was the only person who truly gave Eddie a chance.

“Honey, I’m home,” He jokes, walking into the trailer. Already expecting you to be lying on his bed when he comes home like you always are. He walks in shoulders hunched, face covered in grease stains, and hair knotted. “Gonna take a shower, then’ll be back. Got something exciting for you sweetheart,” He smiles, grabbing the pile of clothes you left on the foot of his bed ready for him. “Toodaloo,” he wags his fingers behind him as he exits the room.

Oh god what did he get you? Eddie had a reputation for going overboard, always saying he had to spoil his ‘princess’ because you were his longest friend. Always rambling about how you deserved the world for sticking by his side. Steve and Robin like to tease him, poking fun at your friendship. Always whispering, “you’ve never thought ‘bout it?” with their questioning gazes. It didn’t matter what either of you said, they never believed you. They could see the way the tips of your ears turned red or the way Eddie silently threatened Steve.

“I feel so much better,” He sighs, throwing himself next to you. He cuddles into the pillow, throwing the sheets over himself. “You forgetting something?” You laugh.

“Oh shit, sorry. M’tired,” He mumbles, eyes open wide. “Just go to sleep, Eds. You can give me whatever it is tomorrow,” You whisper. Trying to lull him back to sleep as you massage his scalp. “No, been waiting forever,” He murmurs, eyes blinking slowly. He must’ve been really tired for him to forget dinner. Eddie was never one to skip meals, always saying they were his favorite part of his day. You watch him sleep, he looks so peaceful with his eyes closed, his lips slightly parted. It isn’t until you hear the phone ring that you move your hand from his curls.

“Hello?” You whisper trying not to wake him up. “Oh hey! I was expecting Eddie,” Steve says on the line. “He got home and fell asleep immediately, I was just about to make dinner. What’s up?” You ask.

“You sound so domestic, like a housewife,” Steve chuckles.

“Yeah, yeah. Hardy har har.” You roll your eyes leaning against the wall.

“H-has he given you the present yet?” He asks out of nowhere.

“No, he just said he had something for me then fell asleep two seconds later. I don’t know what he did today but he skipped lunch. You know how unusual that is for him,” you say slightly concerned.

“It’s just… he loves you a lot you know?” Steve says, his voice sounding a little weird.

“Yeah and I love him too,” You reply quickly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Just… keep that in mind, I’ll see you tomorrow,” He says.

“What wh-” He hangs up. What the fuck was that about? Of course you’d see Steve and the gang tomorrow, it was your weekly get together with the adults of the group but this felt weird. It almost felt like something monumental was supposed to happen today.

You try to shake away the feeling, looking through the fridge to see what they have. Cheese and tortillas, the ones you brought from home because you ‘accidentally’ bought two packs. You make quesadillas like you’ve made all your childhood, they were quick to make and easy for Eddie to eat while he’s half asleep. He had this miraculous way of waking up, eating, and forgetting that he even ate when he woke up.

“Eds… Teddie,” you whisper, gently shaking his shoulder until he groans. He gained the nickname after a long night of calling each other annoying nicknames, you saw your childhood teddy bear and instantly thought of Eddie. Just like it, he brought you comfort and he was also the person to give it to you. Claimed he won it in a claw machine for twenty five cents but you knew he had saved his money for weeks to buy it for you. You'd seen it at the store when your mom dragged you shopping for your sister's new clothes.

“I know, I know, baby. Just eat and you can go back to sleep okay,” You whisper, sitting on the ledge of the bed next to him. He slowly blinks, turning toward you as he scratches his neck languidly.

“Come on, eat,” You show him the plate but he still blinks at you not understanding. So you feed him like a sick child, watching as he takes little bites and tilting his head forward when he needs a drink. “Go back to sleep,” You whisper, kissing him on the forehead as his eyes close again.

Steve was right, it all felt entirely domestic. You’d never treat him, Robin, or any of your other friends like this but Eddie, he was special. Your heart clenches at the idea, always longing for Eddie in a way you know is not possible. Always afraid you’d ruin your seventeen years of friendship, afraid you’d lose the one person who made you feel comfortable. You’d always cuddled with him, he was overly touchy with you to the point that everyone thought you were together. You were always off limits to the other guys in Hawkins, only ever catching the eye of passersby. You fall asleep, thinking about all the should haves and could haves.

The sun filters through the small crack in the curtains hitting you straight in the face. You look around the room, remembering you fell asleep next to Eddie. His arm is around your waist, head buried in your neck, hair tickling your nose. You try to stretch as much as you can while being basically pinned down by Eddie.

“Ten more minutes,” he mumbles, pulling you closer.

“You slept for sixteen hours already,” you snort.

“Not enough,” He nuzzles into your neck.

“You gotta stop that or I’m gonna piss myself,” You say, trying to pry his arm off of you.

“Do it, you wouldn’t dare,” He challenges.

“No I wouldn’t but seriously, I gotta go!” you say more urgently.

“Fine, but you jump right back in bed the minute you finish,” He bargains.

“It’s almost one o’clock, I am not staying in bed,” You protest, still pulling at his arm.

“Either way you still owe me a present,” You say.

“Oh shit, I forgot,” He says, finally letting you go. You run to the bathroom to take care of yourself, peeing and brushing your teeth. You’d had a toothbrush right next to Eddie’s since your first sleepover, he always took charge of changing it out every couple of months.

“So what’s the plan for today?” You ask, rummaging through his closet.

“Eat, present, meet Robin and Nance and 'em,” He says, standing up from the bed to join you. He picks up a pair of black jeans, his favorite because “they fit him the best and they make his ass look good,” according to Eddie. It was warm out, you could already tell by the heat in the trailer so he picks out a cutoff tee that shows off the sides of his ribs if he moves a certain way. He didn’t know this was your favorite shirt of his. He always looked so fucking hot with it on, his tattoos peaking through the side, his midriff exposed at the corner of your eye. Well if he was going to play that game you needed a better outfit, no band tee for you.

You search through your overnight bag for the black lacy cami top that usually leaves him speechless and a pair of shorts. He looks at the outfit in your hand and gulps.

“Great, I’m starving,” You wink at him as you walk by. What the fuck were you doing? What has gotten into you? He might’ve just been thirsty or something. There was no guarantee he even noticed what you grabbed or even cared. When you come out dressed you hear Wayne’s voice to the right of you talking to Eddie about his job.

“Good…afternoon!” You greet them.

“Finally decided to wake up I see,” Wayne says, eyebrow raised. He wasn’t judging you, he liked to tease but he knew how hard Eddie and you worked. He always treated you like a dad, more than your own father. He was protective and caring in his own way.

“Blame Teddie,” You nudge Eds in the ribs.

“You know I need my beauty rest,” He says, flicking his hair.

“Maybe you need to sleep longer,” Wayne’s eyes light up, teasing Eddie.

“Some sleep would do you good,” Eddie says, tone more serious. Wayne had been picking up more shifts lately, you had hardly seen him the last three weeks.

“I’m already as pretty as I’ll get,” Wayne grumbles, not liking Eddie’s concern.

“Weren’t y’all ‘bout to get food, c’mon get,” Wayne pushes you both out, slamming the door behind you two.

“He really is overworking himself,” You sigh as you climb into Eddie’s van.

“I know, that’s why I’ve been taking longer hours at the shop. Just want to take some burden off the old man,” He says, eyes focused on the road. You both sit in silence on the drive to Benny’s, thinking about how stuck you felt.

You wanted to help Wayne in any way you could but you still weren’t making enough money. You rented out a room from your parents because according to them the second you turn eighteen they weren’t supposed to help you anymore. Even if you wanted to leave you couldn’t afford the lease. You remember all those nights with Eddie, dreaming of the day you finally became adults so you could become independent.

“We’re here,” Eddie says, snapping his finger in front of your face.

“Fuck, you scared the shit out of me,” You jump, hand clutching your chest.

“What’s got you so spaced out?” Eddie asks, during the short walk into the diner and into your “designated” booth.

“Nothin’” you say, playing with the salt and pepper shakers.

“C’mon tell me what’s on your mind,” He pushes.

“I just wish I could do something to help Wayne out,” You sigh, not looking up at him.

“Me too,” He says, taking the pepper from your hand and playing with it. You didn’t expect the heavy atmosphere but thankfully it's broken when Doris comes over with your drinks. You always ordered the same thing, every week.

“Here’s your cola’s, just put in your order,” She smiles.

“Thank you!” you beam at the sugary beverage.

“There’s something magical in these sodas I swear,” You moan, as you gulp it down.

Eddie’s looking at you through his eyelashes, tongue swiping at his bottom lip.

“Yeah tastes pretty good,” He observes, voice deeper than normal and pupil’s slightly blown out. You make conversation over your pancake breakfasts, talking about shitty customers and bonding over telling them to fuck off. The tension from earlier is gone as Eddie promises he can scarf down his food in less than ten minutes.

“I never said you couldn’t do it, I just said it wasn’t worth the upset stomach I know you’re gonna have,” You say, walking toward his van.

“Well it was worth it,” He gives you a toothy smile.

“Now for the big event,” He says, as you both get in the van.

“Big event?” You question.

“Got you a surprise, something I promised you a long time ago,” He says, staring into your eyes. There’s something there you don’t recognize, his gaze looking different. You wrack your brain trying to decipher his riddle. What did he promise you? He had made so many promises over the years, pinkies intertwining each other as Gareth made fun of your childish ways.

“Okay…” You look at him suspiciously.

“But, I’m gonna need to blindfold you,” He says, eyes full of mischief.

“Ooh kinky,” you wag your eyebrows at him. His eyes slightly widen before he snaps out of it and grabs a scrap of fabric from his door.

“Turn around for me sweetheart,” He mumbles. You can’t help but slightly shake as he places the opaque fabric over your eyes, his hand brushing the back of your head as he knots it in place. The entire act felt all too intimate, your heavy breaths in the silent van weren’t helping either.

“Can you see anything?” He asks, presumably waving a hand in your face as you turn to sit straight.

“Nothing, scouts honor,” You say, raising two fingers.

“You weren’t even in the scouts,” He laughs, turning the key in the ignition. You don’t know what direction you’re heading in.

“Oh my god are you gonna murder me? Been playing the long con? Get me comfortable so I go without protest,” You tease.

“Oh yeah, gonna chop you up in the forest in the name of satan,” He says dramatically.

“Sounds ‘bout right,” You laugh, as he pulls to a stop.

“We’re here, just give me a second” He says, opening the door and rounding the car to open yours less than a second later.

“Wrap your arms around my neck princess,” He says, carrying you out of the van and placing you on your feet.

“Woah,” You grab onto his arm as the dizziness sets in.

“You alright?” He asks, concerned laced in his voice.

“Yeah just give me a second. M’dizzy” You say, gripping harder onto his bicep.

“Take your time,” He says.

“I’m ready,” You say after a minute. “Okay, just follow my voice. It’s a trust exercise,” you can hear the smile in his voice as he leads you. “There’s like three steps, just take ‘em slow. Here’s the first one,” He says, stopping so you can get your footing. He leads you up the last two, “Before you take your blindfold off… just, I don’t know. J-just I don’t even know how to explain it,” He says, voice full of nervousness.

“Eds, I feel like I've been blindfolded for an hour. If this is another prank I will fucking kill you,” You threaten.

“Not a joke, promise,” He says, “Ready?”

“Been ready,” You answer. He takes your hand putting something cold in it and leaning over your shoulder to see the knot. You blink at the sudden light, trying to grab your bearings.

“W-what?” You asked confused. He’d placed a key in your hand, you were standing in front of a house.

“We always promised we’d move out together, it was time for me to bank it in,” He smiles.

“Wait, what?” You still couldn’t believe it. It had to be some sort of joke, he probably found this key on the floor.

“C’mon open the door,” He nods his head in the direction of the lock.

“You’re serious?” You ask, eyes wide in shock.

“As a heart attack. C’mon! I’ve been waiting for months to show you it,” He says, pressing you to open the lock. Your hands shake as you approach the door, the key surprisingly sliding in and turning. Oh no he wasn’t lying, this wasn’t an epic prank. You open the door to an empty living room, his hand guiding you inside.

“I haven’t picked out the furniture yet, thought you’d want to do it together,” He stammers, as you silently scan over the room. It was nice, the entrance opened to the living room, to the left was an open floor plan kitchen, and to the right a bedroom.

“T-together?” You stutter. You were speechless.

“I know how much you hate living at your folks home and you know we made that promise that we’d move out together when we had the money,” He says scratching the back of his neck. He was nervous at your lack of response, did you hate the house? Maybe he should have consulted you first.

“So you and me, living together?” You question, taking in every single detail.

“Yes, just you and me. Maybe Wayne but I doubt he’ll leave the trailer. He’ll finally have a bedroom again though,” He trails off.

“Holy shit, this is for real?” You ask again, walking around the living room toward the kitchen.

“Oh my god how many times do I have to say yes. Did I tie that blindfold too tight? Not enough oxygen in your brain” he chuckles at his joke. You jump into his arms, legs straddling his waist. You hold onto him like a monkey as he grabs your thighs.

“This is the best present ever! Holy shit, Eddie,” You say hugging him close.

“Least I can do for your long years of serving me loyally,” He laughs, walking deeper into the house. You slide down his body as he pulls you through, giving you the grand tour. The house had three bedrooms total, apparently he got an insane deal on the property. Someone from the shop got a huge opportunity in Indianapolis and was trying to get rid of it. They passed down the title to Eddie instead of going through a broker.

“Now this, I think may be your favorite part,” He says, pulling you toward the back door. Your hands entwined, which was not unusual for you both. He opens the door to a beautiful garden, the previous owners must’ve loved this place. It was full of flowers and fruit trees.

“There’s a perfect shady spot to read your books, we could put a table out there and have breakfast together,” He says.

“Holy shit Eddie, it’s perfect,” You say, pulling him in for another hug. He’s bent at an awkward angle to meet your height. Without thinking you peck him on the lips before letting him go and walking down the steps to the garden. You look back at him still frozen in that weird position.

“What’s wrong?” You ask oblivious to what you had just done.

“D-did you just kiss me?” He asks, running down the stairs to meet you halfway down the yard.

“T-that was-” You stutter, realizing what happened. He towers over you, hand tilting your face upward as he kisses you again.

“This okay?” he mumbles into your lips. You move your hands to his shoulders, nails digging into the skin. “Mhm,” You agree, trying to pull him closer. His tongue swipes against your bottom lip with a groan, his kisses becoming more desperate. You open your mouth inviting him in, his tongue mapping out your mouth as you moan. “F-fuck,” You breathe out as he pulls away, kissing down your neck. You’d never been touched like this by Eddie, his hands running all over you anguished for a piece of skin to grab onto. He leans his forehead against yours, as you both catch your breath, his hands under your shirt on your hips.

“W-what was that,” You stammer.

“Been wanting to do that since middle school,” His breath ghosts over your face as he leans back to look at you, skin flushed and chest rising rapidly.

“Since fourth grade,” You laugh, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him down to your level.

“That long?” He says incredulously.

“You were my first crush,” You admit, face flushing at the confession.

“You were mine!” He says, voice raising in astonishment.

“So we could’ve been doing that for fuckin’ years?” He says more to himself than you.

“Guess so,” You shrug your shoulders.

“No wonder everyone thought we were dating. You made the goo goo eyes at me I made the goo goo eyes at you,” He laughs.

“That was your fault! You always had an arm around my shoulder or were holding my hand. Anyone would’ve thought we were together!” You reply.

“As if you didn’t love it. Don’t think I didn’t see the way you look at me when I wear this shirt,” He teases.

“So you admit you did it on purpose?” You ask, smacking his chest.

“Course gotta make you all nervous,” He pecks you on the lips.

“Well don’t think I don’t notice all the times you stare at my boobs especially when I wear this,” You motion to your outfit.

“I fucking knew it! You’re a temptress y’know that?” He growls, pulling you in for another kiss.

“Anyway, I was always touching you because I didn’t want anyone hanging around my girl,” He mumbles at his admission, neck and cheeks flushed.

“Your girl?” You question, eyebrow raised.

“Always have been, always will be,” He reveals.

“You don’t know how many girls I had to fight off,” You chuckle.

“No way! I had to fight off half the town. You don’t even know how many fist fights I got into because of you,” he says.

“Girls are a lot more vicious. You know there was always a rumor going around about you,” You divulge.

“Oh yeah?” He motions for you to go on. “Always heard you had a big dick,” You reveal before hiding in his chest. You feel his chest vibrate as he laughs, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He teases.

“Yes I would,” You say, gaining confidence. You look up at him, the way his chocolate brown eyes are swallowed by his pupils. He pulls you in for another kiss, this one faster and more aggressive, it almost felt primal.

“Finally!” Robin cheers from the door, Eddie groans at the sound. He forgot he called them while you were changing. Steve, Robin, and Nancy scramble down the stairs giving you both congratulations. Gareth, Jeff, and, Grant arriving a few minutes later. Eddie’s annoyance dies down when he sees your face loving the way you laugh around your friends. You spend the rest of the afternoon drinking and eating take out with them. Nancy had brought a board game, this felt like home. Having them all here, Eddie's arm wrapped around you as he kisses your temple. You were finally home.

Eddie was finally yours and you were finally his. All your internal struggles and insecurities paid off. You had won the big prize at the fair! You spend the night on a blow up mattress with Eddie, eventually popping it because he has no control. After years of waiting you both felt more than desperate, clawing at each other's clothes.

“Shit- shit shit! M’close,” You moan.

“Fuck me too!” his eyes roll to the back of his head, thrusting in and out at a brutal pace.

“Say you’re mine, wanna hear it,” He begs.

“M’yours, always yours,” You claw at his back. “Yes yes yes yes,” He rambles until you’re both seeing stars. He pulls out of you, pulling you to his sweaty chest.

“This has to be a dream,” He exhales, staring at the ceiling. You kiss his chest in response. It was all too real. Your dreams had become reality. You finally had Eddie in your arms. You were his and he was yours just like you both promised when you were children.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson / reader #eddie munson x best friend reader #steve harrington #robin buckley #gareththegreat #domestic fiction #eddie x you #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson my beloved #wayne munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x childhood friend #mechanic!eddie #older eddie munson

[tigertales9]

Hard Reset XI

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / Smut / Fluff / Angst

Description: This chapter covers the week 9 win against the Bills and the week 10 loss against the Texans with a couple of flashbacks thrown in.

Time/Place: Tuesday, Nov. 7, 2023 - Tuesday, Nov. 14, 2023 / Cincinnati, Ohio (with flashbacks to New Orleans & NYC)

A/N: This is the eleventh fic in the Hard Reset series.

This chapter got totally out of hand, y'all. It jumps around a bit due to the flashbacks, so I hope it's not too hard to follow. It's also long as hell even though I tried to condense it as much as possible.

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

You close your eyes and tilt your head back, a proud smile gracing your lips as a blizzard of purple and gold confetti rains down on you from the roof of the Superdome in New Orleans.

"He did it," you whisper, brushing away happy tears as you return your attention to the field where Joe and his LSU teammates are celebrating one of the most impressive undefeated seasons in college football history. You take a deep breath and exchange hugs and high fives with everyone around you, never taking your eyes off of Joe for more than a few seconds while you wait for him to hoist the Championship trophy.

~ A month ago, you watched him hoist another trophy, the Heisman, at a ceremony in NYC. It was the largest margin of victory in the history of the award, and his speech was still being talked about. You knew the exact moment he went off script because he'd practiced the speech with you over and over, nervous that he'd forget to thank someone or somehow embarrass himself. Instead, he spoke from the heart and delivered an emotional Heisman speech that folks will be talking about for years to come. The impact of his heartfelt words -- bringing attention to the high poverty rate and food insecurity in Athens County -- was evident in the amount of donations pouring into the local food bank. The Joe Burrow Hunger Relief Fund was just getting started but showed no sign of slowing down anytime soon.

Joe was surprised at the outpouring of support, but it wasn't the only time he spoke something into existence. He spoke this Natty into existence when he transferred from Ohio State to LSU; from day one he told his new teammates that all they had to do was work harder than everyone else and the results would follow. He led by example, as always, first to arrive and last to leave, never asking for more effort from others than he was willing to give. The buy-in came swiftly for some and a little slower for others. By the end of his first season at LSU -- a very respectable 10-3 record culminating in a victory over UCF in the Fiesta Bowl (snapping UCF's 25-game winning streak, the longest in the nation at the time) -- even the most hardcore doubters were begrudgingly starting to admit that something special was brewing in Baton Rouge.

At the start of his final season at LSU, optimism was at an all-time high, but a few folks were still a little hesitant to believe that this team might catch lightning in a bottle and prove the naysayers wrong. One by one the dominoes fell, and by mid-season, even the skeptical were made into believers as one of the most dominant offenses in college football history rolled through opponents with an unrivaled flair and swagger. ~

Silent tears roll down your cheeks as you watch Joe lift the Championship trophy that he and his teammates worked so hard for, his expression showing equal parts accomplishment and relief; you take a deep breath as you soak in the moment, the love you feel for him -- your fiancé since about a month ago, although nobody knows it yet -- creating a visceral ache in your chest. You close your eyes and hear words from his Heisman speech in your head … "Just a kid from Ohio, coming down chasing a dream …"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Tuesday, 11/7/23 - Cincinnati, Ohio

You flutter your eyes open, disoriented for a few seconds before you realize you were dreaming about Joe's Natty; you turn your head and look at him sleeping peacefully beside you, the bed covers pushed down below his waist revealing a delicious amount of bare skin since he's shirtless. You check the clock on the bedside table -- 3:33 am -- before returning your attention to Joe as you push up onto an arm and look down at him in the dim light filtering in from the bathroom. You both hated to sleep in total darkness, so there was just enough light for you to appreciate the view.

And what an amazing view it is, you think to yourself, your gaze slowly moving from his beautiful face to his broad shoulders, down his muscular chest and sculpted abs, lingering for several seconds where his dirty-blonde treasure trail disappears beneath the sheet. You lean a little closer and take inventory of all the scrapes, scratches and bruises from his most recent game -- a 24-18 victory at home over the Bills on Sunday Night Football day before yesterday.

Joe stirs in his sleep, rolling onto his side to face you before letting out the tiniest snore from between his parted lips. How can one man be so damn adorable and hot as fuck at the same time? you muse, a smile gracing your lips as you let your gaze slide back down to his treasure trail.

"Like what you see?" Joe purrs, causing you to jump and let out a squeal.

"Damn it, Joseph! You scared me!" you scold, softening your tone with a smile. "I was just looking at your boo-boos," you deflect, ignoring his dirty grin that tells you he knows exactly what you were looking at. You clear your throat and run your fingers over a couple of bright red scratches on his left forearm. "Do they hurt?"

"Nah, that's football, baby."

You roll your eyes playfully as he continues.

"Besides, you put way more scratches on my back during our post-game victory sex."

"You asked for those," you remind him.

He gives you a wink. "I didn't ask; I ordered."

"Exactly," you agree, biting your lip as you think back to the intense sex y'all had when he got home from the game early Monday morning (yesterday); it was a fairly quick session by your usual standards, with Joe feeling himself for the prime-time win over a major conference rival, and your arousal red-lining due to the fifteen minutes of filthy talk he teased you with on the phone during his drive home from the stadium. The result was pure, concentrated pleasure, frantic and feral, more raw need than finesse.

His voice interrupts your thoughts. "Why are you awake at this ungodly hour?"

"I had a really vivid dream about you, and I guess it woke me up."

"Mmmm, a really vivid dream, huh?" He gives you a naughty smile while dropping a hand beneath the sheet to squeeze your bare thigh. "That sounds promising."

"It wasn't that kind of dream, horndog," you chuckle, shaking your head when he pokes his bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout.

"Dang," he mutters, heaving a sigh while keeping his hand firmly wrapped around your leg. "What was the dream about?"

"You winning the Natty. We were back in the Superdome with confetti raining down."

"Sounds like an awesome dream."

"It really was."

"Did you dream about the crazy-hot victory sex we had that night?"

"You mean the next morning?" you tease, since it was well into the wee hours of the next day before you were finally alone with him.

"You know what I mean," he states, licking his lips and inching his hand higher up your thigh, stopping just before reaching your crotch.

"I actually woke up before that part," you admit. "The last thing I remember is a quote from your Heisman speech."

"You dreamed about the Heisman, too?"

"Yeah. The quote was 'Just a kid from Ohio, coming down chasing a dream'." You give him a smile as you continue. "It occured to me in the dream that you sometimes speak things into existence."

His eyebrows inch toward his hairline. "Like what?"

"Like the Hunger Relief Fund that eventually morphed into the Joe Burrow Foundation. You spoke that into existence by mentioning the food insecurity in Athens County in your Heisman speech. That started all the donations rolling in." He studies your earnest expression in the dim light as you continue. "Plus you kind of spoke the Natty into existence. You told anyone who would listen that y'all had the right stuff to go all the way, as long as you worked like hell for it."

"Half of doing something is believing you can," he states, sounding every bit like a coach's son. "But make no mistake, that speech only worked because our Championship team was loaded with talent. If I ended up just about anywhere else, there would be no Natty. Fiery speeches and pep talks only work if you've got the goods to back 'em up."

"And the work ethic?" you ask.

"Yes."

"And the insane team chemistry?"

"Yes."

You smile at each other for several heartbeats before a thought hits you. "It's been a while since I thought about this but … it's crazy to me that we came so close to never meeting. You really wanted to transfer to Nebraska, and …"

"And thank God they didn't want me," he finishes, giving your thigh another squeeze.

You roll over onto your back and stare at the ceiling, a little surprised that this is still messing with your head after all this time. "Do you ever think about it?" you ask.

"Think about what?" He scoots closer and pushes up onto an arm to look down at you.

"About how close we came to never meeting?"

"No, I don't ever think about it because what was supposed to happen happened. Me transferring to LSU was meant to be, not just for football but also for you. -- For us. -- It was fate."

You take a deep breath and let his words soothe you; it's not the first time he's had to talk you down off of this particular ledge.

"Also," he forges ahead. "Just so you know, I spoke our relationship into existence."

"How so?"

"Mainly pep talks after all of the many times you shot me down before finally agreeing to go out with me; sometimes the pep talks were just in my head, sometimes they were out loud while staring at myself in a mirror like a huge dork."

"What did you say?"

He thinks for a few seconds before answering. "Don't give up. Be respectful but also relentless. Prove to her that you want more than a quick fuck."

"You were def relentless," you chuckle. "I figured you were chasing me so hard because you'd never been told no before, and it hurt your ego."

He's shaking his head no before you finish your sentence. "I chased you so hard because I wanted you more than anything. I thought if I could prove I wasn't a fuck boy, you'd hopefully give me a chance."

"I'm glad you didn't give up."

"Me too." He leans down and presses a quick kiss on your lips before continuing. "Speaking of the Heisman, you scared the shit out of me Heisman week-end when I thought you were gonna break up with me, but it all worked out in the end."

"Heisman week-end will always be extra special for your acceptance speech, and also for the amazing marriage proposal you surprised me with."

"I was persuasive as fuck, wasn't I?" he grins.

"Very persuasive."

His grin levels up from cute to cocky. "I guess you might say I spoke our engagement into existence?"

"You might say that," you agree, rolling your eyes playfully at his cocky demeanor.

"Okay, but on a serious note …" he clears his throat before continuing. "Remember when I said -- 'Death Valley, where opponents dreams come to die, but where mine came true?'"

"Yeah."

"I know I've told you this before, but I want to say it again. When I said that, I wasn't just talking about football. I was also talking about you. You're a dream come true for me."

You close your eyes as you feel that familiar visceral ache in your chest; you always thought the saying "I love you so much it hurts" was just hyperbole until you met Joe.

"What are you thinking?" he asks.

"I love you so much it hurts," you admit, pressing a hand against your chest. He drops a kiss against your hand before gently moving it aside to drop another kiss between your breasts, his lips warm through the thin fabric of your t-shirt. He slowly kisses his way up from your chest to your neck, his breath tickling your ear when he finally speaks.

"I love you more than anything. You know that, right?"

"Yeah," you whisper, your pulse picking up as he kisses and nuzzles the sensitive spot behind your ear for several heartbeats before capturing your lips, treating you to the kind of slow-burn kiss that always makes your pulse race and your toes curl. You lean into him, your body craving more contact as he deepens the kiss, a thrill shooting through you when you feel his erection against your thigh.

Before you have time to grind against his obvious hard-on, he pulls his hips back and breaks the kiss, giving you a sheepish smile before speaking. "I'm trying really hard not to be a horndog right now."

"Why?" you giggle at the look on his face before scooting closer.

"Because we just had a soft, tender moment, and I don't wanna ruin it with a raging boner."

"Nothing wrong with a soft moment being followed by a hard one," you purr, dropping a hand down to tease him through his boxer briefs.

"Who's the horndog now?" he asks, hissing when you slide a hand inside his undies to grip his hard length.

"Both of us," you whisper, spreading your legs to accommodate his big body as he crawls on top of you.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Sunday, 11/12/23 - Cincinnati, Ohio (after the home loss against the Texans)

Joe finishes brushing his teeth and does a swish-and-spit of mouthwash; he pats his lips dry with a washcloth and throws you a look that you can't quite read as he strides from the bathroom.

He's in a hurry to get in bed. That seems promising, you think to yourself, your pulse picking up as you quickly finish your nightly skincare routine before following him into the bedroom, making a face at the sight of the empty bed. "Guess I was wrong," you mumble, taking a deep breath as you step out into the hallway, the faint sounds of game film drawing you toward his office.

He'd been grumpy as hell ever since he got home from the game -- a 30-27 home loss against the Texans. Since it was an early game -- 1:00 pm kickoff -- his parents headed back to Athens before Joe got back from the stadium.

"Lucky fuckers," you mumble under your breath as you plaster a smile on your face and breeze into his office. "Hey babe," you chirp, leaning down to drop a kiss on his cheek as he watches one of the four sacks he took.

"Hey," he grunts without taking his eyes off the computer screen.

"You almost done?" you ask. "You've watched a lot of film at this point. Maybe it's time to take a break."

"I took a break for dinner," he states, giving a derisive snort as he watches himself throw an interception. "Dumbass," he seethes, quickly turning his head to lock eyes with you. "I was talking about me not you. I'm the dumbass."

"You're not a dumbass," you soothe, running your fingers through his tousled curls. "And I appreciate you taking a break to have dinner with me, but let's go to bed, okay? You can watch more film tomorrow."

"I'm not sleepy," he grumps, closing his eyes as you massage his throwing shoulder.

"Who said anything about sleep?" you tease, giving him a dirty wink when he opens one eye to check your expression.

"I don't want pity sex," he mutters, hissing when you hit just the right spot on his sore shoulder; he threw for 347 yards, so you know that thing is barking.

Not this 'pity sex' shit again, you think to yourself. This is the first time he lost a game since y'all got secretly married, so you decide to use that as leverage. "Did you just accuse your wife of offering you pity sex?"

"Sorry," he mumbles, raking a hand through his hair before turning his attention back to his computer; you step behind him and continue the shoulder massage, your mind running through options to get his mind off the game so he can get a good night's sleep.

Food and sex, you think to yourself. That's pretty much it. A full belly and empty balls. You lean down and press a kiss against the nape of his neck. Full belly is a done deal, just gotta finish him off.

"You can go to bed," he grumbles. "I have more film to watch."

Fuck that, you muse, knowing that the film watching is just self-flagellation at this point. You watch as he rewinds a play a couple times before scribbling a note in a small spiral notebook. A thought forms in your mind, and you smile as you give it some consideration. "Perfect idea," you whisper.

"Huh?" Joe asks, spinning his desk chair around to face you.

"Nothing," you shrug, reaching past him to snatch his precious spiral notebook before retreating a few steps.

He rolls his eyes when you waggle it at him. "Give it back," he orders.

"Come and get it," you purr, backing toward the door as he narrows his eyes at you.

He spins his chair back around, and you think he's going to ignore you, but instead he shuts his computer down and slowly stands up; he gives you a thorough once-over, taking in your bare legs and purple t-shirt -- one of his -- that hits you mid-thigh. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way," he states, giving you a loaded look while yanking his socks off, leaving him wearing slinky black shorts and a gray t-shirt.

Ohhh, he means business, you muse, a little thrill shooting through you at his obvious intention -- he knows you're going to run, and he's getting ready to chase you. "You know I'm gonna pick the hard way," you tease, putting as much sexual innuendo in your voice as possible. You watch in fascination as his nostrils flare, like a predator catching the scent of his prey; you give him a dirty grin before spinning around and running for the door.

You let out a squeal when you hear him pounding down the hallway right behind you, literally inches away when you finally bust into the bedroom and spin around to face him, holding a hand up as words spill from your lips. "Okay, okay, okay," you pant, your pulse racing way more from excitement than exertion as you continue to back away from him. "Stop right there and I'll give you what you want." You hold the notebook out toward him like a peace offering, giving him an innocent smile as he steps forward and reaches a hand out to take it. You let out a naughty giggle as you snatch the notebook back at the last second and dance away from him.

"You better stop playin'," he warns, the husky tone of his voice setting off a steady throb of arousal deep inside you. "Or what?" you chirp, sticking your tongue out as he takes a step toward you. He doesn't answer; instead he continues to walk toward you, his gaze dropping to your chest where your hard nipples are very visible through the thin fabric of your shirt. "Hold on a sec," you say breathlessly, giving him a smile when he drags his gaze from your breasts to your face. "Let's play a game."

He gives you a skeptical look as he stops about a foot away from you. "What kind of game?"

"Guess which hand it's in, and I'll give it to you." You wave the notebook at him before hiding it behind your back.

"I think I'll just come and take it," he smirks, closing the distance between you in one long stride and reaching a hand behind your back; you transfer the notebook from one hand to the other before lifting it over your head and rising up onto your tiptoes. He gives you a bemused look before easily plucking the notebook out of your upstretched hand. "Should've gone low, shorty," he gloats, his eyebrows rising as you give him a wink while dropping to your knees at his feet.

"Good idea," you purr, holding eye contact while palming his erection through his slinky shorts; you eventually slide your hands up and sink your fingers in the waistband of his shorts, pulling them plus his undies to mid-thigh. You catch his hard cock as it springs free, your tongue immediately lapping at the precum on his tip.

"Fuck," he hisses, his gaze locked on your mouth as you continue to tease him. "I just got played, huh?" he asks, more than a little admiration evident in his tone. "Like a motherfucker," you admit, giving him a cocky smile before tracing your tongue over a prominent vein, base to tip, finishing it off with a slow swirl and thorough suck. "Just consider this my victory formation," you purr, relishing the angle as he towers over you, his feel and taste on your tongue causing a gush of liquid heat in your mouth and core; he makes a sound low in his throat as he drops the notebook on the floor and wraps a hand around the nape of your neck, his grunts of approval spurring you on as you hit a rhythm that has his hips thrusting forward, dirty praise spilling from his pretty lips as you continue to pleasure him.

"Hold on a sec," he rasps after several minutes. "Let's get naked."

You pull off of him and give a quick nod before shoving his shorts and undies all the way down; he steps out of them before stripping his shirt off, dropping it on the floor as he backs up a few steps and sits on the bed, his thick thighs falling open in his usual manspread. "Come here," he orders, giving you a dirty grin when you strip your shirt off and walk toward him, your eyes dropping down to his impressive erection as you lick your lips in anticipation of finishing what you started.

"Hold on," he stops you as you start to kneel between his thighs. "Lose the panties."

You slide your thong off, your eyebrows rising when he reaches a hand out to grab it before quickly bringing the scrap of black lace to his face; he takes a deep breath and then another, his cock twitching at the scent of your arousal. You feel a gush of wetness between your thighs as you sink to your knees, your lips barely making contact with his shaft before he reaches down and picks you up. "What are you doing? I wasn't finished sucking you," you yelp, spreading your legs so you end up straddling his waist with him flat on his back on the bed.

"I'm calling an audible," he states, gripping your ass in both hands and sliding you up his body toward his face. "I need to taste you."

"I need to taste you, too," you whine. "Don't get me wrong, I love the manhandling, but I wanna finish you with my mouth."

He laughs at your pouty expression. "There's a way we can both get what we want."

"How?"

He raises one eyebrow, smiling when a look of realization hits your face.

"Sixty-nine?" you mumble, sticking your tongue out at his 'well, duh' expression. "It's your fault I didn't think of that sooner," you grump, trying and failing to keep a stern look on your face.

"How is it my fault?" he asks, helping you spin around and get into position.

"You got me so dickmatized I can't think straight."

"Ohhh, I love that. I'm gonna get you a t-shirt that says that."

"Shut up," you giggle, gasping when he grips your hips and pulls you toward his face.

"Don't worry," he purrs, licking a long stripe up the length of your wet slit. "I know better than to talk with my mouth full."

The last coherent thought you have is thank goodness y'all are alone in the house, since there's a 100% chance of you getting loud as hell.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You watch the play unfold in slow motion on your TV screen, your heart skipping a beat as two defenders converge on Joe; you gasp in horror as they wrap him up and twist him to the ground, his body language and grimace of pain speaking volumes as he grabs his knee. "Oh no!" you yelp, tears streaming down your face when you realize how much pain he's in. "Noooooo!" ~

"Babe, wake up! You're having a bad dream!"

Joe's voice snaps you out of your nightmare; you take one look at his concerned face and break down crying. "What day is it?" you ask between sobs.

He throws a quick glance at the bedside clock before answering. "It's Tuesday, November 14th, 2023. 1:44 am to be precise."

"Thank goodness," you whisper as you collapse against him. "I thought I was still dreaming for a sec."

"You're awake," he soothes, pulling you tight against him, your hot tears falling on his bare chest as he cradles your head in one big hand, his other hand rubbing your back. "It's okay, baby," he whispers, pressing a kiss on top of your head.

"It's not okay," you sniff. "I was dreaming about your knee injury. That awful dream where it happens in slow motion and I can't look away."

"Damn," he mutters, pressing a couple more kisses against you as your tears continue to fall. "That's def a nightmare."

"I felt so helpless since I couldn't be at the game because of Covid," you sputter, grinding your face against his chest as your emotions overwhelm you.

"You got to me as soon as you could," he murmurs. "And you helped me through that hideous rehab. I couldn't have done it without you."

You cry for a few more minutes before your tears finally taper off; you take a deep breath before speaking, your words muffled against him. "Sorry for crying all over you," you sniff.

"It's okay. I'm waterproof," he says, dropping another kiss on your head before hopping up to grab some tissues for you. You blow your nose, cringing at the loud noise before placing the soiled tissues in his outstretched hand; he disappears into the bathroom to toss the tissues before rejoining you in bed.

"Booger check," you urge, tilting your head back for him to inspect your nostrils. "You're good," he assures you, stretching out beside you and pulling you against him. You bury your face in his neck, his warmth and familiar scent soothing your frazzled nerves.

Several minutes pass before he breaks the silence. "You haven't had that dream in a while. I was hoping you'd never have it again."

"Me too," you mumble. "I think I had it again because I'm worried about you."

He tries to pull back and look at you, but you burrow your face deeper into his neck; you feel him take a deep breath, hold it for several seconds, then slowly let it out. He repeats the action before speaking up. "Talk to me."

"It's just …" you scramble to organize your thoughts before continuing. "The short week has me worried. Playing Sunday the 12th then Thursday the 16th seems crazy. That's basically no time for your body to recover."

"I'll be fine," he murmurs. "My calf's been feeling damn near 100%."

You finally pull back and lock eyes with him. "What about your arm?"

"What about it?"

"You've been wearing the compression sleeve pretty regularly lately."

"My arm is fine. The compression sleeve is just precautionary to keep the normal swelling down that most QBs experience at this point in the season."

You study his face for several seconds before speaking. "You'd tell me if something was actually wrong, right?"

"Of course I would."

"This week just feels so rushed, doesn't it? You just played a game two days ago, and you've got a night practice tonight at 6:00 pm, then you're on the team flight tomorrow headed to Baltimore. I also hate that it's a late game. You're gonna be dead tired by that 8:15 pm kickoff."

"Kickoff could be at midnight, and I'd be ready to go." He gives you a cocky grin as he continues. "Don't you think I might have a little extra adrenaline flowing going up against a division rival?"

"Obvi," you concede, returning his grin even though you still have a vague sense of dread. "Sorry for waking you up," you continue, snuggling against him. "Let's try to go back to sleep. You need all the sleep you can get."

"I wasn't actually sleeping when you had the nightmare."

"You weren't?"

"Nope. I'd been awake for about thirty minutes. I tried to go back to sleep, but I was having a hard time turning my brain off."

"Thinking about the upcoming game?"

"Obvi," he admits, scrunching up his adorable nose when you push up into a sitting position and look down at him.

"What will help you sleep?" you ask. "Maybe a snack? How about a peanut butter chocolate chip cookie?"

"I was thinking of a different kind of snack," he purrs, licking his lips and dropping his gaze down to your crotch.

"Marriage has turned you into a shameless horndog," you chuckle, raising your arms as he sits up and strips your t-shirt off.

"That's a good thing, though, right?" he asks, tossing your shirt on the floor.

You nod, giving him a wink as you lie back. "That's a very good thing."

"Good. 'Cause I can't help that I'm perpetually horny," he teases, giving you a dirty grin as he slides your panties down your legs before crawling between your spread thighs. "I mean, have you seen my wife? She's smoking hot."

Your giggles turn into groans as he lowers his head, your vague sense of dread quickly disappearing with every stroke of his talented tongue.

~ ~ ~

An hour later, you gently ease out of bed and look down at Joe sleeping peacefully, the last words he said before he drifted off echoing in your head. Get some sleep, babe. I promise there's nothing to worry about.

You grab your t-shirt and panties and creep out into the hallway, quickly shimmying into the articles of clothing before tiptoeing downstairs to the kitchen; you pour a glass of water and grab a cookie, savoring a few bites before rolling your shoulders to ease some tension. "There's plenty to worry about," you mumble under your breath. "Football is violent as fuck, and a bunch of players get hurt every week."

You hadn't said that to Joe earlier because he needed sleep more than you needed to make a point, so you held your tongue. "It is what it is," you mutter, "no reason to argue about it." You finish your cookie as you try to put the negative thoughts out of your mind; you heave a weary sigh as you walk to the living room and plop down on the sofa. "I'm not sleepy," you grumble, trying to decide what to do to take your mind off of things. You don't feel like watching TV or reading or scrolling your phone, so what does that leave?

After a few minutes, an idea hits you, and you open a drawer on the end table and pull out a book bound in black leather. You tuck a plush blanket around your legs before you flip the book open, reading the title out loud. "The Story of Us - Volume One." A smile immediately graces your lips as you peruse the pics of you and Joe, and you laugh quietly at how awkward y'all look in some of the pics from when you first started dating.

You slowly flip several pages before stopping on a page dedicated to Joe's Heisman win. There are pics of him on stage accepting the award, in Times Square with his face and name in flashing lights, and pics of both of you the following night at the gala dinner where everyone in attendance couldn't get enough of him. "Especially the women," you mutter, shaking your head as you close your eyes and let your mind rewind.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ December 15, 2019 - Marriott Marquis Times Square NYC

You take a deep breath and hold it for a few seconds as Joe follows you into the elevator and presses the button for the 18th floor. He gives you a smile as the door slides closed, cutting you off from the crowd of people still mingling after the Heisman gala dinner. "Alone at last," he murmurs, leaning down to drop a kiss on your lips as the elevator whisks you upward.

A few seconds later, the elevator slows to a halt, and Joe throws a look over his shoulder to see what floor you're on. "Six," he mutters, spinning around and using one big hand to tuck you behind him as three very loud and rowdy guys join you in the elevator.

"Oh shit!" one of them yelps. "It's Joe Burrow, right? I mean, I know it's you since your face is all over Times Square right now."

"Yeah, it's me," Joe mutters, exchanging greetings with the very inebriated guys while you stay firmly hidden behind his large frame.

"Dude," one of the drunks slurs. "You're about to be living the life! Heisman winner and soon to be first pick in the NFL is no joke, bro. You're gonna be absolutely drowning in pussy."

"No shit!" another drunk chimes in. "Hot chicks will be throwing themselves at you!"

Before Joe has a chance to respond, the elevator crawls to a stop and the door swishes open, the trio of loud-mouths cackling as they stumble out into the corridor. You stare at your feet as the door slides closed, encapsulating you and Joe in a very tense silence; he turns to face you and you swallow hard, fighting back tears as the elevator continues its ascent.

"Bunch of drunk idiots," he mumbles, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as you continue to stare at your feet. "You okay?" he inquires, turning to look at the floor number as the elevator grinds to a halt. "This is our floor."

The words are barely out of his mouth before you dart around him and exit the elevator, hiking the hem of your dress up and legging it down the long hallway toward your suite; you swipe the key card and sling the door open, immediately rushing through the lounge area into the bedroom then into the en suite bathroom as Joe follows close behind.

"Are you okay?" he asks again, his voice slightly frantic.

"I'm fine. I just need to pee," you lie, shutting the bathroom door in his face before locking it. You toss your tiny, sparkly bag on the counter and stare at your reflection in the mirror above the sink, a wave of nausea rolling through you as you replay the words said in the elevator. "Drowning in pussy, indeed," you sneer under your breath, yanking the sleeves of your slinky black dress down your arms, relishing the ripping sound as you roughly shove the gossamer fabric over your plump butt. "Fuck it," you grit out, kicking the dress off and stomping on it a few times, literally grinding it under your stiletto heels for several seconds before catching a glimpse of yourself in the full-length mirror on the bathroom door.

"Calm down," you whisper, taking several deep breaths while studying your reflection, your gaze raking over the purple lace teddy you wore under your dress because you knew Joe would love it, especially the way your breasts spill out of the demi cups and the snap crotch just waiting to be unsnapped.

"So much for that," you mutter, kicking your heels off and reaching for one of the plush hotel bathrobes hanging beside the door. You shrug the robe on and gather up your dress and heels, slinging the door open and giving Joe a bland smile as you walk into the bedroom. You notice he's changed out of his tux into a pair of gray sweatpants and a black long-sleeve t-shirt. He's sitting on the bed looking nervous as hell.

"You okay?" he asks for the third time, quickly standing up as you walk in the room.

"I'm fine," you mutter, jamming your dress and heels in your suitcase before breezing past Joe to walk into the lounge area; you head straight to the bar and grab a glass, dropping a couple of fat ice cubes in it before adding a mini bottle of vodka. "Fuck it," you mumble under your breath, grabbing a mini bottle of silver tequila and adding it to the glass with the vodka, swirling it around for a few seconds before taking a sip, the potent elixir burning all the way down just like you hoped it would.

"Can I have a taste?" Joe asks, giving you a smile when you turn your head to look at him.

"Sure," you answer, walking to where he's sitting on the leather sofa before offering him the glass; you watch closely as he takes a hearty gulp, his eyes immediately going wide.

"Got damn! What kind of cocktail is this?" he wheezes, making a face as he hands the glass back to you.

"Fuck boy repellant," you state, your full lips curling into a cunty sneer as you drop into an armchair directly across from him, the hotel robe you're wearing -- which is too big for you -- sliding off of one shoulder far enough to reveal a strap of your teddy. His eyes are drawn to the wisp of purple, lingering there for several seconds before you part the robe just below your crotch, letting it fall open to reveal your bare legs. You take a small sip of your drink and watch in annoyed amusement as his gaze drops down to your smooth legs, slowly sliding from your feet -- toenails painted LSU purple -- all the way up to your barely-concealed crotch. Men are so fucking predictable, you think to yourself. Even the decent ones are constantly thinking with their dicks.

He eventually clears his throat and meets your eyes. "Are you mad at me?" he asks, nervously picking at his thumbnail in a way you wish you didn't find endearing.

"I'm mad at the situation."

He nods vigorously. "Because of those rude drunks spouting bullshit in the elevator, right?"

"They may have been drunk, but they were 100% correct," you state, taking another sip of your godawful drink before sitting it on a coaster on the side table. "No bullshit detected."

He opens his mouth to argue, but you beat him to the punch. "I wouldn't try to deny it if I were you. At best you come off as an oblivious doofus, and at worst you come off as a manipulative liar." He snaps his mouth closed as you plow ahead. "Having said that, I don't really want to have this convo tonight. You've had an amazing couple of days, and I don't want to ruin that. Let's save this heavy topic for some other time."

"I prefer to have the conversation now," he urges, swallowing hard when you raise an eyebrow at him. "Please?" he adds. "I won't be able to sleep or think or anything until we clear this up."

"Fine," you state, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Remember when we first met just after you transferred to LSU in the summer of 2018?"

"Yeah."

"And remember how I refused to go out with you for several weeks before you finally convinced me?"

"Yeah."

"This shit right here is the reason I was so reluctant."

He furrows his brow in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I mean … once I found out you were a football player, I promised myself I'd stay away, even though I was super attracted to you."

"Because you thought I was a fuck boy."

"Exactly. And now -- after being with you for almost 18 months -- my worst fears are about to be realized."

"I don't understand. You know I'm not a fuck boy, so what's the problem?"

You take a deep breath as you struggle to find the words to say, fighting back tears as your mood shifts from mad to sad. "Look … I don't think you're a fuck boy, but you're only human, and you have women throwing themselves at you left and right. I lost count of how many women propositioned you right in front of my face tonight."

"And damn near every man in the place was eye-fucking you, but I know you'd never cheat on me. Don't you trust me?"

"That's a loaded question," you mutter. "I mean … you're a Heisman winner, and unless an asteroid destroys the Earth before January 13, 2020, you're gonna be a National Champion." You wipe a tear before continuing. "Then you're gonna be a number one pick in the NFL draft and an instant multi-millionaire. There's a saying about how a man is only as faithful as his options." You shrug as you continue. "And you're about to be drowning in options."

"I don't want options; I want you! I've wanted you since I first laid eyes on you!"

You give him a sad smile. "I want you, too, but I also want to live a normal, quiet life. I had no idea when we started dating that you were gonna have one of the most amazing college football seasons of all time and end up in the NFL."

"Are you breaking up with me?" he grits out, his voice cracking with emotion.

"I'm … not sure."

"Oh my God," he snaps, leaping off the sofa like he got poked with a cattle prod; he paces back and forth several times, raking a hand through his hair while muttering under his breath. You watch him with equal parts fascination and trepidation, not exactly sure where this is going.

He eventually stops right in front of your chair and stares at you for several seconds before grabbing the lethal drink; he takes two gulps before slamming it back down. "Fucking hell, that's awful," he gasps, his gaze locking onto yours as he drops to his knees at your feet. "Have I done something wrong?" he asks, his earnest expression breaking your heart.

"You haven't done anything wrong. I just … I don't want you to feel like you're stuck with me."

"Stuck with you? Are you serious?" He shakes his head as he continues. "These last 18 months have been the best of my life, and football is part of that, but you're also a huge part. You're a dream come true for me."

You chew on your bottom lip as he scoots closer and forges ahead.

"And you're right, this season has been absolutely crazy. You've been the eye of the storm for me. My safe space." He reaches a hand out toward you, waiting for you to grasp it before continuing. "I'm not sure we can have a normal, quiet life for however long I'm in the NFL, but I promise I'll do everything I can to shield you from the bullshit."

"I feel like I'm already waist deep in bullshit," you mutter, "and I think you're being a little naive to think you can shield me from it."

"You're right," he admits, "all I can do is try my best. Whatever you need from me, I'll do it." He takes a deep breath before continuing. "Football is gonna be one chapter in our story, but there are so many other things I'm looking forward to experiencing with you."

"Like what?" you ask.

"Like house hunting when I finally know which team is gonna draft me, finally living together so we can go to sleep and wake up in the same bed all the time, vacations, marriage, kids, stuff like that."

"Stuff like that?" you laugh. "You threw marriage and kids in there pretty nonchalantly."

"I kind of got ahead of myself," he grins. "It's probably not the right time for this because I'm totally unprepared but fuck it, I'm calling an audible. Hold on a sec," he continues, hopping up and striding to the coat closet in the entryway; he pulls out his LSU letterman jacket and shrugs it on as he walks back into the lounge, dropping to one knee in front of you and reaching both of his hands out. Your heart skips a beat at the look on his face as you place your hands in his.

He swallows hard and licks his lips before speaking. "Coming to LSU was my destiny, not just for football but also for you. I was gonna wait until I signed my rookie contract to do this so I could give you the engagement ring you deserve, but right here, right now, I need you to know that I want you by my side for this journey. It's our journey, not just my journey. Will you marry me?"

It takes you a few heartbeats to be able to speak, so you nod your head as tears roll down your cheeks. "Yes," you finally manage, burying your face in his neck when he pulls you close. "I love you," he murmurs. "I love you, too," you sniff, relaxing into his embrace for several minutes before he pulls back and stands up.

"Take your robe off," he urges as he shrugs out of his letterman jacket. You stand up and do his bidding, smiling when his eyes go wide at the sight of your purple lace teddy. "Damn," he mumbles, "hope I get to see more of that later. But for now I want to give you my jacket." He holds the jacket for you while you slip into it. "We need something symbolic since I don't have a ring yet."

"Thank you, babe," you whisper, rising up on your tiptoes to press a kiss on his lips. "It's a little big, huh?" you giggle, spinning in a circle to show off the fit.

"It's perfect," he grins, engulfing you in a hug for several heartbeats before pulling back. "We need a pic," he mutters, grabbing his phone before plopping into the armchair and patting his lap; you dab the tears off of your cheeks as you sit in his lap. "Do I look okay?" you ask. "You look gorgeous," he answers, waiting for you to get settled before snapping the selfie.

Y'all are admiring the pic when his stomach growls loudly. "Those dinner portions were tiny," he grumbles. "You wanna order room service?"

"Sure," you agree. "What sounds good?"

"I'm thinking club sandwiches, fries and a bottle of champagne to celebrate."

"Sounds great."

~ ~ ~

Thirty minutes later, y'all are sitting side by side at the bistro-size table, feeding each other fries and guzzling champagne while looking out the window at the bright lights of the city that never sleeps.

"We can't tell anybody we're engaged until after the Natty," you state, accidentally wiping your salty hand on your robe before you realize it's not your napkin (the letter jacket is safely back in the closet). "Not even family," you continue. "The pressure on you is insane right now, and you don't need the distraction."

"True," he agrees. "I was actually thinking we might wait until we get your engagement ring to tell folks. The draft is April 23rd, and I should sign my rookie contract some time in July. We can tell close family and friends before that, but I want the ring on your finger before we make a public announcement. Is that okay?"

"Sounds good to me," you smile, feeling a little lightheaded from the champagne and the sheer giddyness of the moment. "Just so you know, I don't need an expensive ring."

"We'll see." He grins with a mouthful of sandwich before hopping up to root around in his duffle bag; he sits back down and places a small spiral notebook on the table. "We need to make a to-do list," he states, flipping to a blank page and brandishing a pen before continuing. "First off, next Sunday the 22nd, there's an important game between the Bengals and Dolphins. If the Dolphins win, the Bengals secure the first pick in the draft. So if that happens, we need to start looking for houses in Cincinnati, preferably close to the stadium."

"And two days before that," you interject, "you're gonna receive your master's degree. Be sure to put that on the list."

"Yes, ma'am," he grins, doing your bidding; you top off your champagne glasses as y'all continue to add items to the list:

Dec. 20, 2019 - Joe receives master's degree

Dec. 22, 2019 - if Dolphins beat Bengals, start house hunting in Cincinnati

Dec. 28, 2019 - beat Oklahoma in the Peach Bowl

Jan. 13, 2020 - win the Natty

April 23, 2020 - NFL draft

May 15, 2020 - Y/n receives bachelor's degree (you're a year and a half younger than Joe - also keep in mind spring semester was mostly done virtually b/c of Covid)

July ??, 2020 - Joe signs NFL rookie contract

July/August, 2020 - buy engagement ring & make public announcement + buy house

Joe reads the list out loud before giving you a look. "Can you think of anything else?"

"Not right now, but I'm feeling kinda lightheaded from the champagne."

"Let's finish it off," he grins, pouring the remainder of the bubbly in each of your glasses.

"You're such a bad influence," you giggle, taking the champagne flute as he hands it to you.

"Just one more sip, okay? I wanna propose a toast."

"Okay, go ahead," you snicker, busting out laughing at the look on his face.

"What's so funny?" he laughs.

"Nothing really, I'm just giddy as hell. Combination of drunk and high on life."

"Cool," he grins, holding his glass up. "Here's to happily ever after. Is that cheesy?"

"Cheesy as fuck and I love it," you giggle, clinking your glass against his before downing your entire drink.

"Am I gonna have to carry you to bed?" he asks, sliding a hand up your thigh and under your robe until it's nestled against your crotch; he makes an inquisitive face as he runs his fingers over the snap crotch of your teddy. "This feels different," he muses, his forehead wrinkling in consternation as he tries to figure out what he's feeling.

"It's a snap crotch," you state.

"Oh. -- Sooo I can just … unsnap it?" he asks, the look on his face sending a sizzle of heat through you.

"Yeah," you whisper, shrugging the robe off as he stands up and reaches for you, picking you up bridal-style as he heads for the bedroom.

~ ~ ~

Joe's voice pulls you out of your flashback.

"Hey babe," he mumbles around a mouthful of peanut butter chocolate chip cookie. "What ya looking at?"

"Our picture book," you answer, giving him a smile when he sits beside you on the sofa.

"That was an amazing night," he says, looking at the pic of you sitting in his lap wearing his letterman jacket. "I really thought we'd be married super fast, but it didn't happen that way."

"No, it didn't," you whisper, your mind thinking back to all the reasons why -- Covid -- Joe's horrible knee injury -- losing the Super Bowl -- etc. Plus, the stress of planning a big wedding was something that neither one of you wanted to deal with.

"But we're married now," he states, "even if nobody knows it yet." He takes the picture book off of your lap and places it on the coffee table. "You wanna try to get a little more sleep before we have to get up?" he asks, stretching out beside you on the oversized sofa when you say yes; he tucks the blanket around both of you as you snuggle against him, dropping a kiss on the nape of your neck as he pulls you close, your back to his chest.

You close your eyes and try to relax, but your mind has other ideas. Why do I have such an uneasy feeling, you think to yourself. I'm sure everything is gonna be just fine.

"Relax, babe," Joe mutters, dropping another kiss on your neck. "Everything's gonna be just fine."

"You really need to stop reading my mind," you chuckle. "It's getting a little crazy."

"I'm not really reading your mind, we're just always on the same wavelength."

"That sounds like something a shameless mind reader would say."

"Okay, you caught me. I always know exactly what you're thinking."

"What am I thinking right now?"

He considers the question for a few seconds before answering. "You're thinking that you wanna have super naughty shower sex before I leave for practice."

"You are such a horndog," you giggle.

"Obvi, but is that what you were thinking?"

"No, but I'm thinking it now."

"I love it when a plan comes together," he gloats, laughing along with you for a bit before quieting down; you feel the tension leave your body as he pulls you closer and drops another kiss on your neck, your eyelids fluttering closed as you drift off to sleep in his embrace.

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

shoutout to @sofferaddict for the idea to incorporate more flashbacks while we wait for good news on Joe's wrist.

shoutout to @joeys-babe for requesting a flashback of Joe proposing.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow imagine

[zexapher]

Vacuan Nights, Like Vacuan Days

They’re just so great together! I’d love for Jaune and Weiss to get a little downtime in Vacuo to live out a moment like this. They really deserve it, and I’d love to see Jaune’s guitar make a reappearance.

The comic here was inspired by u/Silverstar1243’s excellent piece of art, A Serenade Under the Moonlight. Send some love to them on their twitter, commission some art if you’re willing and able, they’ve made some great stuff.

You folks may have noticed I threw in a couple of references for those in the know; the Golden Oreos behind Yang (double stuffed, I might add) for the trio’s ship, Weiss liking it rough for Mallobaude’s great fic, and of course I made a whole theme around the Arabian Nights Disney song. A song, along with its Aladdin compatriots, which I spent the better part of a day finding covers for just to listen to on repeat while I worked.

This one’s now officially my longest comic project, with 14 panels, two over the past record since I added the White Knight kiss at the end. I’m pretty happy with how it turned out. Not sure I’d say it was more difficult than my Vanity of Vanities post, but for this one I actually knew how to use my editing software going into it (at least somewhat).

Put a lot of work into this one, been working on it on and off since February. Took a few breaks for vacation, to make my memorial post for Rooster Teeth, and another five meme edits or so, but I came back around to it. First half was pretty easy, relatively minor edits inserting characters into scenes and so on. The second half with Jaune and Weiss was tougher though, with color correcting, merging poses, redrawing features, drawing Jaune’s entire head to fix some lighting issues, etc. Really like how the edit to make Jaune strum his guitar turned out.

The time it took to make the whole comic got me down a little, until I did a bit of math. Including my side projects since starting this, all the scripting and editing and all, I’ve been pumping out a panel every two days. That seems pretty good to me, that kind of accomplishment makes me a little proud of myself.

Really need to get around to watching the second part of the Justice League Crossover movies. It’s got a few Vacuo scenes that might make things a little more authentic instead of me just using Saphron’s house and pretending it’s a suite in Vacuo. I do love taking yet more character stills from Jaune and friends experiencing deep trauma and turning it into something positive, been making that a bit of a personal habit. And I’ve got to say, the background for Jaune and Weiss’ scene is really beautiful, pulled it from when Sun and Neptune hear Ruby’s message about Salem. That’s just a really good shot all on its own, I even saved a copy for my computer’s wallpaper after editing out the two.

Posting a big RWBY White Knight edit, watching not one but two RWBY Beyond episodes, and all on the trail of the news that RWBY’s found partners that they’re negotiating with and that the creative team is expected to stay on. And I'm sipping bubble tea. Life is good.

Anyway, pardon the long write up. I’m invested in this one, and am quite pleased with how the comic turned out. I hope you all get a kick out of it as well!

#rwby #jaune arc #weiss schnee #rwby white knight #white knight #rwby whiteknight #whiteknight #jaune arc x weiss schnee #jaune x weiss #yang xiao long #golden oreo #yang x jaune #yang x weiss #yang x jaune x weiss #blake belladonna #ruby rose #qrow branwen #sort of #shipping #comics #rwby memes #memes #greenlightvolume10 #rwby volume 10 #rwby news #vacuo #jaune's guitar #needs a come back #disney #aladdin

[murdockbarnes]

you'll have to stop the world just to stop the feeling

pairing: eloise bridgerton x fem!reader

summary: eloise bridgerton has successfully chased away a flurry of lady's maids. has she finally met her match?

wordcount: almost 3k

warnings: fluff, angst, no happy ending. 18+ minors do not interact. nothing explicit, but still.

A/N: eloise is aged up in this, around 24. partly inspired by this gorgeous artwork and good luck babe by chappell roan.

i try not use y/n in my fics but i started writing this over two years ago and a good chunk of it was already written using y/n, so i am just too lazy to change it now. sorry it that bothers anyone! any feedback would be greatly appreciated. have a great day!

*not edited, all mistakes are mine*

viscount bridgerton was worried. a slew of lady's maids and none were strong willed enough to deal with his storm of a younger sister, eloise. of course, he loved her passion dearly, just not so much when it felt like he had to look for a new lady's maid every other week. the last lady's maid lasted two days. anthony just hoped the new one would last a little longer.

eloise was proud of herself - she had just broken her personal record: two days. in the years since she had made her debut, she had driven away at least 20 lady's maids each year. it wasn't that she enjoyed tormenting them, it was just that she hated society's expectations of her and her sex. she hated the lady's maids on principal, it was nothing personal, even though they did make her life easier. she had thought that anthony would finally give up, so imagine her surprise when she went down to the drawing room only to find her mother sitting with whom she guessed was to be her new lady's maid.

"you must be joking" eloise scoffed.

"eloise-" violet began.

"quite the contrary, ma'am," you began as eloise's eyes once again slid over to yours. "i am to be your new lady's maid. my name is y/n y/l/n."

"don't bother getting too comfortable, miss y/l/n" eloise flashed you a sugary sweet smile before turning on her heel and departing.

the next few weeks saw you exhausted, as eloise did everything in her power to vex you enough to make you quit. but you were determined. each night, after whatever ordeal she had put you through for the day, whether it be going shopping and swiftly disappearing into the crowd, sending you up and down multiple flights of stairs to look for something she had with her all along, or whatever torture she thought of that day, you would smile brightly at her before departing for the night.

that night, right before you closed the doors to her room, you saw her crack, saw her frown. eloise was understandably confused. you should have given up by now, you should have broken and quit. yet, here you were two months into this arrangement. the longest yet. to be really quite honest, eloise was running out of ideas to scare you off.

another ball passed with more judgement from the mamas of the ton. eloise could feel their eyes burning into her back like the power of a thousand suns. she was just exhausted of this constant routine and wished she could escape. and she wanted this blasted dress off her.

you started unlacing the back of the dress, your fingers accidentally brushing her soft skin, goosebumps appearing in their wake. as you brush her hair and see eloise's reflection in the mirror, a prominent frown between her brows, you realise this ball must have taken more of a toll on her for her to be so docile with you. you blow out all candles save one, and even when you exit, eloise is deep in thought in front of the mirror.

hyacinth was debuting this season, and violet swears the effort to find both hyacinth and eloise husbands is taking years off her life. she loves how fierce and passionate her daughters are, but she wished it was easier to find them husbands, as at the end of the day she wants to see them happy with their own little family.

eloise is forced out to promenade with hyacinth, and as always, her lady's maid is to be her shadow. eloise is perturbed to see her so unbothered by her antics. when she crosses the street boldly in front of an oncoming carriage, so does she. when she takes a detour and leaves hyacinth and her own lady's maid behind, she follows. as she looks over her shoulder to see her walking a few paces behind, her foot hits the stump of a tree and she goes tumbling down.

the pain radiates up eloise's leg, and she feels hands on her in seconds. the next moments are a blur and eloise does not remember how she finds herself in her bed, a physician standing at the end of her bed claiming a broken foot, and her mother and youngest sister fretting over her.

"i'm afraid the foot is broken, lady bridgerton," the physician finishes his examination and wraps her foot in a bandage.

"how long will it take to heal, doctor?" violet asks worriedly.

"two to three months, my lady. possibly even more, depending on the severity."

"she'll miss the entirety of the season! maybe even more. can nothing be done?" violet queries. eloise, on the other hand, feels as though her wish of an escape has actually been granted.

"i'm afraid not, she must try to keep her weight off of it as much as she can. there is not much else that can be done, it will take time. maybe the countryside and fresh air will help, away from the busyness of the ton and the social season."

violet does not miss the way her daughter's face lights up. eloise, sensing her mother is about to refuse, speaks up.

"please, mama, i promise i'll be good. i'd be bored to death here anyway. at least at aubrey hall i'd get to enjoy the library." eloise can see the hesitation on violet's face, but she can see the moment she relents.

"alright, but your y/n is going with you."

eloise's smile drops but she knows arguing will just result in her stuck in london. so she agrees ruefully.

it's just you and eloise in the carriage on the way to aubrey hall, the rest of the bridgertons busy with the social season. you help eloise to her room, making sure she is comfortable before leaving to go make arrangements for dinner.

the short walk up the stairs to eloise's room that she insisted on staying in took a lot more out of her than she expected. her foot really was in a bad condition, that was true, but not bad enough that she would need to supervised at night too, she thought.

she's just settled into bed with a book after you helped her get ready for bed after dinner, when you walk into the room again, this time in a nightgown of your own, and a thin rolled up mattress, pillow, and sheets in hand.

"i'll be fine for the night, you can go," eloise says, briefly looking up from her book, slightly irritated.

"i'm sorry, miss bridgerton," you begin, already setting up your sleeping area for the night. "but i'm under strict instructions from the dowager viscountess and the viscount. i am to constantly be by your side, should you need anything, and that means sleeping in the same room as you."

you see as the irritation begins to bleed into her face, brows closer together, a slight frown on her lips.

"can't you just tell them you did and not actually sleep here? i'd quite like some privacy."

"my apologies, miss bridgerton, but i can't. i take my job and my duties to you and your family very seriously. i wouldn't do anything to jeopardise the trust your mother and brother have placed in me."

"i do not care about any of that! i just want a moment's peace from you!" eloise bursts out, red splotches high on her face. she makes a move to get out of bed but the pain in her leg flares up. within seconds, you are by her side, warm, gentle hands carefully positioning her foot back on the pillow.

"i'm afraid i have to disappoint you, miss. but i'm here to stay."

days in the countryside slipped into a routine. you would wake up first, prepare breakfast for eloise, along with a book. you'd get her ready for the day, and then station her by the large windows, refuse her when she wanted to walk around, and help her should she rebel anyways.

you confused eloise. why had you still not budged? and despite your stubborn moments, why did you always otherwise treat her with gentleness? here, in the countryside with less people around, she had seen you smile more. your hair was in a slightly looser updo, and your usual uniform not as strict. more than a few times, eloise found herself looking much too closely at you.

last night for instance, when you came back with your bedding after getting eloise ready for bed, in a thin, worn shift that hung loosely off your frame. the fire illuminated your silhouette through the thin shift as you stood facing it, getting ready for bed. eloise found her concentration completely off her book, a funny feeling in her chest. she could feel her cheeks heating up and her heart beating faster. she had never felt like this before, this flustered. she only prayed the candlelight was dim enough for you to be unable to make out the blush she was sure was on her face.

it confused her even further. being the analytical person she was, she read into every look, every touch. did she leave you as flustered as you did her? did you also feel this shortness of breath, this disappearing heartbeat?

she feels your fingers gently run through her scalp. everything feels different since that night. she can't help but try to look for clues, discern your expressions, your emotions, feelings. did you also feel this foreign feeling? she had bathed with the help of many a ladies' maids, but why does it suddenly feel so intimate? as though baring her unclothed body to you was akin to baring her heart out flat? the thought terrified and thrilled her at the same time, that you might truly see her, understand her and her feelings better than anyone.

the lukewarm water trickles down eloise's back as you gently move her hair and run the washcloth over her shoulders. you're kneeling by the bathtub, steadfastly refusing to make eye contact with eloise even though you feel her eyes on you. you switch to focus on washing her legs next, taking precaution to be extra gentle with her healing foot. your mind has just drifted to the thought about how intimate giving a simple bath to your employer can be if you harbour specific feelings for them, when eloise's hand, warm from the bath, wraps around your wrist. you finally make eye contact, and the desperation and emotions you find in her eyes knocks the breath out of you.

warm, wet hands cup your face gently, and you feel drawn to wherever they are pulling you to. you wait with bated breath, afraid that she'll stop, afraid that you would stop feeling her breath on your face, noses a hair's width apart. instinctively, your eyes close, and then you feel the softest pair of lips you've ever felt on yours. the perfume from her bathwater clouds your senses as her lips run over yours a little clumsily, but the hunger in the kiss makes up for it. you have never felt this kind of unadulterated desire in any other kiss before.

you kiss back with the same amount of hunger, tongue running over the seam of her lips, silently asking her to grant you permission, and she does. your fingers sink into damp hair, the feel of which you know all too well, as hers map the curves of your face and neck, and dare to go lower. a finger runs against your collarbone, taking advantage of the first few buttons undone and splaying against your sternum. you let her pull you into the bath with her, uncaring of your dress getting wet. when she further unbuttons your dress, you don't protest, letting her hands explore.

when you pull away after what feels like hours, there is a soft smile on her face, unlike her usual smirk, blush high on her cheeks and lips swollen, hair damp and skin glowing under the lamplight. you have seen her in many situations but you think she has never looked more divine.

things change between you after that. stolen kisses and casual touches behind closed doors, not a moment out of eloise's bed at night, going to sleep with the feel of her lips on yours, her taste still in your mouth. eloise grows more confident with her touches, no longer hesitant to mess up your appearance during your stolen moments, her hands slipping beneath the hem of your shift. as her foot heals little by little, she shows you further into the estate, taking any chance she can to leave your lips swollen and your cheeks hot. everything is so picture perfect that you are afraid of the bubble bursting when you do have to inevitably return back to ton.

and, inevitably as predicted, it does. the season ends with eloise's foot still on the mend, but her family's return to the countryside, while she finds that a joyous prospect, means distance between you both. still, it's not bad, you two still get to spend most of your time together, and you both master the art of stolen moments. it is not until the next season rolls around that the bubble is well and truly shattered.

a suitor starts pursuing eloise earnestly, and eloise doesn't seem entirely opposed to the idea. you know she was still trying to get over penelope's marriage to her brother, and the end to their future plans of spinsterhood. the spiral it sent her on had caused a rift between the both of you, but there was nothing you could do to bridge the distance, no matter how hard you tried; eloise had retired to her thoughts ever since.

eloise spent less time with you, and you found yourself spending more time with her footman, john, in an effort to distract yourself when thoughts of eloise consumed you entirely. john was a good man, he made you laugh and forget your problems with eloise, if only for a moment.

eloise walks into the drawing room and finds her mother and you, so reminiscent of that first day. instead of irritation or apprehension this time, her chest fills with knots. she hasn't spoken to you properly or spent time with you in weeks. she was too preoccupied in her own thoughts and refused to let you in. you won't meet her eyes now and the heavy feeling keeps growing heavier. you feel worlds apart. she never meant for the distance to happen.

"oh, eloise dear, come here," violet exclaims. "oh this is most wonderful news. y/n is getting married!"

"i- what?" shock colours eloise's voice. "to whom?"

"to footman john. now don't be impolite, eloise, isn't it just marvelous news?"

"yes, marvelous indeed." she chokes on the words, the fear of losing you coming to life. she was so scared, preoccupied with wallowing in her spinsterhood without pen, that she pushed you away. she feels her throat start to close up. "excuse me, mama, i just remembered i have to do something."

you watch with worried eyes as eloise departs, and follow after her, seeing if she needs anything. after all, that is what your job is, and it was stupid of you to think you that your relationship with her, whatever it may have been, could ever amount to anything more.

when you walk into her room, you see eloise pacing around, clutching her chest, tears streaming down her face.

"i do not want to see you right now." hurt colours her tone.

"eloise, i-"

"you do not get to call me that! you do not get to shatter my heart and then call me that."

"what do you want me to do, eloise? you cannot expect me to sit around waiting for you while you search for a suitor for yourself." you burst out, tears of your own now making a path down your cheeks. "you can't expect me to chaperone your promenades with suitors, bear that hurt. you cannot expect that of me. not when you don't want to give us a chance, not when you don't want to give us a future."

"i- that is not true."

"if that is not true, then tell me what i am to you. tell me that you are not considering marriage with any of your suitors. how long will you keep denying yourself love, deny what you and i are? marrying any of these men will not solve anything, even though i know you think it will. i love you, eloise, i gave my entire heart to you. can you say it back?" you have moved closer to her, eyes pleading with her to respond.

but she doesn't, turns away from you. "i can't, you know i can't."

you never thought words could hurt this much. the sting of tears is still fresh when you see eloise for the last time. "then this is goodbye, eloise. i hope you manage to find happiness."

when sir phillip kisses her at the altar, her mind drifts to her last kiss, a few years ago now. the ghost of soft lips on hers, feathering light kisses across her cheekbones and eyes, of lips curving into a gentle smile against hers. she feels the wrongness of this one, the stubble rubbing against her chin, slightly rough lips. but she'll drown herself on it nonetheless, choke on it until it erases her memories from her mind, takes with it that fateful final day. she can't turn back time, so she'll settle for this, the ghost of a soft kiss and gentle arms around her.

#ara writes #eloise bridgerton #eloise bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #eloise bridgerton x fem reader #eloise bridgerton angst #eloise bridgerton fluff #bridgerton x reader #wlw x reader

[stitched-mouth-vs-the-world]

Making Porn With The Number One Pro Hero

Pairing: Toshinori Yagi (All Might/Skinny Might) x Fem! Pro-Hero! Reader.

Warnings: NSFW, Smut, Jealous sex (?), Mirror sex, Oral sex (fem receiving), Secret ((established)) relationship, Recording sex (so y'all make porn), Minor hair pulling, Semi-public sex, Intercourse (P in V), Daddy Kink, you two are almost caught in the act, mention of you two previously being caught in the act, I finally used a condom!! (I usually write about creampies but this time I didn't), Some bitch tries to touch our All Might but fails, We accidentally punch her in the face, Toshi is pussy whipped.

Summary: You have a sex dream about your boyfriend which leads to a fantasy, All Might wants to achieve that fantasy with you after you punch another All Might slut in the face. The fantasy doesn't TOTALLY go to planned.

Format: Kinktober Fic, Day 2.

Writing Time: 7 hours (with no breaks, longest amount of time I've ever spent on a fic).

Word Count: 3,308.

A/N:

Day 2 of Kinktober! Enjoy!

The introduction is ridiculously fucking long, idk why but skip to the first —-//— if you're like me and only interested in the sex. I hate the beginning part anyway and it's very obvious my writing has suffered from my hiatus, but oh well. It will get better.Technically you get railed by Skinny All Might in his Silver Age suit, hope that's ok.I have to give this thing a part 2 at some point, this is way too hot and I'm so proud of it.

I kept writing then deleting then rewriting this shit (which is why it took 7 hours) so y'all better let me know if you like it :)

Here is the masterlist for all my Kinktober 2023 works.

---///---

Being in an secret relationship with the Number 1 Hero was difficult to say the least.

Having to sneak around everyone was fun and slightly erotic at first, but slowly became annoying and a bit painful at times.

You had recently told Toshinori about a sexy fantasy you had of him. To have him fuck you in his dressing room right before an interview, ideally from behind in front of a mirror whilst you record, you two had made porn before (for only you two's eyes, no one else's!!) so recording sex wasn't new to you guys.

Toshinori had giggled like a little schoolboy and covered his growing erection when you told him about your little fantasy, and said it sounded very hot. But after you kissed him and gave him a handy right then and there, he calmed down a bit and explained to you how unlikely it was to happen, he feared someone would walk in and catch you both (one person had before) and possibly tell someone.

Sadly your lover had made it clear countless times before he didn't want a public relationship for the sake of protecting you and others. You understood completely and was happy Toshinori valued protecting you over everything, but that didn't mean you didn't long to hold his hand in public.

Very few knew about you two; Young Midoriya, David Shield, Sir Nighteye (RIP) and Aizawa (Aizawa finding out was an accident, he had caught you two in a compromising position in Toshinori's classroom after school hours). But you both was content with those who knew about you two, you trusted all of them, and didn't plan on adding anyone else to the list.

Early on into your pro-hero career, you were introduced to one journalist and news reporter who you honestly couldn't remember the name of. She was young and very attractive, no doubt becoming the face of her news station because of her pretty face and impressive figure. She was well known to interview pro heroes and flirt with them, and unsurprisingly lot of them would flirt back.

She had interviewed All Might a few times and like usual she would flirt a lot. He'd see straight through her and politely respond in a professional way, so you had no problems with her because you trusted your boyfriend to shut down her advances. She wouldn't be the first girl to throw themselves at the Number 1 Hero and definitely wouldn't be the last, so you were used to seeing Toshinori be placed in uncomfortable situations which made you feel bad for him but due to your relationship being a secret you didn't feel like it was your place to cut in. But Toshinori always handled it well.

One interview you didn't see coming though.

It was a standard scheduled interview on set of a news station, like Good Morning America or something. Several pro heroes were in to be interviewed, including both you and All Might. With All Might becoming weaker and weaker by the day and unable to hold his form for long periods of time, this was his last scheduled interview. And you were so happy you could be there with him.

You were lucky enough to be able to be interviewed with your boyfriend.

"So, Mr All Might, I'd love to go over some of your best fights of your career..." The news anchor smiled and batted her eyelashes at him.

"Of course! I'd love to!" All Might grinned.

For the millionth time? Really? You rolled your eyes.

"BUT before we do that, I'd like to talk about your more personal life first..." She grinned back, moving closer to him on the long couch you were all sharing.

You moved uncomfortably in your seat and looked around, not really knowing what to do with yourself.

"Ok, sadly I can't promise I can all questions about my personal life but you can absolutely ask." All Might smiled.

"Great! So... you have had quite a long career as a pro hero who is very much so in the public eye, I imagine forming and keeping relationships in your personal life can be difficult?" She asked.

All Might moved his head to both sides as if he agreed and disagreed with her assumption, "Well it's definitely not easy forming them, but keeping the ones I have been lucky enough to form is easy. I'm very lucky to be surrounded by friends and family who I know care about me both as All Might and Toshinori."

The reporter nodded, "Right. As you mentioned family, are you planning on starting a family?"

You raised an eyebrow, feeling although the question was a bit strange.

All Might laughed, his laugh boomed loudly in your poor ears, "HA HA! Oh no Dear, I don't so. I am an old man now, I unfortunately missed the opportunity for a family years ago."

You and Toshinori had only briefly discussed children, you desperately wanting a child later on in your career and Toshinori feel although being Number 1 Hero made having kids not an option and that by the time he retired he was too old. It wasn't really a conversation you two had managed to find a conclusion to, so you were a little annoyed All Might was talking as if it had been decided.

"Well a lot of young ladies like older men, Sir. I know I sure do. And a lot of young ladies would be more than willing to bear The All Might's children." The reporter giggled and moved closer to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

She had never actually touched him before.

All Might chuckled uncomfortably and carefully leaned back to make her hand fall off him, but her hand stayed put. Without really thinking, you leaned over and picked up the foreign hand on your boyfriend's shoulder, and threw it back into the reporter's face. She almost punched herself in the face with her own hand.

You gasped and stood up, "Oh I'm sorry!"

You really didn't mean to do that. You were only trying to get her hands off your man. You hadn't meant you almost punch her.

She quickly fixed her hair and glasses and glared at you for only a split second, before laughing nervously and looking into the camera in front of all of you, "Oh Dear! No worries! We can edit that out, this isn't live."

The cameraman nodded at her and three of you continued your now incredibly awkward interview. All Might breathed a small sigh and grabbed your hand, you couldn't tell what the sigh was for.

—-///—-

Backstage you were sat at your vanity table with your head down on the desk, sighing sadly. You felt so embarrassed, you should of just left Toshinori handle her unnecessary touching. The interview went terribly after that and the reporter remained cold to you until the end.

You were also concerned about people questioning your actions, why were you so concerned about some girl touching All Might? It was such a obvious sign of jealously. Oh Well... at least she didn't touch him again.

A small knock was pressed against your dressing room door and without a response it was opened, "Darling?"

All Might.

He stepped into your room and closer the door behind him as you turned to face him. He immediately deflated in front of you, leaving his skinny scrawny figure in place.

"Hi Love." You sighed and walked over to him.

He quickly wrapped his long arms around you, pulled you close and began kissing your neck.

You blinked in shock, "Toshi?"

"Oh my Love. I never thought I'd ever see you jealous." He whispered against you before biting down on you skin.

You moaned in delight, "S-So you're not mad?"

"Why would I ever be mad Princess?" He laughed a bit, in his Skinny form his laugh sounded so good and didn't burst your eardrum.

Toshinori carefully walked you back over to your vanity table and placed you down in your vanity chair and stared down at you. You looked up at your lover with nothing but love and lust and crossing your legs, feeling yourself get hot down there.

With you sitting down and him standing in front of you, you could see the massive bulge in his pants. Whilst shamelessly staring at his covered dick, you hiked up your legs and pulled everything covering your lower half off and happily showed your lover your wet pussy. You felt no shame (he had seen it all before anyway), only the desire to be fucked. Finally, your filthy fantasy was coming true.

"Oh my Love..." Toshinori sighed again at the completely lewd sight of you and dropped to his knees.

He grabbed your thighs in his massive hands and gave your pussy a sweet kitten lick. You threw your head back and moaned again. He started kissing and licking you slowly before sucking.

God, his tongue felt good. You were going to lose yourself to it.

"Oh baby I want you so much..." Toshinori whispered in between eating you out, whilst pulling you closer and closer to his hungry mouth, scaring you for a brief second into thinking you'd fall out of the chair.

It was dangerous but Toshi wouldn't let you fall, ever.

You pulled his head up from your heat and he whined, "Toshi... I'm so empty now...you need to just fuck me..."

Your lewd expression and hushed tone only made him strain against his suit. Without thinking much, Toshinori stood up and ripped a hole into the crotch area of his Silver Age suit.

You gasped, "Toshi! Your suit!"

"This suit can be fixed, Dear. But later I'll need you to go to my dressing room and bring back something to wear when we're done." He smiled softly while pulling you up and out of the chair.

Toshinori picked up the chair by the armrests and placed it against the door, locking you both in. He turned back to you and smiled again.

You smiled back before turning against and bending over against the vanity table, giving your lover another nice view of your ass and pussycat. You watched him in the mirror grin at your behind and give you a nice loving smack. You bit your lip from the harsh contact and moved your legs further apart for him.

"Fuck..." Toshinori whispered, he was incredibly turned on by the sight of you bent over showing him everything you had to offer.

He quickly reached into his pocket and pulled out a Trojan, ripping the wrapper off with his teeth and pulling it down his proud length. You could tell by his fast movements, he was just as eager to get inside of you as you was.

Toshinori then rubbed your aching entrance with his great throbbing cock. You whined for him to just put it in and he was happy to appease you.

Toshinori always started with slow gentle strokes only with the tip but that wasn't good enough for you now, he had already worked you up from eating you out just a few seconds earlier and the idea of your fantasy had you too desperate now. So you whined again and tried to fuck yourself on his cock at the pace you need. Toshinori caught on pretty quickly and grabbed your hips and pulled you fully around him.

Both of you groaned from the sudden action. Toshinori began moving again, this time fast and rough. You managed to pick up your phone that you had left on the table, turn on the camera, point it at the mirror in front of you and hit record.

The sight was beyond erotic. The Number 1 Hero drilling his secret lover from behind in dressing room on set of a news station. God, it made you so wet. The grin on your face with your moans made it evident.

Because of the mirror, both of you were able to see each other's faces. Toshinori's brow full of sweat and mouth covered in your cum and his own salvia was godly. Not to mention his look of determination as he continued pounding you brought you closer and closer to edge.

"All Might!" You cried, not really hearing yourself over the sound of his balls slapping your cheeks.

But he heard you (and possibly some others in the building) and he groaned in your ear, "Princess! Oh my good little girl!"

Fuck!

He knew calling you 'little girl' made you crazy.

"Oh All Might please!" You begged.

You knew you sounded like a bad pornstar, but you didn't care. You knew Toshi loved it and was about to give into your begging.

But before he could, the worst thing you could imagine happened next. A loud knock on the door.

"Miss?"

Both you and Toshinori froze and stared at each other in the mirror in fear and shook.

"Y-Yes?!" You answered.

"Miss, your driver is here waiting for you. They are outside." It was likely one of the crew members of the station. They turned the door handle, shooting fear through you so bad you could scream, but it didn't open.

The chair Toshinori had put against the door temporarily saved you two. Realising this, he slowly began moving inside of you again. You moaned softly at the feeling and quickly covered your mouth with your free hand (hand not holding up your phone that was still recording).

The crew member must of wondered why the door wasn't opening, considering none of the dressing room doors had locks on them for safety reasons, but didn't ask why or for you to open the door and instead just let go of the handle.

"Oh o-okay...t-thank you. Out in a miiintue!" You quickly choked out.

"Great. Do you happen to know where Mr. All Might is? His car arrived first but he isn't in his dressing room."

"Nooo!" You whined.

You could see the see the evil smile on your boyfriend's face in the mirror. No question, you were going to (try to) kick his ass after this.

"Ok, no worries. Thank you for coming Miss!"

Footsteps were heard leaving the door, presumably to go find your man. Toshinori laughed slightly and pulled your head back by your hair and started moving at the same fast pace he was before.

You groaned at the small pain and glared up at your soulmate, "You like torturing me, asshole?"

"Maybe a little." He smiled.

"Oh please just make me cum, Toshinori." You sighed, giving him your best doe eyed desperate-for-sex expression.

Your lover was more than happy to fulfil your request. This was definitely by far would be the best sex tape you two ever made.

—///—

Later on the two of you were getting ready for better, you had finally finished your night skin care routine and was headed back to you and Toshinori's shared bedroom. He was still up reading a book in bed like usual, he looked and smiled when you walked into the room.

"Toshi," You began as you got comfortable in the bed, "What changed your mind today?"

"About what, Love?" He asked and put his book away to pull you closer to him.

"When I told you about my sex dream, you said it wouldn't happen." You pouted at him.

Toshinori's cheeks darkened, "Well, you got me all hot and bothered during the interview."

"How?" You raised an eyebrow.

"I like to see you handle touchy women for me." Toshinori smiled shyly now.

"Oh really?" You giggled, "You like having a jealous girlfriend?"

"A bit, yes." He admitted.

"Aw... maybe I should set them straight more often." You grinned and kissed his neck.

Toshinori shivered, both from the idea and the attention you was suddenly showing his neck, "Yes please...good girl."

You felt your heat burn at his words as well as his erection grow under the duvet and you eagerly wanted to head down under the duvet. But you both still had something to say.

"I'm sorry love, I was just a little scared about people finding out about us, and being intimate outside our home has got us caught before...and I feel like we already take a big risk with recording our moments together." Toshinori sighed.

"So you don't want to record anymore?" You looked heartbroken.

"Oh no, Princess! Of course not!" He pulled you into his lap and wrapped his arms around your waist (you could feel his lover's boner, which you wonder if he forgot about), "I love have something to remind myself of our best moments."

"We don't have to record anymore if you're worried it could get out." You replied, still looking sad.

"Honey, that's not what I was saying.." Toshinori kissed your head, "I love you and I love how excited you get by the camera. And I love watching our little videos."

You looked up at him, "I love you Toshi. And I just want you to be comfortable."

"I am comfortable, I'm always comfortable when I'm alone with you." Toshinori smiled.

You turned to look at him and kissed one of his sunken cheeks, "Ok... so if I keep your female fans in line... what will you do for me?"

"What do you want love?" Toshinori asked.

"I want a reward, All Might." You grinned and slowly stroked your lover's excited friend.

He shivered again. Mustering up all his strength, Toshinori transformed into All Might. His erection underneath you went from poking you ass to almost straight up penetrating you. A loud moan came from your throat, the ending of it was muffled from All Might gently pushing you off his lap and all the way down till you were face down onto the end of the bed and ass up.

The muscular blonde Silver Fox gently rubbed your ass with one hand whilst the other fought off this sweat pants (that did absolutely nothing to hide his lower reigns). Once his pants were off and his length was fully exposed, All Might picked up his phone from his nightstand, pointed the camera down at you and hit record.

"Little Princess... do you think my cock at full size is a good enough reward for being such a good girl for me?"

The camera got a very lovely shot of your wetness soaking through your sweatpants just from his words. You felt your cunt clench around nothing and you looked back at your lover.

"Yes please Daddy."

#stitched #stitched mouth #stitched talks #stitched’s kinktober #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #stitched writes #all might #all might smut #all might x reader #toshinori yagi #toshinori yagi x reader #toshinori yagi smut #bnha #bnha smut #boku no hero acedamia #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #mha smut

[beomcoups]

Caller #17

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: basketball player!Soonyoung x college dj reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, angst, 90s au

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: PG-13

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing, talks of tough family dynamics, bit of heavy angst, kissing

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 8.8k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You could easily name 10 things that you hate about him. But when you bond over music and families, you realize there's more to him than meets the surface.

𝐀𝐍: This was not an easy fic. It took me way longer than I planned to write, and the story I had mapped out went in a different direction. I still feel proud of this one, my longest fic yet, and I hope that you will enjoy it too 🥹 This is a part of my very own Now That's 90's collab hosted by me and @mingsolo. Thank you to @wooahaeproductions for reading this over and @hobeemin for making a banner for me at the last minute 💙

“Thank you for calling into C.A.R.A.T radio! What’s your song of the week?” “Bittersweet Symphony by The Verve!” “You got it! Thanks for calling into C.A.R.A.T radio at 526 AM.” Hitting play on the record, the orchestra's melody hits your ears, sending you into an out-of-body experience, your soul floating to cloud nine. The hairs on the back of your neck stand every time the song is played, and you imagine yourself playing the violin, getting lost in the beautiful and complicated sinfonia.  Working at the college radio station was your life. It’s the only place to lose yourself to TLC, Nirvana, and Weezer for hours without judgment. You are in your 3rd year of college, getting your bachelor’s in music theory so you can be one of the most prominent songwriters in the world. While everyone in high school didn’t know what they would be doing with their life, you always imagined yourself getting a Grammy for Song of the Year on stage. That is your real passion: creating musical poetry for the masses.

You slowly take the headphones off and set them down, looking at the big clock plastered on the wall. You let out a heavy sigh, sad that your time at the station is ending. You are allotted two hours a day on Saturday as a part of credit for your program. If you had it your way, you would be here daily, listening to your favorite records and writing songs between commercial breaks.

“Hey,” your professor Kim calls out from her office. “Come in here before you leave.”

You gather your things to leave, looking at the station one last time before entering the smaller space. This isn’t her regular office, but it has everything you think you would need: a desk, a comfortable chair, and bookshelves full of books and ornaments for decoration. You have spent a lot of time in here, pitching new ideas for the station and getting turned down every single time.

“What's up?” You sit in the chair opposite of her.

“So we will be introducing a new segment to the radio where callers can call in and ask for advice about anything, and then you can recommend a song based on what they are calling in about.:” She pauses to take a sip of water. “I want you to be a part of it.”

You don’t answer right away. You are peeved that Professor Kim wants you to head any segment. You have never shown any initiative to want to talk to anyone who calls in besides listening to music. It’s just not your thing. You are a loner at heart, and that’s how you plan to stay.

“Why me?” You finally speak up. “There are other people who are better at this than I am. Hell, ask Emily. She has been foaming at the mouth to talk about anything other than music.”

“Because you are who I want,” she shrugs. “I see how you look when you talk about your favorite releases. You go deep with the lyrics and how you can relate that to any part of your life. You are more than the person behind the voice, and it’s time other people see that.” “Well, I am not trying to be the next Oprah or Ricki Lake,” you scoff. I just want to play music, write my songs, and do whatever I need to do for the class.”

“No one said you would be the next talk show anything,” Professor Kim retorted. “This will be considered a project, and it’s worth 20% of your grade. Plus, when you are in the industry and have sessions with the artists about the song's lyrics, don’t you need to talk to them about their life and what they need? Think about that.” You nod, feeling defeated because you know you can’t talk your way out of this. You know she is right, but you will never admit it. “Plus, it’ll be a good idea to get out of your shell and work on those social skills,” she says. “We will start in a couple of weeks, so get your mind ready because before you know it, you will be there.” You nod and leave the office, your stomach grumbling loudly as you put your headphones on and listen to the latest Backstreet Boys release. It’s a quarter past seven, and dusk officially sets in the sky as you walk across campus. Working at the radio station is the highlight of your week, as you can’t play music loud at your dorm without others complaining. Fortunately, your dorm is set where you have your own space, but the walls are thin, and you can hear everything. You considered buying noise-canceling foam to cover your door but were told it was “against” the rules. Whatever. Your stomach rumbles again, and you are determined to get a burger and fries in your stomach and drink an Oreo milkshake. You cross the street, open your bag, and grab your wallet before being met with a screeching halt from a car in front of you, its headlights blaring in your eyes. “What the fuck?” You mouth at the driver. The driver pokes his head out the window, and you instantly recognize him as Soonyoung, the star point guard of the basketball team. His black Jeep is crowded, full of guys and girls, with Usher blasting through the speakers. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” he waves. “Yeah, no shit,” you retort, walking to the end before the car pulls off. Jeers and boos could be heard, but you could care less. People like that always get in your way no matter what. You avoid people like that as much as people, as you don’t want to be mixed in with that crowd. Soonyoung will eventually go pro and live the NBA life, whereas you will be on the stage accepting awards, with millions of people cheering your name.

The segment started as planned, and you sat and listened to every caller asking for advice. Most of them wanted advice on how to ask someone out for a date, makeup, and things you didn’t care about. The only thing that made it worth it was you got to pick the music to go with the advice, which allowed you to show off your taste in music, from Britney Spears to Mandy Moore, Usher, Sugar Ray, etc. It made the time go by faster as well. You look through the glass, and Professor Kim gives you a thumbs up to take the last call. Letting out a sigh of relief, you let the call ring a few times before you answer. “Welcome to C.A.R.A.T radio. You are lucky caller number 17. What’s on your mind?” “H-hello?” a tenured male voice booms through the speakers. You groan, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. “You’ve reached C.A.R.A.T radio! What’s on your mind?”

“Hey. You can use this line to ask for advice, right?”

“Yep,” you say, a bit annoyed. “Whatcha got?”

There is a lengthy pause, your fingers tapping dramatically on the soundboard. You raise an eyebrow at the professor, who shrugs and walks out of your view. You hear shuffling in the background, followed by what sounds like something being sipped from a cup.

“S-sorry, I am a bit nervous,” he apologizes. “It’s my first time calling in.”

“It’s alright,” you reassure him. “I know how it is. How can I help?”

“So I already have this path carved out for me by my family and everyone who cares about me. Sports is all I have known all my life, and I have worked very hard to get here.” He stops for a brief second. “Everyone expects me to act like this all-star college boy, and no one ever talks to me about anything else than sports, and I am starting to hate it.”

“Do you mind telling me what kind of sports you’re in?”

“I play ball.”

“Okay, that's good. Well, what is it that you want?”

“I’m tired of being what everyone wants me to be: this golden retriever everyone loves. I just want to be me.” You understood how he felt. Maybe not in sports, but people pushing you to be something you’re not. You come from a family of doctors and lawyers who expected you to be the same. “Get good grades so you can get into an Ivy League school” is all you heard growing up. When you were seven, you expressed interest in music, sitting in front of the family piano on Christmas and playing Jingle Bells, which you learned on your own. Your parents cared for a while, putting you in piano lessons and taking you all over the state for recitals. They figured if you kept this up until high school, it would look good on college applications, but nothing that they took you seriously for. It wasn’t until you learned how to play the guitar in secret that you fell in love with how the strings strummed against your fingers that you realized that your passion is music. Thanks to your choir teacher, you had a good voice and kept it in tune while practicing writing music. You soon sang in front of the school, getting high praise from people all over for your voice and how you would “make it big one day.” Your parents insisted that it was just a phase and that eventually you would become a doctor and make a “real” living. You were determined to prove them wrong by applying to one of the best music schools and getting in on a full ride. You did that, but it came with a cost: being cut off by everyone in your family but your grandparents. They believed in you from the beginning and made sure you were okay. You will pay them back in tenfold one day. “Hello?” the deep voice cut through your thoughts. “Y-yeah, sorry,” you snap back into focus. “Do you want my advice?” “Yeah, I do,” you hear him clear your throat. ‘I think you should be who you want to be. It may feel a little different at first, but eventually, you will be happier being yourself.” “I mean���” he pauses for another second. “How do I go about that? How do I show people the real me?” “Hmm,” you think out loud. “Why don’t you try easing into it? Start a random conversation about something you are interested in that no one knows about. Gauge their reactions, and if they treat you weirdly, then start making new friends. It might be a little harder with your family, but they will come around. But either way, it’s exhausting having to hide yourself at the time. It’s the 90s and a new era!” “Yeah,” he says slowly. I’ll try that.Thanks.” “No problem!” You say. “Check out this song that’ll hopefully speak to your heart. This is me signing off on CARAT Radio, 800am.” You played “You Gotta Be” by Des’ree, a personal favorite, closing out the end of your segment. Admittedly, it wasn't as bad as you thought it would be. Sure, some questions were annoying, but it allowed you to pass on music to people and help them get over whatever. You can’t call that a total loss. You push the mic to the side and leave the room, checking in with your professor before leaving. “Great job,” she leaned back into her seat. “You were well-spoken and composed, and the music selections were excellent. Have you thought about being a radio DJ?” “NO,” you snort. “I want to be more behind the scenes, writing songs and getting Grammys.” “Okay, okay,” Professor Kim chuckles. “But don’t rule it out. You are a natural at it.” You nod and head out the door with a small smile. Getting complimented about your work feels good, but you rule out being a radio DJ. You deal with people if you have to, but you prefer to have time for yourself a lot of times. You’re just introverted like that. However, that last call was in the back of your mind. You just want to live and succeed at your dream job. It was nice knowing someone out there felt the same way you did. 

Before you knew it, a few weeks had passed, and you had secretly liked doing the segment every Saturday, talking to people from different backgrounds and listening to their troubles. You had a song for every call, and you bragged to your professor at the end of your shift that you had impeccable taste. The analytics showed that more people were tuning in during your segment than at any other time on the radio. Not gonna lie; it stroked your ego quite a bit.

The mystery guy called in on Saturdays, ironically being caller #17 every time. He would call and ask for advice about getting his grades up, coming out of his comfort zone, trying new things, etc. You got to know him a little, see how he solves problems, and see his sense of humor. You have no idea what he looked like, but you imagined he was just your type, like a Keanu Reeves, Theo Mizuhara, or Merlin Santana. Is it crazy that you sometimes daydream about a man you never met?

Today was the last day of the advice segment, and everyone called in with their usual advice and well wishes. Like clockwork, the mystery guy was caller #17. His breathing was labored when you answered, followed by a clunk of metal hitting the floor. “Welcome to C.A.R.A.T radio. You are lucky caller number 17. What’s your damage?”

“H-hey.” You know it was him; the sound of his voice was familiar to you. You shift in your seat, sitting straight and placing your elbows on the desk. You try to keep a poker face, your professor watching you with curious eyes. “Hey there,” you clear your throat. “How can I help?” “I heard today is the last day to ask for advice,” he says. “I can’t say I won’t miss calling and hearing your voice every Saturday.” “Oh yeah?” you chuckle. “ That’s good to know. Well, what is the last piece of advice that I can give you?” “So, there is this girl,” he starts. “I really like her. She’s cute, a bit of a hard ass, and I really like her mind. She’s not like anyone that I’ve met. How do I ask her out?” “Does she know you exist?” “Yeah. I almost ran into her once, but we talked a lot.” “Ah. Do you think she might like you?” “I-I’m not sure,” he stutters. “We get along and everything and we have some things in common. I just don’t know if she would be into me.” “Okay, well, it wouldn’t hurt to ask her out? The worst that can happen is that she says no; at least you’d know.” “Yeah,” he sighs. “I’m nervous as hell, that’s all. Have you dated anyone before?” You are taken aback, your professor raising her eyebrows through the glass. You nod, licking your lips before responding. “I’ve dated here and there,” you say slyly. “It wasn't anything serious. What about you?” ‘Um, yeah, I have,” he snorts.

“Well, there you go then, tiger.” You’re clearly entertained by this conversation. “Remember how you felt when you asked the other girls out, and apply that same confidence to this girl. You never know. She might say yes.” “Okay, I will take your word for it. Thank you.” “Not a problem!” You beam. “Here is the last song I leave you with: ’ 4-page letter’ by Aaliyah. Have a good night, ya’ll.”

You play the final track of the night, setting down the headphones while Professor Kim claps her hands in applause. You roll your eyes playfully, pushing your chair onto the desk and exiting the booth. You feel light as a feather, dopamine taking over your body as you meet your professor in her office. “Great job,” she smiles. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” “Maybe,” you plop down on a chair. “It was fun giving out music suggestions.” “Mhmm,” she nods. “Well, get out there and enjoy your Saturday. I will see you in class on Friday.” You grab your things and leave the station, your stomach rumbling and your mouth parched. It’s after 8, and the nearest thing open is the local pizza joint with the best pepperoni pizza with the cheesiest cheese you’ve ever had. You go there often, and the owners, Dante and Gabriella, get your order ready before you sit down. “The usual?” they always ask, knowing that you are a creature of habit. Aside from your grandparents, they were the closest thing to family to you, always making sure your pizza was hot and crispy with a tall cup of Coke to go with it. They asked about your studies, and Gabriella always asked when you’d get a boyfriend. 

“Ah, stop it, amore mio,” Dante jokingly shushes her. “She has all her life to find the love of her life.”

More people started coming in, and they left you to your food and your walkman. You gleefully put Parmesan cheese over your pizza, taking the first bite and feeling instant gratification. A slice of heaven, literally. You take your headphones on, listening to Kurt Cobain croon on Nirvana’s Something In The Way. The “Nevermind” album got you through some tough times, especially when your family cut off communication with you. It hurt you and made you feel isolated and misunderstood. On the outside, your mom and dad put on this persona of being open-minded and willing to do anything for the family. Why were you the exception? You feel the tears well up, and you get yourself together before people start to notice, eating the rest of your pizza before you call it a night. You look around, seeing people on dates or hanging out with their friends, and you miss that. You had friends back home, but you all split up before you went to college. Who knows what their lives are like now. It’s not like you are visiting home anyway. You clean up your mess and walk into the bathroom, relieving yourself and washing your hands before returning to your dorm. You looked at yourself in the mirror: your jean jacket covered your black button-up shirt, shorts, and stockings underneath. Your eyes were slightly red, a contrast from your fresh face. Stifling a yawn, you leave and wave goodbye to Dante, opening the side door and bumping into someone in the process. You look up, facing Soonyoung, his cheerful eyes meeting yours. “We gotta stop meeting like this,” you mutter, backing up and adjusting your jacket. “Yeah, we shouldn’t,” he responds, opening the door to let you out. Your head snaps up, half expecting him to not hear you.  You rake your fingers through your hair, walking out of the restaurant. He’s a handsome guy, you can admit that, with his fresh, faded haircut and trendy clothes. You get why he is popular with everyone. “I’m sorry for almost hitting you with my car the other day,” he calls out. “It’s alright,” you turn around. “Just don’t make it a habit.” “Alright.” He chuckles and goes inside, and you speed walk to your dorm. Did I just flirt with him? You think to yourself. What the fuck was that? You aren’t even interested in Soonyoung in that way. You two are the two opposites of each other. You’re clearly losing your mind.

The cool air calms you down, and the slight breeze underneath the moonlight keeps you at bay until you get to your building. It’s Saturday night, and everyone’s out; the only sound being heard is your boots hitting the tiled floor as you walk down the hallway to your dorm. Unlocking your door, you notice an envelope tucked underneath it. You sit on the bed, open it, and pull out a letter. I know this isn't a four-page letter, but I like you. You’re funny, have good jams, and are down to earth. Did I say that you’re cute? I like talking to you every Saturday and don’t want it to stop. 

 I want to take you out to a concert on Friday. I’ll pick you up at 4 at your dorm. I know you've said yes if you’re there when I arrive. —Caller #17

“What do you think of this?” Your former roommate and good friend, Nikki Prince, holds up a black leather jacket in your size. You asked her to go shopping with you for an outfit for tomorrow's impending date, and you needed another set of eyes. She majors in architecture and design but models on the side thanks to her striking looks. A tall, tanned skin and green-eyed beauty, she now lives with her much older chef boyfriend, Caelan, but whenever you need her, she’s always there. She’s French, stylish, and brutally honest. You loved that about her. “I dig that,” you take it from her and try it on. It fits you just right. It would be chilly, so you bought new boots, a white shirt, and black jean shorts to wear with black stockings underneath. You wanted to be comfortable as you would be on your feet all night. 

“Are you sure about this date?” Nikki’s foreign accent comes through. “How do you know this guy isn’t some serial killer? We’ve all seen Scream.” “Gee, thanks, mom,” you roll your eyes. “If he tries anything with me, I’ll just show him the moves I learned from the YMCA.” 

“I’m serious. This is risque for you, no?” You shrug, slowly taking off the jacket and heading to the cashier. “I get your point, and if anything happens, I can defend myself. But I have a feeling that it won’t happen.” You greet the cashier and pay for the jacket. “I’ll call you before I leave and tell you about it the next day. Deal?” Nikki nods, and you both walk out of the store, satisfied with what you bought. The mall is busy for a Thursday night, with young adults frolicking at stores like Rave and Wet Seal, looking for the latest fashion trends. The mall isn’t really your scene, as you prefer to thrift shop for your clothes. You have been lucky to find some hidden gems there, especially since you are on a limited budget. Nikki, however, said it was a special occasion, and you quote, “You are not going on a date in someone else’s vêtements.”

You stop at Auntie Anne’s, buying a massive pretzel with cheese on the side, while Nikki opts for a small lemonade. You offer her a piece, which she declines, saying her boyfriend, Caelan, will make her dinner later. “How is that going, by the way?” You sit down at a table. “It’s going good,” she enthuses, raking her fingers through her long black tresses. “He’s so mature and sophisticated. Imagine not having to cook and clean after a man and have good sex.” “Well, yeah, he’s about six years older,” you remark. He better know a thing or two if he wants to keep his model.” Nikki gloats as you finish your pretzel, talking about the elaborate French dishes her boyfriend makes for her and how he worships the ground she walks on. Since you’ve known her, she has always been opinionated and refused to associate with people within your age group. Whenever you see her in the hallways, she always talks with teachers or ignores the lustful looks of college boys. You two got on well because you were roommates, and both were Scorpio risings. You understood each other. “Oh shoot, I better head back to the flat,” Nikki says, looking at her watch. Caelan is going to be home soon, and he is making steak frites tonight.” 

“Yeah, I gotta head to the dorm anyway. Early class tomorrow.”

You walk out of the mall into the chilly night air. She offers you a ride home, and you decline at first, saying that you will walk as it's pretty close. But a slight wind blows, bringing chills down your spine.

“Wait,” you shout after her. “I’ll take that ride.”

The ride was short and quiet, your mind occupied with your date with this mystery stranger. Nikki was right, you don’t know him, and he could be this crazy guy. But you’re also excited; the butterflies haven’t left your stomach since Saturday. You feel like you know him, and you don’t even know his name. He is just caller #17.

She pulls up to your building, and you hug her, preparing to run inside and shower. You know Nikki is still worried and means well, even if she sometimes acts like an overbearing old sister.

“Come over tomorrow at two if you can,” you announce. “You can help me get ready and meet my date in case anything goes crazy.”

“Alright,” Nikki seems relieved. “I’ll be there.”

You shut the door and shout your goodbyes before sprinting inside.

“Love you!”

“Yeah, yeah!”

The next day went fast, like a blur. You slept past your alarm and woke up after twelve, making you two hours late.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK,” you shout as you scrambled out of bed and tripped over a blanket. You throw on a pair of jeans and an oversized sweater from the University, your hair in a wild ponytail as you brush your teeth and high-tailed it out the door. You ran to class, forming an apology along the way, your heart beating out of your chest. You are met, however, with a closed door and a white paper plastered on the door:

NO CLASS TODAY. ENJOY YOUR WEEKEND.

“Really?” You huffed, leaning against the wall. It’s not like you are late for class; your alarm was

set despite you being up late last night. But whatever, fuck it. You aren’t about to let this ruin your day.

The leaves flow softly with the wind as you walk back to your dorm, the sun playing hide and seek in the clouds. All you can think about is tonight and what concert you are going to. Maybe it’s a huge concert, and that’s why he is picking you up early… or perhaps it’s a local indie band at a bar. Your mind runs with endless possibilities, excitement pumping through your veins. You aren’t a hopeless romantic or a love-at-first-sight kind of person, but something about this person makes you feel good… like you finally have someone who can relate to you on some level. Granted, you have only talked with him on the phone, but you have a gut feeling and are rarely wrong about these things. You finally return to your dorm and take a well-needed shower, washing and detangling your hair with much-needed privacy. Your dorm has shared showers; you usually take them when everyone is asleep at night. Fortunately, there were only a few people, allowing you to have time for yourself. You allow yourself to think of the water running down your body as him, his hands caressing your body, his lips maybe touching yours— “Is anyone in here?” You snap out of your daydream quickly, and the water turns cold right on queue. “Y-yeah?” “I am here to clean the showers,” a woman’s voice calls from the door. “O-okay, give me a second.” Cursing silently, you quickly step out and dry yourself, throwing on your robe and grabbing your shower caddy before exiting the bathroom. You are met by an older woman wearing a shirt representing your college and sweats, with cleaning supplies in tow. “You were in there for a while,” she remarks as she sets out the wet floor sign. Do you have a hot date tonight?” “Something like that,” you shrug. You walk back to your room, and to your surprise, Nikki is outside your door. “You’re early,” you remark, unlocking the door. “Yes, I know,” she said. “But we will need more than two hours to get yourself right.” “You act like I can’t dress myself,” you scoff. “I just wanted your company, that’s all.”

“Oh yeah? Mon ami, when was the last time you changed your makeup?” You open your mouth to rebuttal but close it immediately. You hate to say it, but Nikki’s right. It’s not like you are going anywhere besides school, the music store, and the pizzeria. “Exactly,” Nikki says, setting her stuff down on her bed. “I went and got you makeup close to your teint, just in case.” She pulls out brand-new makeup from Revlon from mascaras, concealers, powders, and assortments of lipsticks of my choosing. She also bought nail polishes, saying it was time to add some color to your life. As much as you want to roll your eyes at her, she is right. As harsh as Nikki seems sometimes, she has a big heart and always looks out for you when you least expect it. You know a thing or two about style, but she takes it to a whole different level and isn’t shy about giving advice on it. You appreciate her so much. Being honest with yourself, you are nervous as hell. You have had crushes before, but you have never been pursued like this, where someone likes you enough to ask you out formerly, even if it was via a note. This person cares about your mind or seems to. You aren’t sure how to feel; you want to be excited and have a good time, but you have a wall up for a reason. You don’t want to be disappointed again like your family has. You figured if the people you love the most can abandon you like that, there is no hope for you out there. You lived with that hard truth for a long time, and you were content with that. But god, this guy has you curious. “What’s on your mind?” Nikki finishes with your makeup and hair, gazing at you through the mirror. “Butterflies in my stomach are killing me,” you grimace. “I can’t believe I am even doing this.” “Oh, relax,” she blows a raspberry. “You always do this thing where you talk yourself out of things you deserve. Stop that. D'accord? “Yes, mother,” you tease. She sucks her teeth, and you get dressed, putting on the new clothes you bought and your black leather boots. Checking out your appearance, you are satisfied with your look, and Nikki gives you a thumbs up while she cleans up. Knock, Knock! You look at the door, the butterflies fluttering deeper in your stomach. You look in the mirror one last time as Nikki opens the door, a brief silence followed by a heart chuckle. “Mon ami, your date is here.”

You see him, and you're stunned. It dawns on you why he’s here, and you feel your heart drop all the way to your ass. This has to be some kind of joke. “Soonyoung? What are you doing here?” He walks more into your view, wearing a grey jean jacket with matching pants. His right hand is in his pocket, and he has a small bouquet of irises in his other hand. “I’m here to take you to the concert?” Nikki is behind him, trying to keep her composure and mask her giggles. Of all the people you thought would show up, Soonyoung was the LAST person on your mind. This is the person who was calling in every Friday and wanting to talk to you? Yeah fucking right. “What happened?” you accost him. “Did you lose some bet, and you had to ask me out? Or do you feel bad for almost hitting me with your car?” “No?!” he scoffs, clearly offended. “I mean, yes, I feel bad about almost hitting, but no one dared me to do anything. Do you think I am that kind of person?” “Well, yes.” You wish you could take back what you said, but it was too late. You knew you hurt his feelings, the crestfallen look on his face saying it all. “This was a mistake,” he sighs dejectedly. “Sorry, I wasted your time.” He handed Nikki the flowers and walked away, the air feeling thick and awkward. You couldn’t even look at her in the eyes. You knew you fucked up. “Well, that was awkward,” you huff. “And shitty.” You raise an eyebrow at her, and she stares you down. You don’t want to feel worse than you already do, and Nikki isn’t helping. “Honestly, I think the guy was telling the truth,” Nikki surmises. “He looked like a sad puppy.” You think about this caller #17 guy who would call in every week and share his thoughts with you about everything, with you having to do very little. You think about how scared he felt about being his true, authentic self and how much courage it probably took to ask you out. You know you are a tough cookie to crack and understand better than anyone how it feels to go against the grain and be who you are. “I fucked up Nik,” you slump on your bed. “Yeah, you did.” God, you hate her bluntness sometimes, but she’s right. You need to go find him and make this right. “Do you think he’s still here?” you ask, sitting up and grabbing your purse. “He couldn’t have left that fast.” “Only way to find out is to get off your ass and find him,” she says, pulling your arm. “Go find your guy.” You both rush out of your dorm, jogging down the hallway and out of the building, looking for a silhouette of him. You were scared you missed him and felt defeated, not seeing any sight of him anywhere. Surveying the area one last time, you noticed a black Jeep peeling out of the parking lot. It stops at the stop sign, the second to last car to go. This is your only chance. “WAIT!”

You sprint towards the car, barely meeting him as he is about to turn.

“STOP,” you exhale, relieved that you caught him. “Don’t go.” Soonyoung steps out as you rest your hands on the hood of his car, trying to catch your breath. He touches your arm, his hands soft as silk, sending shocks throughout your body.

“Are you okay?” He asks, taking a good look at you.

“Aside from me about to pass out, I’m good.” You take a deep breath. “Listen. I’m sorry. I was a jerk and an asshole and—”

“MOVING YOUR FUCKING CAR!”

A middle-aged woman leans out of the window and gives you the bird, followed by a slew of car horns beeping in annoyance behind you and Soonyoung.

“Fuck,” Soonyoung curses, realizing the amount of cars behind him. “Get in the car.”

You both get in the car and drive off from the angry drivers, pulling into the nearest gas station. You sit with your hands in your lap, this weight of regret sitting on your chest and guilt eating you from the inside. You look at him, and he seems surprisingly relaxed as if you didn’t reject him

not even thirty minutes ago.

“I’m going to get some gas,” he announces. “Wait here.” 

You watch him walk inside to pay and let out the deepest, most agonizing sigh. He should be calling you every name in the book, and rightfully so, as you insulted him. Why is he being so nice? Does he really like you that much?

He returns a few minutes later, shoving his pockets with change left over, and you both lock eyes with each other. In another situation, you would’ve been able to appreciate his good looks, trendy clothes, and tiger-like appearance. But instead, you feel sick to your stomach, disappointed in how you acted. You look down, twiddling your thumbs until he finishes pumping his gas and returning to the car. This is not like you at all. “Hey,” he says. “Hi,” you stammer. “I’m sorry again. I feel like a terrible person, and I shouldn’t have bit your head off like that.” “I know you were intense, but Jesus Christ,” he exhaled. “Why do you think I wouldn’t be interested in you? You made it seem like I lost a bet to ask you out. You made me feel like crap.” Every word felt like a punch in the gut, and you deserved it. Despite your parents' many flaws, they always taught you not to judge a book by its cover, and that’s precisely what you did. You were pretentious and stuck up about him. In some ways, you aren’t any different from them. “I guess…” your voice trails off. “I just saw you as the athlete that everyone is in love with. Your friends, I know the type, and we’ve never really crossed paths with each other unless I was bumping into you or almost getting hit by your car.” “So… you saw me as the very thing I told you I didn’t want to be seen as.” You didn’t have to answer back. You both knew the answer, and it was eating you up inside. “I’m sorry, I am just gonna go.” Before he could stop you, you exited the Jeep and started walking back toward your dorm. You are embarrassed and can never face him again. This is why you don’t don’t talk to anyone. This is awkward; it feels weird. You lose yourself in your thoughts until you reach the street light, waiting for your turn to go. The air is slightly chilly than usual, the smell of the ocean taking over your senses that you would enjoy any other time. Yeah, a walk to the beach sounds nice, you say to yourself just as the street signal turns green. You feel someone’s hand pulling you away, and you twirl around, facing Soonyoung’s back as he takes you back to his car.

“You’re dramatic as hell, you know that, right?” He shouts over his shoulder. “You didn’t even let me respond; you just hopped out like you were on the run.” 

You stayed silent. What more could you say? He was right. He opens the passenger side, letting you slide in and shutting the door behind you. A few seconds later, he is on your other side, turning on the ignition. 

“You not a terrible person,” he breathes. “A terrible person wouldn’t come sprinting out of their doom in boots and a nice outfit trying to apologize. You said you’re sorry, and it’s fine.” “Is it?” 

“I mean, I’ll get over it,” he shrugs. “I wouldn’t have pulled you back here if I didn’t want to be around you. Now, do you still want to go back and forth about this, or do you want to make it up to me by going to this concert?” It’s a brief moment of silence as you seriously consider your options. You can tell Soonyoung is still bothered by what you did, but his small smile clarifies your decision. “Lead the way, tiger.”

He chuckles as he pulls out of the lot, pulling into a line of cars headed in the same direction. The sun starts to set, the golden hour hitting the horizon at the sea. You fold your arms, confused as to why he is being so nice to you, despite you being a bitch to him earlier. You haven’t felt forgiveness in a long time, which feels foreign. Uncomfortable. You hope this feeling will go away as the night goes on.

You mainly rode in silence aside from the music on the radio, and the hour trip to the venue seemed to be double that. You pull up to Bayfront Amphitheater, packed to the brim with people screaming their hearts out to the band onstage. Your heart skips in excitement, realizing what concert Soonyoung took you to. 

“The Foo Fighters?” you grin, unbuckling your seatbelt. “I’ve been wanting to see them forever.: “Yeah, I remember you were talking about it on the radio, so I figured why not,” his voice trails off. 

Your heart feels like it is going to burst at the seams. This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for you, and you had the nerve to be a bitch to him earlier. 

“Hey,” you clear your throat. “I’m sorry again. I feel really shitty about it.”

“I know,” he says. “Look, let’s just enjoy this concert, and I’ll forget about it, okay?” You nod, walking towards the loud music. The rhythm of the drums and guitar blended together, hyping the crowd. You let Soonyoung lead the way, checking your tickets and guiding you to your seats. The crowd is thick, with the smell of cigarettes and alcohol flowing freely, and everyone is caught in their own zone. You wouldn’t say you are claustrophobic, but being packed like sardines isn’t your definition of a good time. Soonyoung notices your discomfort and grabs your hand, holding tight until he finds your assigned seats. You felt safe with him, a tiny spark in you that made you swoon. 

“Are you okay?” He shouts over the noise. “Do you want a beer or anything?” “Nah, I’m good,” you shake your head. 

The opening act finishes their set, the crowd politely cheering as the members walk off the stage. There is a small intermission, with people disbursing from their seats to grab drinks or making quick trips to the bathroom. You can feel Soonyoung looking at you, his eyes burning into the left side of your face. You lick your lips and pull strands of your hair to the back of your ear, a blatant attempt at flirting. 

“Are you gonna stare at me all night?” You feel bold, turning your body towards him. “I might,” he purrs. “I have a beautiful, mysterious girl sitting beside me.”

“I’m not that mysterious. We’ve been talking for weeks.” ‘Yeah, in front of thousands of people on the radio. Now I have you all to myself, and I want to get to know the real you.”

“Uh huh,” you nod. “Well, I’m always the same on and off air. You’ll see.” “I hope so.” He smiles at you, and gotta admit the man can flirt. Soonyoung is devastatingly handsome, and he’s quick with his words. It excites you. You like being around people you can banter with and not take shit personally. It takes a load off your shoulders, not having to hold yourself back every time. You just want to be you and be free. It feels like Soonyoung is chasing the same thing. 

“I wouldn’t have predicted you’d be into rock bands like the Foo Fighters. What made you want to go to their concert aside from me?”

“Well, you might be surprised to hear this, but I actually like the band,” he laughs. “I’ve been following them since their debut.”

“Really?” you say. “That’s cool.” “What?” Soonyoung leans closer, your shoulder barely touching his. “Do I not seem like the Foo Fighters type?” “Aht aht,” you playfully wave your finger at him. “I’m not getting tripped up on that question.” You fell into a rhythm of laughter that felt natural as if you had been doing this all your life. Despite your fuck up, he makes you feel cozy and open. The sun makes one final appearance, shining its glorious light on his beautiful, tanned skin. You can fully admit to yourself that he’s handsome as fuck, taking him all in before the sun dips below the horizon. “No, but seriously, I don’t seem like the type to be into them?” You pause before responding, being careful with your answer. “On the surface, no. But I am learning that there is more to a person than meets the eye.” There is a comfortable silence between you two, the sweet-smelling breeze keeping you at bay as you sit and enjoy each other’s company. You have so much you want to say but don’t simultaneously. You savor this tiny bit of peace with him. “I think I am gonna grab a drink,” Soonyoung gets up suddenly. “Do you want anything?” “Yeah, like a juice or something.” You watch him leave, checking out his ass as he stands in the concessions line. Nice and firm, definitely a football player’s ass. You look away before being caught, watching the crew prepare for the next act. You feel like a young girl who just realized you have a crush on a boy. You’re giddy inside, hypersensitive to everything around you and how you look. You hope he finds you as attractive as he says he does, or if not, keep up the lie a little longer. You’ve been dealt many disappointments in your life, and you can’t let this be one of them. 

“Here. I got you a lemonade.”

You gaze up at Soonyoung, carefully grabbing the cup from his hand. He has a cup of beer in the other, sipping before making a face. You laugh in your cup, tasting your sweet drink with some tart. You feel refreshed and a little bit alive, thanks to him. “Ladies and gentlemen, who’s ready for the FOO FIGHTERS?”

The crowd erupts into a roar as the band joins the stage, getting their placements to perform. Jolts of electric excitement course throughout your body, screaming your heart out before the first string is played on the guitar. You’ve always wanted to see them in concert, being a huge fan of Nirvana and following Dave Grohl after. Despite everything, he seems like a rad guy, and

if you ever had the opportunity, you would want to pick his brain and jam out with him. “ARE YOU MUTHAFUCKERS READY?” Dave Grohl shouts into the mic. 

 You both scream as the first song is played, the drums scratching the excellent part of your brain while the guitars take you to another level. You look at Soonyoung, his attention on the band with his arms folded, in awe of the performance being given. He looks adorable, and all you can do is smile, satisfied that you are in this space and can experience this moment. The band keeps playing hit after hit, the energy around you making you want to levitate in the clouds. You haven’t been this happy in a long time. You reach the last song of the night, and the key changes, the guitars riffing into a song you know all too well. “I want everyone to sing this song with us— this is for the regular heroes out there.” 

You feel the emotion and intensity in Dave Grohl’s voice, making you emotional. The song is about the ordinary person and their potential; you wish your family saw your potential. You wish you could share your music with them and see you thrive in the elements you’re most comfortable in. But instead, you’ve been cast out, and as much as you worked hard to get over it, it hurts you deeply. “Are you okay?” Soonyoung looks at you wide-eyed; you’re unaware of the tears trickling down your face. All you want to do is be held and told everything will be okay. As if he read your mind, he holds your hand, his thumb rubbing your palm softly, keeping you anchored in your emotional storm. Nothing else needed to be said between you two; the song lyrics moved your spirit. Kudos, my hero

Leavin' all the mess

You know my hero

The one that's on

There goes my hero

Watch him as he goes

There goes my hero

He's ordinary

“Thank you for taking me to the concert. I had a really good time.”

You sit with Soonyoung in his car, sitting outside of your dorm. You talked about music all the

way back home, singling your hearts out to whatever is on the radio. Soonyoung is surprisingly a good singer, hitting some notes even better than you can. You wonder if he had any training. “I’m glad I was able to make it up to you,” he grins. “Oh, please,” you wave him off. I’m the one who started us on the wrong foot.” “True. But I think you more than made up for it tonight.” “Yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes playfully. “Can I ask you something?” “Sure.” 

“Why were you crying during the concert?” You knew this question would come eventually, but you still felt unprepared. You hadn’t really talked about your family life with anyone besides Nikki, but you were determined to keep it to yourself. But he makes you want to open up. “The song really hits me,” you point at your chest. “I feel every word and every percussion note as it plays. It reminds me of my mom and dad, and I wish they saw me as a normal person with their own aspirations rather than the person they want me to be. It was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. Soonyoung nodded his head, understanding what you were saying. 

“My parents wanted me to be a doctor or a lawyer, and I just don’t see myself doing that. I fell in love with music and singing, and when I shared that I wanted to do songwriting full-time, they made me feel so low. Like I am stupid and naive for wanting a career, I would actually be happy.” You huff, wiping fresh tears off of your face. “I just wanted them to support me, but they couldn’t even do that. Aside from my grandparents, they cut me off completely.” “That’s not cool,” Soonyoung scoffs. “So they just went cold turkey and quit talking to you?” You nod, bitterly reliving the last conversation you had with them before you made no contact. “Why can’t our parents just let us live the lives we want? It’s like they want to live vicariously through us.” “Right?!” You exclaim. “See, you get it!”

“Unfortunately, yeah,” he mumbled. You turn your body to look at him, studying his face and the possible thoughts he is having. You may see more eye to eye than you realize. ‘So, what’s your damage?” You poke at him. “It’s the same as yours,” he revealed. “They just want me to keep playing basketball so I can go into the big leagues and take care of everyone. I am essentially everyone’s meal ticket.” “Well, you don’t have to be,” you say. “You could just say fuck ‘em and live for yourself.” “Easier said than done,” he sighs. “I’m the first person in my family to attend college, and I actually like playing basketball. I believe in it, bleed it, all that… but whenever I am around my folks or friends, that’s all they want me to be about it. It’s like I’m not real. I am a person with complex interests and feelings, too.” 

“I know exactly what you mean, tiger.” 

You smile reassuringly; you understand that last sentence all too well. Your family would rather consider you the family fuck up, the black sheep, instead of understanding that you wanted different things. Why is that so fucking complicated? You stifle a yawn, looking at your watch and seeing how late it was.

“I really like talking to you and being around you,” Soonyoung confesses. I hope we can do it more.” “Yeah,” you gaze into his eyes. “ I would love that.” He walks you to your dorm, opens the doors, and holds your waist as you walk up the steps. His hands bring jitters and butterflies in your stomach that you hope you can experience more. You know you have a hard, cold exterior on the outside, but deep down, you want to feel love and adoration from someone. You hope Soonyoung can bring that. 

You never want this feeling to go away.

“Thank you for walking me in,” you say, unlocking the keys to your room. “I know I was being a bitch early, but thank you for showing me a good time anyway.” 

“It was worth it, seeing a smile on your face.” 

“Was it?” 

“Yeah,” he leans in closer. “I want to see it more.”

His lips touch yours, your chest bursting like fireworks as he deepens the kiss. Your arms rest on his shoulders, feeling natural and comfortable like a glove. He is gentle and kind, not doing too much but making you feel safe and like you can depend on him. It's crazy how one kiss can have you seeing your future. 

“We should do that more often,” you joke, leaving one last peck. He chuckles, pulling you into a hug. “We will. I’ll make sure to do it more often.” 

“Okay,” you say, walking into your dorm. “I’ll hold you to it.”

#kvanity #kwritersworldnet #svthub #svt fanfic #svt oneshot #svt scenarios #svt imagines #soonyoung fanfic #soonyoung x reader #soonyoung fluff #soonyoung angst #svt fluff #svt angst #hoshi fluff #hoshi angst #hoshi x reader

[totheblood]

begging for rain. (three)

󠁐# THREE; the harder that it takes to undo

PAIRING: ex!ellie williams x nextdoorneighbor!reader

SUMMARY: moving to a new town can be tough, especially as you are trying to hold everything in your life together. after you meet ellie, your life completely changes, but for the better? well that's still up in the air

WARNINGS: mentions of death, grief, related subjects; cursing, mentions of drinking/drugs, mentions of s*x,

WORD COUNT: 4.6k

A/N : ok this was the longest chapter i've written to date so... please enjoy.... ONE AI AUDIOS IN THE FIC ! please please please like and reblog/reply/send asks, comments, the whole nine yards… it is so appreciated!

TWO YEARS AGO

It felt weird to be in Ellie’s house.

Ellie opened the door to a cozy living room with warm beige walls and wicker furniture that had been well-worn by time. An old acoustic guitar leaned against one wall and a record player sat atop an end table, surrounded by piles of vintage vinyl. The air was thick with the aroma of coffee and old books, creating a comforting ambiance. Family photos and posters dotted the walls, giving an insight into Ellie's life that made you feel like a intruder but also made you want to know more. 

"Nice place," you said, removing your shoes at the door.

"Thanks," Ellie smiled, leading you to the living room. "You can drop your stuff there. We'll study at the table."

You took a seat at the sturdy oak dining table and ran your fingers over its smooth surface before settling into it. Scattered papers littered the table, some lined with handwritten lyrics, others with doodles intertwined in colored ink. You opened up your English books and laid out your homework, feeling a sense of warmth emanating from the room. The aged furniture added an air of familiarity, like you were being invited into Ellie's private world. Ellie seemed to be working on physics homework, while you had an English essay on Shakespeare to tackle. The juxtaposition wasn't lost on you—Ellie with equations and you with Elizabethan English.

You both settled into your work, the atmosphere tinged with concentration. Occasionally, your eyes would drift towards Ellie, watching her brows furrow in thought or her lips move silently as she read through her notes. Each time, you'd catch yourself and refocus on your own work.

"So, how are you finding the essay?" she finally broke the silence.

"It's... okay, I guess. Mrs. Porter has a way of making Shakespeare sound like rocket science."

Ellie chuckled. "Ah, the age-old struggle. To be or not to be confused, that is the question."

You laughed, and for a moment, the tension of the day seemed to lift. "You're not so bad at this, you know," you said. "Maybe you should consider a career in stand-up."

"And give up my dream of becoming a rockstar physicist?" she feigned surprise. "Never."

You smiled at her enthusiasm. "A rockstar physicist, huh? That's a first."

"Well, what about you? Any grand plans?"

You hesitated, thinking about your dad for a moment. You blinked, looking down at the book in front of you before looking back up at Ellie.  "I'm not sure. I used to think I had it all figured out, but now... everything's so uncertain."

Ellie put down her pen and looked at you, her green eyes softening. "Uncertainty isn't always bad, you know. Sometimes it's just room for something new, something better."

You looked at her, really looked at her, and felt something shift inside you. "That's pretty wise for a 17-year-old."

She blushed a little, turning her attention back to her notebook. "Well, don't spread it around. I have a reputation to maintain. Plus, I’m almost 18."

The rest of the study session went smoothly. You’d occasionally sigh and drop your head in frustration, making Ellie stifle a giggle and demand you get back to work. You had only known her for a day and was already falling into a rhythm with her. You didn’t want to go home, but the sun was beginning to set and you wanted time to rest. Time to think about the day you had and try to make sense of it. When it was time to leave, Ellie walked you to the door.

"Thanks for coming over. It was fun," she said, her hands twisting together.

"Yeah, I had a good time too," you replied, feeling a strange mix of happiness and reluctance to leave.

As you stepped out into the cool evening air, Ellie's words echoed in your mind: "Uncertainty isn't always bad... it's just room for something new, something better." And as you walked back across the dirt path to your house, you couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, something new and better had already begun.

You walked into your room, shutting the door behind you as if to seal off the world outside. It was your sanctuary, a little haven where you could breathe, think, and just be. You tossed your backpack onto the bed and sank into your chair, letting out a sigh as you looked around. Your room was still a mix of unpacked boxes and half-arranged furniture—a physical representation of your current state of mind, unsettled yet hopeful.

Picking up your phone, you noticed you had an unread Instagram DM. Your heart skipped a beat; could it be Ellie? Unlocking your phone, you saw the message was from Ingrid. Curiosity piqued, you opened.

ingrid.xoxo: Hey there, newbie. How was your first day?

You felt strange reading her message. Like it was something you weren’t supposed to be doing. Was she just being friendly or was there something more? You quickly typed back.

y/nsworld: hey! It was a little overwhelming but good overall. how was your day? 

Almost instantly, she replied.

ingrid.xoxo: Same old, same old. But seeing a fresh face around made it more interesting. 😉

The winking emoji caught your attention. Was she flirting? A little flutter of excitement mixed with confusion settled in your stomach.

Before you could process it further, the front door opened and closed loudly. It was your mom, finally home from work. You heard her footsteps coming up the stairs, and a few seconds later, she knocked on your door.

"Come in," you called.

The door swung open and your mom stepped in, her face tired but lighting up when she saw you. "Hey, sweetheart. How was your first day at the new school?"

You looked at her and smiled. "It was good, Mom. Made some new friends, and Ellie from next door is really nice. I went there and studied after school."

"That's wonderful," she said, her eyes shining with relief. "I was so worried you'd have a hard time adjusting."

"I mean, it's still the first day, but so far, so good," you said, shrugging. The relief on your mom’s face made you uneasy. You wanted to make this transition easy for both of you, but there was a newfound pressure building inside of you. You had to make it work here, even if you were unhappy. There was no escaping this place, and you suddenly felt trapped. Before your mind could go any further, she was speaking again. 

"That's my brave girl," she said, coming over to give you a hug. "I'm so proud of you."

As she left the room and wished you a goodnight with a firm kiss pressed to the top of your head, you sat back and sighed. Your phone buzzed again. Another message from Ingrid.

ingrid.xoxo: So, got any plans for the weekend? Maybe you'd like a tour guide to show you around. 😊

There it was again, that undercurrent of something more than just friendliness. You found yourself smiling, both intrigued and uncertain. It was as if life, in its own whimsical way, was presenting new possibilities, each more complicated than the last.

You glanced back at the door, then at your phone, then at the unpacked boxes still sitting in your room. Everything felt like a question mark, and as Ellie had wisely noted, maybe that wasn't such a bad thing after all.

Lying back on your bed, you stared up at the ceiling, pondering your response to Ingrid, your new friendships, and the unpredictability of life itself. Uncertainty, as it turns out, could indeed be the room for something new, something better.

And so, with a mix of excitement and apprehension, you typed out your reply to Ingrid, hitting send before you could second-guess yourself.

y/nsworld: a tour guide sounds fun. i'm in. :) 

PRESENT DAY 

When Ellie's text popped up on your phone two days ago, you almost deleted it without reading it. The mere sight of her name on your screen was like a splinter you couldn't remove—small but persistently painful. She wrote that she missed your friendship, and though you wanted to scoff at her audacity, a part of you hesitated. Her words, "Can we at least talk? Just as friends?" echoed in your mind. Against your better judgment, a wave of nostalgia washed over you, and before you knew it, you found yourself typing, "Fine, but this doesn't mean anything." Now, as you stepped into the quaint coffee shop where so many of your past memories were brewed, you questioned that decision.

"You're early," Ellie remarked, her voice as flat as the expression on her face.

"I had nothing better to do," you responded, matching her tone as you stepped into the coffee shop. It was almost empty, the aroma of freshly ground coffee mingling with the subtle tension that had settled between you two.

"Of course, you didn't," Ellie sighed, sliding a cup of coffee your way across the wooden table. On it was marked with your order, two pumps of hazelnut, two pumps of vanilla, and one pump of almond, extra cream. 

You looked at the cup, then back at Ellie. "You remembered how I like my coffee."

"I'm not completely useless."

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip while simultaneously biting your tongue. You had every right to tell her she was useless, but you refrained. It was perfect, just the way you liked it. "What do you want, Ellie?"

Ellie sighed, looking uncomfortable for a moment before speaking, "I wanted to talk. About us."

You almost snorted into your coffee. "Us? There is no 'us'. Not anymore."

"I know I messed up, okay? But can't we at least—"

"Messed up?" you cut her off, feeling the familiar surge of anger rise within you. "You didn't just 'mess up', Ellie. You broke something. Something that can't be fixed."

Ellie flinched as if you had slapped her. The look on her face almost making you feel guilty. But she didn’t have that right anymore, and you weren’t about to let her back in.

 "I know. And I'll regret that for the rest of my life. But can't we at least try to be civil? For the sake of our friends, if not for us?"

You looked at her, really looked at her, and for a moment you were back in her living room, struggling with physics homework and discussing the uncertainties of life. Back when things were simpler, easier. But that was a different time, a different you, and most importantly, a different Ellie.

"Being civil is a far cry from what you're suggesting," you said finally, breaking the silence.

Ellie sighed. "I know I don't deserve a second chance. Hell, I don't even deserve your friendship. But can't we at least try to be... something?"

You stared at her, pondering her words. The Ellie sitting in front of you now seemed so different from the girl you had fallen for. And yet, there were moments, fleeting seconds, when you could almost see traces of the old Ellie—the one who made you laugh, who made you think, who made you feel like you were the only person in the world.

But those traces were just that—fleeting and insubstantial. The real Ellie, the one sitting in front of you, was a reminder of a chapter you had painfully closed.

"We can try," you said finally, "but I can't promise anything."

Ellie nodded, a mixture of relief and regret flashing across her face. "I guess that's all I can ask for."

As you both sipped your coffee in silence, the weight of what was left unsaid hung heavy in the air. And yet, for the first time in a long time, it felt like you could both breathe a little easier.

But as Ellie's eyes met yours, you couldn't help but wonder: in the quest for something new, something better, had you both lost something irreplaceable? There was something substantially broken between the two of you now, innocence on both parts lost. 

TWO YEARS AGO

You found yourself standing in front of your bathroom mirror, staring at your reflection as you pondered what to wear for this so-called 'tour' with Ingrid. You wondered if you should aim for casual or if Ingrid, with her meticulous style, would expect something more. After rummaging through your wardrobe, you settled on a simple pair of jeans and a loose-fitting white shirt. Casual, yet presentable. You threw on a light jacket, considering the morning chill, and took one last look in the mirror. Satisfied but not entirely confident, you grabbed your phone and headed downstairs. Your mom was sitting at the dining room table, bowl of cereal in front of her with her spoon in one hand and phone in the other.

"Going out?" Your mom looked up from her phone, her eyes scanning your outfit.

"Yeah, a girl from school is showing me around town."

"Ah, great. Text me if you need anything." Her eyes returned to her phone, but not before you caught the fleeting look of relief. There the pressure was again, and in turn your sinking stomach. 

"See you later, Mom," you said, heading for the door.

"Have fun, sweetheart!" she called out as you closed the door behind you.

As you approached Ingrid's car, you noticed her already leaning against it. She was wearing what could only be described as the epitome of 'casual chic'—ripped jeans, a designer top, and a pair of sunglasses perched effortlessly on her head. She looked up from her phone and greeted you with a broad, almost rehearsed, smile.

"Ready for your grand tour?" Ingrid inquired, her eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than you were comfortable with.

"Ready as I'll ever be," you replied, cautiously optimistic about the day ahead.

The interior of Ingrid's car was as meticulously maintained as her appearance. The leather seats were pristine, and the air was scented with something floral, bordering on overpowering. She started the engine, and you were off.

The first few minutes were filled with awkward silence. You sensed that Ingrid was waiting for you to initiate conversation, but you were too wrapped up in your thoughts to open your mouth to speak. Finally, she broke the ice.

"So, first stop, the infamous Longview Park. You'll love it—it's where everyone hangs out," she said, her voice tinged with enthusiasm that sounded slightly rehearsed.

"That sounds fun," you responded, forcing a smile.

As you drove through the town, Ingrid began to pepper you with questions. They started off harmless enough—questions about your old town, your interests, your favorite movies. But as the drive continued, the questions began to probe deeper.

"So, why did you move here? If you don't mind me asking," she added hastily, as though realizing she might be venturing into sensitive territory.

"My dad passed away. We couldn’t afford to live there anymore, so we had to move," you replied, trying to maintain composure. You had rehearsed this response, but it still felt like you were ripping off a Band-Aid every time you said it.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Ingrid responded, her voice softening for the first time that morning. But before you could reply, she was off again. "Are you seeing anyone?"

The abrupt switch in topic caught you off-guard. "Uh, no, not right now," you stammered.

"Really? Someone as hot as you? I find that hard to believe," she said, her eyes briefly meeting yours before returning to the road.

"Um, thanks," you muttered, not entirely sure how to interpret the compliment.

Ingrid seemed to take your discomfort as a cue to change the subject. "We're almost at Longview Park. It's truly the heart of our community," she declared, as if rehearsed.

As you pulled into the parking lot of Longview Park, you took a deep breath. It was time to see what this 'heart of the community' was all about.

he car rolled to a stop, and Ingrid switched off the engine, her eyes twinkling like she was unveiling a secret treasure. "And here we are—Longview Park. It's like the social hub of our high school world."

You opened the car door and stepped out, looking around. The park was sizable, dotted with large oaks and willows that offered generous shade. A playground occupied one corner, bustling with the laughter of children, while a pond shimmered peacefully in the mid-morning sun. People were everywhere—jogging, playing Frisbee, or simply lounging on the grass. It had a communal feel.

Ingrid led you along a gravel path, her steps confident and rehearsed as if she'd walked this path a thousand times before. "See that gazebo over there?" she pointed, "That's like the unofficial meet-up spot for parties and hangouts. And over there is the infamous 'Lovers' Lane' where couples go to... well, you know."

Her words were punctuated with a suggestive wink that made you feel slightly uncomfortable. You chuckled nervously, trying to dispel the awkwardness.

As you walked, you couldn't help but notice the way people looked at Ingrid—long enough to show interest but not too long to risk her noticing. She seemed to command attention effortlessly, and you couldn't tell if it was her charisma or if you were completely missing something

"Everyone loves to be here on weekends," Ingrid continued, her tone casual but her eyes scanning the area, as if looking for someone or something in particular. "It's a great place to catch up with friends or make new ones. Like we're doing right now."

She shot you a smile, the kind that was meant to be endearing but felt slightly off-mark. You returned it nonetheless. "It's a nice place. Very... lively," you said, choosing your words carefully.

As you neared the pond, you spotted a familiar face sitting on one of the benches—Cat. And next to her, unmistakably, was Ellie. They seemed engrossed in conversation, their faces inches apart. A pang of something—was it jealousy?—stabbed at you, but you quickly brushed it aside.

"Hey, look who it is!" Ingrid's voice brought you back to reality. She had followed your gaze and was now staring directly at Ellie and Cat. "Want to go say hi?"

You hesitated. The last thing you wanted was an awkward run-in, but before you could voice your concerns, Ingrid had already started walking toward them.

"Hey Cat, Ellie!" she called out, her voice unnaturally high. Both heads turned in your direction, and the range of emotions that crossed their faces in that brief moment was unsettling—surprise, confusion, and something else you couldn't quite put your finger on.

"Hey Ingrid," Ellie finally spoke, her eyes meeting yours for a fleeting second before returning to Ingrid. "What brings you here?"

"Just giving our new resident a grand tour of Longview Park," Ingrid replied, her arm casually draping over your shoulder. You felt a shiver run down your spine but chose to ignore it.

"That's nice of you," Cat chimed in, her eyes narrowing slightly as they settled on you. You couldn't tell if she was being sincere or just sizing you up.

"Yeah, it's been fun," you said, forcing a smile. But your eyes met Ellie's once more, and the unspoken words hung heavily in the air between you.

"Well, we won't keep you," Ingrid said abruptly, as if sensing the tension. "Lots more to see. Come on," she tugged at your arm lightly, and you followed her back to the path, leaving Ellie and Cat behind.

As you walked away, you felt Ellie's gaze burning into your back. You wanted to look back, to catch one last glimpse of her, but you resisted. Whatever was or wasn't happening between you and Ellie would have to wait. Right now, you were on Ingrid's turf, and you couldn't help but feel like a pawn in a much larger game.

"Shall we continue?" Ingrid asked, breaking the silence.

"Sure," you replied, but your thoughts were already miles away.

The door clicked shut as you slid into the passenger seat, your thoughts still reeling from the encounter at the park. Ingrid revved up the engine and pulled away, humming softly to the beat of the song playing on the radio. You looked over at her, everything about her seemed staged. 

"How did you like the park?" she asked, casting a quick glance in your direction.

"It was... interesting," you said cautiously. "It's a nice place, very lively. Lots of history, I imagine."

Ingrid chuckled. "Oh, you have no idea. It's like the theater of high school drama. Anything and everything happens there."

Her words hung in the air, and you couldn't help but feel like there was a deeper meaning behind them. But before you could ponder it further, your phone buzzed. Glancing down, you saw Ellie's name flash on the screen.

Ellie: hey. can we talk later?

You felt a mixed bag of emotions, but you were mostly nervous. You hadn’t taken the group's warning and hung out with Ingrid anyays. It wasn’t like she was two fingers deep inside of you, but with the way Cat and Ellie looked, it seemed that way.  You were about to type a response when you noticed Ingrid's eyes flicking toward your phone screen, then back to the road.

"Who's that?" she asked, her tone casual but her eyes betraying a hint of curiosity.

"Just a friend," you said, choosing your words carefully. "We're supposed to catch up later."

"Oh," she responded, but you could sense a change in her demeanor, a tightening around her eyes. "Well, I hope I'm not keeping you from anything important."

"No, not at all," you reassured her, quickly typing a response to Ellie. "Sure, let's talk. Text me when you're free."

As you pressed send, you couldn't help but wonder about the timing. Why did Ellie want to talk now? And what was it about? Your thoughts were interrupted by Ingrid turning up the volume on the radio, her fingers drumming rhythmically on the steering wheel.

"So," she began, breaking the momentary silence, "we've covered quite a bit today. Any highlights?"

You pondered the question. "Well, the park was a highlight, I guess. It's always good to know where people hang out. Makes me feel less like an outsider."

Ingrid smiled, but there was something about it that made you uneasy. "You're not an outsider, you know. You're just new, and new can be exciting."

"Thanks," you said, your phone buzzing again. This time it was a text from your mom asking about your day.

Feeling the need to switch gears, you asked, "So, how long have you been living here? You seem to know everyone and everything."

"Born and raised," she declared proudly. "It has its pros and cons, but I like it. And yes, I do know a lot of people, but it's not hard when you grow up here. Everyone kind of knows everyone."

"That must be nice," you said, though a part of you wondered what it would be like to have that much history in one place—so many connections, but also so many ties that could bind you.

"Yeah," she paused, her expression turning serious. "But it can also be a bit suffocating, you know? Sometimes you just want to break free, start fresh somewhere new. Like you."

You looked at her, intrigued by this sudden glimpse into her thoughts. "Well, starting fresh isn't as glamorous as it seems. It has its own ups and downs."

"True," she conceded. "But at least it's a blank slate."

Before you could respond, your phone buzzed again. Another text from Ellie.

Ellie: i really need to talk to you. it's important.

This time, you couldn't ignore the urgency in her message. Something was up, something significant. You looked up to find Ingrid watching you, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, but her tone suggested she already knew the answer.

You hesitated, weighing your options. "Actually, I might need to cut our day short. Something's come up at home."

Ingrid's eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw something flicker in them—disappointment, perhaps, or maybe something else.

"Of course," she said, finally breaking eye contact. "Life happens. Let's get you home."

You stepped out of Ingrid's car, waving goodbye as she drove off. Your phone buzzed as you approached your front door, another text from Ellie.

Ellie: can you meet me at the grind? it’s about two blocks away from our house. i can drive us back. 

 You texted back a quick "on my way" and made your way over.

Ten minutes later, you walked into The Grind, the local coffee shop where the whole town seemed to be at this moment. As you scanned the room, your eyes met Ellie's. She was seated at a corner table, her phone face down and her fingers nervously tapping a rhythm against her coffee mug.

"Hey," you greeted as you approached, pulling out the chair across from her.

"Hey," Ellie replied, her eyes meeting yours briefly before averting. "Thanks for coming."

"No problem. Sounded like it was urgent. What's up?"

"I saw you today," she began cautiously, "with Ingrid."

A knot formed in your stomach. "Yeah, she was showing me around. Why?"

Ellie hesitated, looking down at her mug, and tapping the handle. She closed her eyes for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "Be careful with her. She's not what she seems."

"I mean I heard what you guys said about her at lunc but," you replied, taking a sip of your coffee. "She seems harmless."

She sighed, running her fingers through her hair. Cut right above her shoulders, the choppy layers suited her face. "Ingrid has a way of getting close to people, and it's not always for the right reasons. I just don't want you to get hurt."

Your eyes met, and you felt a strange warmth spread through you. Ellie was concerned for you. But why? She had only known you a day. You searched her face for an answer, for anything, but you came up short.

"Do you have something against her?" you asked, not hiding your skepticism.

"No," Ellie was quick to respond, "it's not like that. I've just seen her ruin friendships, relationships. She's manipulative."

"You seem serious," you remarked, detecting a tinge of something in her voice—was it jealousy?

Ellie looked down at her mug, her fingers ceasing their tapping. "I just don't want history to repeat itself, okay?"

"History?" you questioned, leaning forward. "What happened?"

She looked up again, her eyes meeting yours again, but this time they were vulnerable, exposed. "Ingrid and I had a thing once. And it felt more serious than her ‘things’ with Cat and Dina. And let's just say it didn't end well."

Now it made sense. The hints, the caution—it was personal for Ellie.

She held your gaze, her eyes searching yours for something you couldn't name. "Also," she paused, as if weighing whether to continue, "You’re my friend now. I care about you. And I don't want to see you get hurt."

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air was thick with unspoken words.

You finally broke the silence. "Thank you for telling me, Ellie. I appreciate it."

She nodded, her eyes never leaving yours. "Yeah, yeah. Of course"

As you left The Grind, your thoughts were a swirl of confusion and clarity. Ellie's concern had added another layer to the already complicated dynamic of your new life. But through it all, one thing became clear—Ellie cared about you, maybe more than she was willing to admit.

And as you replayed the conversation in your mind, you couldn't shake the feeling that Ellie wasn't just warning you about Ingrid. She was also staking her claim, marking her territory in a landscape that was becoming increasingly complicated.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fan fic #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams oneshot #modern!ellie williams #college!ellie williams #ellie williams one shot

[zeroeightzeroone]

Hiyaa,

I have a request?

Producer!Bang chan x reader

Established relationship

Angst/comfort

Bang chan is in a bad mood so when he's at the studio he shouts at a co-worker he's close to/ 3racha member.

The co-worker/3racha member leaves and bumps into reader (who was already on the way to the studio? Because they haven't spent time together in a while?) and like hints at chan's bad mood.

Reader enters studio and chan starts to get mad but like reader is like "can I sit on your lap?" and he's like ❔ and she's like "you can continue working, can I sit on your lap?" and he's like "... Yeah?". Then it's fluff fluff fluff because fluff is the best 💯💯🚫🧢. Like a lot of fluff.

Oh also can you work in the reader saying something along the lines of "I get your frustrated but can you please not speak to me like that?" 🥺

And like chan gets more at peace/ relaxed/ less frustrated and apologies to coworker/ member and yeah and they all live happily ever after

creative differences - bang chan

genre: angst, comfort, eventual fluff

pairings: idol/producer!bang chan x fem!reader

warnings: chan is snappy, use of profanity

notes: thank you so much for your request <3 i hope i did it justice. this may also be the longest fic i've posted on this account with a little over 4.3k words

wc ~4.3 | moodboard

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ｡ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:

since their debut, the company had already set expectations that the boys would have at least two comebacks a year–one in the first half of the year and another in the latter half. if they wanted to have more than two, they could, but two was the absolute least. the first comeback of this year for the boys went off without a hitch, resulting in topping multiple charts and receiving a handful of music show wins. however, the process for this second comeback of the year was already off to a rocky start, and the road ahead only looks winding and increasingly difficult.

the boys of 3racha have been in the studio every day for the past couple of weeks brainstorming and trying to put things together for the upcoming release. but they all seem to be hitting walls, or the ideas clash due to the amount of stress and pressures looming over their heads. so many people are counting on them–the members, producers, choreographers, and the jyp entertainment team, stay. and as the days in the studio pass, with the boys not agreeing on songs, arrangements, mixing, and more, the weight on their shoulders increases as well.

bang chan, the leader of stray kids and 3racha, felt the pressures even more so than changbin and han did.

currently, the three boys find themselves in chan's room inside the jyp entertainment building; chan is seated on the rolling chair in front of the multiple screens and mixing boards, while changbin and han are seated on either end of the couch. the three of them with their phones, laptops and notebooks opened up as they continue to brainstorm and discuss. but much like weeks prior, the progress isn't progressing, the progress is lacking or non-existent.

letting a deep sigh slip past his lips, han's eyebrows furrow in frustration as he scratches over old bullet points and writes new ones in his notebook, looking for ideas that could work. changbin is scrolling through his notes app and audio recording app, intermittently bringing the speakers at the bottom of his phone closer to his ear to hear the audio better as it's turned down to not disturb the other two, changbin tapping his fingers on his knee as he listens with his lip pursed in a tight line. chan is doing a mix of what the two are doing; writing and scratching out old and new ideas in his notebook, scrolling through his notes and audio recording apps to find something that they could work with, as well as filing through the production hardware on the system to find any drafts that could also be used to at the least, spark some inspiration.

at one point, chan feels like he's going to tug his hair out by the roots as he runs his fingers through his locks haphazardly. he's reaching the end of his patience; they've been working for weeks, and they can't even find a starting place for the comeback–he feels as if all the old material he finds in the apps aren't good enough, that they won't exceed the expectations or hype of the last comeback, that it won't even reach those expectations. it's frustrating chan to no end as he feels like he's reaching a dead end.

with a sigh, chan turns in his chair to discuss with han and changbin who are on the couch. when changbin notices this, he glances at han from the corner of his eye, surveys the atmosphere, and runs a frustrated hand through his hair.

"we need to figure something out," chan splutters out, his mind quite frantic, "we have to have some ideas–at least something?"

he looks between changbin and han on the couch, their faces look just as discontented and their minds are frantic but blank at the same time–mirroring chan's own face and mind. chan shuts his eyes in an attempt to calm down his bubbling emotions as he leans back into his chair.

"we could look through the demos again?" han throws a suggestion onto the table.

"which ones?" changbin questions.

han shrugs while at the same time he says, "all of them?"

"why would we look through demos we already vetoed?" chan scoffs, "that would be a complete waste of time."

"it's just a suggestion," han restates, this time his tone laced with hints of irritation, "maybe one of those vetoed demos could actually work; we just need to rework it."

"this isn't the first time we've gone through the demos in the past couple of weeks," chan reminds, "if one of those demos could actually work, we would've found it on the first or second round of looking."

"what demos are you thinking of specifically?" changbin asks han, who shrugs.

"i don't know, but what harm is there to look again?"

chan groans in agitation, not understanding why han is so adamant about looking through the demos again: "this would probably be the fourth time–why waste our time with a fifth? we want to make progress, looking for a fifth time is a complete waste of time."

the older boy's tone is sharp, prompting an eye roll from the youngest in the room, his arms going up in protest: " hey. it was just a suggestion–at least something to get the ball rolling." he reiterates chan's words from the beginning of the conversation.

"how is doing something that hasn't worked the past four times for a fifth going to work? if it didn't work a majority, if not, all the past times–it's not going to work," the tension in the room continues to build.

"wouldn't it be better to start from scratch instead of looking through ideas that we already decided weren't working?" changbin chimes in.

at this, han starts to feel like the two older boys are ganging up against him, and he defends himself quickly, "once again, it was just a suggestion. i don't see either of you suggesting anything."

changbin scoffs, "did I not just suggest starting from scratch instead of looking through rejected ideas?"

han turns his head to face changbin on the other end of the couch, "haven't we also been trying to start from scratch these past couple of weeks? that also hasn't been working–if it did, we wouldn't be having this conversation!"

"how are we supposed to start from scratch if we have no ideas?" chan asks in a matter-of-fact tone.

"if we look through the old demos, put some together or play around, then maybe we can find ideas," han speaks slowly as if he's trying to enunciate his point to drill it into the other two's heads, "it's better than sitting at our notebooks and laptops and writing down, absolutely nothing."

han's method of slowing down and enunciating seems to have gone through changbin's head as he begins to see han's point. if they can't conjure something up from nothing, they might as well try to conjure something up from their old demos or many recordings of melodies that have come to mind in the past. putting things together could trigger some inspiration.

"no, i think han has a point here," changbin states, "if we have no foundation or starting point, we can't build anything on top of it. at least with the old demos, we can continue to build off of what we have."

a deep breath expels from chan's lips as he listens to both han and changbin bounce words of agreement off each other for this working with old demos plan.

"again," chan says slowly, "if it didn't work the past four times, why would it work now? the odds are not in your favour."

"but there's still a chance it could work," han argues, "if there's a chance, why not take it?"

chan tongues at his cheek, "because we have a deadline. we can't keep grasping at straws that are obviously not working."

"starting from scratch and coming up with absolutely nothing is also not going to help us meet the deadline."

"so you want to create an album of demos we've rejected? you want to release a subpar album?" chan taunts.

"that's not what i'm saying," han shakes his head.

"that's what i'm hearing!"

"look, hyung," changbin steps in, "just listen to us for a second."

"i'm listening," chan snaps, "and i disagree. we have a standard to reach, one to exceed. i'll be damned if we release something below that."

"why the hell would we release something below standard?" changbin scoffs, running his hands through his hair and over his face in exasperation. letting his hands linger on his face as he leans forward, elbows on his knees.

the youngest in the room snaps at chan, "the fuck? is this you saying you lack faith in our producing skills? that we can't rework old demos to produce something that not only hits that standard but exceeds it?"

the sharp change in han's tone and volume alerts changbin, who realizes this conversation–well now it's an argument–is getting out of hand. chan and han are practically at each others throats and they're both too headstrong but stubborn at the same time, neither of them will back down. obviously, avoiding conversation wasn't going to get them anywhere, but at this point, where emotions are high, and egos are even higher, no meaningful or productive conversation regarding the album will be shared. changbin realizes he needs to jump into action to diffuse the situation before it becomes a screaming match between the two heated bandmates.

"i'm saying we have a standard, we have expectations to uphold," chan speaks slowly, his voice deeper as he's practically sneering at han, "one that the company has for us, stay, everyone."

han snarls back, eyes throwing daggers in chan's direction, "i know that. i know that damn fucking well. i'm out here trying to innovate some sort of progress toward this album, progress that we have been severely lacking for the past couple of weeks. other than rejecting our ideas, what the hell have you been doing?" he raises his chin at the older boy in a provoking manner.

"han–" changbin starts but is quickly cut off by chan.

"what the hell have i been doing?" chan spits out the question, han nods, "i've been making sure all our releases since debut continue to surpass these standards–this upcoming album is no different. don't come into my studio questioning what the fuck i've been doing."

"hyung–" changbin tries again to no avail.

"maybe you should leave," chan hisses, and changbin's eyes widen, darting between the two other boys in the studio with fires in their eyes, "and come back when you have suggestions that aren't going to waste my fucking time."

"look, guys. hannie, channie hyung–" changbin is cut off again when han rises to his feet, jaw clenched as he stares down chan in front of him, eyes narrowed.

"fine. i'll leave," he declares, "this is a waste of my time. i'll come back when you've got your head out of your fucking ass and you're open to listening to anyone other than yourself."

chan spins back around in his chair, eyes rolling back in anger as he clenches his fists on the table. behind him, han is quickly packing up his laptop and notebook as changbin gulps, wracking his brain to think of who to attend to right now. when han stomps to the studio door, swinging it open and stomping out into the hall of the company building. changbin is quick to follow after him, leaving everything but his phone, keys and wallet in his pocket the whole time as he follows after han, shutting the door behind them, leaving chan to his own thoughts alone. he chooses to follow the younger boy to try to calm him down and ensure he's safe wherever he plans to run off to.

meanwhile, you're a couple moments away from the elevator reaching the same floor the three boys are on. your hands clasped in front of you as you keep an eye on the digital sign that changes with each floor, rocking back and forth on your heels to pass the time. you haven't seen your boyfriend in quite a while due to your conflicting schedules, work and life getting in the way of a relationship, but you were grateful for those moments in between the chaos where it was just steady love and happiness. you learned to cherish those small moments instead of grovelling over how much time you can't spend with your boyfriend–obviously you get sad once in a while when you're away from him but choose not to dwell on it. thankfully, tonight is one of those nights where you can spend your time in the comfort of your boyfriend's presence. but he has no idea that you were even planning on coming to the company building, he has no idea of this little surprise you've organized.

when the elevator dings, stopping at your floor, you exit quickly but you make your way down the hallway slowly. your head moving from left to right as you read the numbers on each door, ensuring you landed on the correct floor and were going in the right direction. when you hear footsteps and your eyes dart to changbin and han walking down the hall in your direction, a wave of relief washes over you until you catch a glimpse of the concern on changbin's face and the anger on han's. they notice you walking towards them belatedly, almost running into you, but you catch their attention before any collision.

"hey guys," you greet softly, concern written on your features at the sight of the two boys. eyes looking between changbin whose eyes are drooped with worry and han, who you can feel the anger radiating off of, "what's going on?"

they both exchange small greetings with you. given han's current state, his greetings are shorter and more reserved. his mouth shut and jaw clenched again once he's greeted you.

"creative differences," changbin says to which han scoffs, rolling his eyes, "ok well, that's how it started, but long story short, we got into an argument, and hannie walked out."

"we?"

changbin nods, "yeah, hannie, chan hyung and i."

your lips purse in a tight line when the second name rolls off changbin's tongue: "if you don't mind, could you explain what happened?"

not wanting to get into too much detail as changbin doesn't want further rile up the already upset han, he gives you a quick run down of the main points of the argument between the 3racha boys–mainly chan and han. you keep your mouth shut the whole time and nod, listening intently to changbin explain while han stands with his arms crossed over his chest, a prominent pout on his lips and his eyebrows knit together.

"you're on your way to see, channie hyung?" changbin asks for clarification and you nod, "okay, obviously after what i told you, he's in a really bad mood right now so proceed with caution. angry chan is scary chan."

you thank changbin for letting you know what happened from their perspective, bidding short goodbyes to both the boys as han and changbin decide to make their way back to the dorms. han needs some time to unwind and collect his thoughts after the spat with chan. you continue to walk down the hall, turning a corner and finding the room number that felix sent you earlier–103.

you knock on the door softly but hear nothing from the inside; you knock once again and hear nothing. you sigh and decide to turn the knob, letting yourself in.

chan heard the knocks; the first one sparked his annoyance, and the second continued to heighten it. the sound of the door being opened caused him to bark at whoever decided to come in when, through his silence, he clearly didn't grant the permission to.

"what the hell?" he mutters to himself before he barks out, turning in his chair, "complete silence after knocking is not an invitation to come in, fuckin–"

when chan fully turns in his chair to face the direction of the door, the words get caught in his throat at the sight of you. he assumed it might have been changbin, han or a staff member, but seeing you standing there took him by complete shock. you shut the door behind you and give chan a small wave that he reciprocates hesitantly, still trying to let it sink in that you're actually in the room with him and that he isn't hallucinating due to how long it's been since the last time he's seen his girlfriend in person. you move to sit on the couch that was once occupied by the two other 3racha members; now, one side is occupied by changbin's laptop and notebook while you sit on the opposite end. chan turns his chair, following your every move.

when you sit down, take the pillow and place it on your lap, you smile up at chan again, "hi."

"hey baby," chan speaks slowly, "what are you doing here?"

you hum before answering, "well, we haven't been able to see each other in a while cos of our schedules but some time opened up for me today, so i wanted to pay you a surprise visit."

chan feels his heart warm at the gesture, but he's still quite irritated and agitated from the argument with han and changbin. the lack of progress for the upcoming album, along with the plethora of expectations looming over his head and his patience begins to dwindle again.

"that's nice, but i don't really have time for this right now," chan's tone is stern, his voice deep in warning, "i've got so much shit to do for this upcoming album, and nothing is fucking–"

"can I sit on your lap?" you ask, cutting chan off and causing him to furrow his eyebrows together in a mix of confusion and irritation–irritated that you had cut him off but confused about whether he had heard you right.

"what?" he deadpans, blinking at you.

"can I sit on your lap?" you repeat, and now he knows he definitely didn't hear things.

"did you not hear what i said?" chan holds back from snarling at you in frustration. "nothing is done for the album, and i don't have time to take a break."

you nod, hearing his words but adding, "you can continue working. i just want to sit on your lap while you do."

chan opens his mouth to refuse, but his eyes lock with yours–your shiny, beautiful eyes with a perfect array of colours decorating the irises, gazing up at him with a splash of hope in the depths of love in your eyes. that's when his mouth snaps shut again, probably looking like a fish when it opens again, but this time he says:

"yeah? sure."

the bright smile that stretches on your face feels like a reward to chan. you make your way over, placing yourself on his lap while facing him; thankfully, chan's chair is big enough for you to practically straddle him in a comfortable position. you wrap your arms around his shoulders and nuzzle yourself into his neck.

"you can go back to work now," you say, your voice muffled from the pressure of your lips against his skin.

chan can't help the lopsided smile that makes its way to his lips. he also can't help the way his whole body seems to relax with your touch; the longer he feels the warmth radiating off your body onto his, the more he feels the tension in his muscles deteriorating slowly. the feeling of your body pressed against his, his arms outstretched to continue typing or writing in his notebook, feels comforting.

moments pass when chan's room is quiet, and the occasional noise of chan typing on the keyboard, picking up or placing his pencil down to scratch down who knows what in his notebook. at the same time, you're still perched on his lap, your arms comfortably draped around him, and your face nuzzled in the crook of his neck and shoulder.

chan isn't sure if the arguing with han and changbin or if the feeling of you in his arms sparked some ideas to come out of him and onto paper, but he would like to say both. despite the heated atmosphere and half-hearted words thrown around, he doesn't want to feel like that argument was completely unnecessary and a waste of time; instead, he wants to see it as a bump in the road that shows him how he can continue to improve as a friend, producer, bandmate and a person as a whole.

meanwhile, you're thinking about how comfortable you feel in the position your in right now, and how you could probably fall asleep at this moment. sure, maybe your back will hurt when you wake up, but right now, you feel your whole body relax in your boyfriend's arms. a couple moments later, your eyes are half open and you felt yourself falling asleep, but you jump a little in shock when you feel both of chan's hands sprawled on your back. his hands rub your back gently and comfortingly before he circles his arms around your body and pulls you closer. a deep sigh escaping his lips as he holds you, his eyes falling shut for a few seconds. chan turns his head, kissing the side of your head on your hair.

"thank you," he whispers, placing another gentle kiss as his hands rub circles on your back again.

you respond in a small, quiet and slightly sleepy voice, "for what?"

chan shrugs, "for this. being here."

you nod, pausing for a moment before you say, "i ran into changbin and han in the hall."

you feel your boyfriend tense up in your arms. you begin to reciprocate his comforting action as you trace circles on his back with the pads of your thumbs, his muscles relaxing under your gentle caresses. you continue to speak in a soft, timid manner that only chan can hear since your lips are so close to his ear.

"i know you're under a lot of stress and pressure preparing for the album," you begin, "i get that you're frustrated, but can you please not speak to me like that?"

the man feels his heart drop listening to your words. his mind rewinds back to when he heard the door opening, and how his first instinct was to bark and scold whoever came into the studio uninvited. chan remembers how you blinked and gave him a small smile, trying to hide your surprise, but it was evident in how your eyes widened the slightest bit for a split second before returning to normal.

you and chan sit in silence; he's dwelling on your words while you're still tracing circles into his back with your thumbs. chan wants to say that he didn't know you were the one coming into the studio, to use that as a defence, but he knows how weak that is–that regardless of who came into the room, he shouldn't have let his frustrations blow over, flipping out and greeting them by raising his voice. sure, his emotions were high, which is a factor in how he acted earlier, but he can't use that as an excuse to get away with snapping at people who have nothing to do with what he's emotional about.

you feel chan nod, and he says softly, "i'm sorry." you go to say that it's okay, but chan interrupts, "it's not, though. even if i didn't mean to speak to you that way, i still need to figure out how to regulate and control my emotions."

"you're human," you say, "when emotions are high, it's hard to find a way to keep them under control all the time. but the fact that you recognize your mistake–that's a lot more than many people can say."

chan pulls you even closer against him, if it's even possible, "i'll try my best though. i'll speak to you at a normal volume, respectfully and saying sweet things. that's what my girl deserves."

your cheeks heat up at the way chan calls you 'his girl'.

"thank you," chan repeats.

this time, you pull away, sitting up straight to look at chan's face, your eyes meeting his soft ones. his hands rub up and down your sides slowly, a slight smile on his lips. you cock your head in confusion, "for what?"

"you always know the right thing to say," chan moves one of his hands up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, keeping his hand on your cheek gently and the pad of his thumb swiping over the skin, "i love you."

you're blushing even harder now, "i love you too."

chan uses the hand on your cheek to guide your face so your lips meet his halfway for a sweet kiss. after quite a while, a smile breaks out on your face at the feeling of his soft pink and plump lips against yours. your hands move to hold either side of his neck, and the two of you spend the next couple of moments sharing tender kisses and giggles in between.

in the midst of all of the kisses, you and chan are gazing down at each other when he brushes your hair away again. this time, he opens his mouth to speak with flushed cheeks, "i'm starting to think han and his suggestions were right; it'll be better to build on something we already have and improve on it than to force ourselves to start from scratch and continue to hit a dead end."

you brush chan's hair out of his forehead, and he continues.

"my head was too far up my ass to consider his suggestion," chan purses his lips together, and his eyes flash with regret as he recalls the words thrown around between him and the younger producer earlier. chan lets himself linger in his head again before voicing his concerns, "do you think they'll forgive me?"

you nod.

"really? you're not just saying that?"

you nod again, and this time, you explain, "as long as you can identify and acknowledge where you went wrong and what you did wrong, and sincerely and genuinely apologize–which i know you feel sincerely and genuinely apologetic for–i believe they'll forgive you."

chan's eyelids flutter quickly as he thinks, nodding as he fully processes your words. still, a wave of nervousness washes over him at the possibility that han and changbin won't forgive him.

"they're your brothers," you snap him out of his thoughts, "brothers fight, but at the end of the day, they still love each other."

main masterlist

#nikkys inbox 💌 #zeroeightzeroonerequests #stray kids one shots #stray kids imagines #skz imagine #stray kids imagine #skz imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids bang chan imagine #stray kids bang chan imagines #stray kids bang chan oneshot #stray kids bangchan oneshots #stray kids bang chan one shot #stray kids bang chan one shots #skz bang chan one shot #skz bang chan imagine #skz bang chan angst #requests

[banggyu0308]

Pretty Eyes... // Choi Yeonjun and Kang Taehyun 

requested

Choi Yeonjun x fem!reader x Kang Taehyun 

Summary: Yeonjun can’t help getting a filthy idea in his even filthier brain after you compliment his friend…

Genre: smut, fluff 

Warnings: art student reader, reader and Yeonjun are in an established relationship, voyeurism, threesome, dom Taejun x sub reader (except Yeonjun is more dom than Taehyun), use of pet names/nicknames (baby, pretty, kitten, love, Jun, Juni, Taehyunnie, Tae), at one point Yeonjun straddles the reader, very drowsy and soft at the beginning, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, blowjob, handjob, Taehyun jerks himself off, pussy slapping, overstimulation, degradation, Taehyun hits the readers face with his dick, slight bulge kink, creampie, breeding kink, tit sucking

Word count: 4.7k

A/N - this is my longest fic so far… 😭 

“Taehyunnie!! Come here, help me with this?”

You’re lugging in a few boxes of pizza, all for the sake of movie night with your boyfriend and his friends, and your arms are piled so high with them that you can barely see over it.

You’re unsure whether or not he heard you, when the top two boxes lift up and you’re met with a view of Taehyun’s face, smiling at you. “Thank you for the pizza,” he says, giving you an awkward side hug before leading you inside and to the dorm living room.

Yeonjun sees the two of you enter, hopping up from his spot on the couch with Beomgyu and taking the remaining boxes from you. “Hey baby,” he whispers, lips pressing a kiss to the spot below your ear before he sidles away, placing the boxes on the small table in front of the couch along with the boxes Taehyun had carried in.

You smile to yourself, plopping onto the couch with a sigh. Yeonjun sits down on the other side of you, arms around your waist, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Missed you…” he mumbles with a smile.

“It’s been three days, Jun, really?” You tease, fingers threading through his hair.

“Yeah, since I’ve seen you, but I missed you in other ways too…” His voice is quieter now, deeper too, dropping half an octave, and you feel your cheeks heat up.

“Shut up…” you whisper, looking up at the ceiling as Soobin and Kai file into the room, settling on a movie with little to no argument, a new record.

You worm your way to snuggle against Yeonjun’s side, the movie playing, and as soon as it ends, Beomgyu, with his untamable energy, suggests you play a game.

“I’ve got a better idea… Y/N, why don’t you draw something for us?” Yeonjun suggests, eager to show you off.

Ever since you’d introduced him to your work a few weeks earlier, he’d been begging you to show the others just how talented you are. And here he’d found the perfect opportunity, you can’t resist the charming smile he sends your way.

You sigh. “Alright… who should be my first victim? I mean- muse.” You giggle at your own joke, taking a pencil and paper Soobin hands you.

“I nominate Taehyun,” Beomgyu says from his spot on the floor. “He’s got an easy face to draw…” he says the next bit with a lopsided grin on his lips, eyes on Taehyun. “… pretty plain.”

Taehyun rolls his eyes, but turns to you. “I’m up for it. If I'm the easiest.”

You study his face for a moment. “I don’t think your face is plain…” You sketch out a rough draft as you talk, then you look back up at him, making sure to take in the detail, the way his hair’s parted messily today, the pretty silver that comes from the washed-out blue catching the light. The way his eyes almost seem to sparkle when he grins at you, he really does have a gorgeous smile. 

But all you comment as you turn back to your drawing is, “you’ve got pretty eyes.”

You finish the outline sketch of your drawing a few minutes later, scrutinize it, and deem it worthy for others to view. Everyone applauds you and compliments your work, Yeonjun practically beaming as if he’d drawn it.

Then Beomgyu finally gets his way and you all play a few rounds of board games together, Taehyun still staring in awe at the drawing of him, the one you let him have. You can almost feel his shock radiating off of him, your cheeks hot, and you only realize how late it’s gotten after you finish Monopoly.

You stand quickly, gathering your things in a panic, but Yeonjun waves you off. “Just stay tonight? Please?”

You can’t argue with the look on his face, so eager, and sit down with a sigh. “Bedtime soon though. And I’m NOT sleeping on the couch.”

“10 minutes, promise, and you can sleep with me,” he decides.

20 minutes later, you’re practically falling asleep on the floor. “Gonna go to bed…” you mumble, half to yourself, and stand from your spot on the hardwood.

Yeonjun stands with you, following behind you as you head to his room after good nights to the other members. He lets you use his spare toothbrush, standing behind you and looping his arms around you in a back hug while you get ready.

You’re in practically the same position when you fall asleep, and Yeonjun swears to himself that if you weren’t so exhausted, he’d have taken you right then and there.

The next morning you find yourself in bed alone, the absence of Yeonjun’s warmth next to you making your heart hurt with disappointment… There was never anything better than waking up next to him, watching his eyelashes fan out over his cheeks as he sleeps, perfect, plump lips pulled in a pout, fingers still laced with yours under the covers.

He comes out of the bathroom a moment later, towel around his waist, hair wet from the shower, and you tuck yourself under the blanket. You just want him in bed with you, naked or not.

His eyes settle on you, a soft smile teasing the corner of his lips, you just look so cute, tangled up in the bedsheets, wearing an oversized shirt of his that fits you just how he likes. Yeonjun can’t help pulling on a fresh pair of boxers, sliding into bed next to you, slender frame fitting around yours perfectly. The bare skin of his torso presses against your arm and he exhales shakily when your fingers find the dip of his waist, pulling him closer to you.

With the blanket tucked up to his chin, all you can see of him is his neck, his face, and one smooth, exposed shoulder. The soft honey skin of his shoulder draws your attention and you place a gentle kiss to the dip above his collarbone. 

The touch of your lips makes his eyes flutter shut, and a small exhale of happiness leaves his parted lips. You were always more romantic in the morning.

Your fingertips still press into his waist and you drag him closer until his chest is flush against yours. Yeonjun leans his forehead against yours with a smile, then slides his face to the crook of your neck, nosing along your shoulder before pressing a gentle kiss to the spot where it meets your neck.

“The other members already left…” he mumbles against you, voice drowsy with content. 

The sound of his voice leaves you breathless, wide awake the moment his lips touch your skin. Somehow, in the seconds after you pressed his body to yours, his practically bare frame moved from beside you to almost on top, long legs on either side of yours. 

You raise your body up until your back is against the headboard, Yeonjun in your lap, his knees next to your hips, kissing you suddenly with his hands on your arms.

You comply when his tongue brushes over your bottom lip, letting him taste you, a small smile on your face. A moment later, you feel him rut against your closed thighs, and a tingly, tightening sensation shoots its way down your back.

“Said the members are gone?” You whisper against his lips. He nods, hair falling in your face and tickling your cheek. You rake a hand through his hair gently, enjoying the silkiness of the strands between your fingers, then lick up the side of his neck before biting a dark, splotchy hickey into his skin.

Yeonjun sucks in a sharp breath. He moves so you’re flat on your back before slipping a hand up and under the shirt of his you’re wearing. 

“Looking so pretty in my clothes… can’t help wanting you all the time, it’s your fault,” he teases, leaving multiple love bites up your neck, tugging the shirt up and over your tits.

He lets out a soft exhale when your panties slide down your legs. “I swear, you look tastier than last time… pretty little cunt, all mine.” He hums against your neck, fingers tracing your pussy, spreading your slick around before slipping his fingers inside you. 

You whine a little at the feeling, reaching to run a hand over the waistband of his boxers. “Wan’ off…” you mumble, eyes shutting.

Yeonjun laughs, fingers looping under his waistband to tug them off.

Before he can, however, his phone rings.

Yeonjun scrambles to pick it up, ready to press dismiss, but the name listed on the Caller ID makes him divert his direction and accept it instead.

“Yeah? Okay, okay, we’ll work on it later, but come over? Just for a little… yes, and lock the door behind you.”

A few seconds later and he’s off the phone, a smile on his face when he looks back at you.

“Who was that?” You manage to mumble out, finger circling around your clit as your eyes shut.

“Gonna find out… Now come on baby, let me make you feel good…” Yeonjun peeks up at you from between your legs once he settles there, then presses a light kiss to your clit.

The contact makes your legs twitch, hand moving to the back of his head, and when his tongue flicks over your sensitive bud before delving between your folds, you press his head a little closer to your wet cunt.

You’re so intently focused on his tongue on your pussy that you don’t even hear the front door open and close. You do notice, however, when the door to Yeonjun’s room opens a crack. 

Your eyes fly open to meet Taehyun’s shocked gaze, pretty brown eyes wider than usual as he takes in your position.

You can only imagine how you look; Yeonjun practically naked, face buried in your cunt with his hands gripping your thighs, never stopping, even when Taehyun walks in, you on your back with your legs spread wide, shirt hitched up over your breasts.

His cheeks go pink and yours heat up, your eyes flicking down to the front of his pants. There’s a slight tent there that only grows bigger when you throw your head back again, moans leaving your lips as Yeonjun’s tongue laps at your clit.

Yeonjun doesn’t bother to turn and face Taehyun when he says, “go ahead and sit on the chair, Taehyun.”

Taehyun silently follows Yeonjun’s direction, sitting on the chair in front of the desk in the corner.

Yeonjun looks up at you from between your legs, a sly smile on his face. 

“You want Tae to watch you get wrecked by me with his pretty eyes, don’t you, love?”

Your eyes grow wider, but you nod quickly, looking over at Taehyun. He’s shifting in his seat, like he’s uncomfortable to even be here, but then you follow his eyes as he glances down at his pants, and you realize that his dick is practically straining at his jeans.

“Jun… Taehyunnie can touch himself, can’t he?” You ask tentatively, voice threaded through with the sounds of your pleasure as Yeonjun brings you closer and closer to your peak.

“Of course he can… probably wouldn’t be able to help himself, pretty pussy like yours on display.” He hums his response against you, and the vibration makes you gasp, the thread inside you pulled taut before snapping.

Your legs shake as you cum, hips bucking upwards into Yeonjun’s face, unintentionally bringing his tongue further inside you, and a little squeak bubbles up past your closed lips. 

You happen to glance over at Taehyun, lips parting in a small o shape when you see that he’s pulled his cock out of his pants, hand wrapped around his base. He stays frozen like that, looking at you, shirt pulled up just a little to expose his abs.

Yeonjun lightly taps your cheek to make you look at him, and when you switch your gaze to him, you find that he’s taken off his boxers, a small smirk tugging his lips when he strokes himself twice. His tip is dribbling precum down the side of his shaft, and he gently smears it over your thighs before rubbing himself along your slit. Yeonjun uses your slick to lubricate him before prodding your entrance with the head of his dick. 

“Is baby ready for my cock?” He coos teasingly, licking a line up the side of your neck.

You nod, hands bunching the sheets up. Yeonjun hums and slowly pushes himself in all the way, propping his body up to watch as he disappears inside you repeatedly.

You aren’t surprised when he helps you onto all fours, back arched and ass up in the air with your cheek against the pillow Yeonjun had been laying on the night before.

Your cheek rubs at the fabric, hips rocking back to his, and the way your face is buried against the sheets, you have a perfect view of Taehyun when he finally slides a hand up his dick, head rocking back momentarily before locking his eyes on yours again.

He looks big, as big as Yeonjun at least, and you can’t help but imagine how stuffed you’d feel with him inside you.

Yeonjun’s tip kisses your g-spot repeatedly and you feel your breath catch… it feels so good, and you can’t help but vocalize that, your voice a whimper.

“Wan’ Taehyun in my mouth…” you mumble a moment later, voice muffled by the sheets you bunch in between your teeth at the ecstasy coursing through your veins. “Wanna taste…”

Yeonjun tsks, pausing with just his tip in. “Say please, kitten.”

Just as you open your mouth to respond, hopefully coherently, his hand slips between your thighs to rub at your clit. Your brain goes fuzzy and you try to remember your words, grasping at the faint edges. “Please, Jun?”

You can almost hear the smirk in his voice. “Please what, baby?”

“Want Taehyun, please?” 

Yeonjun lets his hand drop, gripping your waist instead, and sinks just a little further into you. “Where do you want him, baby?”

“Mouth?”

“Say please…” another little twitch of his hips and he’s halfway, lips on your neck. He noses along your shoulder and sucks a hickey onto your skin, waiting for you to speak again.

“Want him in my mouth, please…” you manage, face completely buried in the pillow.

Yeonjun, satisfied with your answer, rocks himself against you until he’s all the way in again. He starts up his pace, faster this time, and gestures Taehyun over.

Taehyun wastes no time, settling himself at the very head of the bed, and you manage to raise yourself up to face him. Your cheeks grow hot when you realize you’re eye-to-eye with his dick, which is flushed pink and leaking precum.

Tentatively you place your lips on his thigh, and when you feel him twitch slightly, you move a little higher, until you’re met with the base of his dick.

Tip of your tongue flicking ever so slowly over his slit, gathering the precum on your tongue before suckling a little on his tip, trying to focus with Yeonjun still steadily fucking into you from behind. Your minuscule, lazy efforts are well received by Taehyun though, his whole body shuddering, and you push his thighs apart gently. 

You take the head of his cock between your lips, then a little more, tongue flat against the underside of his dick. Taehyun’s hand flies to your hair so fast it makes Yeonjun chuckle, pressing kisses along your shoulder, and you watch Taehyun flush. His own hand is wrapped around the base of his dick and he tugs himself out of your mouth. You eye him questioningly and he responds by tapping his tip against your cheek, spreading his precum over your skin before placing himself on your lips again. “Be a good little slut for me and suck me off good, hm?” He hums, the switch in personality making you tighten around Yeonjun, who hisses lightly.

“Like when Taehyun talks like that, baby?” He asks, and you can hear a smirk in his voice. “Wanna be his slut?”

You don’t know whether to nod or shake your head, settling on simply taking Taehyun in your mouth again. “Wanna make him feel good,” you mumble, bobbing your head up and down just a little, hand moving to jerk off the rest of him, and Taehyun’s hand wraps around yours. 

Your eyes flick up to his, and he only bends to place a kiss to your forehead. His hand gently moves yours along the length of his dick and you allow it, applying slight pressure on his tip when you lick over it again.

Taehyun’s head lolls back and to the side, his other arm moving to drape over his face. His muffled moans let you know he’s biting into the skin of his arm, and when a particularly rough thrust from Yeonjun makes Taehyun’s tip hit the back of your throat, you gagging a bit around him, Taehyun lets out a sharp gasp, pulling out of your mouth. He tugs frantically at his cock, head rocked back, the muscles of his thighs trembling under your hands, and when you give him another helping lap at his tip, his cum coats your lips and tongue, some getting on your nose, your cheeks, and the most adorable, high pitched moan leaves him, still muffled by the hand over his mouth.

You attempt to lick up all the cum around your mouth, a small yelp of pleasure forced against Taehyun’s hip when Yeonjun speeds up a little. 

You busy yourself with tugging Taehyun’s shirt up and leaving a constellation of marks on his waistline, joining them together in a heart. You’re leaving the last one when Yeonjun pulls out, suddenly lowering his face to your cunt to lap at your clit. You let out a surprised little gasp, the sudden stimulation sending you over the edge, and Yeonjun smirks, pulling away to push his dick inside you again. 

Your already tight walls are throbbing around him and he thrusts into you so deep that you can feel him in your tummy. Your hand moves behind you to grasp his wrist, tugging his hand so it slips from your waist to your stomach. You press his palm to your abdomen so he can feel the little bulge there, and as soon as he does you hear his breath stutter from behind you. 

His cum fills you a moment later, making you feel all warm inside… god, you love it when he does that, makes you even more fucked out than you already are. Your brain goes so fuzzy you can’t comprehend when Yeonjun pulls out, murmuring to Taehyun to take his spot, and you can’t comprehend when Taehyun presses his tip to your cum-soaked entrance.

Your head only rocks backward and a soft whimper leaves your lips. You feel so good inside, your hand grasping for whoever’s closest.

Yeonjun presses a few kisses to your cheeks and lips and you whine a little, chasing after his lips. You can only pout a little when he laughs and kisses you on the corner of your lips.

A sharp slap to your cunt draws you back to the moment, jolting you out of your stupor. Your focus stalls on Taehyun, between your legs, a small smirk drawn across his face, and he delivers another small hit to your clit. 

This time you’re expecting it, and it makes you gasp slightly, the feeling of his fingers on your swollen clit making your thighs shake. 

Even though it feels so dirty, having him between your legs like this, you only want more. You want to know what it feels like for him to be inside you, you need to know.

You look over at Yeonjun for permission, and he nods and moves to spread your legs a little wider. 

Taehyun’s wide eyes are so eager, he wants this just as bad as you. Not that he’d ever tell either of you, but he’s wanted this for a lot longer than just today.

He’s walked in on you more than once, quiet enough that neither you nor Yeonjun noticed. But he did, and the sight of you with Taehyun’s best friend’s dick buried inside of you, your pretty tight cunt covered and glistening with your slick… yeah, he’s jerked off to that mental image more than once before.

And now he’s got you in the exact same position, pussy all wet and warm in front of him, his for the taking, and he can’t help being just a little delirious. 

Taehyun has you squirming underneath him, only his tip inside, little teensy thrusts in and out and he can’t tell if they’re more frustratingly agonizing for him or you.

But when you look up at him, all whimpery and teary-eyed, begging him, “just a little more, please Taehyunnie?” … god, he can’t resist it.

Bottoming out in you so quickly you almost scream, a sharp inhale burning your throat and your cunt tightening around him. 

You can barely even breathe- it feels too fucking good, he’s filling you up so so perfectly, thick cock pressing up against all of the most perfect spots inside you.

And as for Taehyun… trying to even his breathing isn’t going to work, especially when your velvety walls take him in so greedily. 

He takes a long inhale to try and calm himself down, cause he’s not going to be able to last as long as he wants if he fucks into you immediately. You feel like absolute heaven around him. Better than he thought you would.

Taehyun slowly starts to rock in and out of you, keeping his pace steady, and Yeonjun watches from the side.

Yeonjun’s nodding approvingly and nudging your knees further apart when one wave of pleasure makes you almost knock them together.

“You wanna kiss her, Taehyun?” He asks, a grin tugging at his perfect lips.

Taehyun nods quickly and you both ignore how he twitches inside you at the same time your walls flutter around him… but the looks on your faces tell Yeonjun exactly what he already knows.

“Such a little cockslut, aren’t you?” Yeonjun teases, and when you nod he only laughs. “Bet you just want Taehyun’s dick inside you and his lips on yours, don’t you? Little whore all full with another man’s cock in her tummy…”

Tears prick your eyes at his words but you don’t deny it. He’s right, and your walls tightening around Taehyun only proves it.

“Jus’ wanna kiss him, please Juni?” You’re practically begging, legs aching from holding them so wide, and the constant press of Taehyun’s tip against that most perfect spot inside you is making your whole body shake.

“Yeah? Wanna kiss Tae, with his pretty eyes and his pretty moans and his pretty dick stuffing you so full?” 

You nod so fast and your eagerness makes Taehyun’s heart race. He’s one step away from begging himself when Yeonjun finally relents, Yeonjun’s long slender fingers wrapping around his own dick. Getting off to his girlfriend getting fucked to tears by his best friend… he can’t help it.

And when you so desperately catch Taehyun’s lips with your own, finally, finally getting to find out how his lips feel against yours, Taehyun’s fingers rub at your clit cause he can feel just how desperate your cunt is for his dick, too.

A shocked little whimper is all the sound you can make at this point, too far gone in your pleasure, and fuck, you’re cumming around him, trembling so hard that Taehyun threads his fingers with yours and presses a line of kisses to your jaw.

Your high seems to last forever and Yeonjun takes your other hand in his free one as your chest heaves, trying to return your pulse and breathing to normal.

It’s a little hard to, though, with Taehyun chasing his own high. Your cunt tightens around him in sync with your heartbeat and you’re almost on cloud nine at this point. Your legs are over Taehyun’s shoulders, every little throb of your pussy making his hips stutter.

“Hyung, can, can I cum inside?” He asks, his voice breathless and airy, cause you feel so fucking good, he doesn’t think he can last much longer.

“Go ahead, she’ll enjoy it, pretty cumslut,” Yeonjun says. His own words sound tight and strained and you look over at him… You had no idea your boyfriend was jerking off to what was going on in front of him.

Taehyun’s face moves to your neck and he bites a hickey into your skin, one last deep thrust before he buries his cum inside you. 

Your chin is on his shoulder and you grasp your own hands behind his back before looping one through his hair. You cling to him throughout his orgasm, your other palm flat against the smooth skin of his back. Little twitches of his hips fuck his cum further into you until he finally pulls out and rolls next to you, his eyes shut and his breathing ragged.

Yeonjun, with his head thrown back and his long neck on display, rights himself and slides up the bed and to you, and without question or protest you wrap your fingers around him.

“Got so hard watching us fuck…” you mumble in surprise, sliding a hand over his dick to spread the precum around even more.

This has to be Yeonjun’s favorite part, your eyes so wide and innocent while you jerk him off, even with two men’s cum leaking from your cunt and staining the bed. Just the sight of your pouty lips while you look up at him like that makes him twitch in your palm, and when you giggle, quickening your pace and applying just a little more pressure, asking him softly, “do you like that, Juni?” That sends him over, warm cum dripping all over your face and tits.

“Clean her up, Tyun,” Yeonjun instructs once he’s calmed down, laying back on the bed on the other side of you.

Taehyun rolls onto his tummy and props himself up on his elbows. One look at your cum-covered breasts and his lips and tongue are all over you, suckling gently on one nipple while his fingertip traces the other, and you lean your head back softly. “Feels good, Taehyunnie, so good, but just supposed to clean me up…”

He hums and shakes his head but sits back anyways, eyes on your tits, and you laugh at his wide-eyed gaze.

Yeonjun smiles at the two of you before finding you a clean pair of underwear, and you look up at him in surprise when he helps you put them on without cleaning you up first.

Yeonjun only shakes his head with a smile and places a kiss on your forehead. He tucks himself under the blanket and jokingly flings the blanket over your head, catching you against his chest, and Taehyun almost feels out of place until your hand finds his and you’re tugging him under the blanket too.

You move so you’re facing him, forehead against his, a smile on your face as you mouth, “pretty eyes,” and the look on his face is priceless, cheeks flushing and an elated smile crossing his face.

Pretty soon all three of you are scrambling for breath and popping your heads up and out of the blanket. Still almost completely naked, bare skin up against bare skin, eyes shut because you’re all so exhausted. 

You’re half asleep when you feel Taehyun’s lips on your breast again, a soft giggle slipping past your lips, and he tenses against you until you open your eyes and place a reassuring hand on his cheek and a kiss on his forehead.

His cheeks are a little pink and he closes his eyes again, you doing the same, the occasional little suck on your nipple making your thighs press together…

But then you fall asleep too, face buried in his hair, Yeonjun’s arms around your waist.

That is, however, only until the other members come home from work and come looking for the other two fifths of their group…

taglist: @napofamoon , @ixayjun , @kazscara , @full-sunnies

#ada answers 💌 #adas hard hours #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #poly txt #yeonjun x reader x taehyun #taehyun smut #taehyun hard hours #taehyun hard thoughts #yeonjun smut #yeonjun hard thoughts #yeonjun hard hours #yeonjun fic #taehyun fic #yeonjun x reader #taehyun x reader #tomorrow x together hard thoughts #tomorrow x together hard hours #tomorrow x together smut #taehyun x reader x yeonjun #yeonjun smut fic #taehyun smut fic

[taeiun]

just a little sick with love.

synopsis: it spills out too fast; hard to contain this blurted confession about you (in other words, txt when asked about you during an interview)

who: txt's choi line x gn!reader

categories: a little smth extra fluffy, interview style scenarios

warnings: might be ooc here? reader is referred to as "pretty" and "beautiful" a few times (not in a physical appearance context really), love and babe and jagiya are used as petnames, use of "yn" in the fic, mentions of food and drinks

word count: 0.9k

interviewer: ...but, while we’re on the topic of romance, i’ve heard through the grapevine that you’re currently in a relationship. now, i’m just dying to know, and i’m sure the viewers are too, about who you’ve been seeing so, what can you tell us about them?

✧ YEONJUN !

yeonjun: well to start, they’re the love of my life. [he laughs and runs a hand through his hair with a hum] they understand me in ways no one else would, not even the other members. i can be choi yeonjun with them, you know? not just an idol on stage, not just yeonjun of tomorrow x together. being with them… it’s like walking into a cold room after being out in the sun all day. 

interviewer: aw, that’s sweet! how did you get to meet them? 

yeonjun: i spilt my drink on them. [he smiles sheepishly] i was in a rush and wasn’t looking where i was going. we bumped into each other and i ruined their shirt. i offered to pay for a new one but the thing about yn is that they’re stubborn. they refused so i asked if could take them out lunch instead. things kind of went from there.

yeonjun: now, they send me tiktoks and reels that remind them of me when we’re away on tour. they surprise me with roses after a show win and always welcome me with a smile, no matter how tired they are. yn is the best thing that’s happened to me and i can’t see myself without them. 

interviewer: wow sounds like i might need to sweep them off their feet for myself! [the interviewer laughs]

yeonjun: [he lets out a tense chuckle that ends in a sigh] ah… yeah no, tough luck buddy. they’re mine and always will be.

✧ SOOBIN !

soobin: hmm [he takes a moment to choose his words carefully] where do i begin? [the interviewers laughs] yn is my other half. i don’t really know how else to explain it other than that. they’re effortlessly kind and the nicest person i’ve ever met. they never fail to cheer me up after a long day and are so understanding of my needs. sometimes i think they know me better than i know myself. [he laughs]

interviewer: when did you know they were the one?

soobin: i think i knew we were going to work out for sure when the group and i first went on tour. yn took care of odi for me and sent me video updates. they don’t like recording their voice so i asked them why they sent videos instead of pictures and messages. they replied, “because i know you can’t sleep soundly without hearing my voice, soobin.” i was already in love before then but i think that only grew after hearing those words. 

interviewer: if you had to pick between your partner and your career, which would you choose?

soobin: i think that’s an unrealistic question to ask. yn made it clear that they’d never make me pick between our relationship and my idol life. they said i deserved to be happy, to receive the good things in life. for the longest time, i thought i could only have one or the other, a relationship or a successful career, and it wasn’t until i met them that i realized those things could coexist. they’re my biggest supporter and i couldn’t be more grateful for that.

✧ BEOMGYU !

beomgyu: oh, y/nnie! [he visibly brightens] it’s crazy. even though we’ve been dating for a while now, sometimes i wake up and i’m like [beep]... i’m actually dating them. they’re so sweet to me. i’m starting to get cavities from just how kind they are. [he and the interviewer laugh]

interviewer: why them? what is it about your partner that caught your eye?

beomgyu: oh it had to have been their smile. they have the prettiest smile i’ve ever seen and their eyes crinkle in the corners when they do. their laugh is the most beautiful thing i’ve heard. i’d play it on loop twenty four seven if i could. their happiness is infectious. i’ll let you in on a little secret [he leans in, forearms resting on his thighs as he moves to fake whisper to the interviewer] sometimes, they’ll dance and sing around the kitchen when they think im not watching. [he laughs, leaning back in his seat] they probably have way more blackmail on me though. 

interviewer: would you say you’re happy?

beomgyu: i’m the happiest i’ve ever been. yn… they make everything i do worth it. i don’t know what i’d do without them. i wish they could see themselves through my own eyes because i think they’re the most stunning and beautiful, in every meaning of that word, person on the planet.

bonus:

interviewer: is there anything you’d like to say to your partner back home?

yeonjun: hey, babe! i hope you haven’t forgotten about our one year anniversary coming up. [he says in a teasing voice] you better be taking care of yourself properly while i’ve been gone. [he smiles warmly] i miss you. tour is almost done, love. i’ll be seeing you very soon. 

soobin: i hope you’re doing well, love. you better be asleep when this program is airing and i don’t want to see a single text message from you until it’s morning in your time zone. you can get more work done when you’re well-rested. [he smiles] just a little longer, dear. i’ll be home soon.

beomgyu: yn! i can’t wait to see you again, jagiya. there’s so much to tell you and i miss stealing the blanket from you when we sleep. [his expression drops to a serious, but playful one] i’m cashing in that cuddling coupon you gave me for my birthday last year when i get back and expect top tier service.

^ . _ . ^ !? hehe was inspired by a couple cute insta reels that came up on my for you. next txt post will be for ot5 hopefully as long as i have the time

© taeiun 2023. all rights reserved. do not copy, repost, translate, modify, or claim any of my writing as yours.

#txt x reader #txt x gender neutral reader #k-labels #kflixnet #yeonjun x reader #soobin x reader #beomgyu x reader #txt fluff #txt comfort #yeonjun x gn reader #soobin x gn reader #beomgyu x gn reader #txt scenarios #txt imagines #📹 . . by jun ! #txt headcanons #txt reactions

[aziraphales-library]

Heya ! I'm looking for some fics that are set post season 2. Not fixits exactly, not that I would mind fixits. But I'm looking for long canon compliant fics. Also, is there a tag for such fics ?

We have #good omens s2 and #canon compliant tags. On ao3 you'll want to use the tags "Post-Season/Series 02" and "Canon Compliant", which is what I did to find you these...

scherzo in f-sharp minor, for orchestra by astrhae (M)

It was a truth universally acknowledged that an angel in possession of no memory must be in want of a wife. No, that was the wrong book. The wrong line. Aziraphale frowned. “What,” the gentleman before him asked, “and I mean what, are you doing here?” ----------------- Or, two years after things fall apart, Aziraphale shows up at Crowley's doorstep without his memories. The easy part is getting it back, the hard part is getting them back together.

Until the Bitter End by sentientsky (T)

After learning the truth about Heaven's plans and fruitlessly trying to fix a corrupt system (and maybe also having his memory messed with a little bit in the process), Aziraphale slips back to Earth in search of Crowley.

i will make it better, if only for us by davethefish (T)

With Aziraphale in Heaven, everything that Crowley loved has left the earth. He doesn't know what to do, so he starts small. Maybe someday he'll love the earth as much as he loved Aziraphale. It's time for him to remember why he chose to stay in the first place.

Black Holes and Revelations by ArtisticRising (E)

Crowley takes a leap of faith… into the heart of a black hole. It’s the last card Crowley has to play. He can’t do this without Aziraphale… and he’s betting that Aziraphale can’t do this without him. Act I (Black Holes) ends around Chapter 6 (10 if you want the smut babes). You could leave the story off there. Up til chapter 6 you have a whole story that’s pretty much G rated. From there my thirst comes out like a sexy little demon in tight jeans and a vaguely downwards saunter. Act II (Revelations) is an attempt at season 3. Treat it as a separate work that builds off Act I. Lots of plot twists ahead/theories/speculations that I won’t spoil for you :)

The Ineffability of Gray by kitfornow (NR)

Fifteen years have passed since Aziraphale returned to Heaven, and still sometimes Crowley feels shell shocked and embarrassed and grief-stricken. And mostly, he still feels numb. Fifteen years isn’t really so long, in the grand scheme of things, and yet these have somehow been the longest years of his existence. He can almost feel time crawling by, laughing at him. But slowly, so slowly, Crowley began to try again. To try harder. To find a piece of himself that Aziraphale had not touched. To find a piece of himself that does not need changing. On his good days, he can open up. His friends come over to the flat, once in a while, and Maggie brings new records and Muriel brings burnt cookies that no-one complains about because they're so proud of them. They'll exchange stories and simply enjoy each other's company for a few hours. And sometimes, he feels almost alright. Until Crowley turns around and Aziraphale is there, standing in front of him, trying to stop the world from ending all over again.

hurry back, please bring it back home to me by Percyjacksonfan3 (T)

“Why should I?” The demon interrupts cuttingly. “You’ve made it perfectly clear where your priorities lie and anything I say won’t make a bit of difference.” “That’s not true at all.” Aziraphale replies after a long hurt moment. “And you know it. Besides, you’re being stubborn. You’ll help me eventually.” Rage flashes over Crowley’s face. “You think so, do you?” Aziraphale juts his chin up stubbornly, ignoring the unpleasant feelings Crowley’s expression stirs in him. “Yes.” Aziraphale needs Crowley's help in saving humanity from the Second Coming and despite what happened between them he's determined to get it. After all, it's not only that he needs Crowley, but his plan also includes their car. As for the other matters between the two of them... well there's no reason those can't be sorted out along the way as well, is there? Or, a possible take on Series 3 that includes the Bentley, a resurrected Jesus Christ set on bringing about the End of Days, and an angel and a demon who are stupidly in love with each other but are both suffering from a lack of experience on how to actually deal with said emotions. Emphasis on the stupidly.

- Mod D

#good omens #good omens s2 #ineffable husbands #canon compliant #long fic #mod d