#revelations of a bizarre mind | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

intynidad · 11 months

Note

Hey, can you do shapeshifting yandere x reader who's slowly realising that the yandere has replaced their significant other?

I love this idea

I think i got a little carried away with this but i really like how it turned out

TW: yandere stuff, kidnapping (not towards reader), murder (implied), doppelgänger??

LOVE HAS MANY FORMS

It began with subtle shifts, barely noticeable at first. Changes in your partner's attitude that left you with a lingering sense of suspicion. They hadn't done anything wrong per se, but their behavior was undeniably different.

"Hello, darling," they greeted you with a gentle kiss on the cheek. "How was your day?"

It had been a month since this transformation began. "I'm okay, love. How about you?" you responded, trying to navigate this newfound affection and adoration. It was a stark contrast to the cold and distant demeanor they had maintained throughout your one-year relationship. It was as if they had become an entirely different person.

You couldn't deny the warmth that came with their displays of love. It was a welcomed change, albeit one that left you feeling slightly perplexed. The shift in their behavior raised questions in your mind. What had sparked this sudden outpouring of affection? Was it genuine, or was there something more lurking beneath the surface?

As the days turned into weeks, you found yourself torn between embracing this newfound connection and cautiously questioning its authenticity. A part of you cherished the tenderness and closeness you now shared, relishing in the affectionate gestures that had previously been absent. But another part of you couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that something wasn't quite right.

Your suspicions were confirmed when you feigned sleep, only to be jolted awake by peculiar noises emanating from the basement. Intrigued and filled with trepidation, you summoned the courage to investigate, guided by the unnerving sounds that reached your ears. As you approached the basement door, your heart raced in anticipation of the truth that awaited you.

Pushing open the creaking door, your eyes widened in disbelief as you were greeted by an unexpected sight. Before you stood your partner, bound to a chair, their expression one of fear and vulnerability. And next to them stood an eerie doppelgänger, an exact replica of your beloved but radiating an unsettling aura.

Caught in this bizarre confrontation, you couldn't help but eavesdrop on their conversation, your heart sinking with each word uttered. Your partner, weakened and emaciated, pleaded for their release, swearing to keep the encounter a secret.

"Please let me go, I swear I won't tell anyone about this!" your partner pleaded desperately, their voice laced with fear and desperation. Their frail form seemed to have withered, contrasting sharply with the stronger, more imposing figure standing beside them.

"Let you go and then what?" the doppelgänger retorted, their tone dripping with anger and resentment. "So you can continue treating them like trash? I won't allow it."

“I don’t even like that idiot!, i just date them for a bet, I don't care if you wanna date them, do it as yourself and let me go!”

Frustration and confusion welled up inside you as you grappled with the shocking revelation unfolding before you. Your real partner, bound and vulnerable, claimed their indifference towards you, confessing that they had only entered into the relationship as part of a bet. The words stung, piercing your heart with betrayal and hurt.

"Don't you dare call them an idiot!" the doppelgänger's voice rang out, filled with fierce protectiveness and devotion. "They are the most incredible person in this world. I love them more than you could ever comprehend."

The weight of the situation bore down upon you, leaving you torn between conflicting emotions. The one you had trusted had revealed their true nature, while the doppelgänger stood as a beacon of love and adoration, professing an unwavering devotion to you.

The doppelgänger's voice, filled with anguish and resentment, pierced through the tense air once more. "I don't understand why they would choose you! I have assumed countless forms in the past, and none of them caught their interest. But you, you managed to captivate their heart effortlessly, and yet you seem unaffected. How dare you!"

The sound of their scream made you stumble backwards and accidentally stepped a little to hard on a Wooden plank that made a small noise ,it was small yet enough to caught the attention of both of the persons on the other side of the door.

“Ho-honey is that you?” The doppelgänger voice sound scared

“HELP ME Y/N IM HERE HELP” your partner voice boomed into your ears as the door opened

Your eyes went to the doppelgänger to your partner to the doppelgänger again and the cycle continues for what felt like an eternity

“STOP LOOKING AROUND LIKE AN IDIOT AND HELP ME OUT” your boyfriend pleaded in despair

You looked again at the doppelgänger eyesore they filled with fear but you knew that what they fear wasn’t they getting caught…

“How much did you hear?” The doppelgänger spoke with a shake voice

Small tears started to form in the corner of your eyes “one year … and it was all a bet” you said looking at the ground

“AND THAT WHAT YOU TOOK OUT OF THIS SITUATION,SHUT UP AND HELP ME OUT” your partner said with panic

After a moment or maybe an hour of silence you decided to lift your head and look at both of them

“Honey…” you said but this time looking at the doppelgänger

“When you finish whatever you have to do, please come back to bed, is cold without you” and gave your new “partner” a small kiss on the lips

“Yes…yes love i promise ill be quick” small happiness tears started to fall from your partner eyes it would have been a romantic scene if it wasn’t for your ex screaming on the background

“YOU STUPID WHORE, YOU ASSHOLE I HOPE YOU DIE YOU SELFISH BI-” A hit in the head and they were knocked out

“Are-are they dead?” You asked with a small amount of fear

“No, don’t worry i will not expose you to such things” your new partner gave you a kiss on your hands “ go to sleep love, ill be up in a second”

You gave one last look at the limb body of your ex significant other…and walked away

Later that night you were sleeping on your bed when a pair of warm arms hugged you from behind while whispering praises and promises of love

And for the first time, you believe them

——

Your partner slowly started to change after that day, to the rest of they world they just started to experiment with hair dye and contact lenses but you knew that they wanted to love you as their true self, and you were eager to let them love you

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genderjester · 2 years

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SIGH

#shower revelation of the day is i think the fact that to my knowledge no one ever had a crush on me #is messing with how i perceive myself when i have a crush on someone #bc the notion of someone liking me back is bizarre to me #it always goes like this i get a crush i agonize abt it i accept it somewhat i maybe tell a friend and then i bury it #in my mind i am forever the pining one never the one being pined after and. i know that's not a good mindset to have but well....#eh #sel talks

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slytherinslut0 · 6 months

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MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Twenty Three-Info:you and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, SMUT, Heartbreak, ANGST AF, Dirty Talk, PIV, Praise Kink, Slight Degradation, Semi-Public Sex.

FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

"Hello? Anyone home?"

Emily's voice echoed through the air of your dorm room, her eyes widening in disbelief as she took in your drenched appearance. There you stood, next to your bed, trapped in the labyrinth of your thoughts, most likely looking like you had genuinely lost your ever-loving mind.

At last, you jerked your head up, locking eyes with her. "Apologies, Em...I'm just utterly drained. Honestly didn't even hear you come in."

"Why are you absolutely soaked?" Emily's tone switched to an almost amused drawl, one you could tell she was attempting to suppress. Her eyes narrowed as she assessed your waterlogged state. "Weren't you with Mattheo?"

Your cheeks flushed under her scrutiny, and you shifted uncomfortably before responding. "Yeah," you admitted, your tone slightly sheepish. "It's a bit of a story, really...Malfoy essentially dared me to jump in the lake, and, well, I couldn't resist the challenge."

Amusement twinkled in Emily's eyes as she settled onto her bed, her curiosity piqued. "Well, that's one way to make a splash," she quipped, a playful smirk gracing her lips. "So, spill the details. Is there some progress being made with those arsehats?"

You cleared your throat, a nervous smile playing on your lips. "I'm trying," you confessed, your voice laced with uncertainty. "It's a work in progress, but I think we're getting there, slowly but surely."

Emily nodded knowingly, her lips curving into a smirk. "Well, if anyone can handle a bunch of mischievous daredevils, it's you," she remarked, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Just be careful, yeah?"

"Of course," you replied, managing a meek smile despite the uneasy knot tightening in your chest. "Where were you tonight?”

Almost instantly, Emily's demeanor shifted, her gaze darting away, fixated on her fingers as she nervously twirled her chapstick. "I, uh...I was with Tom," she stammered, her voice trailing off uncertainly.

A sudden wave of realization crashed over you, leaving you feeling as if you were adrift in a stormy sea. Emily was with Tom?

You blinked, struggling to find the right words. "You-"

"I think I like him," she confessed, the words emerging strained, as if pulled through clenched teeth, her eyes avoiding yours. "I...I think I really like him..."

Her confession hung in the air, heavy with tension, sending shockwaves through your entire being. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat reverberating in the silence that followed. You stood there, motionless, breathless, your mind trying to grasp the reality of her revelation. What on earth was fucking happening?

Sensing your stunned reaction, Emily hurriedly left her bed, closing the distance between you two. Her eyes met yours, filled with regret and apology.

"I'm so incredibly sorry," she began, her words tumbling out in a jumbled mess. "I mean, on the night of the party, we connected, and we kissed, and I haven't been able to shake those feelings since...I know you and Tom have been seeing eachother for a while, and I've felt terrible about this whole situation...I'm the worst friend, and I can't believe I let it get to this point...I just...I understand if you hate me or never want to talk to me again-"

"Emily," you interjected, your voice breaking through the heavy silence, your shock slowly giving way to a strange sense of understanding. Despite the chaos in your own life, you couldn't muster any anger. In fact, her revelation felt like a bizarre twist of fate, a surreal kind of perfect. "Me and Tom...we were never anything...I've never had any genuine feelings for Tom, not like that anyway..." you confessed, your words hanging in the air. "It's okay, Em...it's seriously more than okay."

Her eyes, brimming with guilt, met yours. "No… it isn't," she murmured, her fingers absently pushing a strand of hair off her forehead. "I just...I feel like the world's worst friend...I've been keeping secrets and hiding things from you...and that's not like us...I genuinely bloody hate myself for this…”

Her words hit you like a sledgehammer, the weight of your own secrets crashing down on you. How could you judge her when you were harbouring your own tangled emotions for Mattheo? Guilt clawed at your insides, a bitter reminder of your own deception, making it impossible to feel anything but empathy for Emily's confession.

Gently, your touch on her arm was a soft plea for understanding. "Em, please be kind to yourself," you implored, your voice carrying the weight of your own inner turmoil. "I'm far from perfect, and I completely understand...you don't ever have to be scared to tell me anything, I'll always be on your side..."

The desire to confide in her about Mattheo tugged at your heartstrings, but a tempest of conflicting thoughts raged within you. You longed to unburden yourself, to share the intricacies of your emotions--yet, doubts clouded your mind.

You questioned the wisdom of revealing a truth that seemed destined for heartbreak; one that was destined to go no where, especially after Mattheo's own cautionary words. The fear of shattering the fragile semblance of normalcy you'd managed to maintain held you back, leaving you caught between the honesty you craved and the security of your well-guarded secret.

"You're the greatest friend...I don't deserve you," Emily released a long sigh, meeting your eyes softly. "Are you sure you're not upset? I swear I'll never fucking talk to him again if-"

"No! No, Emily...I'm not upset," you said, through chuckles. You were upset, but it had nothing to do with her. "I want you to be happy, Em...Dumbledore once told me that if someone makes you feel, let them..."

"Gods, that man could make a bloody brick wall tear up," she breathed, finally cracking a smile, as though you'd lifted a weight off her shoulders. "I have to say though...I just don't know how you didn't fall for him...I mean, his fucking eyes alone had me melting..."

You released a breath, unable to swallow your smirk. Yeah, his eyes were beautiful, but only because they served as a reminder of Mattheo's--whose deep brown pools were nothing other than completely fucking captivating.

"I know," you said, your voice distant, lost in your thoughts as you stared into the distance. "Tom is wonderful," you continued, your words almost a whisper, the syllables heavy with unspoken sentiments. "It's just that, my heart...it wasn't in it."

Emily's brows furrowed with realization, her eyes darting across your face as though she could read the unsaid words swirling within your irises. "Where is your heart, then?"

Emily's question hung in the air, patiently awaiting your response, but your thoughts were elsewhere, entirely consumed by Mattheo. His captivating eyes, that tousled brown hair, and his infuriatingly complicated demeanor dominated your mind. Despite his dangerous reputation, he had always been your sanctuary--from the way he protected you to the depths of pleasure he led you to, he ignited desires you were hesitant to acknowledge.

Since the day you met him, you had been drawn in, entangled in a web of emotions you couldn't escape. The fear of succumbing to your desires warred with the undeniable pull he had on your heart, leaving you submerged in a sea of uncertainty, unsure if there was a way out of the depths you had willingly plunged into.

Meeting Emily's eyes, you could only confess, "I don't know," your voice tinged with desperation, as if seeking an answer that seemed just out of reach. "I...I have no fucking idea anymore..."

Her face dropped, shock etching lines across her features as she took a few delicate steps back, studying your face intensely. The intensity of her scrutiny made you nervous, your heart pounding so loudly you could almost hear it. You knew she had just realized precisely what the fuck was going on with you lately. You knew she'd finally fucking cracked your code.

You looked away, unable to maintain eye contact, and in a hushed tone, she said, "oh, Gods no...you...he's-he's such an asshole..."

"Yes, he is..." tension gripped your entire being, your body vibrating with nausea as you struggled to find the words. You couldn't bring yourself to meet Emily's eyes, your gaze fixed on the floor as you whispered, "but there's still good in him..."

Emily's eyes widened in disbelief, her shock palpable as she struggled to comprehend your words. "You're going to destroy yourself trying to fix him," she said, her voice edged with desperation. A heavy pause filled the room before she continued, her voice quivering, "He's done terrible things, remember when he sent that poor third year into the infirmary-"

"We've all done terrible things, haven't we?" you shot back, finally looking up at her. The intensity in your gaze matched the fierce determination in your voice. "We're all just sinners judging sinners for sinning differently, but no one ever bloody stops to ask why..."

Your steps were slow, but deliberate, each one echoing with the resonance of your unwavering determination as you closed some of the distance between you and Emily. The intensity in your eyes burned brightly, reflecting the depth of your emotions.

You were acutely aware of how utterly insane you must sound, how irrational and illogical your words might appear to her. Yet, in the depths of your heart, you longed for her understanding, for her to grasp the complexities that lay beneath the surface. You yearned for her to realize that there was a profound depth to your emotions, a truth far more intricate than what met the eye.

"Yeah, maybe he's bad...maybe he's completely fucking terrible," you said, your voice carrying a potent mix of fervor and defiance. "But when he smiles…when I look into his stupid, big eyes...all I see is the good in him..."

A profound silence hung in the air, pregnant with the weight of your words. You gauged Emily's reaction, observing the flicker of disbelief and uncertainty that played across her features.

"I made a promise...to Dumbledore...to myself...to Mattheo," you continued, your voice unwavering, each syllable resonating with unshakable resolve. "A promise that I'd fucking stand by him...that I'd show him patience and compassion...who would I be if I gave up on that?"

"Yeah, but..." Emily's eyes widened, her throat tightening as she struggled to find words to counter your conviction. "He's...he's a monster..."

"He's broken," you retorted, your tone unyielding, the depth of your empathy for Mattheo underscoring your words. "I don't care what happens to me, Em...I am a woman of my word..."

Emily swallowed. "Your heart is far too pure...your heart is going to ruin your future..."

"So be it." You said, flatly, steeling your shoulders as you released a long breath. "I am coming for all the ghosts that have ever haunted him...I am coming for all the demons that twisted his dreams and turned him into the fucking nightmare that he is, and I am going to be theirs, instead."

Without waiting for Emily's response, you brushed past her, your heart racing with anxiety over the fact that you had essentially revealed the truth about your relationship with Mattheo. The weight of your confession hung heavy on your shoulders, but you needed to clear your head. Silently, you made your way out of the dormitory, the echo of your footsteps reverberating in the empty corridor.

The familiar path to the prefects' washroom felt like a lifeline, leading you to the one person who could provide the reassurance you craved. Just as you made your way into the hall, the door creaked open, and a familiar brunette exited, her sly grin sending a shiver down your spine as her eyes met yours. Recognition struck you like a lightning bolt--it was the girl from the library, the one who had been intimately close to Mattheo all those weeks ago. As she disappeared from your view, your stomach plummeted, anxiety tightening into a nauseating knot.

With your heart heavy and anxiety clawing at your throat, you mustered the strength to push open the door. Inside, you found Mattheo, leaning wearily against the sink. His eyes, usually filled with intensity, were dulled by fatigue. His head was bowed, and his shoulders slumped, burdened by the weight of unseen struggles. He remained fully dressed, his appearance reflecting the weariness that mirrored your own inner turmoil.

"What was that?" you questioned, your voice trembling, and your chin quivering with vulnerability, your eyes pleading for an explanation that might soothe the turmoil within. "I thought we were okay?"

The sight of that girl leaving the washroom shattered the reassurance you had desperately sought. Doubts consumed you, racing through your mind like a storm. Had your recent fight driven that big of a wedge between you and Mattheo? Was he seeking solace in someone else's company because he was done with you? The questions multiplied, suffocating you with uncertainty. Your voice emerged as a cracked whisper, breaking the tense silence that hung between you both as Mattheo slowly met your eyes.

"Are we ever bloody okay, Raven?" His voice, laced with a tinge of exhaustion, fell flat, his eyes dark and cold as they bored into you. The endless depths of his gaze seemed impenetrable, hiding any flicker of emotion that might have offered solace. "I'm not even sure what you're going on about, truthfully,"

"The girl," your voice wavered, your vulnerability laid bare, "the same one from the library all that time ago...I just saw her leaving."

Mattheo grumbled irritably, the tension in the room palpable as he pushed off from the sink with a heavy sigh, his movements betraying his exasperation. He spun around, the muscles in his jaw clenched, his eyes stormy with frustration as he leaned back against the counter. His arms crossed over his chest defensively, his entire posture radiating a mix of annoyance and defiance.

"That girl is nothing to me, Raven," he declared, his voice low and gravelly, the words carrying a hint of irritation as he tried to emphasize his point. "Nothing at all."

You desperately wanted to believe him, to cling to his words like a lifeline, but doubt gnawed at your insides, poisoning your thoughts. After everything that had transpired between you, after your last fight, and the way he was acting now, you couldn't simply brush it aside.

"Nothing, huh?" Your voice grew firmer, laced with a mixture of hurt and skepticism. "So it's just a coincidence that you two were alone in here...and that she was grinning ear to ear when she left..."

Mattheo blinked, his surprise evident as he processed your words. This jealousy was uncharacteristic of you, a stark deviation from your usual composed self. His features contorted with a mixture of confusion and frustration, his eyes narrowing and jaw clenching in response to your accusation.

"Do you think I fucked her, Raven?" His words hung in the charged atmosphere, heavy with hurt and disbelief. Each syllable cut through the air, a searing venom that struck your heart like a dagger. "Do you actually fucking think that low of me?"

The raw pain in his eyes mirrored your own, a painful reflection of the trust that had been shattered between you, the wounds now gaping wide open, begging for resolution.

"You don't trust me..." Mattheo's expressions hardened further, his eyes blazing with a mixture of frustration and hurt. The room seemed to shrink around you as he pushed off from the sink, his movements deliberate and forceful, closing the distance between you before you could react. "You don't fucking trust me, do you?"

You tensed, every muscle in your body coiling like a tightly wound spring, bracing for the emotional storm that was about to engulf you. Mattheo stopped abruptly, his instincts sensing your reaction, his intense gaze locking onto yours. Your breathing became shallow, your chest constricted, and time seemed to stretch into eternity as you stood there, suspended in the moment.

"I want to..." your voice wavered, a fragile whisper barely audible in the heavy silence, carrying the weight of your longing and doubt. "But...I just...can't, when there you are...directly in front of me, still so fucking far away..."

You took a moment to study his features, the turmoil in his eyes, the tension in his jaw, and the vulnerability that flickered beneath his anger. His chest rose and fell with every ragged breath, as though his heart was laid bare before you.

"A man with a shield for a heart, and a sword for a tongue," you continued, your voice a fragile thread weaving through the charged air. "How do I confide in that?"

Mattheo's eyes softened, just slightly, the storm within them giving way to a glimmer of sincerity. In that moment, he shed every ounce of hesitation, closing the space between you with an urgency that spoke volumes. His hands found your face, cupping it gently, forcing your eyes to meet his. The intensity in his touch, the tenderness in his gaze, told a story of its own.

"Raven...do you think I fucking care about anything other than you?" His voice, once sharp with frustration, now held a raw, earnest sincerity that cut through the lingering doubts and insecurities. "You're the only one I need...you're the only one that keeps me high..."

Your heart thundered in your chest, the sound echoing in your ears like a war drum, each beat reverberating with the intensity of his touch. His palms, warm against your cool skin, sent waves of heat through every inch of your body, cocooning you in a haze of desire and vulnerability. You blinked, your eyes unable to tear away from the depth of his stare.

"But?" you dared to whisper, your voice barely audible amidst the charged silence, the lump in your throat growing with each passing second. "I know you aren't finished, I see it in your expression..."

He stiffened, his hands slowly falling from your face, the loss of his touch leaving a void. His gaze, dark and intense, traced a path from your eyes down to your lips, the unspoken longing palpable between your bodies. The pain that hung in the air was almost tangible, the emotions that coursed through both of you reaching a fever pitch.

"When you close your eyes...when you think of this...of us, what do you see?" He whispered, his voice a mere breath, the words hanging in the air like a delicate thread. "Do you see a future, Raven?"

The question slammed into your lungs like a sledgehammer, stealing the very air from your chest. You had never truly considered what was going to happen at the end of the school year, but it was evident that he had, his eyes haunted by the uncertainty of the future.

You sucked in a lungful of breath, trapping it there, the oxygen feeling suffocating against the weight of his question. "I...I don't know..."

"Exactly," he murmured, his voice as soft as a breeze, but carrying the weight of an entire universe. "Something's telling me we're running out of time here, Raven...I always said I'd never deserve you, and I meant that..." he paused, averting his eyes only for a moment as he threaded an unsteady hand through his hair. "If we keep this going...something's bound to give...I can't let you throw away your future for me..."

You stalled, pain rushing through you. This whirlwind of emotions felt like a chaotic storm, each moment with him a battle between your hearts, oscillating from fiery arguments to heartbreaking distance. The constant push and pull had left you emotionally battered, but this time, the pain cut deeper than ever before.

"No...Mattheo...I..." your voice stammered, trembling with the intensity of your emotions. "I would much rather be nowhere with you, than somewhere without you..."

He stiffened, his entire being seeming to freeze in response to your words. "No, Raven, come on...don't fucking say that," he hissed, his voice laced with desperation. "You will not throw away your future for me...for whatever this is...you have to know that is fucking insane..."

"Mattheo, why?" you whispered, your voice breaking as you took a step closer, your heart aching with the weight of his decision. "Why are you doing this...I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry for everything I said...I didn't-"

"It's not about that," he cut you off, his tone soft yet resolute. "It's not about any of that. We both know this only ends in blood...why prolong it...I’d never be able to live with myself if I ruined everything you’ve worked so hard for…”

Your chest ached, a visceral pain that radiated through every fiber of your being, your eyes darting all over his face as though seeking solace in the contours of his skin, as if something tangible could save you from this nightmare. He was right. Of course, he was absolutely fucking right. There was nothing you could say to deny his words, the harsh reality of your situation hanging heavy between you.

"I know you're right Mattheo," gently, you brought a trembling hand up to his face, your thumb brushing over his cheek as you cupped the side of his head, your own head tilting slightly as you glimpsed his lips, whispering with a vulnerability that laid bare your soul. "But even if it's meant to fall apart...I still fucking want you..."

"I know," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin, his lips hovering just millimeters from yours. "I fucking know..."

"I'm scared as bloody hell, Mattheo..." you continued, your fingers digging slightly into his skin, his hands seeking refuge on your hips as he pulled you closer against him. "I'm fucking terrified to want you, yet here I am anyway..."

"I'm scared too, Raven..." he confessed, his voice barely audible, pulling you impossibly closer, your bodies melding into one another. "Godric fucking forbid I ever admit it..."

His lips brushed against yours, soft and tender, a delicate touch that held the weight of a thousand unspoken words. In that moment, you knew, without a shadow of doubt, that you two were one and the fucking same. He was more yourself than you ever were. Whatever your souls were made of, his and yours were intertwined in an indescribable connection.

"Give me this before you go..." you whispered, your free hand gripping his shirt for dear life, your voice laced with desperation and longing. "Please..."

Mattheo pulled back slightly, his eyes scanning your face, searching for any sign of hesitation or uncertainty. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," without a moment's hesitation, you nodded, your eyes locked onto his, your conviction unwavering. "I'm sure."

In an instant, he pulled you back into him, his lips crashing onto yours in a searing kiss, the intensity mirroring the state of your crumbling relationship. His hands, strong and sure, quickly slithered up your sides, finding the buttons on your shirt.

Simultaneously, your trembling fingers mirrored his movements, undoing his shirt with a fervor that matched his own. The kiss deepened, your mouths melding together in a desperate attempt to drown out the world, seeking solace in each other's touch as you shed the barriers between you. The passion between your bodies consumed every ounce of your being, a wild, untamed force that pushed back against the chaos threatening to tear you apart.

As soon as the two of you were freed of your uniforms, Mattheo pulled back, his gaze intense, his eyes smouldering against your skin as he urged you to your knees in front of him. Without a word, you obeyed, staring up at him with a widened gaze, tracing the features of his face and chest that you admittedly loved so fucking much. Mattheo's eyes were doing the same, flickering over your curves, the swell of your breasts, the flare of your hips, until finally, they came to rest between your legs.

“You’re fucking beautiful…” he brought a hand up to your chin, tilting your head back to bring your eyes to his, the pad of his rough thumb tracing over your bottom lip, tugging it down slightly before releasing it. “Don’t you think I’d chose some other bitch over you ever fucking again.”

Breath evaporated as he dropped down to his knees in front of you without warning, directing you to lay back, your head resting on a stack of clean towels.

The cool tile of the floor made your back arch and your body shudder as Mattheo loomed over you, his fingers tracing delicate patterns over your thighs as he hovered mere inches above your skin. Each touch was soft, almost reverent, as though he was worshipping every inch of your body. As he leant down to kiss you, his lips were tender yet demanding, his tongue sweeping over yours in a fierce, fiery embrace. You groaned into his mouth, your hands finding his hair and gripping tightly, until he broke the kiss and began to move lower.

His eyes travelled down your neck, reaching your chest where your breasts rose and fell with each exasperated, eager breath. His mouth descended upon one of them, suckling and teasing with skillful precision, making your head dizzy with burning need. It was as though he was worshipping at a sacred alter, paying homage to the very essence of your womanhood, his nails digging into your skin, chaining you to him with more restraint than any bloody shackles ever could.

His tongue traced spirals around your nipple, sending little shocks of electricity straight through to your core, and you mewled, back arching into him and grip tightening in his hair, silently begging for more. As expected, Mattheo delivered, lavishing attention on each peak in turn, flicking his tongue, sucking, and teasing until you were practically crying for release.

"Matty...please…" you whispered as his lips moved lower, tracing a path of heat toward your sex. "There's no time...someone could come in..."

"Eager girl..." Mattheo hummed, smirking against your skin. "Told you you'd love the way I fuck you."

Unable to suppress it, you smirked at his normal arrogance as he pulled back slowly, your eyes following his every move as he freed himself; letting loose that delicious, familiar groan from deep in his throat as he pumped his shaft a few times, his gaze darting over your body, desperate and writhing beneath him--each meticulous movement he made causing an insatiable tingle within your core.

"Mhm," you murmured, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as your hands grazed over his strong biceps, feeling the muscle tense and contract beneath your touch. "That's what I love...the way you fuck me..."

Mattheo blinked, meeting your eyes, a wicked smile creeping across his lips as he processed what you'd just said. The underlying message in your words went unspoken despite their intentions hanging heavy in the air, and without a word, he slid his free hand down between your legs, shifting your panties to the side before he gently teased and swirled over your clit, making you moan out his name without even realizing it.

"My filthy little girl..." the anticipation was almost unbearable, you were fucking dripping for him and he'd hardly even touched you. "Always so fucking eager for me…”

Inching forward, he aligned himself with your core, leaning down over you, a strong arm taking purchase beside your head, caging you beneath him. As he pushed inside you, the stretch was unlike anything you'd ever fucking felt--the lack of foreplay resulting in a sensation unlike anything else, a perfect blend of agony and ecstasy, as if he was stretching you open and shaping you just for him.

You whimpered softly, doing your best to muffle your noises as Mattheo pushed deeper and deeper, pausing for a moment once he'd fully seated himself inside your heat, giving you a second to adjust to his thick, throbbing length--his eyes never once left yours, his gaze drilling into you as he assessed your reactions, only breaking the eye contact to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

"So fucking tight...fuck-you feel so fucking good..." Mattheo growled lowly, his voice thick with lust--your walls clenching and relaxing around him simultaneously. "Such a good girl, Raven...feel yourself adjust for me, baby."

His voice had a hypnotic effect on you, calming your racing heart and making you focus solely on the feelings coursing through your body. The pain was gone, a mere figment of your imagination as you revelled in the closeness of your bodies, his hot skin on yours, breathing eachother in, your mind reeling with the thoughts of this being the last time--something you'd both said many times before.

But for some reason, this time felt different. This time felt real.

"Fuck me, Matty..." you whispered, nails digging into his back as if trying to anchor yourself to this moment, to him. "Fuck me like you're going to lose me."

"Fuck...am I, Raven?" Mattheo groaned in response, meeting your eyes with an intensity that took your breath away, slowly beginning to increase his pace to your desires. "Am I going to fucking lose you?"

Mattheo's thrusts became harder and more aggressive as his movements grew more frenzied, his mind getting lost in the haze of lust swirling between you. The sounds of his skin slapping against yours filled the room, matching the sound of his heavy breathing, a whirlwind of emotions coursing through the air.

"N-no, Matty..." you choked, feeling the pleasure building within you like a storm waiting to break. It was almost too much, and you found tears on the verge of exploding from your fucking eyes. "You couldn't...even if you tried..."

"Fuck...I know..." he hissed, the words forced through gritted teeth as he met your eyes, your nails certainly splitting the skin on his back, shredding it raw. "I always know exactly how you feel when I'm deep inside you like this...those eyes don't fucking lie..."

You gasped, the words unable to form as Mattheo pulled out almost completely before slamming back in, hitting that deep place inside your body that made you cry out in toe-curling pleasure. His face was twisted into an intense frown, growling in concentration as he fucked you harder, faster, hitting places you didn't know possible.

"You love this cock, don't you?" Mattheo growled, knowing full well the answer. "You're so fucking wet for me."

"Oh...yes, I do-" you squealed, burying your reddened face back into the crook of his shoulder, pleasure ricocheting through every ounce of your body as his fingers slid down your stomach, quickly teasing over your clit. "Fuck-Matty...oh..."

"You want to cum for me, pretty girl?" he growled, nibbling at your earlobe as he shifted his position, drilling deeper into you. "Let me feel you..."

"I-I want..." the words wouldn't form. Nothing would articulate inside your brain. Yes, you wanted release, but that's not what you were trying to say here. You wanted him, you wanted this, you wanted all of it, never to end. But as he swirled your clit with rough, aggressive strokes, your brain was mush, succumbing to nothing but his touch. "I-I want you...in...I-"

"I'm in you, Raven..." a grunt when he slammed into you--his voice tight, strained, almost pained, lips pressed against your temple. "I'm so fucking deep in you..."

Another shift, and he was striking your cervix with every thrust--and the pain was enough to pop the balloon in your chest. Tears streamed down your cheeks, the pending heartache and insecurity finally breaking through the dam of emotions you had kept bottled up for months. The weight of it all was too much, overwhelming you in a tidal wave of despair. Mattheo's movements remained unyielding, his pace unfaltering, but he was swift to kiss away your tears, his own breath hitched in anticipation of the climax that was about to consume both of you.

"Oh-fuck...Matty..." only a few more thrusts, and you were there, teetering right on the edge of coming undone. “Oh…”

He growled. “Cum for me angel…fuck-“

"Yes-yes, fuck..." you keened, dragged through your climax without question, euphoria tearing through you as your walls pulsed and milked his cock.

He groaned, gripping you tighter as he poured himself into you, hips bucking until the only sensation left was sweaty, heaving, post-orgasmic rapture. And despite that, you held each other, unwilling to move, unwilling to let the other person leave the safety of the embrace.

It was a long moment--long after your breathing had returned to normal, long after you'd both dripped sweat onto each other's skin--before he moved, rolling off of you, gaze roaming your figure. You wiped your damp cheeks with the back of your hand, not daring to make eye contact with him as the two of you slowly began to redress, an awkward silence filling the air.

After both of you had regained modesty, Mattheo’s eyes locked onto yours, his unspoken emotions echoing in the intensity of his gaze. Without uttering a single word, he pulled you into him, his arms enveloping your body, holding you with a grip that felt as if he never wanted to let go, suffocating your lungs in the best way possible. As his hand moved to cup the back of your head, his fingers intertwining into your hair, you felt his throat bobbing against your temple as he swallowed, his vulnerability laid bare in the gentle caress of his touch.

“That girl,” his voice was a low murmur, as though he feared shattering the fragile moment, “she asked me to the masquerade this weekend…I said no.”

You chewed your cheek, your fingers clinging onto his shirt with force, your voice trembling as you responded, “You should go...it might be good to redirect the attention off of us…your friends seem suspicious.”

“Oh, they are…” he chuckled, his hand absentmindedly petting your hair, his touch comforting and reassuring. “But I told Nott to ask you, and only Nott, so if any of the others approach you about it, let me know.”

Your cheeks burned at the revelation, his laughter vibrating through your body, your heart skipping a beat in response. “You told Nott to ask me to the masquerade? Why?”

“He’s the only one I trust not to be a fucking pig,” he replied, his tone flat and honest. “Pretty sure Zabini or Malfoy would try to get you under them before the night even started.”

You huffed, a smirk playing on your lips as you pressed against his chest. Taking a moment to revel in his scent, his cologne, his body heat.

“Is this really it for us, Mattheo?” you murmured, your voice laced with a hint of desperation. “I mean…am I just supposed to be your friend, now? Your mentor? Your tutor?”

“Maybe we just take a break, hm?” he suggested, his voice dropping, his gaze softening as he met your eyes. “Maybe just until the suspicion dies off…until we both have had some time to cool down.”

“I…okay,” you said, your eyelids fluttering as he released you, the weight of the situation sinking in. “I can work with that.”

The acceptance in your voice was laden with bittersweet resignation, a temporary reprieve in the face of an uncertain future.

————————

Chapter 24->

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reidsdaisies · 5 months

Note

Hey I can do more too!! Maybe a blurb with some sweet smut with Spence where he has just come back from a long case and just wants to truly make love to you 🤭. Needy Spencer is my religion 🤞

Xoxo- 💋

“𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰” (𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖)

༉‧´ˎ˗ pairing; needy!spencer x fem!reader

༉‧´ˎ˗ content warnings; (poorly written smut), early seasons!spencer my beloved, baby boy is needy ofc, sub!spencer, thigh grinding (Spencer to r), fingering (f receiving), protected p in v sex

༉‧´ˎ˗ wc; 0.8k

༉‧´ˎ˗ an; needy spencer is also my religion as well, how bizarre !! 💋 anon, you deserve a big kiss 😚.

𝐂𝐌 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 || 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

As soon as Spencer got home, he only had one thing on his mind, getting you in bed with him. After such a long case and being away from you for over two weeks straight, he needed your intimacy to relax him, he needed something or someone to fall back onto and he was glad that you always allowed it to be you.

When you two reach the bedroom, he’s quick at stripping, all the way down to his plaid purple boxers. You watch him in adoration, your boyfriend is gorgeous, you have to admit. You quite often catch yourself zoning out just admiring his natural beauty.

“Y/n..” he mutters, biting his plush bottom lip and staring down at you.

“hm?”

You two have been together long enough to where you can see right through his little facade of innocence. The pouty lips, the big doe eyes he’s flashing at you, the state of undress he’s in, you know exactly what he wants, and you’d be a fool not to give it to him.

“You need something baby?” he nods without hesitation, his lips still forming that adorable pout. “You need me?”

He nods frenetically, inching closer to you, obviously just waiting for permission to let go and finally give in to his lustful urges. “I need you so bad, you don’t even know..”

“Then what are you waiting for, hon?” you let a small smile slip, gazing into his eyes in a daring manner as he closes the gap between the two of you, pressing his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. He revels in the taste of your lips, both hands holding the sides of your face gently to ensure your soft lips stay pressed against his own.

A low groan escapes Spencer, muffled by your tongue in his mouth, as he backs you up towards the bed. You let your body fall onto the plush mattress, Spencer falling right along with you, hovering above you.

You slot your thigh between both of his, pressed directly to his crotch, and he takes it as you giving him the go-ahead to begin grinding down into the softness of your bare thigh.

“Oh,” he moans against your lips, pulling back. “Y/N, please..”

“Doing s’good, Spence,” you breathily moan into his ear at the feeling of his hardness grinding against your leg, your breath tickling the skin of his neck. Your words seem to encourage the eager boy, the movements of his hips speeding up, whines and moans flowing freely from his lips.

Your mouth preoccupies itself, nipping gently at his ear before moving to suck on his neck below, eliciting even more gorgeous, lewd sounds to erupt from deep within his chest.

He quickly snaps out of his trance, tilting his head just enough so his lips crash down onto yours. His hand travels down your body to your thigh, nimble fingers slipping past your sleep shorts and panties, finding your dripping core. There’s no precision to his technique as he pumps his two fingers inside your hole, curling just enough to brush against that spongey spot deep inside you.

“Oh my god,” you moan out, thighs trembling as you force them to stay open, his fingers thrusting deeper inside you.

“Y/N,” he whines against your lips while his thumb begins to rub tight circles at your clit. It doesn’t take long for you to approach your climax, grinding against his hand and making a mess of the palm of it. “Come for me, baby,” And you do. All over his hand.

He slows the previously harsh pace of his fingers, helping you ride through your orgasm as the rocking of your hips slowly comes to a stop. Removing his hand from your shorts, he doesn’t waste one second in cleaning the mess, licking his fingers clean.

You moan at the visual, yanking his face back down to yours. He reaches an arm up to the nightstand, blindly opening up the drawer and feeling around for a condom. He pulls one out, ripping it right open.

Rolling the latex onto Spencer’s erection, you help him line himself up with your entrance, leaving it up to him to push in. He does so slowly, wanting to properly savor it.

“Nice and slow Spence, that’s it,”

“H-holy fuck, I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers into your ear, bottoming out inside you. His pulls out almost all the way, leaving just the tip inside before slamming back into you, moaning into your ear as he does it. You have a similar reaction, moaning at the painful pleasure, your hand rubbing at his back to encourage him to keep up with his steady pace.

“I never want to be away from you for that long again,” he whimpers against you, his teeth digging into the exposed skin of your shoulder to stop from being too loud, reaching deeper than he think he ever has.

“Me neither, Spence, me neither.”

#reidsdaisies #reidsdaisies spencer <3 #💋 anon #spencer reid #sub spencer reid #sub!spencer #needy!spencer reid #spencer reid smut #sub spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid criminal minds #criminal minds #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid oneshot #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction

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justblades · 1 year

Text

⌕ BUSINESS PARTNERS WITH BENEFITS, 18+

⟢ CHARACTER : sampo koski x afab! reader WC : 1.3k

⟢ WARNINGS : MDNI. public teasing, oral (male receiving), throat f, finger f.

everyone gets to witness sampo's absurdity. from his ludicrous backhanded methods whether to be of aid or to fool— that's how they perceive sampo koski. little do they know, among the many 'partnerships' he formed to which he singlehandedly decides, he actually has a business partner, a mutual connection. almost anyone who comes across him etch on their minds he's either to be trusted or disregarded. the two sides tiptoeing upon the boundaries every single time.

it's not just that. he oftentimes gets sidetracked whenever the dyad is commencing a dangerous operation. be it gathering intel from the enemies hideout, he'd still have the time to gawk over your body like he was to descend into insanity if he wasn't given a chance to douse the flames of his lustful tendencies.

and that's how you ended up in this bizarre situation. sampo laps your sprawled out mounds, gloved hands fiddling with your hardened nipples. you bite your lip in an attempt to stifle the moans threatening to slip out, as comical sampo appears from his choice of words and personality— he still manages to pleasure you in all kinds of ways, all for the sake of quenching his thirst for intimacies.

your breath hitches, and as bad as it can get, a soldier whips his head to the source of the weak noises, following his intuition. you knew full well being in cramped up spaces with sampo can be a handful to manage, among the many times you reminded him to focus on your jobs, he shrugs it off and proudly proclaims he'll still get it done in spite of you doing it in the middle of an operation.

and he always does. sampo may be deceving at times but his words never fall on his back. sampo's lush green eyes fixate on your expressions, finding enjoyment at how your eyes squint from the jolts of pleasure he sends into your system. he inches forward your face, tip of your noses just a hair's breadth away. "i can't get enough of this."

your eyebrows furrow in exchange, "i thought it'd be just this?" you ask, irritation seethes through your teeth. "when have we ever been caught whenever we do it? come on, we've been partners for years already. is sampo koski really that much of a doubtful figure?" his usual cocky, teasing tone laces his words, beaming you a sheepish smile right after.

in a sense, he's right. and that's exactly how you fall prey on his words. lastly, it's not bad, it is always a great past time when the intel hasn't been leaked yet to the other side. that was exactly it - you two have been business partners with benefits since long ago, making it a hobby to do the deed regardless of time and place, all for the sake of fun, cooperation, and lastly, money.

you slowly rid yourself of clothes, being careful not to draw much attention. meanwhile the bi-haired male basks in his momentary victory, reveling in the moment he won over your rationality.

sampo glides his gloved hand to your inner thighs, a sinister smirk plastered on his lips— with no hesitation lingering in his mind, he rubs viscules on your slit with his thumb finger swiftly, finding your region at such a fast rate, taking into account that he can't see nothing but pitch black darkness and the way you look underneath him.

he has your body memorized as if it was the back of his hand, one of the many things he's skilled at, although it's uncertain whether he should be proud of that. the corners of his lips tug further upwards as soon as he feels the liquids come in contact with his skin, dampening his onyx gloves.

with a rapid thrust, he pumps his digits in and out of your hole. you melt into pleasures, mind starting to be clouded with nothing but sampo's shit eating grins. perhaps you were more sensitive to his touches today since the teasing was too prolonged, and of course, it was intentional, all planned out by the master in control.

his bashful smile never ceases, a rapid rush of determination gushes through his veins. "if only you weren't appealing and so good at this, i would've gone for your neck a long time ago." fortunately, your words were muddled with the soldiers' fancy stories that they were unable to hear your threats.

sampo, as if it was engraved in his soul, replies with the same attitude as usual. "why thank you for the compliment." you scoff, but the huff of breath you heaved immediately got followed by a soft mewl, the navy haired curls his fingers inside your walls as he could feel you squeezing him tight.

"ahh, i wish i were inside you right now." he muses and proceeds to rest his head on the soft beds of your chest. a crease forms between your brows for the nth time, not until he had something up his sleeve once again. it only made sense when a surprising warm feeling slicks on your skin, in stark contrast to the chilling temperature deep inside this spacious building.

a realization dawns on your perturbed mind, maybe it would be easier if you part your lips open and let the breathing noises erupt, rather than trying to hold them back which could lead to your cover being blown. and finally, "dismissed." the soldiers say and leave the room in unison, and you could feel the heavy weight on your chest instantly dissipate into the air.

the two of you scoot out of the small cabinet and immediately locked the metal doors. "i've been in the receiving end for way too long." your eyes spark with hopes of revenge for sampo teasing you like that to which he promptly notices. "no, i—" you push him on the tabletop and hold him down with a hand on his sculpted pecs. as your other free hand travel down to his bulge, you were caught in surprise once you felt a particular spot wet.

you've known him for too long, the same goes for his clothing. if it got this damp despite the thick pants he's wearing, it is no doubt: he came from teasing you alone. you click your tongue in annoyance but proceed to kneel in front of him anyway, still set out on making him whimper and plead for mercy.

if anything, it's better he already came, this way, you could make use of his heightened sensitivity to your advantage. his cock grows hard again and you coil your hands around its body. it throbs from the slightest, feather touches - and you did not dawdle any further. enveloping the margins of your lips from the head of his dick, you try your best to provide more space.

skillfully brushing your sultry tongue from his cock's small folds, sampo throws his head back in pleasure. "h-hey, i'm still sensitive, i just came—" you gobble all his length, proceeding to bob your head up and down, building momentum while finding the right timing to quicken the pace as well.

he whimpers as he feels the crown of his dick hit the farthest back of your throat, "e-eno—" you fiddle with his ballsacks as well, gripping on them tightly, playing around to see what kind of play sampo would like today. with no forewarnings, strings of milky white liquids sprawl into your mouth, a hint of sourness and sweetness breaks through your tastebuds.

as a perfect business partner you were, you gulp all of it down, your mouth perfectly clean of any evidences from sampo's satisfaction. you watch on sampo's lifeless body, appearing like the soul was sucked out of him. fatigue gnaws at his bones meanwhile you chortle - one that was of a mocking tone. "a well deserved defeat."

my masterlist !

#sampo x reader #sampo koski #sampo koski x reader #sampo x reader smut #sampo koski smut #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail smut #hsr x reader smut

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permanentswaps · 7 days

Text

Like Father Like Son Pt.2

Read the original from @exploratorytfs here.

It's been three years since that bizarre twist of fate turned my life upside down, or should I say, right side up. Looking back now, I can't help but smirk at the irony of it all. I won't tell my dad (yeah, I definitely think of him as my dad now), but the truth is, the body swap wasn't entirely an accident.

I just wanted to give him a taste of my carefree lifestyle, show him that growing up and being mature isn’t all it's cracked up to be. So, I went online and found a way for us to swap.

I never meant for it to be permanent. I mean, who would want to stay in someone else's body forever? But the moment I found myself in his shoes, staring at the world through his eyes, I knew I had hit the jackpot. His body, his life—it all felt like a perfect fit.

It had only been a day, but I didn’t want to ever leave. What was I gonna do now? I couldn't imagine going back to my old life, to the mundane routine and endless expectations. No, this was where I belonged. But how could I make it permanent without causing even more chaos?

Surprisingly, my dad seemed content in my old body, reveling in the responsibility of it all. He didn't seem eager to find a way to swap back, and I couldn't help but gloat inwardly. It was almost too easy—I had traded up in every possible way.

Every time I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, a surge of excitement coursed through me. The chiseled jawline, the toned, youthful physique, the effortless charm—it was like I had been upgraded to the deluxe model. And as much as I tried to suppress it, I couldn't help but revel in the undeniable satisfaction of it all.

So when my dad brought up the idea of making the swap permanent, I didn't hesitate. "Hell yeah, Dad," I replied with a smirk, savoring the taste of victory.

We hashed out the details over dinner, but in my mind, it was already a done deal. And just like that, the deal was sealed. Sure, there are moments when I feel a twinge of guilt for keeping my dad's body, but then I remembered how much better I look in it, and the guilt just turned to horniness. After all, who wouldn’t want to be me.

Shortly thereafter, I signed a modeling contract – of course, who wouldn’t wanna see a body like this? Every photoshoot, every runway strut, only served to reinforce my belief that I had made the right choice.

My dad was so excited for me and gave me his sports car as a present for that and my birthday. He told me to be careful with it like the responsible guy he is. I promised him I would be, but I speed down the highway blasting music. After all, a hot young jock like me has to do that! … But I'll let him think he's having a good influence on me.

Through my modeling gig, I met my boyfriend James. He embodied everything I found irresistible: tall, dark, and undeniably handsome. What intrigued me even more was that he had no clue this body wasn't originally mine. That really turned me on.

Even though I'm used to living this life by now and fully think of myself as Nathan, I still get a thrill every time he calls me by my name. Just last week, we were having a night of passionate sex. As he pressed me down onto the bed in missionary, he thrust back and forth in slow. deep strokes.

Rubbing his right thumb in circles around my left nipple, he leaned down to kiss me. I looked up at him in awe. Smirking back had me he said in a husky voice, “I love you Nathan.”

Before I knew it, I was shooting my load across his thick, muscular chest.

Mixed in with the pleasure, I had to laugh to myself. In a way, I got what I wanted. Nathan (or at least his body) definitely is living his youth now.

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fafnir19 · 2 months

Text

You are what you eat

Lucius stood on the wooden deck of the fishing boat, the crisp sea air swirling around him. The sun was starting to dip beneath the horizon, casting the surrounding waters in a warm, golden light. As the boat bobbed gently against the waves, Lucius and his study group hauled in their day's catch, laughter and excitement filling the air. Neil, his bespectacled best friend and president of the debate club, cheered as he reeled in a flounder, while Arthur, the charismatic jock and team captain of the hockey team, flexed his muscles as he grappled with a particularly feisty tuna. Despite being the odd one out in terms of practical skills, Lucius beamed with pride as he held up a small sea devil fish that dangled from his fishing line. His bookish nature didn't often lend itself to such activities, but catching the peculiar creature filled him with an unexpected sense of accomplishment.

However, their joyous atmosphere was soon to be disrupted. As they returned to the port of Valetta, the vibrant lights of the city greeted them, along with their vegan fellow student, Hanna. Her curly brown hair bounced as she stormed towards them, her eyes blazing with fury. "What have you done?" Hanna's voice sliced through the air like a whip. "You callous, heartless hunters... torturing innocent creatures of the sea!" At first, Lucius and the others attempted to reason with her, but her tirade only escalated. Sensing the tension, Neil attempted to calm her with logical arguments, but Hanna's anger knew no bounds. "Curse you animal torturers! You are what you eat!" Hanna's words reverberated through the group, casting a shadow over their earlier merriment. Ignoring Hanna's protest, the rest of the study group made their way to a nearby fish restaurant, determined not to let her dampen their spirits. They eagerly devoured the fruits of their labor, savoring the delectable seafood dishes with hearty appetites.

The night was restless for Lucius. His stomach churned, aching and a sense of unease gripped his entire being. He tossed and turned in his bed, battling waves of nausea. Desperate, he sprinted down the hallway, bursting into the bathroom, only to be met with a shocking sight. Instead of the familiar porcelain fixtures, a swirling vortex loomed in the center of the room, a bizarre gateway to parts unknown. Without a second thought, he dashed inside, propelled by an inexplicable force. Lucius emerged in an otherworldly landscape, shrouded in billowing smoke and suffused with an eerie glow. Before he could process the change, he noticed something about himself—he was now athletic, clad in a skimpy fur loincloth and fur boots.

Confusion gripped him, a frown knitting his brow as he surveyed his transformed appearance. Amidst the desolation, he encountered a grand palace that starkly contrasted the misery outside. Inside, an exquisitely handsome young man, with hair like silk and piercing eyes, sat regally upon a throne. It was none other than the Prince of Hell, Lucifer himself.

The revelation made Lucius' heart race, his mind reeling with disbelief. "You're in Hell, Lucius," Lucifer declared, his voice as smooth as silk and laced with an unmistakable magnetism. "Why am I here?" Lucius stammered, the gravity of his situation settling in. "Hanna's curse has brought you here," Lucifer explained. "Her words—'You are what you eat'—have taken effect. By consuming the sea devil fish, you've been transformed into a young devil." Lucius paled at the revelation, his thoughts swimming with apprehension. Before he could process it all, Lucifer spoke again, pulling him further into the abyss. "Tonight, you shall learn the insatiable dexterity of passion," Lucifer purred, a glint in his eyes. Lucius recoiled, the notion of such intimate endeavors with Lucifer unfathomable. "I—this is not—" "Here, such distinctions hold no sway," Lucifer interjected, his allure insurmountable. "Pleasure transcends gender." Despite his initial aversion, Lucius found himself succumbing to a strange allure emanating from Lucifer. Conflicted and bewildered, he yielded to the unfolding enigma.

The night was a whirlwind of sensations, a tempestuous symphony of desire and harmony. In the haze of it all, Lucius traversed uncharted territories within himself, desperately clinging to his sense of self amidst the tumult. In the aftermath, Lucius found himself grappling with the uncharted depths of his new existence. His training with Lucifer had led him to master the art of sublime pleasures,

yet a yearning for his former life burned within him. He longed to return to Valetta, to his friends, to the world he once knew. "Please, Lucifer," implored Lucius, his voice tinged with desperation. "I long to return to my former life, to shed this visage of damnation and once again breathe the air of the mortal realm." The Prince of Hell regarded him with an inscrutable expression, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Ah, the yearning for mortal trappings," mused Lucifer. "Very well, I shall grant you the opportunity to seek an advocate from your world who will negotiate the terms of your release." Brimming with a sense of hope, Lucius set his sights on Neil, the president of the debate club and his closest confidant.

So Lucifer sent Lucius through the portal to Neil. As Lucius approached Neil with fervent entreaties, Neil was shock about the chiseled and nearly naked appearance of Lucius.

A shroud of apprehension descended upon the timid, rotund figure before Lucius. "Neil, I beseech thee," pleaded Lucius, "aid me in my plight. Thou art the president of the debate club, and I implore thee to act as my advocate in the infernal negotiation with Lucifer." Neil wrung his hands nervously, his brow furrowed with trepidation. "I... I cannot fathom venturing into the clutches of Hell," he stuttered, eyes wide with fear. "The prospect fills my soul with dread and dismay." Crestfallen, Lucius sought solace in the warmth of camaraderie, turning to his companions in search of an ally who would brave the nether reaches alongside him. Their spirits, however, were cast in the same mold of fear and reluctance, leaving Lucius bereft of assistance. Frustrated and abandoned, Lucius found himself at a crossroads, his desperation palpable in the still of the night.

Before Neil could utter another word, a figure loomed in the doorway, exuding an air of audacious swagger. "What's this I hear about a jaunt to Hell, eh?" Arthur, the quintessential jock, sauntered into the room with an impish grin, his athletic form a stark contrast to the lingering air of apprehension. Lucius regarded Arthur with a mixture of surprise and trepidation. "Arthur, this is a matter of grave import, not some frivolous escapade for your amusement." Arthur chuckled, his voice a melodic cascade of mirth. "Oh come on, Lucius! It's not every day one gets the chance to bargain with the Prince of Hell. Count me in—I'm ready for a bit of devilish negotiation." Neil quivered in evident discomfort, his apprehension palpable as he gazed upon Arthur's daring countenance. "B-but Arthur, the perils of such a venture—" Arthur waved away Neil's concerns with a dismissive flick of his hand. "Ah, stop your worrying, old chap! Adventure awaits, and who better than me truly to accompany Lucius on this bold journey?" Thus, with a mixture of reluctance and resigned acceptance, Lucius found himself entrusting his fate to the exuberant spirit of Arthur, their pact sealed in the crucible of necessity and the enigmatic allure of the unknown.

Lucius and Arthur made their way through the portal once more, Arthur's easy smile never faltering. As they traversed into the unknown, an unmistakable metamorphosis took hold, their attire shifting to match the infernal landscape. In contrast to his apprehension, Arthur was exuberant, delighting in the swift transformation. "Look at this outfit!" Arthur remarked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "It accentuates my—ahem—assets quite nicely."

Lucius couldn't help but shake his head, a semblance of amusement tugging at the corners of his lips. Amidst the slate-grey environs, their journey led them to Lucifer’s presence once more, and they began their arduous negotiations. As Lucius awaited his turn outside, each moment stretched into an eternity, the weight of his fate bearing down on him. When summoned inside, Lucifer's offer was delivered with an air of finality—Arthur would remain in Hell for a month, and only then would Lucius find his deliverance. Though taken aback by the stipulations, Lucius held tight to hope, a vow etched in his heart that they would emerge from this infernal ordeal unscathed.

Arthur settled into his newfound surroundings with ease, his exuberant charisma illuminating the bleak corners of hell. Engaging Lucius in conversation one day, he couldn't help but notice the lingering discontent etched across Lucius' features.

"Lucius, why so glum?" Arthur queried, his tone carrying an air of affable curiosity. "This place isn't half bad for us young devils. The pleasures that adorn our grasp are unparalleled, and freedom unfurls without consequence. Let's savor our time here." Lucius averted his gaze, grappling with the dissonance that warred within him. "I cannot find solace in a realm suffused with torment and despair, Arthur. This isn't who I am, nor who I wish to be." Arthur nudged a discarded skull, a veil of mischief coloring his features as he spoke. "Indeed, the lost souls stagnate within a dismal shroud, but it does not define us. We can escape this fate and return to the mortal realm. Let us cherish our reprieve." With a cheerful grin, Arthur nudged the nearby skull and proposed a whimsical game of field hockey, the sound of jovial laughter echoing in the desolate expanse.

As the days melded into nights, Lucius found an unexpected reprieve in the evenings spent with Arthur, their camaraderie breathing a newfound sense of exhilaration into the grim far reaches of hell. In a surprising turn of events, Hell seemed to shed its formidable visage as the duo whiled away the hours with their impromptu hockey games, the resounding echoes of their laughter weaving through the otherwise desolate halls.

Upon their return to the human world, to Lucius' astonishment, his appearance remained unchanged. It was a jarring realization, and he couldn't stifle his disbelief as he uttered a baffled exclamation into the lingering portal. "Lucifer, you've neglected to release me!" Lucius bellowed forth, a bewildered fervor coloring his words. To his surprise, a poignant rejoinder wafted through the portal, spoken with a suave, unrestrained mirth. "I hold no responsibility in this matter, Lucius," Lucifer's voice carried forth, resonating with unbridled amusement. "You have willingly and ardently embraced your time with Arthur, solidifying your transformation into a jock. And as for you, Arthur, our previous agreement stands, now binding Lucius as well." Beside him, Arthur stood with a mixture of reluctance and dawning comprehension etched across his features, a solemn nod of acknowledgement punctuating his silent acceptance of the pact.

"Lucius, there's something I must divulge," Arthur began, his voice laden with deep-seated trepidation. "I made a pact with Lucifer regarding your release from Hell." Perplexed, Lucius regarded Arthur with a furrowed brow, a ripple of uncertainty coursing through him. "What pact?" he inquired, his voice tinged with a burgeoning unease. "I struck a deal with Lucifer that a jock who emerges from Hell should continue to serve him. Seduce, corrupt, and delight in the souls of the young, all for the pleasure of Lucifer," Arthur revealed, his words exuding an aura of solemn resolve. "I had no inkling that it would ensnare you as well."

Lucius exhaled a heavy sigh, grappling with the weight of his impending destiny. "I wanted to return home, Arthur, but not like this," he confided, his gaze laced with a tempest of emotions. "Yet, you're the only one who's had stood by me." With a solemn resolve, he draped his arm over Arthur's shoulder, a newfound camaraderie binding them in unforeseen solidarity. "Now," Lucius declared, a glint of unwavering determination glittering in his eyes, "you're my jock brother. Let's navigate this uncertain path together." Perplexed, Arthur sought clarity, his expression a canvas of swirling emotions. "What do you plan to do, Lucius?" he inquired, his voice edged with a tentative resolve. "Let's beat up that craven coward Neil," Lucius proclaimed, a fervent zeal infusing his words. "Are you in?" An impish grin played at the corners of Arthur's lips, an air of unyielding mischief enveloping him. "Neil is no longer of concern," he divulged, an undertone of satisfaction weaving through his words. "He's part of my pact with Lucifer — an ensnared soul. I had intended to pledge Hanna to Lucifer, but he demurred, deeming her veganism is self-made Hell on Earth already."

Neil's incredulous protests echoed into the night as the earth split asunder, a vortex spiriting him into the inky abyss.

Lucius, now at the helm of the debating club and vice-captain of the hockey team, reveling in his newfound athletic prowess both on the field and in his amorous escapades.

Time churned forward, paving the way for Arthur's and Lucius' shared triumphs and conquests, their lives intertwined in unanticipated tumult and unyielding satisfaction. Amidst the frenzied whirlwind of their newfound existence, Lucius had come to embrace the heady thrill of vanity and conceit, relishing in the unabashed freedom that crested upon their newfound paths.

#male tf #male transformation #personality change #nerd to jock #devil

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zer05trange · 2 months

Text

Roaring Sea

II. Sharlotka

⋆｡°✩ (childe x fem!reader)✩°｡⋆

⋆｡°✩ premise: Tartaglia comes over to learn how to make apple cake. But is that really why he's in your bakery?

⋆｡°✩wc: 2.5k

⋆｡°✩warnings: fluff

⋆｡°✩ series masterlist

The dreaded moment had come. The day that you told Tartaglia you’d teach him how to make your apple cake, to get him to leave you be just two days ago.

Though really, you concluded that he wasn’t necessarily a nuisance. You may or may not have realized you have the tiniest, little, minuscule crush on the guy. The night before, you could feel how hot your face was once Tartaglia left the shop, and how you were ever-so-slightly flustered the rest of the shift.

It was nothing, you tried to convince yourself. All that happened was that you’ve seen him twice, he has some bizarre interest in you, and he’s just a pretty boy. Archons, you feel like a middle schooler, saying you kind of “like-liked” him, but you wouldn’t even go that far.

The first stage is denial.

You took some extra time to prepare during your morning routine, even donning a nicer outfit than usual. It's not that you look bad most days, you just decided to put in more effort. Even Ivan commented how nice you look you felt yourself getting sick.

This isn't you! You're business and success-oriented, wanting to be the strong and independent woman that you grew up reading stories of, like the one that ruled your nation. But, even the Tsaritsa has her harbingers.

You continue to stay in the mindset that this wasn’t going to be anything serious, you barely even know the guy so it’s not like this is going to become an actual thing. It goes against what you want.

What you’re pretty sure you want.

It’s 6:50, 10 minutes until closing time, and you take one final look at yourself before rushing downstairs to your bakery.

“Ivan!” You yell as you get to the first floor, “Do not turn anything off, I’m making some stuff after closing.”

He stares at you, wide-eyed, as he just shut off the oven for the day, “Sorry.”

“It's fine, just take all the tips and scram,” You say jokingly.

“What are you up to?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowed, “Are you expecting someone?”

“You’re getting nosey,” You remark as you put your apron on, “But, yes.”

You say the latter phrase more deadpan than the other, and that sets Ivan off, apparently.

“If this person gives you any trouble, just know I can wield a frying pan better than the Captain can wield a sword,” He exclaims in a jokingly prideful, yet brotherly tone.

His bold statement shocks you, “I’m pretty sure you could get put on a watchlist for saying that... but thanks.”

You shoo him out before 7, giving you a few minutes to yourself before anyone else was going to be around. You gather the needed ingredients and set out all your tools so you don’t have to fish them out as you go, and to keep your mind off of what disaster may ensue.

The knot in your stomach is too big to ignore now, and you want to hit yourself with how childish you were being. This isn’t you, you have to be possessed or something, you don’t

“Well, Ms. Y/N, you look nice,” You jerk your head up at the sudden voice.

You look ahead to see Tartaglia, the anxious knot in your stomach growing bigger by the millisecond. He isn’t in his usual get-up, but a grey button-up covered by an oxblood-colored scarf and black pants. His hair is slightly tousled, and his eyes appear brighter than usual. He’s so damn handsome, and this time you can’t just blame it on your bakery’s lights, not with your new-found revelation on this little crush you have.

“Hi,” you spit out as a result of your brain short-circuiting as it ran out of witty remarks.

He makes his way closer to you, this time instead of standing across from you, he comes around to where you are.

“So this is your domain of expertise, where you hone and master your craft,” He says, sparking a dismayed look on your face, unimpressed at his phraseology.

“Yes. Now, first, I want you to dice these apples,” You brush off his odd statement and hand him three red apples from your baking counter, “Then, you need to integrate the apples with this cinnamon mixture.”

“We are getting right to work, aren’t we?” He says as he takes the apples, “It’s like you want me out here as fast as possible, hmm.”

You chuckle as you get him a cutting knife, “You catch on really quickly.”

He laughs back at that, and your cheeks heat up further at his laugh.

“I’m going to mix all the powder now. Flour, baking powder, the good stuff,” You say as you move your ingredients closer to his working space.

You begin to tell him what you’re all pouring into separate bowls, meanwhile explaining to him exactly what you’re doing.

“So now, you are going to manually beat these eggs for a few minutes,” You speak up as you hand him a whisk. He gladly takes it and begins working, which shocks you. Most people would be reluctant to mix something for 7 minutes straight, but he was oddly compliant. Odd, or, you just can’t take the hint.

“You must have strong arms to be doing this for a living,” He remarks with a chuckle as he whisks the contents of the bowl efficiently.

“I do,” You say as you flex your biceps and forearms, half-joking.

You observe his actions, noticing that even through his shirt, you can see his arm muscles flex with each stir he makes. You suppose a toy maker could have built that much mass in their profession, but you’re too hypnotized focused on his actions to think much of it.

“Done! What do I do next?” You look up at his face, which dons a smile as he hands you the bowl, which was mixed well. And somehow, his cheek had a smidgen of flour on it.

“You uhm have flour on your face,” You say as you point toward his left cheek, wondering how it could’ve possibly gotten there. He begins rubbing his hand on his face, but seems to be missing the small part of flour on him.

“Did I get it?” You shake your head in disappointment. “Can you just get it for me?” He asks, causing you to sigh exasperatedly. You grab his face to pull it down with one hand, and you softly brush off the flour on his cheek.

While you're focused on his cheek, he is brazenly looking down at your face with a smile, almost waiting for you to look back at him. But as soon as you got your hand off his face, you went back to working on the cake.

“Right, So next we’re going to lay a layer of the batter down, then a layer of the apples, and repeat,” You bring the cake pan in front of you, “So you pour yours then I’ll put mine on top of it.”

He begins to pour a thin layer of the batter, and you then put a layer of apples on top of it. The process repeats for a while in a focused silence, and before you know it, you’ve placed your final layer.

“Do you want the honor of putting this in the oven?” You turn to him with the pan in your hand.

“Absolutely,” He takes the pan from you with a smile, and proceeds to place the pan in the oven. You turn around to begin cleaning up the space when you hear a hiss coming from Tartaglia.

“Are you okay?” You ask with an undisguised worriment in your voice, quickly turning around to look at him.

“I must’ve burnt my hand on the oven rack,” He brushes off with a chuckle.

“You didn’t use the mitt? The oven mitt right next to you?” You scold him, not hiding your concern.

You close the door to the oven and start a timer for 60 minutes, then rush over to the sink. You wet a nearby washcloth and bring it to him. You hold it on his burn, firm yet gentle, with a disappointed look on your face.

“Idiot,” You murmur, “You need to be more careful.”

He chuckles while looking at you while tending to him. You don’t find anything laughable about his recklessness, so you look up at him to express your disagreement with his mood.

As you dab down on his hand, you notice how he has two scars on his right hand alone. One sprawls across the back of his palm, and is lengthy, yet skinny. The other is so long that it disappears into his long-sleeve shirt, yet is thick in width. You don’t know him well enough to ask about it, but it does bother you how much care, or lack thereof, he put toward himself.

“Now we wait 60 minutes for it to bake,” You speak up, still focused on the burn spot on his hand. You take the washcloth off after a while, and go toward the main area of the bakery toward the stools in front of a counter, where you take a seat, “Are you going to stand for an entire hour?”

He follows you and plops down on the stool to the right of you, staring ahead at the wall.

“Who’s that? Is that your boyfriend?” He sings in a jokingly nosey tone.

“No, that’s not my boyfriend,” You scoff, “ That’s my friend from Inazuma. He taught me a few Inazuman recipes.”

“Ah,” He sounds almost satisfied with the answer you gave him.

“You’re pretty good at some of the techniques,” You look at him through the sides of your eyes, “Do you bake often?”

“I like to help around at home,” He answers, “My skills are nowhere near yours, and that's no small feat.”

“Thanks,” You respond sarcastically at his brag.

“What’s your favorite thing you make?” He asks, which actually causes you to think.

“To make or to eat?” You look at him.

“Both,” He says, with his eyes not leaving your face and form.

“To make, probably just plain cake, it’s not difficult and many customers enjoy it,” You gaze back at the oven, “I don’t know what’s my favorite to eat, I prefer to eat what others make for me.”

Tartaglia beams up at you, “Next time I’ll bring my favorite for you, my mother makes it so perfectly.”

“Next time? You’re bold,” You respond with a laugh as he still looks at you in adoration.

You cut the small talk and replace it with silence, as much silence as Tartaglia would allow, and fiddle with a decorative fake glaze lily in front of you. He just taps his finger on the counter top, almost impatiently.

You suddenly stand and make your way to the oven. You take a toothpick and check how baked the cake was, and you must’ve wasted a substantial amount of time, because the cake is almost completely cooked. You, unlike someone else you know, put on your oven mitt and set it down on the counter to cool.

You turn around to tell Tartaglia, but he’s already right behind you. A gasp of shock lets out, considering how stealthily he must’ve gotten right behind you.

“You are so "

“You’re so pretty.”

That got you to shut up. He smiles at how stiff you got from his sudden words as if that wasn’t a completely normal response to what he just said. And the way he said it so endearingly, without a hint of his usual teasing tone, sent a heat wave throughout your entire body. But, like everything else, you shut it down for your protection.

“If that’s your way of taking this cake home, you already have it. Share it with Teucer, and Tonya, and "

“No, Y/N, that’s my way of telling you that you’re the most beautiful woman in Snezhnaya. Or all of Tevyat, for that matter,” He responds with a serious, and slightly frustrated, tone.

“What?” Your voice becomes smaller, almost timid, at his sudden designation.

“You’re not serious, are you?” He asks, then pauses for a moment, “Y/N, why am I here tonight?”

“You wanted to learn how to make a cake,” You respond.

“You are so difficult, Лисичка, it was never about the damn apple cake!” He cries. By then, the two of you were just an inch away from each other, your exchange of exclamations causing you to get closer and closer. Your eyes narrow at his, physically questioning his statement.

“ just need to ” He cuts off his statement by placing his hands on your face and bringing it closer to his, before connecting his lips to yours.

Oh.

You return the favor though, and kiss him back. While still pressed together, he takes one of his hands and places it on your back, pushing you even closer to his body. He keeps kissing you, and you keep reciprocating, and that exchange continues. It continues while he walks forward, takes you with him, and presses you up against the closed oven.

He takes his hand out from your back and returns it to your face, caressing your soft cheek with his thumb. Your hand finds itself on the back of Tartaglia’s head, holding onto his thick hair as the other finds itself braced on his chest.

If you weren’t so lost in the moment, you would’ve freaked out at how toned his abdomen felt through his shirt, but you were too gone to focus on that detail. You let go for a moment, trying to get a breath of air.

He pulls away as well, not for long, and huffs out a breath of air as if he had won some sort of battle. You suppose he had, you didn’t play easy until you let him kiss you so abruptly, but you didn’t care right now. He begins peppering your face completely, from your cheeks to your nose to your forehead, before finding your lips once again and pressing his to yours yet again. You let out a quaint whimper, which he chuckles at through his mouth before you begin to guide him down a small hallway.

To hell with the plans you have. Fuck the loneliness and the walls you’ve built around you for the sake of business. This can’t hurt you too badly.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” You ask out of breath. He nods his head like an excited child, which you smirk at before grabbing his wrist and running upstairs hand in hand.

The cake could wait to be iced in the morning.

⋆｡°✩a/n: can you tell I hate writing slow burn >:))) I just cannot keep them apart!! Thank y’all for reading :) also! I finally learned how to work my inbox so if you have any comments, ideas, or just wanna chat, please feel free!

⋆｡°✩tag list: @inlovewithlondonn @zamorazz @ay4tou @kur0melon @boomie-123 @esthelily @i-simp-for-giyuu @itsflowerdomethings

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your-eternal-lies · 16 days

Text

_ YOU’RE STUCK WITH ME (chapter three)

Main Navigation || Please follow @your-eternal-library for all my fanfiction updates.

PAIRING — Steve Rogers x f!Reader SUMMARY — As his perfectly normal civilian neighbour, you’ve always been secretly curious about the Captain. Getting to know him while trapped together in your building’s elevator, however, definitely wasn’t on the agenda.

WARNINGS — Mild angst, talk of dead moms. Sorry.

YOU’RE STUCK WITH ME

CHAPTER THREE SO, WHERE WERE YOU WHEN THE SKY OPENED UP?

“Should we try… screaming for help or something?” You propose, half-serious and half-mocking the absurdity of your shared predicament.

“Let’s save our vocal chords for now,” Steve suggests, hoping his steady demeanour will help steady your nerves. If Steve were alone, the decision would have been easy to make. But the thought of you trying to shimmy through that sliver of space sets off a series of blaring alarms in his mind.

He almost sighs out loud; he can bench press his motorcycle, but can’t guarantee a few pounds of steel would hold steady under his manipulations.

“Alright then, Captain Caution, we’ll stay put,” you retort, fingers playing with the frayed hem of your tank top. “But if we’re not out of here by Christmas, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

“Fair enough,” he replies, shifting his weight and crossing his arms, leaning against an opposite wall. He notices you’re still holding onto his jacket, the leather draped over your joined hands in front of you, but he doesn’t make a move to take it back.

“So,” you tilt your head, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. You lean forward with an earnestness that Steve finds both slightly disarming and kind of endearing. “What was your most bizarre mission as Captain America?”

The corners of his mouth twitch up into a smirk. “You mean other than a Norse god pulling a murderous alien army into the earth’s atmosphere?”

“Fair point,” you concede with a laugh that echoes softly in the enclosed space, the sound bubbling up like champagne. “You know, I was there.”

“There? In New York?” Steve muses, running a hand through his hair. “You’ve got some great timing.”

“You’re telling me,” you grin, and a genuine smile spreads across his face. He revels in the sound of your laughter; it seems to fill the elevator with warmth, pushing back against the cold metal walls. “I was visiting my mom at the time. But it all worked out, didn’t it? I met Chuck in New York.”

“Chuck?”

“My dog.” Steve then remembers the well-behaved German Shepherd that’s always following at your heels whenever he saw you in the building. “Walked into that shelter and there he was, this big dopey furball with ears too large for his head and a heart too big for that tiny cage.”

He smiles at the mental image, “Love at first sight, huh?”

“Yeah, destiny slapped me in the face with a wet nose and a wagging tail,” you smirk, your eyes getting this faraway look as if replaying a sweet memory. “Who was I to argue with the universe?”

“What made you decide to adopt?”

You purse your lips. “I don’t wanna say.”

“What? Why?” Steve raises an eyebrow, his gaze fixed on you, noting even in the dim light the way your cheeks seem to heat with emotion.

“…Okay, but you’re going to make a big deal out of this.”

“I promise I won’t.”

“My mom died.”

Despite the somber announcement, you’re smirking when Steve has no choice but to backpedal with a sigh. “You’re right, that is a big deal.”

“It’s really not, though.” You lie, pressing your back against the elevator wall, the cold metal a stark contrast to the heat of embarrassment bubbling inside you. It’s been a long time since you spoke about your mom.

“It was when my mom died.” Steve shares, the soft glow of the dim elevator lights casting a gentle shadow across his face. “I was eighteen then, but I had a friend to help me through it too.”

A beat of silence passes, but your eyes lock with his, a small shared history seeming to close the gap between you. Your earlier trepidation begins to dissipate, like a steam from a morning shower fogging up a mirror. You find yourself standing a little straighter, a strange serenity settling over your shoulders.

Your lips part and your mother’s story just spills out. How she raised you on her own after your dad left, how she taught you everything from how to drive to how to use your box of power tools when you got your first apartment, and how much she loved flowers.

Her getting sick was never part of the plan, but the two of you were optimistic. For months, you were sure she would make it, and if there was anyone who could beat cancer with just sheer willpower, then it was your mom.

But the optimism soon turned into denial as she grew weaker and weaker, until eventually, the person lying in that hospital bed became a stranger in your memories—so unlike the large looming figure of ‘mom’ that you had always grown up with.

It was cheaper to have her cremated, although you supposed that was for the best. Her urn sits on a table in your apartment, now that you’ve left New York behind but certainly not the memories.

And maybe it’s the darkness of the elevator, or the fact that you and Steve don’t know much about each other than what you’ve already shared, but he tells you all about Sarah Rogers and Bucky Barnes.

Her famous apple pie, his best friend’s insatiable appetite for it, and the tales of a bygone time—things you’ve only read about in history books or saw in movies. You listen with interest, laughing at anecdotes, smiling instead of crying at the mention of eventual goodbyes.

You wonder how he does it, living in what he must see as a strange new world—where he knows that the world sees more value in Captain America than they do in Steve Rogers.

“Sounds like Chuck is a bit of a show-off,” Steve observes when the topic shifts, you describing the unadulterated joy of watching your dog’s talent with a frisbee. You quirk an eyebrow, motioning to the open elevator doors that were simply no match for his super soldier strength.

“Sound like somebody else you know?”

« Chapter 2 || Chapter 4 »

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#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers series #steve rogers fluff #summer’s fics

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midastouch013 · 26 days

Text

Flirting Is An Art

Summary: Yelena attempts to teach Kate the art of flirting, which admittedly is one of the very few things that Katherine truly sucks at.

Warnings: None. Just pure fluff and cuteness

---

The café was alive with the gentle murmur of conversations as you approached the table where Kate and Yelena were engrossed in a lively discussion. Yelena seemed to be giving Kate an impromptu lesson, and you decided to join them, curious about the animated conversation.

"Flirting, Bishop, is an art," Yelena declared, her tone serious. "A subtle dance of words, glances, and mystery. Allow me to demonstrate."

You settled into your seat just as Yelena showcased her charm on the unsuspecting barista. "Hey," Yelena began, her voice low and alluring. "I couldn't help but notice your name tag, Alex. A strong name. Just like the aroma of the coffee you're brewing. Almost intoxicating."

The barista blushed, and you couldn't help but be impressed by Yelena's seemingly effortless finesse. She returned to the table with a satisfied smirk.

"Now, Bishop, your turn," Yelena said, nodding towards Kate.

Kate, determined yet slightly nervous, turned towards you. "Hey, [Y/N]," she began, her voice a mix of nerves and excitement. "If you were a vegetable, you'd be a cute-cumber!"

You blinked, a bemused smile playing on your lips. "Cute-cumber? Is that a new kind of vegetable?"

Yelena facepalmed, a mix of frustration and amusement on her face. "That's not exactly what I had in mind."

Undeterred, Kate continued her onslaught of peculiar compliments, comparing you to various objects, animals, and even celestial bodies. Each attempt was more cringe-worthy than the last, and you found yourself chuckling at the absurdity of it all.

You were thoroughly entertained, blissfully unaware that Kate's bizarre compliments were part of her attempt at flirting. Yelena, on the other hand, seemed to be losing her patience, alternating between sighs and shaking her head.

Amidst the laughter and casual banter, Yelena occasionally shot you a meaningful look, silently urging you to catch on to Kate's clumsy attempts at courtship.

As the conversation flowed, you found yourself enjoying the absurdity of Kate's compliments, unknowingly giving her the encouragement to continue her comical endeavor. It wasn't until Yelena's exasperated facepalms became more pronounced that you began to suspect there was more to the situation than met the eye.

It took a while, but as Kate's compliments grew more exaggerated, you began to sense a pattern. There was a hidden layer beneath the whimsical remarks, and you couldn't help but feel a newfound curiosity about Kate's intentions.

Eventually, with a smirk and a twinkle in your eye, you decided to play along with the unspoken game. "You know, Kate, if you were a star, you'd be the one that lights up the night sky, leaving everyone in awe."

Kate blinked, momentarily thrown off by the shift in tone. Yelena breathed a sigh of relief, finally witnessing the realization dawning on you.

The banter continued, now with a shared understanding between you and Kate. As the café hummed with activity, little did you know that Yelena had orchestrated this quirky scenario to pave the way for a surprising and heartfelt connection between you and Kate.

Emboldened by the success of the revelation, Kate's eyes sparkled with newfound determination. "Okay," she said, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "How about we cut through the vegetable analogies and enjoy a movie together? There's this new Emma Watson film coming out. What do you say?"

You chuckled, genuinely intrigued by the invitation. "Sure, I'd love that. A movie sounds great."

Unexpectedly, Yelena let out an unrestrained squeal of delight, causing heads to turn in the café. "Yes! Finally!" she exclaimed, unable to contain her excitement.

You exchanged puzzled glances with Kate, who blushed, realizing that her secret was no longer a secret. Yelena composed herself, wearing a proud grin.

"Looks like I won't need to teach you how to ask someone out, after all," Yelena teased, earning a playful shove from Kate.

Amid the laughter, you decided to seize the moment. "Hey, Kate, would you actually like to join me for that movie this weekend though? I think it'd be a lot of fun."

Kate's eyes widened, and her body language seemed to mirror her previous awkwardness. It was as if her limbs were on a different wavelength, moving in an uncoordinated dance of nerves. Yelena couldn't help but giggle at the spectacle.

Trying to contain her nervous energy, Kate blurted out, "Oh, uh, yeah! That sounds… great! I'd love to!"

You grinned, appreciating the genuine enthusiasm behind her awkward movements. The café, now a stage for a delightful comedy of errors, witnessed the beginning of a unique connection between you and Kate.

Yelena, unable to contain her excitement, chimed in with a delighted russian squeal, "Yes! A date! Finally!"

You erupted into laughter, the café buzzing with a lighthearted energy as the unexpected rendezvous unfolded. Little did you know, this peculiar journey orchestrated by Yelena had led to a promising beginning – a connection sparked by laughter and the prospect of a delightful movie date. One that the blonde assassin would be reciting at your wedding.

—

#kate bishop #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x y/n #yelena belova #kate and yelena

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neonghostlights · 11 months

Text

A/N: big thank you to those who have stuck around for so long 💗

Summary: You haven’t been the same since you woke up in the hospital with memory loss after the earthquake hit Hawkins. When strange things start happening and you feel like you’ve started losing your mind, a group of strangers offer to help. Even though you’ve never met them before, they seem to know you better than you think.

Warnings: Cussing, Angst, Eddie and Reader being in love, Possession, Mention of death and Max being in a coma, Sad Lucas, Mention of Eddie’s scars/injury, Eddie has chronic pain, Paranoia, mention of food/eating, 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI.

Wordcount: 4.3k

Series Masterlist

Part Twelve

October 16th, 1986

The first thing you noticed when you opened your eyes was that you were not in your room.

Bright sunlight shone from the sides of the dark colored curtains. The light was a stark contrast to the raging storm of the night before.You were wrapped up in the warmth of a blue plaid bedspread that definitely wasn’t yours but offered you comfort anyways. You took a deep breath and stretched your limbs, inhaling the scent of men's shampoo on the pillow that was now mixed with your own scent.

The second thing you noticed was that your head did not hurt.

You couldn’t remember a time since your ‘injury’ that the headache was fully gone. Every day it was there, brewing just behind your eyeballs. You sat up slowly, too afraid that any sudden movements would trigger it. Blinking a few times to test it before you let yourself celebrate. Your head didn’t hurt. And it felt amazing. Thinking back, there weren’t even any nightmares while you slept, just peaceful meaningless dreams.

The third thing you noticed were the low murmuring voices coming from the kitchen of the trailer.

You weren’t sure what to do next. Should you get up and investigate? It was probably just Eddie and his uncle. You weren’t sure if you were really ready to go re-meeting any parental figures yet. Especially since you didn’t have your toothbrush with you.

But the smell of breakfast cooking had your stomach growling and pulling you out of bed before you could even fully think about it.

You had slept in the clothes you had arrived in yesterday. You straightened them a bit before walking out into the hall and towards the kitchen.

“You should put some of that numbing cream on that the doctors gave you. Sleeping on the couch is what probably did it to you,” a rough voice instructed.

“I don’t want to put that stuff on it smells,” You heard Eddie pipe in over the clatter of utensils.

You entered the kitchen, wringing your hands as you took in the scene before you.

Eddie leaned against the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee in one hand. His other hand rubbed his left side. His face winced with the movement, obviously in some sort of pain.

When he noticed you, his face shifted into a smile.

“Good morning,” He said like he was relieved to see you there. He pushed off the counter to walk towards you. “How'd you sleep? Uncle Wayne’s making some breakfast if you’re hungry.”

“I slept good,” you said shyly, looking anywhere but at the man Eddie referred to as Uncle Wayne.

“Well, good morning. We weren’t sure you were ever going to come out and join us,” the man drawled from in front of the stove.

When you looked up at him you did a double take.

“I know you,” you said suspiciously to the man.

“Holy shit? You remember Wayne?” Eddie asked, surprised. He set his coffee mug down like this revelation would need both of his hands for some reason.

Wayne let out a laugh as he flipped a pancake. “I may have kept her company at the grocery store the other day,” he admitted.

Eddie looked at him confused. You guessed his uncle didn’t run home and tell him about your small talk.

You thought back to your moms anger from when she saw Wayne talking to you. The nasty things she said about him and how you should stay away from him. Her bizarre reaction made some sense now. Even though it was still completely uncalled for.

“Nobody tells me anything. Everyone just does their own thing around here,” Eddie mumbled to himself before pulling out a chair at the small table for you to sit at. “Here. Have a seat. I’ll make you some coffee.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you said quickly. It felt like if you let him do this one thing then he would start waiting on you hand and foot.

“Too late. I’m already doing it,” he called over his shoulder as he fixed a coffee for you.

“So,” Eddie started as he sat the coffee and a plate of food in front of you. He grabbed his own and sat beside you. “I talked to the group today and they want to have a meeting.”

“A meeting about me?” You squeaked.

“About everything,” Eddie admitted. “I know it sounds scary but I think it’ll be good for everyone to be on the same page.”

Wayne excused himself to go outside and smoke, most likely trying to give you and Eddie some privacy. For a moment the only sound in the room was the sound of scraping forks as you ate in silence. You already knew Steve and Robin, so how bad could a meeting really be?

“That’s fine. I just want to go home and shower first.”

Eddie reached over and grabbed your hand that rested on the table top. “I know it’s scary but I’ll be with you the whole time. If it gets to be too much then I’ll kick them out. I promise.”

Knowing Eddie had your back did make you feel a little bit better.

After some discussion, it was decided that the meeting would happen at your place.

Mostly because Eddie said the group can get loud and Wayne needed to sleep so the trailer wasn’t an option.

Steve had to apparently play mom and pick everyone up that didn’t have a ride. Which isn’t a new thing for him to do apparently. When Eddie told you Steve was going to close Family Video for the day for this you thought he was joking. The boss you knew would’ve never done that in a million years, except for maybe by accident that one time. It made you wonder what version of Steve you would be getting today.

Eddie showed up first. He knew how nervous you were for this.

He walked right into the house without knocking. A few days ago that would have set you off. Instead, it made you happy to see how comfortable and relaxed he was with you. It made you wonder if that’s how you used to be together.

He found you stripping your bed. You were pretty sure the mattress was ruined, the storm last night had made the leak spring up again. You were tempted to ask Eddie if you could sleep over at his house again tonight. Not because his mattress was the most comfortable but something about being in his space relaxed you.

But then you felt bad because if you asked he would say yes and just sleep on the couch again. And sleeping on the couch obviously hurt him.

“Shit,” Eddie whistled loudly as he walked into your room.

“I forgot that it leaks and I think this is all ruined.” You grunted out while tugging the sheet off the far side of the bed.

“Okay, hold on,” Eddie said as he looked at the mattress and the ceiling, unable to hide the wince on his face from the damage. “Yeah, it’s pretty bad. I can see if Wayne knows any roofers?”

You sighed. Why couldn’t mundane real life problems go away until your supernatural problems were solved?

“I really can’t deal with this right now,” you groaned, running a hand down your face.

“Hey,” Eddie said with a soft voice, reaching over to grab your shoulders. “It’s gonna be okay. I’m going to fix this. I promise.”

He wasn’t just talking about the leak in the roof anymore.

You nodded, doing your best to give him a smile.

“I have a question,” you stated as you sat on the edge of the bed that hadn’t been soaked.

“Ask away,” Eddie said as he sat next to you.

“Um, that perfume and scrunchy I found in your van…”

Eddie let out a little laugh. “They’re yours.”

“They are?”

“Yep. I promise.”

“I mean because I would understand if they weren’t mine. I mean if you were ever with someone else I get it. It’s not like we are still together or what I mean-”

“Hey. You’re rambling,” Eddie sighed. “I was never with anyone else when we were apart. Never. That thought never crossed my mind. When you asked me if I had a girlfriend I said yes because to me, no matter what, you were it for me. You are it for me. And I know things are confusing right now. I’m going at your pace here. If you want to be together? Then we’re together. You want to take things slow? Done. You don’t want to be with me and want me to fuck off? Well that hurts like hell to think about but if that’s what you want then I’ll respect it. I will always love you no matter what and I will never feel a fraction for anyone else the way I feel for you. I’m just following your lead here.”

His words hit you like a ton of bricks. How amazing is it to be loved so much by someone that they would wait for you like this?

You found yourself wondering if this level of devotion was something that you deserved. You had been really mean to Eddie. How much of that was just your cruel personality instead of paranoia? It felt like you were never going to find out who the real you was.

“Eddie,” you sighed, wiping a few leaked tears away from your face. You leaned your head against his shoulder. You fit perfectly together like this. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer into his side. You could hear his heart pounding. “I don’t think I deserve you.”

“You know, I say the same thing to myself about you all of the time,” Eddie remarked lightheartedly.

“Does your side feel better?” You asked, pulling away from him. He kept a hand on your back.

“How do you know my side hurts?”

“I heard you and Wayne talking about it in the kitchen this morning. If I would have known the couch was so uncomfortable I would’ve slept out there instead of you.” You both knew he wouldn’t have let you done that. But it was nice for you to say anyways.

“No. The couch is fine. It’s just, uh, remember when I told you about the bats in the upside down and how I miraculously stopped bleeding? Well, I lived, obviously, but got stuck with some pretty nasty scars and they just ache sometimes,” he said with a shrug. The shrug didn’t fool you though. You could see the insecurity in him. He was worried that you weren’t going to accept him with or without the scars.

How do you explain to someone that going from strangers to finding out you were in love has left you in a confused whirlwind? How do you explain that there were always feelings for Eddie that just needed to be dug out from the haziness of your mind?

In the matter of a few hours Eddie had given you something that you had been needing since March.

Honesty.

It was that simple. With the truth he had illuminated your heart in a way you weren’t used to. These new feelings crept through your bloodstream, spreading through your body with each pump of your heart.

It didn’t make sense, the way you feel, but you wanted to keep feeling it.

You leaned into his side. “I’m happy you’re alive,” you finally said.

Eddie laughed. “Me too.”

You both sat there, in comfortable silence together until you heard the pounding on the door.

Eddie wasn’t kidding about the group being loud.

First it was Steve, Robin, Dustin and Lucas who arrived together. Dustin and Steve were already bickering. Eddie took the time to remind you of everyone's names as they filed into your house.

Dustin hugged you when he saw you and immediately got scolded by Steve and Eddie. You were uncomfortable at first, but he told Steve and Eddie to mind their own business and it made you laugh.

Lucas seemed sad as he waved but kept his distance from you. Eddie had explained that Lucas had been spending a lot of time at the hospital with the girl named Max. Each day she didn’t wake up was harder on him. The group had been trying to keep his spirits up but nothing was working.

Steve and Robin both said hi. Robin enthusiastic and Steve awkward. There was no change there yet. You weren’t sure what you were expecting but you were glad none of them hugged you like Dustin did.

You all stood in the kitchen so that Robin could hold up the phone for Nancy and Jonathan to put their two cents in. Apparently, they had gone to college together in New York and couldn’t come back to Hawkins on such a short notice.

The next to follow in was Mike Wheeler, followed by two people you didn’t want to see.

“No,” you rasped out, backing into Eddie as you tried to flee.

The voice in the back of your head hissed, making its first appearance since yesterday morning.

“Woah, what is going on?” Eddie asked frantically.

“Get her out of my house,” you barked, pointing at El. Your voice came out tougher, and meaner than you were used to. It didn’t sound like your own. By the way everyone's head snapped up to look at you it seemed like they heard it too.

Will looked like he was about to run.

“What the hell?” Mike asked, stepping in front of El like he was going to protect her from you.

The rest of the group looked confused between you and El. El stared at you with a determined expression that made your skin crawl.

“That’s Eleven. That’s the girl with the superpowers I was telling you about. You know her,” Eddie said softly, doing his best to calm you. He ran his hands up and down your arms in an attempt to get you to stop shaking out of fear.

“No. I don’t know her. Get her away from me,” you begged, backing out of the kitchen and into the hallway to put some distance between yourself and the girl. Terror had you in its clutches. You couldn’t explain it but you knew you had to get away from her.

“Someone want to explain what the hell is going on?” Steve asked.

“She’s already been here. She wants to hurt me,” you said. “Please make her leave,” you begged Eddie, grabbing his hands to make him know how serious you were.

“You came here? When?” Eddie asked, turning to where Will, Mike and El stood together. His voice came out tired instead of angry.

“I can explain,” El spoke for the first time.

You could hear Nancy on the phone asking Robin what the hell was going on.

“We wanted to help!” Will finally yelled, making you pause your escape.

“Explain,” Eddie gritted out sharply.

“We came here. I needed to touch her,” El said, not really explaining anything.

“We lied. We asked to use the phone. A few weeks ago,” Will added, much more nervous than El was.

“It’s okay,” Eddie murmured in your ear, helping you relax. “No one here can hurt you. I would never let them hurt you.” He walked you back into the kitchen.You positioned yourself so you had your back against his chest with his arms snaked around you. You relaxed into his hold.

“And no one thought to share that with the group? I thought the last time everyone talked we were all on the same page about not bombarding her?” Steve asked with a raised brow and crossed arms.

“Oh, come on!” Dustin exclaimed. “No one else here was doing anything so they took matters into their own hands. Steve, you sure as hell weren’t helping and Eddie, you seemed on board with our plan until you decided to tell us to leave her alone!”

“I said to leave her alone because she needed to be left alone!” Eddie yelled back, making you jump. “Sorry,” he leaned down and whispered to you.

Chaos ensued.

Everyone started yelling over each other. Dustin and Steve being the loudest out of the group. Fingers were pointed. Hands were waved in the air.

Mike must not have known that El and Will had gone on their own mission because he was yelling at both of them. Robin was trying to tell Nancy and Jonathan what was going on through the phone but everyone else was yelling so she needed to yell too.

Lucas just sat at the table, watching every one silently.

Eddie let out a deep sigh behind you. “I’m about to yell,” he said as he put his hands over your ears.

“EVERYBODY SHUT UP!” He screeched, making the group pause to look at him. He dropped his hands from your ears.

“This arguing isn’t helping,” he announced. “Did El touch you?” He asked you, his voice gentler to you than he was with everyone else.

“Yes, she grabbed my hand,” you mumbled, shy now that everyone was looking at you and Eddie.

“What happened when you touched her?” Robin asked El.

El and Will looked at each other briefly.

“I saw him,” El answered.

You felt Eddie stiffen behind you.

“Vecna,” Will clarified.

The room became dead silent and a chill settled in the air. Eddie seemed to hold onto you tighter like he was scared the invisible threat would whisk you away.

“You saw him where?” You asked after no one said anything else.

“In your mind,” El said.

“And no one thought to say anything? She’s been here suffering this whole time!” Eddie exclaimed from over your head

“We didn’t know why he’s there and how to fix it. He seemed weaker than he was before but I’m worried if I try to go in and make him leave then…”El trailed off, casting a nervous look at Lucas.

“Then what?” Lucas asked her when he caught her look.

“Then she might end up like Max,” El whispered.

“What? How?!” Steve questioned.

“Think about it,” Mike said. “Max was cursed and then she went into that coma. El can’t see anything in her head. What if Vecna being pulled out of her mind did that to her?”

Eddie started to tremble behind you. You ran a hand over his arm.

“So, if we do force him out then either I’m fixed or end up in a coma? What happens if we let him just stay?” You asked.

“Then he’ll get stronger. And maybe he’ll fully take over. Maybe he’ll kill you like he did everyone else that was cursed,” Will said. “Either way, there’s a risk.”

“You’ll have to accept the risk,” Dustin added.

You didn’t need to think about it. The choice was clear to you.

“Get him out of my head,” you said to El.

The plan was set.

El was ready to do it that same day. But you asked for her to give you a week.

Just in case things went bad. You wanted a little more time to explore your blossoming feelings for Eddie. You wanted to allow yourself to be selfish, even if it was going to be for just a little bit. You just wanted one last week of happiness.

Eddie was against the plan. He was worried, of course. Not wanting to see any harm come to you.

But the way you looked at it, you were being harmed daily by the parasite in your head.

“I have something to say,” you announced as the plan was set and everyone was about to go home.

All eyes turned to you, waiting.

“I just don’t want anyone else to hide anything from me. That means no more lying to get close to me. No coming into my house under false pretenses,” you turned to look at El and Will when you said that. You wanted to run far away when you saw her but you knew she was your only hope for being free. “And no more leaving tapes on my doorstep in the middle of the night.”

“What tape?” Eddie asked.

You were met with confused looks glancing around the room at each other, waiting for someone to own up to it.

“You didn’t leave it?” You asked him. After you and Eddie’s discussion the night before, you had figured that maybe it had been Eddie trying to reach out to you in his weird way. It just seemed like something he would do.

“No?” Eddie seemed just as confused as you.

“What was on it?” Robin asked.

“I haven’t listened to it yet,” you said as you searched through your bag and held it up. Dustin plucked it out of your hand to inspect it.

“Maybe it’s some sort of listening device,” Steve muttered as he looked over Dustin’s shoulder.

“Yeah, Steve. That makes a lot of sense,” Dustin snapped at him, waving the tape in the air.

“I thought it was a good theory,” Robin piped up, having hung up the phone with Nancy and Jonathan now that the plan was set.

Dustin opened his mouth to give a snarky comeback when Lucas spoke.

Lucas had been quiet the whole time that the plan was being discussed. You weren’t sure how close him and this Max were, but he seemed to be handling her condition poorly.

“It’s just songs,” he said from where he sat at the table.

“Did you leave the tape?” Eddie asked him, walking over and putting a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s just some tape that you had made for Max when she was going through a tough time. I don’t know, I thought maybe it could help you,” he said shyly, not taking his eyes off the table.

“Oh, uh, thank you. That was very sweet.” You weren’t sure what to say. It was nice of him to think of you. It was interesting to hear that you and Max were close enough that you made her mixtapes.

The group closed in on Lucas, trying to cheer him up with their banter.

Eddie’s eyes met yours as you stood alone on the other side of the room, like he knew what you were feeling. Confused. Sad. Left out.

You were in a room full of these people who fought like hell but obviously loved each other deeply. Where did you stand with them? How did you fit in?

Steve asked to talk to you as he was leaving the house.

The rest of the group had all piled into his car, pushing and arguing over who got to sit in a seat and who would get stuck sitting on the floor board.

Eddie went outside to mediate with Robin. At least that’s what he said he was doing. You had a sneaking suspicion he was granting you the kindness of working out your issues with Steve on your own.

“I haven’t been very nice to you,” Steve said as you both stood in your living room.

You ran a hand over the duck figurine that sat on your shelf. Eddie had poked it and laughed earlier in the day, making the googly eyes go crazy. He had shook his head at himself after he did it like there was some kind of inside joke between him and the duck.

“I know,” you replied.

Steve took a deep breath. “I’m guessing Eddie told you that me and you used to be really close. We were best friends all through school, even when I was an asshole and you weren’t. It’s just your mom told me that the doctors said for everyone to stay away. She said not to get too close to you because it could cause you to have a breakdown or something and that what was best for you was distance from all of us. I should have known something was weird.”

“Well, my mom’s a liar,” you said simply.

“I knew something was up because when you started working at Family Video she showed up at the store before you even started. She told me it was okay for me to have a ‘relationship’ with you but under no circumstances were you allowed to have a friendship with Robin or any of the rest of our friends.”

“Relationship?” You asked, looking at him.

“I think she wanted us to be together but still keep your past with Eddie a secret.”

Nausea churned in your gut. Your mom was really going to let your whole life be a lie.

She was going to try to arrange a relationship between you and Steve. And for what? So she could climb the social ladder even more?

“Oh my god,” you whispered to yourself. This was all far sicker than you ever realized it could be.

“I think she started to rethink that idea when I basically told her to fuck off,” he admitted.

“Eddie mentioned she didn’t like him.”

“Yeah, she couldn’t stand him. She didn’t approve at all. Eddie is cool though. You were really happy together. At first I didn’t get it but he won me over,” Steve shrugged.

“I know that’s right. Harrington just can’t resist me now,” Eddie said as he walked back inside.

Steve rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna go before they all decide to drive my car home themselves. If you have any questions or anything just call me. Oh and uh, don’t worry about coming back to work until this is all done.”

You watched Steve leave silently.

“That was heavy,” Eddie said. “What do you want to do now?”

You thought for a moment. The information over the past twenty four hours had been a lot. But there was something that was heavy on your mind that you wanted to do.

“I want to read the notebook.”

A/N: Next chapter is you and Eddie's story from Eddie's POV

#eddie munson au #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson series #eddie munson imagine #eddie stranger things #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you

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guardian-of-soho · 8 months

Text

For all the foreground of s2 is a bizarre triple-pairing romcom, there’s such a shadow of looming disaster over them all. The threat of Heaven and Hell shows up with Gabriel and whatever has reduced him to this helpless, hapless creature. Bizarrely charming as Jim was to me, I never thought I would be so unnerved by the absence of his smarminess. It really appears they declawed him.

And then when we find out he did it to himself instead (barely in time), it’s hardly comforting — not with Heaven and Hell springing up around his haven, making clear they’re only ever a thought away. Even his glad escape with his demon at the end is made amid the warning that they will find him, and when they do, his fragile little happiness is over. He only has a choice for a day.

After s1 ended with the promise that “the Big One” was still to come — “all of us against all of them” — it could hardly have been otherwise. Heaven and Hell weren’t defeated, only temporarily put off. But the revelation of Metatron as the manager and apparent mastermind of The Big One has really brought the threat into focus. Aziraphale and Crowley have no time. He isn’t willing to let them stop him again. He wants this finished, and he’s willing to do whatever it takes, including speaking for God and hijacking Heaven’s entire hierarchy. Hell’s already pledged Crowley their retaliation; had Metatron not interrupted Heaven’s warning, Aziraphale would have been left with the same sort of problem. That’s as much as I expected, and it would have been bad enough.

But this is worse: now Metatron has the angel. And now that Aziraphale is well away from everyone who knows and loves him, the threat has gotten so much sharper. If they can’t unmake his loyalties, they can unmake his mind. And there will be no one left to tell him that this isn’t who he is, or was. He could be another Jim (or Muriel, if the theory that their mind was unmade too is right). He could be banished to a silent room for a 39th scrivener — or he could find his way back to Earth. All I can hope is that if he loses himself, he’ll make it to the bookshop. There’s still an angel there who loves the world, or is beginning to; and a street full of people who remember who he is, their guardian and Crowley’s angel.

#good omens 2 #good omens #s3 speculation #I’m afraid they’re going to wipe his memory and make him try to erase Crowley #but I’m very sure he’ll get himself back somehow #I just don’t want Crowley to have to face it #but what if Crowley has lost memories he needs to find too?#what if in the process of finding Aziraphale’s they find Crowley’s as well?#…and all the angels who’ve had theirs stolen?#what if they could unleash them all?#that could upend Heaven entirely #WHAT IF

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blog-name-idk · 10 months

Text

The Plot Twist | 03

Written by @blog-name-idk and @eserethriddle

Summary: Once upon a time you would have jumped at the chance to live the idol girlfriend life. The cameras, the action, the whirlwind romance. But what was once a dream has now become your worst nightmare, and you fully intend to fight the universe as it repeatedly conspires to set you up with your seven perfectly good soulmates from Bangtan Sonyeondan.

In which we punt Y/N into all the fanfiction tropes and you do your feral best to subvert the love story.

Because nani the fuck, you are The Plot Twist.

Pairing: OT7 X Fem!Reader

Genre: Soulmate!AU, crack, humor, idol!AU, light angst, slow burn, romantic comedy, just a fun silly old time

Rating: 18+

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Chapter 3: "I'm moving out."

You've never been a hypochondriac. Each time something strange and new occurred over the past week, you simply normalized it and moved on. But seven sevens mysteriously appearing on your skin the morning after your fever spell were admittedly too much, too eerie.

Something was definitely up.

So you went to the all-seer, the earthly keeper of scientific knowledge, the only place that could tell you what the hell was going on with concrete authority: NaverMD.

But then even you and NaverMD were stumped. Feeding your symptoms into the search engine reported a limited consensus of only two diagnoses. Dr. Naver, MD concluded that you either had a soulmate, or some extremely rare, spontaneous condition in which all your toenails will fall off and cause your eventual and sudden death.

Well, actually, no, the first diagnosis was cancer. But it always is, even when you're just constipated from too many snacks and too little fiber, so you discarded that one immediately.

Despite yourself, you found yourself leaning towards the worse of the two. Because somehow even the prospect of a bizarre, yet-unproven disease still seemed more believable than you having a soulmate.

And then you made your first mistake.

Oh, how simple life had been. You were just a wee child, trying to narrow down your suspicions, so young and naive. You never stopped to realize that some things were better left unknown, uncharted.

Like some theological figures before you, you couldn't resist the forbidden fruit of knowledge. Too drawn by the serpentine lure of instant internet search results, you plugged "7 tattoo" into Naver. And now you must live with your decision.

Because smoldering at you from behind your suddenly hateable phone screen are seven men widely considered to be amongst Korea's national treasures.

The thus-far revealed tattoo locations match some of yours, and you try to stave away the sinking feeling that the remaining others are just as accurate. Because that would mean…

…That would mean…

You have a soulmate. Soulmates.

Seven soulmates… who happen to be Bangtan Seonyeondan.

And that’s the moment your mind breaks.

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It's fine. You're fine. You are handling recent revelations with utmost grace and dignity.

Or at least you are sticking your pinky up as you completely obliterate a tub of ice cream in panic. It takes all the poise you can muster. Understandably. And then you almost throw up all that processed dairy back up, your stomach churning too much for you to punish it with cookies and cream like your usual comfort mechanism.

Why is this happening? Why you? You're not some chosen one, and you've never wanted to be the main character in some lame k-drama or fanfiction.

Maybe this is a weird prank your mother concocted to punish you for completely ignoring her texts and forgetting your "obligations" – i.e. popping out grandchildren for her to coo over. And that, to her well-meaning if conservative outlook, requires a well-established partnership and romance at the minimum. Your father must have let slip that you've skipped all of the group dating events she's been spamming your family group-chat with.

Your caring, loving, ruthless mother has picked your worst nightmare and brought it to reality, all to teach you a lesson. To try to ensure that you find love before you reach hagdom at thirty and must be sent to live shrouded in the woods, away from decent, beautiful society. (Her words, despite the fact that she herself is quite a ways past that age. Not that you would ever point that out. You value your life.)

The thought calms you, and you decide to vacuum the feathers from the pillows you destroyed in a fit of rage and madness. You needed to buy new throw pillows, anyway.

The loud drone of the vacuum soothes you further. Of course, having more than one soulmate is possible, but extremely unlikely. Having seven? Who happen to be the some of the most famous people in the world? That is as statistically likely as you winning the lottery seven times in a row. Probably less, actually.

Pfft! Soulmates? Hah! Nice try, eomma.

You have to hand it to her, she really had you going there for a second. You chuckle to yourself as you turn off the vacuum and go to empty it in the trash. Noticing your kitchen trash is full, you tie it off and carry it downstairs to the garbage room.

You feel oddly pensive as you carry the bag down. Perhaps something about the odor of the two-day old kimchi jjigae leftovers emanating from the plastic is addling your brain, because despite your rationalization you now can't stop thinking about the concept of soulmates.

It seems like there's so much that goes into a partnership, even with pre-destined compatibility. Sure, your parents are soulmates and love each other very much, but that doesn't mean their marriage is perfect. The equilibrium, the joy, the easy comfort they find in each other now is the result of many years of growing both together and apart, of being their own individuals who have learned to fit into each other like puzzle pieces.

They are soulmates, but their happiness wasn't fated. Perhaps the universe contrived for them to meet, but their bond was forged by their own hands. They chose each other.

You can't imagine ever giving someone the keys to your heart and trusting them not to disappoint you.

Or trusting yourself not to disappoint them.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

On your way back to your floor, you’re surprised to see your landlord with a guest when you step into the building elevator.

“Oh, great timing! Say hello, this young man moving in at 8004, right next to you,” your landlord says.

Your new neighbor is decked out in a bucket hat and oversized sweater ensemble. You see the moon tattoo peeking out from the back of his sweater and gulp.

That… That can’t be Park Jimin… right?

A split second, and that’s when everything you have been avoiding clicks with the finality of a key turning in a lock.

The call with Mijin, the anomalies you’d experienced, the comical twist of your recent everyday life.

It wasn't a prank.

And despite all the very real and terrifying things your mother is capable of, surely this coincidence is beyond even her ability to machinate. Which can only mean one thing.

You do have soulmates, and the universe has begun plotting.

But you… you refuse to do this. You’re not a little girl that the world can tell to spin in her skirt and flutter her lashes. There are things worth fighting against, and these things are love and the eventual disappointment of finding out that the person you adored is fallible and rife with flaws. All the more so when it's an idol with a perfect shiny image to uphold.

Despite your earlier post-Naver meltdown, you now find yourself strangely calm. This is a do-or-die situation, and you have never been one to go down without a fight. Your will shall not be bent, no matter what anyone says about "fate."

You realize your new neighbor is peering at you curiously, and you staunchly avoid his gaze. Your hair falls in front of your face like you're Sadako from The Ring, because you don't want him to remember any identifying features. Your landlord looks confused at your silence, but says nothing, and an awkward silence envelops the cramped confines of the elevator.

When the elevator finally, finally dings open, you refuse to wait and walk with your companions like a normal person. To both your landlord and your – ugh – soulmate's shock, you power walk out of there like you're an ahjumma heading to the store on discount day. When you finally make it to your once-safe haven, your now forsaken sanctuary, you slam the door behind you.

With your heart thundering in your chest, you look in the mirror and take in frantic breaths.

You decide once and for all.

“Let’s not fall in love,” you tell yourself, the promising ferocity in your eyes a hand-me-down from your mother.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Today is a good day, thinks Kim Jaehyung. The sun is shining, his wife is making his favorite oxtail soup for dinner, and he's finally managed to rent out the last vacant unit in his building. The new tenant is polite and, more importantly, has paid the entire lease up front without even needing any bank loans.

The only blip is his other tenant's odd behavior in the elevator, and the way you practically fled into your apartment. The new renter is a handsome young man – Jaehyung would have thought that a pretty girl about his age would have been happy to show him the ins and outs of the building. Though perhaps you needed to go to the bathroom – he's certainly had those moments.

"She's my neighbor?" the man asks, sounding curious, his gaze following the way you speed walk away from them.

"Yes! Right next door," Jaehyung replies, trying to remember the new tenant's name. He had just looked at the lease agreement, too! "She's normally very accommodating, so I'm sure the two of you will get along well."

As if to mock his statement, your door slams shut behind you. With a shrug, Jaehyung leads the renter – Park! That was it! Tenant Park! – to the door next to yours.

After showing Park-ssi his new apartment and handing him the keys, Jaehyung is in the elevator when his phone buzzes in his pocket.

You I'm moving out

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You're exhausted. You might have told your landlord you were moving, but finding a new place within your budget that doesn't come with charming qualities like decorative mold or live-in, six-legged pets is proving difficult on such short notice.

Why isn't Park Jimin of fucking BTS living in one of the more expensive areas of Seoul, anyway? Why would someone that rich and famous choose your cozy, decent little building? He's gentrifying your already gentrified neighborhood! You're too accustomed to the luxuries of upper-middle class life to be happy about being forced out.

So you've taken to leaving home absurdly early and working until late, in hopes of avoiding any run-ins with your soulmate neighbor.

Despite your best efforts, you have somehow managed to end up alone in the elevator with Jimin. You were already inside, and he was running for the door looking so frazzled you didn't have the heart to press the close button on him. Curse the universe for taking advantage of your kind heart and gentle, amiable nature.

"Thank you," Jimin gasps, clearly out of breath. A bead of sweat trickles down from his temple, which you definitely do not notice. "I forgot my wallet."

He takes off his mask to breathe more easily, and you try to look anywhere but at his plump lips and the way his eyes squish when he smiles at you. The universe may have all manner of nefarious powers at its beck and call, but that smile might be the deadliest weapon of all.

"No problem," you mutter, hoping he never sees you again and yet also wishing you had used more eye cream today. Thankfully, the elevator is fast, but as the door dings open somehow Jimin keeps pace with you.

"We didn't get a chance to formally meet," he says cheerfully, somehow keeping stride with you despite your best efforts to break the world record for fastest casual walk. "I'm Jimin. What's your name?"

The simple, completely normal question makes you panic. You've reached your door and you gaze longingly at the handle, dreaming of the safety that beckons on the other side. So near, but so far.

You unlock it, and realize he's paused next to you, awaiting your response. That violently sweet smile is still on his face, and you find yourself staring dazedly at him for a moment before snapping out of it.

You need to exit this situation. Immediately.

You open the door and look him dead in the eye. "I don't talk to strangers."

Swiftly stepping inside, you close the door firmly behind you and try not to dwell on the fact that he is just as beautiful with his mouth hanging open.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Jimin stares in shock at the closed door in front of him, wondering what on earth he did wrong. He just wants to be on friendly terms with his neighbors – well, especially the pretty one – but you seem to be avoiding him like the plague.

Maybe you're shy? Or slow to trust? Jimin doesn't think he's been doing anything threatening or overly familiar – certainly nothing to warrant the way you almost flee whenever you see him.

Then again, he's not a single (well, not that he knows whether you're single or not, but you seem to live alone, and haven't had any visitors of any gender despite being quite attractive, not that he's spent that much time thinking about whether or not you are single or anything) young woman living alone, so perhaps his judgment is biased.

Maybe he just needs to try harder! Show you that he really does have good intentions. Or would that be creepy?

It's been so long since anyone has treated him like this – just a regular, pesky person – that he can't help but be endeared.

And intrigued.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

These days even the temporary security personnel know your name. They know to expect you putting in overtime, but for today’s working hours you’ve completely outdone yourself.

It's late. Late enough that even for a workaholic Korean, you're the last one out of the office. You begin to make the trek to the train station, grabbing your keys from your oversized purse in case any weirdos try to follow you. Though then again, your bag itself could probably be a decent weapon – your building was updating and refreshing all of the first-aid stations, and so you have a bulky, metal kit weighing you down.

It would be kind of funny, actually, if you were able to injure someone with a first-aid kit. Something, something, irony.

You smile, mildly amused at the thought, but it quickly fades when you see a figure slumped on a bench at the bus stop. It looks to be a man, dressed in torn clothing, and when he shifts you see bruises littering his skin. His hair and eyes are hidden by the brim of a black baseball cap, and his features are otherwise also covered by a black mask, and you wonder if his face is also in bad shape.

You make your way closer, the kit weighing heavily in your purse, because you're an idiot who can't leave well enough alone.

"Do you need help?" you ask carefully, standing just slightly far away in case this is a violent person who's going to lunge at you. The man looks up in surprise, and you feel your lunch try to make a resurgence.

Because staring back at you with a black eye is Min Yoongi of BTS.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Yoongi exhales and slumps forward on the bench outside the photoshoot location, wondering why he's been feeling so off lately. It's not quite the same as the depression slumps he's used to – rather than numbness, it just feels like something is missing.

The only time the feeling recedes is at night, when the ghost of that strange lullaby whispers at the edges of his mind. Yoongi's put the basic melody to paper, but he can't get it quite right. Every time he tries, it's like some note eludes him, flitting out of reach just before he can grasp them.

"Do you need help?"

Yoongi almost jumps before looking up to see a prim, well-dressed woman gazing at him in a mixture of suspicion and concern. Your eyes widen at his face, and he can register the exact moment you realize who he is.

Fuck.

You look horrified, which is not the expression he's used to seeing from fans. You take a step back, half turning as if to run. Also not something that typically happens.

Yoongi should leave, return to the photoshoot, find his manager and tell him he's been spotted in case damage control is needed. Instead he finds himself strangely spellbound, staring as your jaw clenches and your eyes close. You set your shoulders as if steeling yourself for war and turn back to him.

You reach into your purse and he tenses, ready to hide his face for when you inevitably pull out your phone to try to take a picture of him with fake bruises all over his face.

To his utter bemusement, instead of a phone, you pull out a metallic-looking case and toss it at him without warning. Yoongi is too taken aback to do anything other than watch it clatter to the ground.

"What the–" he begins, but you whip back around before he can finish and take off as fast as your heels allow. "...Fuck?"

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

As far as obnoxious things the universe has thrown at you go, this one isn't so bad.

That's what you tell yourself as you stare at the very shiny, very pointy looking knife being brandished in your face in the alley you use as a shortcut home.

At least it's not a soulmate.

"There's no one here to rescue you, little girl," this apparent mugger gloats, and for a moment you actually feel a little flattered. Little girl? Really? At twenty-five? That's downright polite, honestly.

"Huh? Is everything okay back there?" calls a strangely familiar voice, making the both of you freeze. Thanks to your recent frantic googling and research, you recognize it surprisingly quickly, and you gasp and look your assailant dead in the eye.

"Kill me. Right now," you order, your voice leaving no room for argument. The maniacal glint leaves your attacker's gaze and he stares at you in confusion. And perhaps a little fear.

"Uh, what?"

"Fucking do it, bitch," you hiss, casting your gaze frantically behind him to see if the owner of the voice is coming to investigate. You point at your chest, where you assume your heart probably is. If you have one. "Right here."

"What the fuck, no, I just want your money?" he says in bewildered tones, beginning to back away from you. You hear footsteps from behind him, and panic begins to set in.

"DID I FUCKING STUTTER?" you screech, wanting your attacker to just hurry the fuck up already. Seriously if he wasn't prepared to stab someone why the hell is he waving around a knife? What a little bitch. This is the problem with youth these days – all talk and no follow-through.

"You know what, fuck it, just go," the guy finally says, dropping the knife to the floor. "This is too much for me. I should have just gone to trade school like my mom wanted."

"Whatever dude," you say with a shrug, taking the opportunity to gear up and sprint out of the alley. You pass a confused looking Kim Taehyung, and pat yourself on the back for avoiding another contrived situation the universe tried to force onto you. It can take its cosmic intervention theory and shove it up its black hole where the stars don't shine.

Unfortunately you don't realize that to Taehyung, time slows as you run by. The scent of your hair, the silhouette of your lips… he is utterly captivated. He can't help but to peek into the alley to see where you were coming from, and is surprised to see a masked man just standing there, staring blankly at the ground. Metal glints, and he's shocked to realize that it's not the ground that has drawn the man's attention, but a knife.

"Yeah, I'm not cut off for this," he hears the guy mumble as he kneels down to pick up the weapon. Taehyung tenses, unsure of what to do, only for the man to toss it into a dumpster. "I… I should go apologize to mom."

Had this man tried to attack that girl? Taehyung's fist clenches at the thought, an uncharacteristic flare of anger lighting his chest. Then it relaxes as it dawns on him that you must have talked the man down. Not just talk him down, but give up on his supposed path of crime entirely.

So not just beautiful, but intelligent too. Empathetic. You probably love animals, because he can already tell you're perfect.

For days after, he can't get the strange girl out of his head, or the smell of your flowery shampoo out of his nose.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You should have known. You should have fucking known.

"Eomma," you say carefully, lest you invite another scolding from your mother that leaves you equal parts guilty and offended. "This is a very strange place for auntie's birthday."

She purses her lips, managing to look simultaneously irritated with you and pleased with herself, and shoves you forward.

You sigh, resigned, and begin to walk inside the building with slumped shoulders, heels clicking morosely beneath your feet. Until the very pointed throat clearing behind you automatically straightens your spine in a lecture-induced response you have never been able to shake.

"Are you here for the dating event?" chirps the far-too-chipper woman at the front desk, face brightening at the appearance of such a lovely attendee. You force a smile in response, glancing over your shoulder to see that yes, your mother is still watching outside with her arms crossed.

You send her a wave that just makes her tap her foot impatiently. With a sigh, you turn around and nod.

"Yes," you respond with all the joy of a human sacrifice walking to their doom. "I guess I am."

The employee beams at you and pushes forward a form for you to fill out. When you check the box indicating that you indeed have been experiencing soulmate phenomena, because you're an idiot who can't lie even to save yourself, her smile grows even wider.

"It's so great that you're taking initiative," she gushes, oblivious to the way you are now grinding your teeth. "Some people think cosmic intervention will take care of everything, and never end up meeting their soulmate!"

God, goddesses, saints and shamans, whoever the fuck, you think silently. That is literally all I want.

For a moment the image of two spinsters laughing at your pain flashes through your mind, but it's gone before you can really register what happened. What you do notice is that your mother has left.

"Oops, I think I left my ID in my car," you say with a smile suddenly much more genuine than before. "I'll be right back."

The poor, unsuspecting attendant just nods, and you're out the door and around the corner just as a black Palisade rolls up to the building.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

The store owner blinks in surprise at your appearance. It's broad daylight, and most of his customers are kids and teenagers. Grown adults don't tend to come here, other than the idol who thinks he's sneaky and the tired salarywoman who –

"Hey, Lee-ssi!" you greet cheerfully, sliding your game card out of your dainty purse. "Is there a new score for me to beat today?"

Lee Seungwon blinks again. You're wearing a sleek maroon dress that ends right above your knees, your hair is coiffed, you smell like a field of flowers instead of burnt coffee, and your face is powdered to perfection.

"[L/N]-ssi?" he asks tentatively. It looks like you. It sounds like you. But he wants to make sure, because you look far too perky for someone dressed like they're supposed to be on a date.

"Yes?" you reply, looking just as confused as he feels. "Is something wrong?"

"Er, no," he replies, accepting the game card from your manicured hand. "The usual? 2,000W?"

You grin and nod, prancing off to the Pacman machine with a bounce to your step.

Seungwon feels a strange sense of foreboding.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Seokjin is the best hyung. Obviously. He's handsome, he's funny, he cooks, he takes care of his brothers, and even drives them to speed-dating events that are objectively a terrible idea.

In fact, he's such a great hyung that instead of returning immediately home, he deserves a little bit of fun. So he heads to a familiar little establishment. Seokjin's managed to re-establish his place as number one in Pacman, but it can't hurt to fill up the leaderboard even more and show that immature punk who's boss.

The fact that he is a grown man in a silent war with a child over an arcade game wooshes gently over his fluffy hair.

Lee-ssi's eyes widen in surprise when Jin walks in, and the idol follows the dart of the elderly man's gaze to see a maroon dress and a very shapely backside. He stifles a sigh when he realizes it is parked right in front of the Pacman machine, and that he likely can't even ask the woman to hurry up lest she recognize him.

Then he realizes that she is inputting a name on the high score screen.

Right above his.

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#bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts ot7 x reader #ot7 x reader #bts soulmate au #soulmate au #eserethriddle #reveri #fruit party 🥭🍒

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