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carolmunson · 4 months

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i'm the best thing at this party | e.m.

up and coming rockstar!eddie munson x girlfriend!reader (is that a picture of slash? sure, but we can pretend it isn't.) aka the first time carol ever wrote a fic based off a taylor song. but in my defense, it was a chase petra cover of 'you're losing me' that inspired it. this is not connected to my rockstar!eddie x actress!reader storyline, this is it's own oneshot in a separate story.

in the early 90s, when your boyfriend's band starts to make it in the big leagues, you start to come to terms with the fact that he might not want or need a small town player anymore. eighteen plus. established relationship. angst. hurt/no comfort-ish. open ending.

"and i'm fading, thinkin': 'do something, babe. say somethin'. lose somethin' babe, risk something. choose somethin' babe. i got nothin' to believe, unless you're choosing me.'"

The Hideout was hot with all the bodies packed in like sardines; stark contrast to the icy chill of winter outside. Glowing on the screen was The Tonight Show, everyone’s eyes glued to it while Corroded Coffin made their first national televised debut.

No one’s totally sure how their manager Richie was able to finesse this slot – but they went to New York to film earlier in the week and didn’t ask any questions. With Richie, it's better to not ask questions and just let it happen. Eddie came home with an adrenaline rush so intense that he barely slept for three days. No matter how much you tried to keep him in bed and tire him out.

And sure, it was hard to have him be gone while you drove out to Indy and took a friend to see the new graffiti art exhibit that came in from LA when it was supposed to be with him. It was hard to have him miss a lot of things. His return from the city only started another big talk about it, one you've been having every few months the last two years. Even so, you couldn’t help but be proud of him, proud of all of them. Remembering that just four years ago they were barely getting fifteen people in here to see them play when you first started dating.

The crowd erupts when the camera comes off of the band on the stage and back to Leno at his desk, the boys in real life all standing on the bar. You look up at Ed and smile, he finally did it, he’s doing it. The contracts are signed, the people saw him, he’s gonna make it. He’s making it.

You duck out of the way when they start to spray champagne over everyone by the bar, “Not my hair, babe!”

The two bartenders pour shots of Jameson and flutes of Prosecco while the show cuts to commercial and it’s not long before you feel the sticky chest of your boyfriend up against your shoulder, “It was good? I did good?”

“Ed you’re…you’re fuckin’ famous,” you grin, “You’re fuckin’ famous!”

You follow while he leads you through the crowd, settled in near the back where the stage doors lead to the dressing room and out into the parking lot. He looks over his shoulder twice before he sneaks you both behind the amps; heart pounding when he leans you up against the painted cinder block walls, noses mashing when he takes your lips in his. It’s feverish, desperate when he pulls at your hips, one arm wrapped around your mid back to keep you steady up against him.

“Lemme – mmm – lemme take you to the green room,” he breathes between kisses, moving your hand toward the bulge in his jeans, “C’mon I wan–”

“The interview’s up!” Jeff calls from on top of the bar.

“Where’s Ed? ED? Come on! The interview’s up!” Gareth calls, the crowd erupting in a cheer of ‘Edd-ie, Edd-ie, Edd-ie!’

“Come on, come on!” you squeal, pulling away to pull him toward the front of the bar again, “You said they were gonna cut it!”

“It’s stupid, babe,” he assures, “It’s so dumb.”

“Ed, you’re being interviewed by Leno, this isn’t stupid,” you urge, “This is like – this is it.”

“It’s literally like two minutes, it’s not special,” he doesn’t move when you pull him along with you, a frown pulling on your lips.

“Eddie,” your voice raises an octave, tugging on his hand – he lets go.

“I’m gonna take a leak,” he shrugs, heading toward the green room while you watch him disappear behind the door. Your brows furrow slightly, but it doesn’t stop you from making your way back to the edge of the bar where everyone’s eyes are glued to the medium sized screen in the corner.

The crowd cheers again while the band is re-introduced, Eddie and Jeff sitting on the chairs with Gareth and Grant standing behind them. You admire the way your boyfriend looks post performance, nearly glittering with sweat but glowing with pride – with accomplishment. You look over your shoulder to see if he’s back from the bathroom yet, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

“So we got a group of some – what looks like – nice, respectable hard core guys,” Jay smiles.

“I don’t know about respectable,” Eddie scrunches his nose back at the host.

“I don’t know about nice, either,” Jeff jokes. You marvel at how relaxed and natural they all look on camera, cracking wise and getting laughs from the audience. They talk about the album briefly, and the front cover which has all four boys in caskets with a red kiss print on their cheeks.

“So, the debut is self titled, Corroded Coffin – but it looks like you all got a coffin kiss here,” he points out, “These from anyone special? You got the girls going crazy.” The audience erupts in cheers and screams, a bra finding its way flung into the sound stage. You giggle when Gareth and Grant hold it up, making them both blush pink on the screen.

“Well I got a girl at home, so, I don’t hear any screamin’ if it’s not her cheering for me,” Jeff’s smile is bright when the camera focuses on him and he winks into the lens. Sasha, Jeff’s girlfriend, screeches in the crowd of The Hideout.

“You didn’t tell me you were gonna do that!” she beams, and your heart thunders while you watch them kiss on the bar. The promise ring that he gave her back in ‘88 shines on her ring finger, awaiting something much more flashy when that first big rockstar payday hits.

“It’s definitely a change of pace,” Grant nods on the screen, “Definitely wasn’t getting a lot of girls in high school.”

“It’s wild,” Gare laughs.

“And what about you, Munson,” Jay asks, “Frontman like you’s gotta be beating them off with a stick.”

The camera focuses on him, his pink lips and smart grin, a flash of teeth before he starts talking. He’s so handsome, you feel your fingers and toes start to tingle when he opens his mouth.You weren’t expecting to hear your name on national television, or be alluded to. You’d never really prepared yourself for something like this. To be declared to thousands, maybe millions, as a rockstar girlfriend.

You swallow the nervous spit pooling in your mouth, heart pattering while you run through all of the scenarios of the outcome of being ‘announced’ in your head.

“I don’t kiss and tell, Jay,” he smirks.

Oh.

Your hearing clouds and your vision blurs – unsure of what you just heard. If maybe you imagined it, but that proves to be untrue when you feel a few sets of eyes on you. A moment of silent confusion lulls on the crowd at the bar.

You swallow the lump in your throat, fingers and toes cold now while the blood rushes to your heart and head, to your lungs which suddenly forgot how to work. Through teary eyes you look around, drowned out by the cheers of the bar when Jay announces when the album will release. You sniffle, trying to hold it back – but there he is in the back of the crowd now, eyes rounded; pleading, looking straight at you.

The tears spill over and you try to catch your breath as you make your way through the bodies on your way to the front door. You hear Gareth call after you, hearing him stumble over the barstools while he hops off the counter. Another ragged intake of breath shakes through you while you get closer to the sticker covered door, pushing through the first set and then the other into the dark blue night. Your breath puffs white in front of you, coat abandoned somewhere back inside The Hideout while you walk across the street to your car.

You fumble with the keys, blubbering while you get the engine started and the radio blares Al Green’s Let’s Stay Together part way through the song. In the rear view you see him hustle out of the bar to search for you, catching the start of your car and getting to the passenger window before you can pull away.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he strains, his fingers hanging on the edge of the half open glass, “I promise it’s not what you think. Richie asked me to answer like that, it wasn’t on purpose.”

You press slightly on the gas, making the car lurch forward and inch.

“Wait! Please don’t – don’t just go,” he begs, voice breaking with desperation, “We can talk about it.”

You look at him through wet eyes, the street lights haloing behind his head to feign his innocence. He can talk himself out of anything.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you rasp out quietly, “We’ve done enough talking.”

“I can…please don’t go,” he says again, “Not with you crying like this, c’mon. Don’t leave.”

“I’m gonna go home, Ed,” you sniffle, “J-just go h-have fun inside. S’too cold to be out here.”

“You don’t have your coat,” he states, “Come back in and get it. We can talk in the back, please.”

“I don’t need my coat,” you garble out, “I’m going h-home.”

“Well I’ll – I’ll bring it to you tomorrow morning,” he nods needily, “Okay? Is that okay?”

You let out a shaky breath, fogging again against your windshield, “F-fine.”

Eddie cracks a weak but winning smile, “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“I love you,” he adds. It tastes like ash in your mouth. You pull away before you feel compelled to say it back.

Eddie show’s up in the morning with coffee and your coat, a small carton of donut holes for you both to share. He’s all smiles, seeing you in the kitchenette cleaning out the coffee pot that you now no longer have to fill.

“Morning, baby,” he grins, “I brought your coat.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, keeping your eyes on the droplets of water that race down the side of the glass pout, “You can just hang it on the hook.”

“Are you…are you still upset with me?” his voice is airy, surprised while he makes his way behind you. Calloused hands reach around to pull your back in his chest, nose nuzzling against your cheek. Your stomach rolls, bile inching up the base of your throat.

“Enough, Ed,” you sigh, pulling out of his hold.

“Sweetheart, c’mon,” he huffs, “I told you already. I didn’t want to say that. But you know how Richie is! He just wants what’s best for the band and so do I! Don’t you? I thought you’d understand.”

“Jeff had no problem talking about Sasha,” you do your best to measure your tone, too early to start yelling.

“Jeff has the wholesome thing going for him; plus – you know his family isn’t for him being considered like, a rogue or whatever. He’s already in a metal band,” Eddie explains, like this is a totally normal conversation, “Richie even said this morning that he was getting a lot of calls.” “Okay,” you nod, sitting down at the small table in your kitchen where your coffee sits.

“And like, a lot of people wanna do interviews with us and get hype up for the release,” he half smiles, sitting down across from you, “I told you, it was…it was a good thing. They were saying y’know like, mysterious bad boy front man is a good angle.”

“Great.”

“It doesn’t…babe, it doesn’t mean we can’t be together,” he leans forward, hand reaching out to touch yours. His shoulders sulk when you put them both under the table.

“Ed I –” you let out a breath, eyes tracing a pattern on the waxed canvas tablecloth, “I can’t even look at you right now. And you wanna tell me we can still be together?”

“What like it’s…some consolation prize?” you choke out, “You made a fool out of me. The looks I got?”

“I know, I know, but it was for the band. You know how I feel abo—“

“How you feel about me?” you hold back a bitter laugh.

“Ed, the last year or so we have kept having the same conversation over and over again. You are so, so caught up in Corroded and making it and getting there and trust me I am so proud of you. If there is anyone on the planet who is more proud than me maybe it’s Wayne, but – this is just like, this is kind of it. We have nowhere to go from here.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his brown eyes rounding and brows tilting slightly when he realizes what you’re really saying, “What do you mean no where to go? Are you not listening? I said we can still be together, just like befo–”

“Before? Before when?” you get up and pace back to the kitchen where he can still see you, “Before when you would cancel dates to go practice? When you missed my awards night for work because you wanted to fill in guitar for a gig in Ohio? When you didn’t come to my poetry reading with the guys like you said you would and instead got plastered at The Hideout after rehearsal?”

“Well I apologized for all that, that was all in the past couple years and I – look, I said I was sorry and you accepted that,” his voice raises slightly, he stands up to full height with defense evident in his stance, “You can’t just throw it back in my face.”

“When you were gone weeks at a time for mini tours, for opening for bands on the East Coast – god, all the work I took off to make sure I was there for you? When you canceled our three year anniversary dinner, without my knowledge, because you got a call for discounted studio time on the same night,” you manage to get out, the tears inching toward the edge of your lash line, “And I sat there at the table in my new dress and everyone looked at me the same way they looked at me last night. Poor girl. Must’ve got stood up. What an idiot.”

“Yeah well that studio time is why we were on fuckin’ LENO, babe!” he pleads, “Don’t you get that? It’s for us!”

“It’s for you!” you break, the shrill frustration coming out with your voice, “It’s always just been for you. It’s always about Eddie and the guys. I have done nothing but make sacrifice after sacrifice, excuse after excuse to play the part of perfect, understanding, cool, laidback girlfriend but like fuck Ed, when is it gonna be about me, huh?” He stands there, unsure, cheeks sucking in between his teeth.

“And what’s on the docket for you on Friday? Have any plans?” you ask, your voice softening while you cross your arms over your chest. You lean the small of your back against the counter while you watch him. He clears his throat, hands finding their way into the back pockets of his jeans.

“Um, we have some meetings in the morning in Indy. And then um, we’re gonna take a late flight out to LA. The label’s excited – they’re really excited,” he breathes out, eyes finding the floor and your sock covered feet.

“Oh, that’s interesting,” you nod, voice still measured, “Since we’ve had the tickets for my niece’s winter school concert on the fridge for over a month. I guess I’ll have to tell her that her favorite bonus teacher couldn’t make it.”

“Fuck,” Eddie’s eyes shut, pulling his lips in to run his tongue across them while he thinks of what to say next. Your heart thrums in your chest, throat getting tighter and tighter while you hold back a cry – this was just another thing to add to the list.

“I can make it up to her, I promise,” his raspy nicotine voice becoming garbled with desperation, “I can make this all up to you, too. I swear. I wish you had just told me about all of this.”

“I have, Ed. We are always having the same conversation. I’m tired of having it. I’m so tired of this. Make it up to me? How do you make up for it?”

“I…” he chokes on his words, ringed fingers running over his face and reaching to pull his hair back off his neck.

“Go ahead,” you encourage angrily, “What’re you gonna do? Say something. Fucking, do something, Ed!”

“Baby, I don’t know what to…” he swallows, tears pooling in shiny wells over his eyes, “What do you want me to do? I’ll do it. I’ll do anything.”

You take a breath through your nose and let it out through your mouth, taking the three steps it takes to get to him. Your hands fall from being crossed, reaching up to cup each of his cheeks. Your thumbs run over the apples and drag softly over the stubble left over from the night before.

His eyes shut while he keens into your touch, his rough hands covering yours. Calloused fingertips coasting delicately over your knuckles. You know what you have to do, even if his touch makes you want to do the opposite.

“Go be famous,” you shrug, smiling weakly, “Go be the big rockstar I know you are. Like how you wanted. Go play The Garden and live in LA.”

Your hands slide down his face, tears falling after them, “Go do all that, and just, um – just leave me alone. Please.”

“But I don’t–” he starts, pulling in a sharp breath while a cry leaks out of him, “I don’t wanna lose you.”

“Oh, Ed,” you shake your head while the ache spills over into your own leveled sob, “I’m already lost.”

“No, please,” he begs, trying to catch your hands as they make it back to your sides, “Please, baby, I’ll fix it. I pro-promise.”

“There’s nothing left to fix,” you whisper in finality, “You should go.”

“I don’t want to,” Eddie’s soft pink lips quiver while he speaks, “Please. Please. I can fix it, the next interview, anything, it’ll be all you. I swear I can…I can…”

When your face doesn’t change he knows there’s no way to pull you from your stance, voice trailing off in defeat. You watch as he rips open your storm door and goes to his van, his chest and back shaking with sobs that make the hardware on his jacket cry with him.

A year passes and you are not surprised when you find out that Corroded Coffin has made the cover of Rolling Stone. Wayne bought every copy from the gas station at the end of the road and put them in every mailbox early that morning. You don’t think there’s been a day in the last year that Wayne wasn’t seen beaming ear to ear; his boy finally getting everything he wanted.

Life had gotten easier now that you weren’t regularly expecting disappointment. You went on few dates here and there, just trying to navigate your life after spending four years sharing it with someone else. Some nights were colder than others, but it was better than the frigidness you felt that night at the bar.

You did your best to avoid the tabloids – Eddie was certainly doing just fine navigating his life as a bachelor; some new model or actress on his arm every other month it seemed. Hardrock’s Resident Playboy. It stung the first time you saw it, and a little less each time after – heart breaker to the core; you would know, you were the blueprint.

In the same cold that matched the night at The Hideout a year prior; you sat on your steps wrapped in a robe – morning cigarette between your fingers.

“Morning,” Wayne’s voice is gravelly when it sounds over you, still soaked with left over sleep.

“Mornin’ Wayne,” you smile, taking a sip of the steaming cup of coffee in your other hand.

“Wanted to uh, to let you know that the guys are playin’ a show in the city tonight. I could uh – I could get you a ticket if y–”

“That’s sweet of you Wayne,” you smile tightly, “But I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“He might like to see you,” he shrugs. He hadn’t quite gotten over the break up the way you and Eddie had, convinced that this was the real deal – that he was watching young love flourish into something bigger.

“He’s seeing someone, Wayne,” you take a drag of your cigarette, “Why would he want to see his ex-girlfriend who still lives in Hawkins? He’s got some actress girl now, right?”

Wayne shrugs again, scratching at the back of his neck, “I never know what that boy’s got goin’ on in California outside of shows and gettin’ into trouble. Maybe he is seeing some girl but, y’know, seein’ an old friend could be good for him.”

“He’s still got plenty of friends here he can see,” you let the smoke out to drift off in the gentle wind rustling through the line of trailers and mobile homes, “I don’t think I need to be one of them.”

“Well, they’re gonna have a small after party at The Hideout tomorrow,” he offers, “Even if you just wanna do somethin’ fun. I never see you goin’ out anymore.”

You laugh, “You work at night, what do you mean you don’t see me goin’ out anymore? I go out plenty.”

His eyes linger on you, enough to encourage a thoughtful sigh – you might as well humor him.

“I’ll think about it, okay?” you toss your half finished cigarette onto the browned grass before looking back up at him.

“Okay,” he smiles, eyes sparkling as he makes his way back inside.

You spend the next day deliberating between making it to the bar or not, putting in the effort to get ready and showing up. Why bother? Just to sit awkwardly in the corner while everyone flocks to the boys and tells them how great they are? They already know they’re great, they’re crawling higher and higher up the ladder.

You haven’t even talked to Eddie since the morning he left your trailer, and Wayne knows that. He knows how bad you hurt his nephew because he came over to talk to you a week after Eddie went to California and stayed for good. ‘So why should I show my face there? So I can relive the moment he made a fool of me over again?’ You think while the hot water of the shower glides over your shoulders and down your chest.

‘Maybe it’ll be good to make amends or something, I at least owe it to the guys,’ you figure silently while you slather on some moisturizer at the bathroom sink. And you did – not seeing Eddie meant not seeing the rest of the band. Gareth, Jeff, and Grant were your friends too, and you sort of broke up with them in the same instance. Sasha moved out to California with them soon after – it would be nice to catch up at least. You hadn’t seen her since that night.

‘But why would I want to bother? So I can see that engagement ring on her finger and hear her talk about her wedding plans?’ you swallow sourly while you use a touch of your lipstick as blush on the apples of your cheeks. ‘Remember all the times you thought you and Ed were gonna get married? Hilarious.’

Before you know it, it’s 11:30 and you’re standing outside of the sticky and stickered covered door of The Hideout. Even from where you’re standing the bar is a buzz like a hive, energy inside like a livewire when you get into the entryway, showing your ID to the bouncer at the inside door.

‘Small after party my ass, Wayne,’ you think to yourself when you get in, shrugging off your coat. There was barely room to move and most of the lights were off or dimmed aside from the small stage in the back. By the looks of it, they must’ve played a small set – an intimate ‘home base’ concert for the real hometown fans. You push through some of the crowd, acrid smoke haze hovering over the room. A single bar stool sits empty at the end of the counter close to the wall and before you can think about it, you beeline straight there before someone else can grab it. Not that anyone would be able to see it through the six couples making out to Slayer blasting through the speakers.

The bar tender notices you soon after, coming over to get your order while his two cohorts speedily pour shots and mix drinks. You almost don’t want to get anything just to make the night easier, but opt for a beer instead.

“How much?” you ask over the music.

“WHAT?” the bartender shouts, holding a hand to his ear.

“HOW MUCH?” you yell back.

“ON THE HOUSE. BAND IS COVERING DRINKS,” he shouts back. You take a few dollars out while he pours your beer anyway, sliding it across the bar with a smile. He smiles back, pocketing the ones with a wink before helping another person leaning over the bar.

The TV takes your attention, a tape of their recent interviews and music videos playing on a loop with no sound. The beer is almost comforting as it passes over your tongue, it’s been some time since you just sat in a busy bar – and for the most part, no one here even knows you. For the most part.

A call of your name snaps you back to reality, looking around to see exactly who you thought you would. Sasha. And low and behold a ring sparkles bright on her finger, a breathtakingly big diamond glittering in the neon lights behind the bar.

“Hey!” you call back with a smile, sick crawling up your throat. You watch as she fights the crowd to get over to you, wrapping you in a tight hug while you stay seated on the stool.

“How have you been? You look gorgeous,” Sasha’s tan skin glows back orange in green while the lights change, tight dark curls bouncing prettily around her face.

“I’ve been good!” you nod, your voice hardly sounds like your own, “Y’know just – hanging around Hawkins. How’s LA? How’ that ring?!”

She holds her hand out so you can really see it, her skin is warm in yours while you take her fingers. It’s more beautiful up close, the marquise diamond flanked by two smaller triangles in perfect harmony.

“He did so good, Sash,” you giggle.

“I slapped his arm so hard when I saw it,” she laughs, “I said, ‘Jeff we could’ve bought a freakin’ house!’ but you know how he is.”

“I do, I do,” you nod, “Did you set a date?”

“Probably not for another year or so if we do a big wedding,” she shrugs, “Maybe a little longer? We think it’s smart to actually buy a house first – with this kind of money coming in. And y’know, the industry is, uh, well, it can be wishy washy. What’s in today could be out tomorrow. We wanna be smart.”

“Well thank god he’s marrying someone like you then,” you tease.

“That’s true,” she beams, “Do the guys know you’re here? I can go grab J–”

“No, no, they don’t,” you interrupt, taking her arm gently while she turns to leave, “You don’t have to tell them I’m here. I’ll go find them, I promise.”

Sasha gives you a half hearted smile, “Okay. Well – We’re sitting over by the stage if you wanna come say hi to the guys. Gareth would lose his mind, and Grant brought his new girl with him, she’s so cool. They met in LA and she’s like, got the sickest punky-goth type of thing about her.”

“I love that he’s in love,” you gush.

“Me too,” she nods, “The girls are obsessed with him out there.”

There’s a silence, but it’s knowing – still one person yet to have been mentioned but you both seem to understand it’s not worth bringing it up. Sasha reminds you that they’re by the stage, giving her a wave while she disappears in the throngs of people in the crowd.

Half way through your second beer and a couple of random conversations with people later, you see him in glimpses while people pass by. You can tell by the smirk on his face that he’s flirting, and when more people move and re-disperse, settling, you see glimpses of her, too. Some cute young looking thing, you wouldn’t be surprised if it was her twenty-first birthday. All doe eyed and giggly while he leans over her against the wall near the booths. I guess whoever he’s seeing in California isn’t too important.

He looks good, healthy, you can tell his clothes are tailored now – sort of comical that a tailor would fit and adjust ripped jeans and an old leather jacket. Not that he has to know you think it’s funny.

Eddie leans forward and lets his finger tap her on the nose, a tell-tale sign of his that they’ll kiss later. He’s used that move on you more times than you can count. He did it the night you met, tipsy at a party at Gareth’s – tapped you on the nose, making you scrunch it.

‘Aw, if I knew you’d make a face like that I would’ve booped you way earlier.’

‘What do you mean? What face?’ You scrunch again.

‘That face,’ he bites his lower lip, blush on his cheeks, ‘It’s a cute face.’

You expected it to hurt more, to watch him active in his element; but it doesn’t. You know the motions, you know his tells, he next move. You can see it in the way he leans into her and then leans away – almost kissing her, but leaving her wanting more. You smirk into your next sip, counting down the moments until he puts their conversation on pause to do their rounds and finding her again later. Gotta keep her yearning, you guess. He certainly was always good at things like that.

You don’t see their reunion, you assume it was somewhere near the stage where the band and Sasha were. At the end of the night, the boys play a goodnight mini-set, just three songs. You’d never seen Ed so in his zone in your life, fully basking in the glow of upcoming stardom. Every chord and every lyric punching out of him like the sweat pouring from his hairline and chest. This was what you wanted, what you told him to do.

Go be famous. And here he was. Famous. Just like you said he would be.

Water takes the place of your beer while they play; and you know better than to get up and join the crowd. Much happier sitting at the end of the now more empty bar just listening instead of getting potentially punched or tussled with amongst the bodies.

People take their time leaving when the set is over, shrugging on their coats to brave the cold weather.

‘Thanks for comin’ out to celebrate with us – now get the fuck out so our buddies at the bar can go home before four!’

You savor the conversations and music settling down to a much quieter murmur while you sketch on a napkin. A few people you shared niceties with tap your shoulder to say goodbye, new friends you’ll never see again. On the other end of the bar you hear Grant and his girl order a round of shots. Your head almost pops up at the sound of his voice, but that might bring attention to you that you don’t think you really want. Now that the night is over, you’re glad you came. If anything, just to see that they were making it just fine – and they would have with or without you.

With less people in the bar you can hear Sasha’s laugh in the back where the stage is, and you laugh into your napkin turned sketchpad. Her laugh was always infectious, enough to make the crowd follow suit. You grab a fresh napkin from the pile next to you and start to doodle again while you figure out how to best leave without anyone catching wise that you’re here. Out of the last twenty people left at the bar, a little more than half knew who you were.

The tap of the pen on the bar top while you think blends in with the tinkling of hardware that gets a little louder the closer it gets to you. A squish of leather and drag of a barstool later makes you privy that someone’s next to you. Spiced cologne and sweat sheened skin.

“You come here often?”

Slowly, you turn your head – level with brown eyes you haven’t looked in for a year, just in the glossy pages of magazines you’d leave behind at the grocery store or Melvald’s.

“I used to,” you offer a quiet tired smile, leaning your chin on your hand on the bar, “It’s been a while.”

Eddie smiles back, soft, cautious, “Yeah, same for me.”

You both don’t speak for a moment, adjusting yourselves on the barstools while a few more people head out to leave. The jingle of the door fades out, crunches of the parting patrons’ sneakers and boots in the snow sound outside.

He clears his throat, bringing your attention back to him – the curls of his hair, the slight stubble on his jaw and cheeks. His bottom lip tucks between his teeth for a moment before he turns his chest toward you.

“Can I uh, can I get you a drink?”

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fruitmins · 9 months

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Agust Dad—Prologue

➭ summary: Your a producer from another company that he happened to be collaborating with on his 2nd album D-2. At the release party— one drunk action leads to another, you do the worst thing you can do in the industry and change your fate forever.

➭genre: short series, pregnancy au, idol au, angst, dad au

➭warnings: smut that includes unprotected s*x (don’t do that), cuss words, mention of alcohol and drinking, kinda rough s*x, a little dirty talk

<<next part>>

➭note: yoongi is leaving for the military so let’s make him a dad to patch up my grief☺️ Have to give credit where credit is due; this was inspired by a writer named sopebubbles. And ik it’s not clear but he is still in BTS. ⚠︎ this is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. yoongi is used solely as a face and a name for the story. this is not a representation of real-life scenarios.

“I think, we should make a toast, to Mr Agust D himself of course.” The head producer said over the chatter in the lobby, noticeably drunk but it just so happened that everyone else was also. Even you.

But that was the point of the pre-release party. It was to celebrate how rich everyone were about to be and that everyone could relax after several hard months.

Even though you were only at the album camp for a week, only working on one song and from a entirety different company, somehow you found yourself at the rented hotel partying like the rest of the producers.

The infamous artist groans in embarrassment and this eggs everyone on further, raising their glasses towards him and applauding. “We are never doing this again.” Yoongi slurs, a little tipsy himself as he chuckles, the alcohol starting to loosen him up a bit.

It wasn’t like Yoongi always had his guard up, at least not around his colleagues anyways. He was just incredibly professional and slightly uptight. The two of you had spoken a handful of times while at the camp, mostly focusing on the song and the two of you worked well together.

You were from a more smaller company and when the two of you first met, he said he looked up some of the other collaborations that you did and was fond of your work. It was incredibly easy working with him and his team. No one could deny that the two of you had chemistry when it came to music. If you had a thought or suggestion Yoongi would practically finish your sentence. And if he wanted to change something you would already be on it.

Most of his other producers were amazed at how fast the two of you were working and how smooth it was going, which was half of the reason they wanted you to attend the party in the first place. The first producer to make the Agust D smile while working on a song instead of being tense.

But despite everything, you two hadn’t spoken much since then, so it was a surprise to you when he had stepped up to you when you alone in the kitchen, getting yourself another drink.

The first bottle of whiskey was already run dry, so you were to busy stumbling as you stood on your tippy toes to reach the other bottle in the cabinet to notice he had walked in the kitchen and was watching you from afar.

You hadn’t realized that he stood only a couple steps away from you, watching and analyzing your every move. His eyes wandering your body and curves as you struggled to reach the desired item. He couldn’t help but stare at your ass that was covered by your tight black skirt and watched as your breasts jiggled the more you stumbled and reached for the drink.

With his own new desire in mind, Yoongi finally advanced towards you. Making his movements slow and menacing, not stopping until he was behind you and his back was almost pressed against you.

Feeling the sudden body heat you spun around, your eyes widening even further when they meet his dark brown ones. You back away slightly, trying to create some distance but move hip first into the counter behind you causing you to wince in pain.

“You should be more careful, Y/N-ah.” He spoke in a soothing low tone, suppressing a small smirk when he saw how flustered you got, your cheeks even more red now and not just from the alcohol.

“Sorry, Min Yoongi-ssi.” You mumble with a nervous chuckle trying to stay professional and not get sucked in by his expensive perfume and deep gaze. It had already been heard enough to ignore his beauty during camp.

He lets out a deep chuckle, cracking a small friendly smile that hides his true intentions. “No need to be so formal Y/N.” He says, tilting his head slightly to take in more of your features.

He had spent almost a full week with you, and of course he noticed how pretty you were but he paid no mind to it. After all, he was focused on his work and he had seen better woman before. But now he had gotten a good full look at you with more of an (hazy) open mind.

“Ah, Y/N-ah don't you know? You shouldn't apologize to me when you're in no wrong. You shouldn't lower yourself to me so much." He said his smile turning more into a smirk.

“And plus, I’d say we have gotten quite close,” he spoke, his voice getting more quiet as he leaned more into you, pinning you between the counter and his body. “Don’t you think?” He asked with a smile smirk, having gotten you right where he wanted you.

“Wow,” You breathed out, glancing around the empty kitchen as if you were imagining everything that was happening. Guiltily, you had already had some inappropriate thoughts about him before thanks to his song lyrics but you knew better not to act on them.

“I guess so...” Your voice trailed out and you think you’re being discreet about finding an exit but Yoongi notices.

He leans more against you body so that by now they are touching. He continues to focus his eyes on you before effortlessly reaching an arm above your head as he grabs the drink for you.

Your eyes light up at the drink, even though it’s clear you don’t really need any more. “Thank you Yoongi-ah~” you slur while reaching for it but he pulls his arm back and takes the bottle out of your reach much to your confusion.

He chuckles with a soft smile at the cute expression, this one being more genuine than the last. “I don’t think you need anymore of this.” He says with a smug smile as he looks down at you. Yoongi moved one of his arms down and placed his hand on your hip that bumped into the counter earlier. The other hand still on the drink. He smirked once again as he moved his face closer to yours. "I wouldn't like for you to get hurt again."

Your throat hitches as you feel his warm hand on your hip, drawing small circles into it as he spoke in a soft tone. You finally see the hint of lust in his eyes that you failed to notice before and your heart thumps.

“You’re right. I think I’ll just go back to the party.” You say with a nervous chuckle, trying to somehow squeeze past him to get to the lobby while still being trapped between him and the counter behind you.

"I wouldn't advise you to go to the party. It's noisy and loud, there'll be too many people." Yoongi subtly brought his other arm with the bottle down and placed it on the counter, blocking all of your exits.

Now knowing where this was going you lean back more into the counter. “I don’t think this is a good idea.” You whisper looking down and away from his face so you’re not tempted to do anything that could possibly put your job in jeopardy.

“Why?” He said in a confident deep tone. “You know company’s have loosened up, and we’re grown adults.” Yoongi said with a soft chuckle as he leans closer to where you could feel his breath on your shoulder, trying to sound as gentle as possible.

“We’re from different companies.” You whisper, breathing getting heavy as the tension in the room starts to get hotter. Three drinks ago you wouldn’t even be considering about this, and maybe he wouldn’t even be either. But here you were.

“That's the best part." Yoongi said in a low voice as he took two fingers to move your chin so you were looking directly at him. He brushed your hair out of your eyes before tucking it behind your ear.

"No one from your company is even here and no one of my company knows you." He states calmly, giving you his signature smile for reassurance but the look of passion in his eyes tells a different story.

Your breathing becomes hitched as the hand on your hip begins to move to caress your side. He takes a swig of the alcohol as if to say ‘fuck it’ before quickly planting a hungry kiss on your exposed neck.

You bite your bottom lip to hold in a gasp as his wet soft lips hit your skin. His grip tightens on your hip as he kisses a trail down your neck "You're so beautiful," he breathes against your skin, whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

Your mind is hazy from the alcohol and his touch and suddenly all logical thinking begins to dissolve. All you can think about is how touch deprived you’ve been for years. How one of the most richest and famous person alive were telling you how beautiful you were. You can’t remember the last time you’ve let yourself let loose and release some steam.

He leans in close and presses his lips against yours, his tongue moving against them in a slow glide before pulling away. "No one has to know. Except for you and me." He says in a husky voice.

Now that he has you in his grasp, he gently takes your hand in his and leads you both out of the kitchen and upstairs to a one of the many empty hotel rooms that would soon be filled with drunk coworkers.

As soon as you step inside the room, he shuts the door behind him and locks it securely. He moves towards you again, placing a sloppy but firm kiss so you can taste the mix of alcohol on his lips while holding onto your waist tightly.

This time you return the kiss, now with your own hunger. “So pretty..” he praises again when he pulls away to catch his breath.

He starts kissing down your neck, his hand quickly moving to reach down to your blouse and unbutton it. You can feel the heat rising between you two, your breaths become shorter and quicker, your hearts racing in sync as he successfully gets your shirt off and on the ground.

You don’t have time to think as his hands move up to your breasts, feeling their weight and massaging them as he kisses you deeper. As he reaches your cleavage, he begins to undo your bra, letting go of your breasts so he could remove it completely. He holds the kiss as he does so causing your breathing to become faster and heavier at his touch. It was like an addiction, that you couldn’t get enough of.

He steps back, taking in your beautiful breasts for a moment before concluding that you needed all of your clothes off. He moves down and starts kissing all around your neck, chin, and jawline, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses and uses this as an opportunity to push you towards a nearby couch.

He kicks off his shoes as you collapse on the couch and he does the honors of taking off your heels for you as you quickly get off his shirt. He leans forward, and presses another passionate kiss against yours. “I’ve waited months for this..” he mumbles into the kiss, lying right out of his teeth.

His hands start to roam again, this time he takes the waistband of your skirt and pulls it down to your legs. “Let’s make sure you’re nice and wet for me..” he says in a deep husky voice as he slips his hand through your underwear feeling your wet fabric first.

You shiver when his fingers brush against your slit and as soon as he feels how soaked you are, he smiles widely leaning in to kiss you again. “So wet..” he hums before pulling his warm fingers away to pull down your underwear completely.

So having seen and felt enough, Yoongi unbuckles his pants and lets them fall to his knees. You can see the outline of his hard cock tugging at his boxers. He finally removes his boxers and his cock springs out, precum already leaking in anticipation. If being completely sober you would be more embarrassed of the situation, but your mind is to clouded by lust and warmth that you can take in his body completely.

He moves closer towards you once more, pressing himself firmly against you so that you're able to see every inch of him pressed against your stomach. "Mmmh...you like what you see?" he asks softly, as he wraps his hand around his cock.

You nod, a little to quickly as you watch him with pleading eyes. He smirks at your needy gaze, his hips moving into his hand involuntarily as he rubs his hand over your thigh.

Feeling your heat, he leans forward and kisses you, deepening the kiss as he slides his hands up your thighs to your hips. He squeezes them tightly, holding you in place as he slowly rubs himself against your entrance. He places one hand behind your neck while the other holds your hip firmly, gently pushing his cock inside you. You gasp loudly from the sudden pressure, but Yoongi only grins widely as he begins thrusting his hips slowly.

He lets out a grunt as he slowly pushes his painfully hard cock inside you, “So tight.. So wet..” he practically growls at the feeling of your warmth.

Your eyes shut tightly as he continues to slam his cock against your walls as he grips your hip tightly with both hands. “Look at me when I fuck you, Y/N..” he says in a demanding tone making you moan loudly in response your eyes fluttering open to look at him and you can admit it’s a beautiful sight. Never had you thought you’d be getting fucked by a famous idol like this, but now that it was happening you might as well take in all the sights.

“Fuck..that’s right..” he mumbles in a rough voice as he grips your hips tightly, his muscles tensing with every thrust he makes. It doesn’t take long after that till you’re clenching around him, moaning loudly as he drives you to a much needed orgasm that fills you with ecstasy.

His breathing becomes heavy too, sweat dripping off his forehead as he continues pounding. "Good girl..." He whispers huskily before kissing you passionately again.

In one swift motion he takes both hands and grips your hips tightly, lifting you up and off of the couch so he can sit down instead and places you on top of his lap still keeping himself buried deep within you.

Once comfortable sat up against the couch, he starts to move inside of you once again, starting off slow before speeding up. His thrusts are rougher than before, his hips slamming into yours as he holds your tightly to keep you in upright on his lap.

His thrusts become more needy and sloppy, causing you to bounce back and forth across his lap as he grunts softly as he feels himself getting close. He leans forward, holding onto your waist for support as he begins moving faster and harder, driving his cock deeper and deeper inside you until he finally releasing all of his hot cum inside of you.

The two of you stay like that a for a little, his warm cock buried deep inside of you as you try to steady your breathing.

Once Yoongi sees your breathing start to slow and you begin to come down from your high, he shifts his position so his laid down on the couch and you’re on top of his chest.

Your eyes flutter close shortly after, and when they finally open back up in the morning, Yoongi is gone.

Leaving you alone with the gruesome realization of how big of a mistake you’ve made.

#bts fanfic #bts x female reader #bts x reader #bts one shot #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts reactions #bts x you #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #suga x you #suga x y/n #bts stranger to lovers #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fic recs #bts dad au #bts pregnancy

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n30nwrites · 3 months

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Fetch (Shifter! Tf141 x Male! Reader)

Chapter 4 of Good Doggy

Masterlist

Tw - Drunk Assholes (inspired by real stories from me :)), Slight blood warning, Language (its a COD fanfic??), OKAY SO LIKE I GUESS SLIGHT SUGGESTIVE STUFF?? I WANTED TO MAKE IT LONGER. A SMALL SCENE OF NSFW BUT NOTHING TOO DEEP BUT STILL PUTTING A WARNING, ITS IN BETWEEN THE NSFW GRAPHICS. Gaz has a praise kink.

Beta Reader/Editor - @letmelickyoureyeballs

Updated: 3/5/2024

The bar is filled. It’s a Friday night, of course it is but you hate it. You don’t like dealing with assholes. Not after the conversation with Maya.

“I cannot serve you anymore. If you don’t decide to leave I will call the cops.” The man in front of you shouts profanity after profanity, angered by the law. Humans were stupid that way. “Here’s a water.” You slam it down, annoyed.

Idiots. Drunken idiots.

Yeah by Usher starts playing. The club you worked at was loud, you have ear plugs in just so you wouldn’t be overstimulated by everything, but you could still hear enough.

“Why do you have a mask on?” He's irritated already which means that this conversation will not end well. You usually strive to give your coworkers the assholes, not caring that he'll have to deal with it.

"It's to stay safe, I don't want to get sick-"

The man cuts you off and you debate on spitting in his drink, "That's not gonna keep you safe, the only way to stay safe is to build your immune system." He keeps yelling, and some spit leaves his mouth. You place down the menu in front of him as he keeps yelling, "That's the only way to stay safe, not a stupid mask!"

You walk away, going to your coworker and telling him to get his order cause if you do you'll be fired. You instead went over to the list of music that was going to play and put on a favorite song of yours, not caring for some disgruntled noise from other patrons as you bobbed your head to the beat, distracting yourself from the day you had.

"Ye lik' this song mo gaol?" It's the familiar accent and the way the hairs on your arms stand makes you more irritated. It was roughly 1 a.m. and most people would be tired. You'd reckon it would start slowly down in 20 minutes, which meant you could get some work done.

You turned to face Soap.

"I'd hope so, I chose it." You tell him as you get closer to him. "You still stalking me?"

"Ah'ahmnot a stalker, juist wanted a drink." He smiles boyishly, as if he wasn't Sergeant John ``Soap" MacTavish with more confirmed kills than unconfirmed.

"At the bar I work at?"

"Juist a coincidence"

"I'd prefer it if you didn't lie to me." You told him while you mixed a drink. "You obviously have something for me."

"A'm in loue wi' ye"

"Not possible." You tell him, interrupting his "confession". You set the drink down in front of him. "$13" You tell him the price.

"I didnae orda a drink?" He looked cheeky, and you wished some part of you didn't find him attractive. But he looks up at you and you can't help but imagine other scenarios, particularly some where you're both naked.

"Well you can either pay for the drink and drink it, or pay for the drink and I'll drink it and talk with you some more." Soap immediately puts down two 20s.

"Th' rest can go to mah bartender." You slip the extra cash into your pocket, going to your POS system and breaking out for your thirty minute break that was required. You grabbed the drink on the counter and left your work area, Soap following behind like a puppy. You found a booth in the corner most people avoided. Sitting down at what could fit five others at most. Your mind goes back to Maya, who’s probably taking care of Icarus, your dog, and Marigold, her familiar. Maya worked as well, but it was an in-house job where she dealt with customers in need of assistance.

"You hurt our feelin`s earlier," He says first as you take a sip of the drink you made. "Hae we dane something tae offend ye?"

"Don't want to get your hopes up." You tell him, "I'm not one for soulmates."

"So ye know?"

"Of course I do. You reek of wolf." He starts to sniff himself and you want to laugh at how ridiculous it looks. "You wouldn't be able to smell it. And it's not a bad smell, just obnoxious cause there's four of you."

"So ye aren't human."

"Nope, never was."

"What are ye?" You never felt shame in what you were. Didn't feel shame in general, it took Maya for you to start walking around in clothes.

But you didn't want to tell him.

"None of your business."

Gaz knows that Price is going to talk about the bloodshed in the morning. He knows that Price already knows but doesn't care to stop it tonight. Price is just too drunk, Ghost doesn’t care, and Soap is who knows where. It wasn’t like he killed humans tonight, just some animals that were definitely going to get the town's attention (He might’ve killed a bear) but not the hunters.

He's decorated in blood and he loves it. It soothes some messed-up part of him. His teeth still have specks of flesh in it, that he licks clean

He smells you. Heavenly you. You who smells like some plant burning. He didn't understand it, but he loved it.

You're next to Soap, and Soap has the biggest grin as you walk together.

Though you probably don't see it as together. You probably see it as him stalking you, but you don't seem to have your usual air of distaste. You have sunglasses on, something he hates cause he can't stare at them. Your mask is black, and you also have a hood on. You look perfect, he just wishes you were in his bedroom.

Preferably naked and-

Nope.

He kind of hates it at the same time though. Soap getting so close to you, still determined to find a way to be with you. Soap didn't lose hope, not like Gaz did. But he'd be damned if he didn't do something. He lets out a growl, standing menacingly as he runs forward, towards both of you, knocking Soap down as he growls at him, his teeth snapping. If Gaz doesn't get to be happy, Soap shouldn't either.

He just wasn't expecting your reaction.

"Get off him." He followed your command, staring up at you and following your eyes when you bent down to be eye level with him. "God you are so..."

"Cute." Your voice gets higher as you gently rub behind his ears, the blood not bothering you at all. Gaz almost forgets how you looked at him earlier, your words that cut him melted away and he just thinks he has a chance.

You loved dogs, who wouldn't? Even if that dog was actually a grown (hot) man.

"Look who's such a pretty boy." You kept rubbing his head as Soap just stared in shock. "Such a handsome boy, who did you eat?" You coo at Gaz, who leans into your touch and praise, enjoying everything about this moment. Gaz has to take a moment to remember himself, that the praise you give him is nothing.

But he can't help but imagine scenarios in a different setting.

NSFW Start

It's such a simple setting. In his room, the lights are low. He's flushed, shirtless and on the floor, while you sit above him.

"Can't you be a good boy for me?" You lick your lip before biting it, you stare at him, your eyes actually showing, looking at him with lust and love. A perfect combination, and your lips, god, you were perfect for him. "Come on, you know you want to." You lower your shorts and Gaz gulps, he stares at your cock, mesmerized.

"You're hungry for it, aren't you whore?"

NSFW End

"Arr ye fecken' kidding me?" Soap says, breaking the peaceful moment, and Gaz's daydream. "A' it took wis a wolf fur ye to lik' us?"

"I still don't like you all, but dogs are always a great company." You keep petting him, Gaz's eyes closing slightly, and Soap sits up.

"Ah can do that toh." His accent gets thicker as he rushes to grab your hand, forcing it away from Gaz and instead putting it in his hair. Which was mostly shaved on the sides.

"You aren't a cute puppy right now." You yank your hand away.

"He's fooken' bloody!"

Gaz licks your face, and you slightly smile.

----

Listen, hating people is one thing but I could never hate a dog, let alone a wolf. Reader still doesn't feel comfortable around the boys, but he does like the dogs.

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nyuuronfly · 7 months

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On Rain World lore and it's implementation within the game.

This is kindof a random ramble I went on in a Discord chat and just feel like sharing elsewhere. (also note this is all primarily in reference to the original game, Survivor's story.)

I honestly think too many miss the forest for the trees a bit with RW, in terms of how important the lore is, if that makes sense. I talked with somebody about first-time experiences with the game and they said they'd watched a number of lore explanation videos on YT before starting, because of some reason along the lines of "I didn't trust the game to deliver its own story properly." To me this is almost saddening to hear because I really feel that misses the point of why the game has it's lore to begin with.

To me, while playing, any tidbits i learned about history or other information contributed to a feeling like the world I was navigating had a very real history that saturated it, yet one that I would be unable to grasp fully. It is an illusory feeling of realness, given how it is experienced. The game is mechanically not designed to incentivize collecting many information pearls, especially when in the original game you can literally just drop them off a cliff and lose them forever. You get the feeling often like you are bound to never be able to get everything, nor would you even probably want to put in the effort, so the illusion actually stays stronger because of that. Your mind wanders speculating about every little detail, whether intention truly existed behind it or not, because it feels like it did. You learned that it might have. Maintaining that illusion while playing I think is the primary reason they were included, not actually the experience of "knowing" the history. Rain World in general seems to have a thematic fixation on the simple idea that individuals have limited perspectives. Joar Jakobsson has said that one of the core ideas behind Rain World was to recreate the life of a "rat in Manhattan." That is to say, a creature that understands how to find food, hide, and live in a complex man-made structure, that cannot understand it's structuring purpose or why it was built. The very core issue of the iterators, is that the solution to the "great problem" intrinsically has to lie with knowledge that could only be obtained from "the other side." They are corporeal beings trying to know something that pertains to something outside corporeal reality. Yet pursuit of knowledge is very important to creatures like ourselves. Collecting any individual pearl is mostly an exercise in doing a lot just for little bits of knowledge. There is a lot of understanding of just how significant wanting to know more is, even something unimportant, when you are left in the dark the way you are in the game. Most information pearls you deliver are literally completely useless to know about, but they feel personally important, especially in how finding them relates to your connection to the iterators. My primary motivation to find pearls in my first play was to spend more time with Moon. On a very real emotional level, Moon felt like my only friend in the world while I played. On a mechanical level, she does literally nothing. But Rain World manages to operate on a very emotional, even instinctual level with how it's designed. I wanted to be in her company and have something to give her. Because I am alone, and lost. So something along those lines is why I felt saddened to hear the sentiment like Rain World somehow "fails" to deliver it's "story." The purpose of the game is not to find pearls and hear about some grand narrative. At it's core, Rain World is a game that's design was inspired by nature, and it's use of history within the world relates to us as a player the way history relates to us as people. It is relayed through people reading from records created by parties with their own perspectives, and connects us abstractly to a sensation that there is more out there than our own lives. That is a feeling you have as a player, and ultimately the true story that Rain World tells is the memories you have playing it. What you did, saw, and felt. The same as how our story is that of our own lives. That is the purpose of the game.

#rain world #just rambling

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two-white-butterflies · 9 months

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archer | c16

Description: "All of my enemies started out friends, help me hold unto you." After a series of instagram posts - your ex-friend fabricates screenshots that almost end your career.

Author's Note: Inspired after listening to reputation.

natacha_ziguerra added to their story!

caption: y/n nation, this yo girl?

replies

ultraviolencekanada: CHAT, IS THIS REAL?

DARKLINGHOMIE23: She is messy

yourusername16: i never typed this thing before, tacha wtf ⁉️

yourusername16: ur broke ass got nothing to eat anymore? 💀

natacha_ziguerra: Ya'll may have seen my story and I just wanna let ya'll know that this girl has done so much worse... all the deets are in my patreon ... ya'll help a girl out. (Prices start at $5 Dollars.)

liked by 324,239 others

comments

yourusername16: what is this broke-ass behavior? boo i can pay for you and ur patreon, this isn't sum wattpad social media au bs.

yourusername16: trust, i will be in contact with my lawyers. - natacha_ziguerra: BABE you've been talking shit about so MANY popstars, Ari, Sza, Lehlani, Lana... you can call your lawyers but this aint slander because I'm telling the truth. ❤️ - yourusername16: @natacha_ziguerra 💀

yourusername16: your nemesis will defeat themselves before you get the chance to swing. now he's passing by, rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky. camera credits to my baby: @Charles_Leclerc16

liked by danielricciardo and 1,293,012 others

comments

ohnoloveme3: YN IS OVER PARTY

righthere99: YN IS OVER 🐍

Charles_Leclerc16: I'm proud of you for being strong ❤️

danielricciardo: You are one of the strongest women that I know. - heidiberger: 💗 stay strong yn!

kellypiquet: True power comes from the truth. You can do this! ✨

Charles_Leclerc16: I will always support, love and respect you. ✨

liked by kellypiquet and 1,394,192 others

comments

maxverstappen1: ❤️

charlottehope8: Never believe posts that are evidently edited. Some people will use you for clout 💯

pierreGASLY: 💪🏽💗

yourusername16: Likewise, Mr. Leclerc

comments have been restricted.

TRENDING TOPICS ON TWITTER.

Y/N and Lana

Queen of Disaster

Reputation

Natacha Ziguerra Patreon

Y/N LECLERC

Y/N L/N TALKS ABOUT CANCEL CULTURE AND CYBERBULLYING.

Y/N L/N: I remember waking up - completely clueless as to why my phone was blowing up and apparently an ex-friend of mine decided to forge screenshots of me saying nasty things. And that opened up a realm of so much bullying.

Y/N L/N: I didn't love myself, I had a pretty low self esteem. While, the things that she shared weren't true - I thought that the critiques about my looks, my personality and my voice had some truth. When you don't love yourself, it's pretty easy to see your flaws.

Y/N L/N: My boyfriend, actually recommended that I take a social media break just to tune everything out. And that proved to be successful. I left the public eye for a year. I wasn't physically seen for more than a year and i't's been a wonderful journey of healing.

yourusername16: maybe reputation was the friends we made along the way...?

liked by charlottehope8 and 5,182,192 others

comments

Charles_Leclerc16: The Power of Friendship 👊🏼

charlottehope8: I love this picture

kellypiquet: We should be on the album cover. @maxverstappen1 @charlottehope8 - charlottehope8: Ditto 🤣

Charles_Leclerc16: My baby's fit like a daydream ☀️

liked by danielricciardo and 1,282,192 others

comments

yourusername16: Walking with his head down, I'm the one he's walking tooo....

comments have been restricted.

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gigabyte-flare · 9 months

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He Comes Alive (Part 1)

Summary: Dropping out of college and moving back in with your parents is embarrassing when you live in a small town, where news and rumors spread fast. You have a chance encounter with a man that just moved into town, not realizing your life is about to get a lot more exciting.

Word Count: 3k

Pairing: vampire/plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Biting, blood, gore, murder, unprotected p in v, masterbation, oral (m and f receiving), stalking, pet names, implied kidnapping, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT [More warnings may be added in future entries]

A/N: It was only a matter of time before I did a vampire au. I wanted to do a twist on Las Plagas where it turns people into vampires, also I was very much inspired by @nexysworld's vampire!Leon bot (which is excellent huehuehue). This fic takes place in the late 1980s, so canon stuff is completely thrown out the window so if that's not your thing, kindly move along.

Oakvale is a fictional town nestled in the heart of New Hampshire's White Mountain region and based heavily on my own experience growing up in small town New England. Shout out to my fellow New Englanders! 🥰

A quick reminder that I no longer do tag lists

Title inspired by Jason performed by The Midnight

Line break Divider by cafekitsune

You stand at the end of the walkway leading up to your childhood home in Oakvale, New Hampshire, holding your luggage in one hand. You take deep breaths, preparing yourself for a nasty welcome home. You can still hear your father’s rage filled voice from your phone call a few days prior. You had decided to drop out of college. You were failing your classes and you couldn’t cope with hectic college life. Your mom, on the other hand, while disappointed in your decision, understood that this was your choice and that you were an adult now.

You had gone to college at the University of Illinois majoring in accounting under your father’s strict guidance in hopes that you would graduate and then run the finances for his car repair business. He was only going to help pay for college if you majored in accounting, so you had agreed begrudgingly. You were terrible at math and hated working with numbers, it was no wonder you were struggling.

You collect your thoughts, exhale loudly and approach the front door, wheeling your luggage behind you. You stand before the front door, giving it a few light knocks. You hear movement inside the house and the sound of your mother yelling down that she is coming. The front door opens and you’re greeted with your mother’s smiling face; a very welcome sight, beating the alternative.

“Sweetheart!” your mom exclaims, wrapping her arms around you, “how was your flight?”

“It was alright, I was able to sleep most of the way,” you reply as your mom leads you into the house.

You glance into the living room as you walk into the house, seeing your father watching the weather channel. He won’t even look at you or acknowledge you. Your mom sees the distress in your face. She stands in front of you, grasping your arms gently.

“Pay him no mind, sweetie, I’ve given him strict instructions to not talk about college with you. Give him time, he’ll get over it,” your mom lets go, continuing to lead you to your bedroom, “he needs to understand that you are an adult and can make your own decisions. He knew going into this that you hated math, it’s his own fault for pushing you so hard.”

You're comforted by your mother’s words as the two of you reach the precipice of your bedroom. She opens the door for you and you are met with your childhood bedroom, exactly how you left it before you went off to college three years ago: floral bedding, light pastel pink walls, matching white furniture and boy band posters and polaroids of you and your friends attached to the walls. You make a mental note to redecorate, but that can wait until later.

Later that evening, you join your parents in the dining room for dinner. Your Mother made your favorite: pasta in tomato sauce with kielbasa, squash and zucchini. Despite the fact it was late September, the family garden was still providing fresh vegetables. At first, you all eat in silence; you don’t dare make eye contact with your father. He seems to be too absorbed in the newspaper anyway. After agonizing minutes of silence, your father finally speaks to you for the first time since you came home.

“I got you a job at the gas station, you start Monday.”

You stop mid-bite, looking at your father dumbfounded before glancing at your mother, who smiles at you. He’s referring to the one gas station in town, just on the edge of town leading to the highway.

“Th-Thank you, Dad… that’s very kind of you…” you say before continuing your meal.

All the while, you hear the TV that’s still on in the living room, playing the news, “Fish and Game is still searching for 25 year old Alicia Walker, who hasn’t been seen since Wednesday when she told her family she’d be hiking up Mt. Lafayette--”

“Oh dear… they still haven’t found that hiker, Mick?” your mom says, looking over at your father.

Your father shakes his head in dismay, “nope. Seems to be happening a lot lately, that’s the third hiker in about a month, too.”

“Hikers are going missing?” you chime in before chewing your food.

“Unfortunately. That’s what happens when you go hiking in the Notch unprepared. Promise me you’ll never hike alone,” your father says to you in a stern tone.

“Of course, Dad, I’m not stupid.”

“Good,” your father replies with a nod before he continues eating, “pasta’s delicious Sandi.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

The weekend goes by in a flash and, before you know it, it’s Monday; your first day at your new job at the gas station. It’s an easy enough job, just working the cash register as people come in to buy things and get gasoline for their vehicles. What your father had failed to tell you, however, is that he got you the late shift: 6:00pm to midnight. The day shift person, an older woman named Peggy, who also trained you briefly, let you know that police officers often stop in at night to check on things, giving you some comfort. Oakvale wasn’t a bad town by any means, but this gas station was also close to the highway; anyone could come in.

That is made apparent when the chief of police himself stops in around 10:00pm, Chief Robert Dion, but most people in town just call him Chief Bob or just Chief. He was a burly man with a large mustache that he used wax to curl the ends; he almost looks like a cartoon character. His hair and beard are starting to show his old age. You recall he’s a nice man; you smile at him from behind the cash register as he walks through the door.

“Chief Bob! Long time no see!”

“Well, hey there little lady! Mick told me you were working at the gas station now! When did you get back into town?”

“Friday afternoon. I’m… not cut out for college, I guess…” you reply, your tone becoming morose.

“Hey! Don’t get down! Take some time to yourself and try again.” he says, leaning up against the counter on one arm.

“Thanks Chief. What’s the latest gossip in town? I’m sure I’ve missed a ton in three years.”

“Mostly about those missing hikers. I’m sure you heard--”

The sudden roar of a motorcycle cuts him off as a Harley Davidson motorcycle pulls up to one of the pumps outside before cutting the power. You watch from your peripheral vision as the driver gets off the bike. You draw your attention back to Chief Bob.

“As I was saying… I’m sure you heard about the missing hikers.”

You nod, “yeah, it was on the news when we were having dinner on Friday.”

You hear the electronic chime on the door go off as someone walks in and that’s when your eyes settle on what is quite possibly the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen in your life. Tall, with short blonde hair and blue eyes, wearing a leather jacket with worn denim jeans and work boots. Chief Bob moves out of the way to let the man come to the register. Your heart can’t help but race in your chest as your eyes are locked on the man.

“Can I get $5 on pump uh…” the man leans to look out the window at the number of the pump he parked at outside, “four?”

“S-Sure, of course! $5 please,” you reply, kicking yourself internally for stuttering.

The man pulls his wallet out from his back pocket, setting down a five dollar bill. Your eyes drift to his hands to check to see if he’s wearing a wedding band on his left ring finger; you don’t see one. Shifting your gaze back up, you see that his eyes are suddenly locked on yours; he gives you a playful smirk and winks before he turns to walk out.

“You’re out awfully late,” Chief Bob says to the man as he walks by.

“Had some errands to run. Take care Chief,” the man replies before walking back outside to fill his bike.

Your eyes are once again locked on the man before Chief Bob’s voice draws your attention back, “I think that’s the guy that bought ol’ Archie Mason’s place about a month ago.”

Archie Mason. Now that’s a name you haven’t heard in a while. You knew him as Mr. Mason, a curmudgeon of a man that lived on a dead end road in the woods by himself in town. As kids, you’d dare each other to go to his house, knock on his front door and see who could run the fastest before getting caught. Mr. Mason hated children.

“When did Mr. Mason die?” you ask as you get the $5 bill the handsome man gave you into the cash register.

“I think… two years ago? The house finally went through probate and was sold. That guy moved in and has been fixing it up ever since. Usually see him at Rocky’s.”

Rocky’s is a hardware store in Oakvale, a popular spot for all the younger and middle aged men in town, right up there with Moe’s bar, which was conveniently right next door to the hardware store. You hear Chief Bob talking to you still, but you can’t focus. Instead, your attention is on the mystery man pumping gas into his motorcycle, your heart all aflutter.

You wake up around 9:30am Wednesday morning, shuffling over to your closet to put on some clothes. Afterwards, you go into the bathroom to fix your hair, brush your teeth and put your makeup on. All the while, you can hear your father hard at work in the garage on someone’s car through the various open windows in the house. You decide to pay him a visit after you get yourself put together.

You go outside, walking over to the adjacent auto repair shop, stopping to glance up at the sign hanging off the building: Mick’s Auto Repair. Every business in town had this unspoken rule that their business had to have their name in it; Mick’s Auto Repair, Rocky’s Hardware, Moe’s Bar and Grille, Sally’s Sew Shop, just to name a few. You continue walking, walking into the shop through the open garage door.

“Hey Dad!” you call out, looking around before seeing your father’s legs sticking out from under the car he’s working on.

You watch as he rolls out from under the car, his face, clothing and hands covered in oil stains. He looks up at you, his eyes squinting from the sun leaking into the garage.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asks.

“You didn’t tell me Mr. Mason had died.”

“Oh… yeah… died in his sleep. The old fart was 92. Didn’t really come as a shock to anyone.” your dad replies, rolling himself back under the car.

“Do you know anything about the guy that bought the house?” you continue to pry, crossing your arms as you look down, addressing your father’s feet.

“Yeah, his name’s Leon, I think. Moved in from D.C. if I heard right. What about him?”

“Oh… nothing… he came into the gas station the other night…” you reply, your voice trailing out as the butterflies stir up in your gut thinking about him.

Leon… that suits him, you think to yourself.

“Now don’t you go getting any ideas, the last thing you need right now, young lady, is to be distracted by some boy. He’s too old for you anyway-- oh fuck!” your father curses as you hear something snap from under the car, rolling back out with a broken wrench in his hand.

“That’s not good,” you comment, watching as your father shoots you a glare.

He lets out a frustrated sigh, “can you run over to Rocky’s real quick and get me another one? I’d go but I’m caked in oil. Don’t need Rock yelling at me for tracking oil into his store again. I’ll pay you back.”

“Sure, no problem! I’ll be right back!” you say, heading back into the house to grab your purse from your bedroom.

You grab the broken wrench from your father so you make sure to get the right one and head out. The hardware store is about a 15 minute walk from your house, so you decide to just walk, enjoying the crisp hair and sun of early fall. Coming upon Rocky’s Hardware, you step inside, a bell hanging off the door ringing as you walk in.

“Well, well, well! If it isn’t Mick’s little girl! How’s it going, sweetheart?” Rocky says from the cash register.

Rocky is another older man, medium build with a head full of gray hair and a big, bushy gray mustache.

“Hey Rocky!” you reply as you pull your father’s broken wrench from your purse, “Dad broke another wrench, sent me to get another one for him.”

“Jesus… they don’t make them like they used to, do they? Aisle 6 dear, on the left.” Rocky says, gesturing into the store.

“Thanks Rock,” you say before proceeding to the aisle in question; however, when you turn to walk down the aisle, you stop dead in your tracks.

Leon, the man from the gas station the other night, is standing in the aisle looking at hardware, which is on the opposite side of the tools. You stand there, staring at him like an idiot, your heart pounding in your throat. As if sensing your presence, the man turns to you, giving you that same smirk from the other night.

“You’re that cute girl from the gas station,” he says; it wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

He remembered you. He also called you cute, making your stomach twist in anxiety.

“Y-Yeah…” you manage to say before working up the courage to walk into the aisle to look at the tools.

Leon’s eyes stay on you as you approach, watching as you draw your attention to the tools.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a hardware store?” he asks playfully, you can hear him smirking as he moves to stand next to you.

“Oh… my Dad broke his wrench. He asked me to get him another one.” you reply, trying desperately not to let your nerves get the better of you as you show Leon the broken wrench.

“Oh dear! Let’s see…” Leon starts as he looks up at all the different tools, reaching up to grab one of the wrenches hanging off the display, “this one looks like the same wrench, here you go.”

Leon hands you the new wrench, his fingers lightly caressing yours as he pulls his hand away, a gesture that is not missed by you. You feel your cheeks flush as you tuck the broken wrench back into your purse.

“Thank you mister…?”

“The name’s Leon Kennedy. But please, just call me Leon.” he replies, making eye contact with you, “what’s your name?”

You pause for a moment before you practically stutter your name out. You watch as Leon smiles at you, his eyes taking you in as he looks up and down at you.

“That is a lovely name,” he says, the compliment hitting you straight into your core; you feel your panties become slick.

“Th-Thank you… you have a nice name, too.”

Leon gives you a gentle pat on your shoulder, “I gotta go pay for my stuff. Hopefully we can see more of each other, yeah?”

You stare at him in awe for a moment before nodding, “Yes! I… I’d like that, too…”

He gives you a wink before he turns to walk out of the aisle and up to the cash register, where you hear him make small talk with Rocky. You are frozen in place in a desperate attempt to calm yourself down. You wait until you hear the bell on the door ring before you go up to the register to pay for the new wrench.

You couldn’t get home fast enough, your entire being a bundle of nerves. Once you get home, you walk through the open garage door to give your father the wrench. You find he’s not in the garage, so you walk back into the house, only to find him standing in front of the TV in the living room, watching the news.

“Dad, I got the wrench--” you begin to say as you cut yourself off, seeing there’s a breaking news report playing on the TV, “what’s wrong?”

Your father turns to you, his look is forlorn, “another hiker went missing, they were last seen Monday.”

That night, after getting home from your shift at the gas station, you toss and turn in bed, unable to get comfortable. You can’t get Leon off your mind. Tossing your comforter off you, you lay on your back, propping your legs up and spread them as your right hand dips under the hem of your underwear, your fingers finding your clit to rub slow circles into it.

As you lose yourself to your own pleasure you moan Leon’s name softly, closing your eyes to picture the way his beautiful blue eyes looked up and down your body earlier today, the way his jeans hugged his slender hips. You could almost smell his leather jacket. Your fingers pick up the pace on your clit, causing your hips to buck into your fingers as you chase your high, biting your lip to stop yourself from moaning loudly.

You turn your head towards your windows, slowly opening your eyes, only for your breath to be caught in your throat as you spot a pair of glowing red eyes peering into your window. You watch as the eyes suddenly dart away from the window, thumping sounds quickly following. You quickly pull your hand out from your underwear and practically jump out of bed to your window, throwing it open to look out. You look around, seeing nothing in the darkness. Your bedroom is on the second floor, it couldn’t have been a person. People don’t have glowing red eyes.

You take deep breaths, realizing your thoughts are only psyching yourself out. It was just your imagination in the heat of you getting yourself off, you decide, before you shut your window, locking it. Just in case. You walk back over to your bed, collapsing into it, your arousal having been scared out of you, so you quickly drift off to sleep.

Part 2

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader smut #vampire!leon kennedy #plagas!leon kennedy #gigabyte writes #he comes alive

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cillianmesoftlyyy · 4 months

Note

could you write one shot of the reader crying bc she’s insecure dating cill?:)

Nerves | young!Cillian x fem!Reader

Summary: Its the night of the Drama Desk Award Show (2012) and the up and coming star Cillian Murphy has a new girlfriend. She loves him but she still struggles to overcome her insecurity when it comes to being with Cillian. Hours before the show, she finally confides in him and he does everything he can think of to make her feel better before the big night.

Warnings: Self-deprecation and insecurity, anxiety, crying, smut, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), after-care. Heavily inspired by the Golden Globes show last night where Cillian had lipstick on his nose lol. This is a fictional story that does not reflect Cillian Murphy in reality- it is purely delusional lol. Cillian is not married in this- no hate towards Yvonne, please.

work count: 2815k

Warning sign- Coldplay 🎶

note: I hope I did your request justice :)

Minors do not interact. Not proof read- sorry folks!

She was going completely insane. There was no way in hell that Cillian Murphy actually loved her. He was the most attractive man she had ever met and the kind of guy who talked very little which meant that she talked more than she would have liked just to fill the silence when they first started dating. She beat herself up about it on a regular basis, mortified how she seemed to say the most ridiculous things to Cillian and watched as he chuckled politely. She tried to tell herself that she was beautiful, that other people found her beautiful, and that she was degrading herself for no reason. But that didn’t stop the constant weight of insecurity settling on her shoulders whenever she was with him. She felt unattractive, like the kind of girl that never got the guy, and it was affecting her mental health.

She told herself over and over again as she got ready for the award show that Cillian had chosen her, that he wouldn’t be with her if he didn’t love her. Once she had prided herself on her confidence and even-tempered personality but she felt the exact opposite whenever she was alone with him. Being in public was a little easier, she could hide behind the absurdity of the paparazzi, she could take Cillian’s hand because he was leading her away, etc. But once they were alone, she felt insecure and a little delusional because none of it felt real… and maybe none of it was. Maybe this was all a fantasy but that couldn’t be because Cillian was real and the assistants swarming her with hair tools and makeup swatches were certainly real too.

They had started officially dating a few months before, right after his play Misterman was officially done touring. They’d gone on a few dates here and there but everything suddenly got serious after closing night, she honestly couldn't even remember how it happened. Now, don’t get her wrong, he loved being with Cillian but like so many girls (and others), she struggled to feel adequate in her relationship with Cillian. He was such an amazing performer and just so downright beautiful that it intimidated her. She was working as an author and happened to go to a party that Cillian was also at in New York City. They were introduced and she was surprised how shy he was, even as an already famous actor. And though she talked incessantly because she was afraid of awkward silence, he’d still asked her out on a date.

The rest had obviously led up to this moment in a small hotel room where they were both getting ready for The Drama Desk Award show in NYC. One of her assistants helped her choose a dress from a local upscale department store and they decided on a red velvet dress with a very simple silhouette. It was laced tightly around her waist and the hem ended mid-thigh. Cillian, ever the practically dressed man, wore a simple tux and styled his hair with a sticky product. Once they were dressed, their assistants left, telling them that a car would arrive to take them to the show. Cillian stepped out of the bathroom where he was checking his hair and snapped off the bright yellow light, his eyes fell on her.

“Wow, look at you,” Cillian smiled as she turned around in the mirror, checking that the back looked ok.

“Do you like it?” She laughed self-consciously and put her hands on her hips.

“Mhm, it's beautiful.” He licked his lips and she blushed deeply, feeling the rush of blood through her body like a little girl with a crush.

“Hey, hey, come here! You’re blushing,” Cillian caught her wrist and pulled her around to face him. She looked to the side, smiling. “That’s so cute.”

“Stop it, Cill,” she swatted him away but he caught her waist between his palms and held her still, his piercing blue eyes holding her like a magnet.

“What’s wrong?” His smile softened and he ran his thumbs across her velvet bodice. She took a deep breath and tried to smile normally.

“I’m just nervous,” she shrugged.

“About being in front of so many people?”

“No, not really. I don’t mind that so much.”

“Then why are you nervous?” He furrowed his brow and shifted his weight on his feet, stepping closer.

“I’m,” she started but his closeness distracted her. He was so close that his breath dragged across her forehead and displaced some of her hair. They’d only had sex twice because it was still so early in their relationship. She had an apartment in New York but Cillian had gotten a room in a hotel nearby as well, not wanting to force himself into her private life. When he was doing Misterman he stayed with a friend and had visited her only a few times when their schedules aligned. In their absence from one another, a sense of sexual depravity heightened between them. Even just thinking about Cillian in bed with her made her catch her breath, nearly choking on her own oxygen.

“I’m just,” she started again, her eyes caught on Cillian’s lips. Cillian’s eyes were on her’s and she shivered under his gaze. “I’m just nervous being around you.” She finished finally and looked up at him for his reaction. He snapped away from his trance and raised an eyebrow.

“Why’s that?”

She shook her head, not breaking eye contact. Her hands clasped around his forearms, his hands still tight around her waist.

“It's just hard to be vulnerable, you know? It’s hard being with someone else when you’re more comfortable being by yourself. And… well, sometimes I don’t feel good enough to be with you.” She started to cry and wiped the tears quickly from her face, embarrassed. His concern changed to a wide smile.

“Ah,” Cillian threw back his head and laughed lightly, his dark hair shifting from his forehead, “really? You don’t think you’re good enough to be with me? Sweetheart, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on. You’re a best-selling author and smart as hell, I’m fucking intimidated by you.” He moved his hands to cup her face, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh on her cheeks.

“But you’re Cillian Murphy.” She emphasized and moved her hands to his belt loops.

“Then remember, sweetheart, that you’re Cillian Murphy’s girl.” She smiled, adding a self-deprecating emphasis on his own name. She blushed again and he laughed, “you’re blushing again!”

“Jesus christ,” she hid her face in her hands and turned away. Cillian laughed and kissed her bare shoulder. When she pulled her hands away from her face, he wrapped his arms around her chest from behind. They stared at each other in the mirror.

“I think you’re going to win, Cill.” She whispered with a closed smile. He scoffed jokingly.

“I’m flattered but I really doubt it.”

“I think you will.” She shrugged.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She nodded and leaned back against him. He licked his lips and smiled slyly.

“Well, then if I win, as you say I will, I want to spend the night with you.”

“Oh? Is that the deal?” She laughed and resisted his strong hold around her, “what happens if you lose?” She frowned jokingly.

“Hmm,” he thought, “maybe you’ll still fuck me because you feel so bad for me.” “Do you really want me, Cillian?” She asked seriously and he paused, watching her closely.

“Do you not believe me?” He asked seriously back, his eyebrow raised.

“No, not really,” she whispered and he looked at her sadly for a moment, trying to understand where this insecurity came from and what he could do to relieve its pressure on her psyche. He looked down at his watch and stepped away from her, leaving her in the center of the mirror’s reflection.

“Take off your dress.” He whispered, meeting her eyes in the mirror. She shook her head.

“What?”

“Take it off, darling.”

She looked down at her dress and then back at him. He stood patiently behind her, waiting.

“We have time so do as I ask, please.” He nodded to her dress, “take it all off.”

She very slowly undid the ties at her back, loosening the dress around her waist. She kicked off her flats and took a deep breath before letting her dress slip from her chest down to the carpeted floor. She was left in her bra and underwear, both red to hide beneath the red dress. He sighed deeply, his pupils expanding childishly. He sat back on the edge of the bed and rested his head in his palm.

“Go on.” He encouraged and she reached behind her back, undoing the bra and casting it to the side. Then she removed her underwear, standing completely nude in the mirror. Her heart pounded against her chest.

“This, this is why I want you.” He nodded to her body. He stood and stopped behind her, his hand reaching around to her navel. “I’ve been thinking about you for so long, it was driving me crazy.” He whispered against her ear. His hand trailed up her stomach to her top rib and stayed there, not yet touching her breast.

“Every part of you is perfect,” he continued, his hand sliding down to her thighs and then up to her breasts where he finally cupped them. Every ridge and roll of fat fell below his hand as he explored her body. She shuttered.

She suddenly felt a small surge of confidence. “Do you masturbate about me?”

He looked at her and smiled shyly, “yeah… yeah.” He shook his head, “like I’m a fucking teenage boy. I feel like I need you all the time.” He gasped quietly against her bare skin.

She turned and pressed herself against his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck. She kissed him giddily and he smiled against her lips. His hand cupped her cunt as he kissed her back. She gasped at his touch and unbuttoned his pants. He kicked off his loafers and picked her up. She wrapped her legs around his hips as he laid her down on the hotel’s bed. She could feel his erection against her cunt as she fell onto the soft mattress. She sat up and pushed his dress jacket from his shoulder and tossed it carefully to the side. He was still in his dress shirt and bowtie as he pulled his erection from his underwear. She pulled him down to her mouth and continued to kiss him as he rubbed her clit, warming her up.

“Fuck, Cillian.”

“Yeah?” He whispered against her lips.

“God, I love you.” She gasped as he pushed his cock against her cunt and he smiled, his eyes closed.

“I love you too.” He exhaled and pushed inside her with a gentle thrust. She whimpered from the sudden intrusion and he gasped. He held her hips and fucked her deeper, still going slow and allowing her body to get used to him.

“This is so good, Jesus Christ. Are you ready?” He looked down at her and she nodded quickly. He licked his lips and started to fuck her faster, their bodies hitting eachother more aggressively as he sped up. She whimpered in pleasure and he exhaled in short bursts, already panting. He pulled out and crawled onto the bed below her. With one hand he pulled her farther up on the bed and the other he positioned her hips again. He thrusted inside again and grabbed the headboard, digging his fingers into the padded surface.

“Shit, Cillian I’m going to cum!” She whimpered, her thighs flexed against his pale hips. He shuttered and looked down at her.

“No, not yet. I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart.” He cooed and slowed down. He slipped his arms beneath her and laid his palms flat on the mattress. He held her hip up with one hand and moved in and out slowly, pushing as deep as she would allow him to go.

“Fuck…” she gasped and dug her nails into his back helplessly. She felt a pleasurable shock shoot from between her legs and she covered her mouth to muffle her loud moans.

“Oh you poor thing, you had to cum, didn’t you? You couldn't wait for me. So you’ll just have to cum twice, ok?” He panted and she nodded, tears filling her eyes and he snapped his hips back against her. He fucked her faster, panting from the pleasure. He grabbed the bottom of the headboard and pulled himself deeper inside her and she threw her head back in pleasure.

“Fucking hell, look at you,” He stroked her hair and continued fucking her fast, drawing out loud and pitiful moans from his throat. “You’re so good for me. God, I love you. You’re my girl.” He muttered deliriously, her walls closing around him and her thigh pulling him closer. The bed rocked beneath them.

“Harder, Cillian. Please!” She begged, a small spot of drool collecting at the corner of her mouth. He smiled and went deeper, hitting the base of her uterus with fast and rough thrusts. He got sloppier and she gasped against her hand. He kissed her and when she opened her mouth in a moan, he sucked her tongue. She licked his upper lip when he threw his head back in pleasure.

“I’m going to cum, fuck!” He panted and gave a final thrust into her. As he finished, she squirted and shuttered from the violent pleasure. He pulled out with a proud laugh and kissed her. He climbed off the bed and pulled her down to the edge of the bed by her ankle.

“What are you doing now?” She giggled.

“Cleaning up, darling.” He lowered himself to his knees and spread her legs with his sweaty palms. He looked at her for a second before licking her cunt, twirling his tongue against her clit. She was already so sensitive that she arched her back and bit down on her finger to stop herself from literally screaming. He used a flat tongue to clean the cum from her body and sucked softly on her clit. She tugged at his hair, gasping in exhausted pleasure. He held her hips in place as he dug her heels into the mattress, her feet flexed completely. He continued to lick when she orgasmed, cleaning her completely. Then with a proud smile, he put on his underwear and went to the bathroom. He came back with a damp washcloth and lifted one of her legs, wiping the soft inside of her thigh. He did the same to the other as she panted. She sat up and kissed him.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“I love you.” He responded and kissed her on her forehead before handing her dress back to her. She quickly put her dress back on and fixed her makeup. She applied a red lip gloss and brushed her hair away from her face. Cillian put his pants and shoes back on before pulling on his jacket and straightening the front. A knock sounded at the door and Cillian nodded at her as if nothing had happened.

“Ready?”

“Yeah.” She smiled and grabbed her purse. He took her hand and they walked down to the parking lot where the car was waiting to take them to the award ceremony. His hand stayed in her’s, their fingers linked. She rested against his chest and he kissed the top of her head. The venue was lit up and crowded with paparazzi and cars. This was the first time that she would be seen with Cillian at any of his events. He helped her out of the car and put a protective hand behind her back, leading her through the crowd to the entrance. Once inside, they were shown to their table and she shifted her foot closer to his, wanting to be as close as possible. People snapped their picture and introduced themselves to her, Cillian introduced her as his girlfriend and she blushed each time, prompting a playful pinch from Cillian.

She squeezed his thigh when the nominees were announced for his category.

“And the award for outstanding solo performance is…” The announcer looked down at the envelope and smiled at the audience, “Cillian Murphy, Misterman!” Everyone applauded and Cillian turned to her, kissing her in his moment of excitement and happiness. She kissed him back and laughed when he pulled away. Her lip gloss was smeared across his lips.

“You have lip gloss on your face now!” She whispered as he stood.

“Perfect.” He whispered in her ear and walked shyly to the stage, taking the award with shy nods, his eyes finding her’s in the audience, smudges of red across his mouth. She was his.

#cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #cillian x y/n #cillian fluff #cillian fanfic #fanfic

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sailoryooons · 10 months

Note

Okay hear me out, but maybe a little bit of enemies to lovers, little bit of smutty goodness between witch hunter!yoongi and witch!reader?? Idk why this popped in my head but I’m kind of desperate to see a little something now lol.

Also, I love you ❤️

❀ Pairing: Witch hunter!Yoongi x f. witch!reader

❀ Summary: For years, you and Yoongi have played cat and mouse. It’s his duty to rid the world of witches, but he always finds a new excuse to let you slip through his fingers. When you find yourself at his mercy, you wonder if the great witch hunter will finally end your game of chase, or if there’s something that will stay his hand.

❀ Word Count: 4188

❀ Genre: Urban fantasy, enemies to lovers, a hint of angst, smut

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: On screen character death (not permanent though), depictions of blood and intense action sequences, scary demon thing, depiction of weapons, hints at violence between two groups of people, mild world building, a bit of angst, explicit language, explicit sexual content featuring light nipple play, unprotected vaginal sex, emotional sex, a lot of spit, UNEDITED.

❀ Published: August 3, 2023

❀ A/N: I don’t know why I thought I’d be able to control myself with some of these ideas because god dammit Sarah, I want to turn this into more than ~4k of a work. Like this idea inspired me so much, you have no idea how insane I wanted to go on this but I had to CONTROL MYSELF because I promised that this year I would keep it tame. I love you so much and I’m so sorry that this is like 90% plot and 10% smut but I kept inching toward 5k and I was like I HAVE GOT TO STOP MYSELF JESUS CHRIST and dkfgjdiogjfoigjg I am telling you right now, I want to come back and revisit this fic and makie it like a four chapter thing or something because GOD I LOVED THIS IDEA AND YOU KNEW JUST WHAT TO REQUEST. Also this is unedited!!!!

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Most nights, Yoongi dreams of you. He knows better, and yet he can’t help himself. It’s like you’re living under his skin, a virus that has taken root in the marrow of his bones. He doesn’t know how he would dig you out if he tried.

If he tried.

If anyone from the Conclave knew the dangerous game that Yoongi is playing, he would be ousted or killed. Killing would be the mercy, but he’s garnered enough hate within the elite members of the Conclave to know they’d rather him suffer cut off from his resources. His friends. His family.

Still, Yoongi walks a dangerous line. He knows it’s wrong, letting a witch infect him like a sickness. He is sure that he’s under your spell. There’s no other explanation for the way he always lets you slip away. For the way he closes his eyes and imagines the flutter of your heart against his, the sound of your gasps, the warmth of your hands.

Stars explode behind Yoongi’s eyes as he presses the heels of his hands into them. He’s exhausted, limbs heavy and sore from a day of bloody work. The activity downtown has only worsened the last few months, making Yoongi hunt multiple times a day and return home banged up.

The pain he can handle. Witches and their demons are nothing new to him. But he knows there’s something he’s missing, something lurking beneath the surface of the increased activity and the strong demonic presence in the city.

Yoongi knows he could ask you. He’s thought about it a few times over the last few weeks but he’s talked himself out of it each time. The curiosity has always lingered there, waiting for him to ask in those moments where you cross his path, coy and sharp as ever. In the minutes you linger, shooting him insults he thinks you don’t mean and playing little word games.

He doesn’t ask, though. And you never offer, despite the fact that your sharp eyes and knowing smirk lead him to believe you know he wants to ask.

Perhaps that’s why he doesn’t. Not giving you what you want is part of the fun. He likes the way it makes you bristle, magic crackling at your fingertips. He loves the way it makes you narrow your eyes at him, lobbing empty threats that make him want to purr.

Whatever this effect you have on him is potent. He can’t shake you off, can’t outrun you.

And worse, he doesn’t want to.

Rain begins to beat on the bedroom window outside. Though his limbs are heavy from slogging through the sewer system downtown after a witch and her ivax demon, he’s a little too keyed up to sleep. Yoongi senses something staticy in the air, an energy that he can’t name.

Opening up his phone, he flips through his text threads with members of the Conclave. It seems everyone is in it tonight, the demonic activity buzzing and the monsters worse than usual. He frowns when he sees Seokjin mention a prowler crawling through the warehouse district. Yoongi knows that’s where you live and an unexpected sense of unease slivers down his spine.

He locks his phone and tosses it on the bed. He doesn’t need to worry about you. You’re one of the most skilled witches in the city and you’ve killed scores of demons and others alike. He should remove your head for the number of hunters you’ve put in the ground, but you’ve killed triple that in witches.

Which is why you’re alone. It’s not lost on Yoongi that you’re a witch without a coven and with unusual alliances living in a warehouse all alone with a prowler on the loose. If you know it’s there - you have to know it’s there, being you - he knows you’ll go after it.

“Fuck,” he sighs at the ceiling.

Grabbing his phone, Yoongi sends off a quick text.

Yoongi: Anyone dispatching to take care of the prowler?

Councilman Haer: Negative. The Conclave will not be dispatching. The Warehouse District is not critical and it’ll go back down after it’s satiated. Prowlers aren’t controlled by witches, it might even take a few out for us.

Yoongi stomach flips as he squeezes his phone tight before getting up. He’s tired of the Conclave’s inaction. He knows he’ll get in trouble for going after something so dangerous without backup, but he can’t ask Seokjin and Hoseok to back him up on this one. Not unauthorized, and not for something so dangerous.

Unsanctioned hunts is exactly how Yoongi has ended up at the bottom of the pool among Conclave members, but he doesn’t care. Politics can’t erase the fact that he’s the best fucking hunter in the city, and no councilman who won’t get their hands dirty can give him grief for doing what needs to be done.

This isn’t about the Conclave, though. Yoongi knows it. Seokjin would know it, if Yoongi told him what he was doing. But the thought of a prowler tearing through the low-income streets in the Warehouse District doesn’t resonate with him. Neither does knowing that you are one of the witches in the line of fire.

Yoongi dresses and arms himself with military proficiency. A black, long-sleeved shirt with a form-fitted leather vest over it to prevent most stabs and cuts, knives sheathed along the ribbing of the vest, breathable pants with a tactical belt and pockets full of hunting necessities, and his necklace with the Conclave helix.

At the last second, he grabs a jacket and pulls the hood up to keep the beating rain from soaking him through. While he has some talent with magic to help him heal faster and make his blows stronger and faster, he’s not skilled in the way of weather or anything advanced enough to keep him dry and comfortable.

Nervousness settles into him as he takes the subway to the Warehouse District. It’s not far, but the train is empty and filled with dirty puddles left behind from passengers. Lights flicker above as the subway rockets unevening on the tracks, making him dizzy.

When he steps off the train and into the wet underground of the station entrance, he knows something is amiss. His fingers twitch as he jogs up the steps, boots splashing loudly as the rain comes down. Wind whips at him here and when he hears a crack of thunder too loud and rumbling to be human, his instincts kick in.

Yoongi takes off running. He knows where your warehouse-turned-loft is. He’d originally scouted it out to eliminate you. Now, it’s something he’s always kept an eye on, steering other hunters away from your home. It’s silly, he knows. You’d call him weak if you knew, probably. And yet he does it, diverting danger coming your way when he can.

Now, danger is already there.

The storm rages harder as he heads your direction. Wind pushes at him, making Yoongi lock his muscles as he fights the freezing cold rain and the debris that blows down the street with the force of the storm. He hopes that it keeps people indoors and away from the prowler.

But Yoongi sees the purple lighting lance out of the sky, an explosion of radiant beauty for a moment before it strikes nearby, blowing transforms into white sparks and he realizes what is so uncanny about this storm.

It’s you. You’re the storm.

A roar of rage shakes the air as he comes around the corner to your street. The warehouse you live in is at the end of the road right up against the bay. The wind is mixed with salt spray, stinging his eyes as he runs towards the shadowy outline of your building, nearly impossible to see in the rain and night.

Yoongi manages to roll one of the heavy doors open to your loft, muscles screaming with effort. Stepping inside, chaos greets him. The ceiling is blown out above your home, rain pouring in from the sky. It tastes like lightning and blood. No doubt your storm is what ripped the ceiling apart, but when he sees the prowler, he doesn’t blame you.

A massive creature stands ten feet tall, rippling with leathered hide and spikes on its back. Long, gangly limbs drag on the floor with black, sharpened talons on the end of each of its three fingers. The prowler walks awkwardly and Yoongi notes the scorch mark in its left shoulder, making it lean as it drags itself toward its intended target.

Which is you, laying on the ground bloody and rain soaked. Yoongi doesn’t even think. He has no idea if you’re conscious or not, but he’s moving across the room, putting power into his step as he pulls out two of his daggers and jumps high up into the air.

Yoongi’s intent is to land on the back of the prowler and sink each blade in as he falls. He doesn’t anticipate the demon to turn away from bloodied prey, but it does, swinging its arm wildly to bat him away. He’s lucky that the forearm catches him in the stomach and sends him flying and not the flaws.

Closing his eyes and bracing for impact, Yoongi is surprised when he doesn’t slam into a wall. He opens his eyes to see himself floating toward the floor, suspended briefly before the phantom energy drops him gently. He lands with shock, looking up to where you’re sitting up, one hand extended toward him.

At least you weren’t out cold or dead. Yoongi is really happy that you’re not dead, but it’s cut short as the prowler charges him.

This time, Yoongi’s ready. He runs at the beast, waiting until he’s right outside of the window of its swiping claws before he dives to his knees, sliding under the creature and between its legs. He twists his hands, cutting the inside of the creature’s thighs as he goes.

It shrieks, shaking the building and scattering Yoongi’s thoughts. He feels fizzy and confused for a moment, the mind breaking scream of the prowler enough to make him vulnerable. He feels a hand on his face and he looks up, momentarily stricken with the thought that he sees an angel.

“Thank you,” you breathe, and he recognizes your voice. Usually it cracks like a whip, but this is soft. Strange. It terrifies him. “I’m going to do something that is probably going to kill me. Just know that I liked our game, Hunter.”

“What are you doing, Witch?”

Your smile is like the sun. He doesn’t think he’s seen anything more beautiful. Your face is covered in blood and rain, turning your neck scarlet as it runs. There’s a gash above your brow and he sees a blackened wound in your stomach.

It is amazing, how a creature like you, bred to be an evil, wicked thing can look radiant. Holy. Wonderful. Your hand is cradling his face and it feels warm, despite the rain and blood on your hands. Your thumb is soft as it sweeps across his cheek, a touch more reverent than he’s ever known.

“Witch,” Yoongi starts, unsure what you’re doing.

“I’ll miss that. Take this.”

Before Yoongi can react, your hand falls from his face. You move past him with absolute confidence, lifting your chin. You have a limp as you do, and Yoongi reaches after you but you’re already out of his grip.

Something stirs in the air. He’s only felt power rippling like that once before when he was a child, and the entire Conclave worked together to slaughter an Eldritch Witch that had attacked them and taken out more than half of their hunters.

Now, Yoongi feels that dark presence again, energy buzzing against his ears as he turns to look at you over his shoulder. The prowler senses the power disturbance too, backing away from you as dark particles begin to gather around your hands.

Above you, the rain hovers, disrupted by the frequency of your magic. The buzz in Yoongi’s ears gets louder as he climbs to his feet, clapping his hands firmly over his ears, wincing as it gets higher and louder. He thinks it might burst his ear drums or crack his skull open.

Disks of dark particles circle you as you approach the demon, which is now roaring once more, trying to disrupt your thoughts. It doesn’t work, the air vibrating with dark matter. You’re at the center of the swirling darkness, the rings rotating around you like an access.

The sound stops suddenly, and for a moment, Yoongi thinks he’s deaf. Black matter pulses from you, exploding outward. Yoongi hits the floor, realizing if he gets hit with your magic, he’ll die. Never before has he witnessed the Eldritch Blast of a witch, but he knows that it's only used as a final stand.

I’m going to do something that is probably going to kill me.

The finality of your words shreds him open as the shockwave of your magic barrels at him. He thinks he’s going to die as it expands toward him, but instead, it arches over him, battling down against a magical barrier.

Take this. Yoongi realizes you’ve warded him from your destruction, keeping him safe as your blast levels the world around you. He feels the magic beating down on your ward like raging fits, vibrating and shrieking under the pressure of the magic.

It even keeps him from being injured by the collapsing debris.

Yoongi looks at you as the world falls to pieces. You go down to one knee, then the other, swaying as the darkness cascades around you in a final flutter of power. Then you fall over, heavy and unmoving as the rest of the building comes down.

All he can do is scream.

Most nights, you dream of Yoongi. You don’t know when it started - perhaps that first night after you met him? You can’t be sure. All you know is that at some point, the hunter poisoned you from the inside out, a disease taking root and rotting you all the way through to your core.

You always knew that dreaming of him would get you killed one day. But Yoongi was different. Wiser than the rest of his wretched Conclave. Smart enough to question his way of life and his faction’s merciless killings. You think he’ll start asking the right questions soon, that maybe he’ll start seeing the signs that who he has sworn loyalty to isn’t who they say they are.

But Yoongi never asks questions.

It’s easy to tell he wants to. There’s always that little pause at the end of your meetings. You used to think it was perhaps he was trying to decide whether or not to kill you. Perhaps it was that at first, but now it’s something a little different. A little more. Like he is on the edge of finally asking you what exactly is going on in the city that he protects from monsters.

Yoongi is simple, though. He likes his little life tucked away in the Art District and he likes the wash, rinse, repeat of killing demons and corrupted witches nightly. You think he likes your little run-ins.

Now, you’ve finally paid the price of letting him live these last two years. Had someone told you before you’d met Yoongi that you’d sacrifice yourself for him and the rest of a small neighborhood, you’d have laughed in their face. You weren’t a hero, though some might think slaying your own kind and their creatures was worth praise.

Penance and praise are not the same, though.

Dying seems like a good way of paying off your list of wrongs. Especially to save Yoongi. If only to save Yoongi, if you were being honest.

Witches have a lot of lore about death and where one goes in the afterlife. You’re not sure where you are, if you exist, or if you’re even really a thought. It feels like nothingness and everything all at once, a void of floating consciousness. There’s no pain, but you remember the warehouse. Remember the prowler ripping down the door and coming for you specifically.

And him. You remember Yoongi coming in, looking like a fucking angel of old as he leapt through the skies. Together you might have taken on the beast. But prowlers are notoriously difficult to destroy, and you were in no shape to protect Yoongi, much less fight by his side as a reliable partner.

That left you with one option, and though you knew it would end you, you’d done it anyway.

Yoongi’s face swims in your mind. Soft and round, eyes like the bottom of the ocean, a single pink scar carved through his right eye. Mouth soft and petal pink, hair silky and dark, reaching to his shoulders. He’s small for a hunter but he’s strong and broad, his mind his best weapon.

Witch, Yoongi had said. The last words you’d hear from him, spoken with a softness that you’ve never heard from him before. Rain-soaked and wide eyed Yoongi, looking at you like you held the flame of life, like you were something more than a creature on the other side of the trench.

The best thing you could do for him was die.

So you summoned your magic from deep within you, that ancient, sleeping thing. You try not to think about what Yoongi’s last memory of you will be, an eldritch horror that will remind him of the creature that slaughtered his family as a child.

Yoongi will never get to ask his questions. You’ll never get to tell him why you haunt the streets killing your own kind. Yoongi will never know the softness of your kiss. You’ll never know the gentle press of his hands.

Something brushes across your forehead. You feel now and you frown. Or can you frown, in whatever plane of death this is? You’re not sure, but you feel… the weight of your own body. The beating of your own heart. The rush of air through your lungs as you breathe.

Awareness prickles at the back of your neck like a needle. Slowly, you begin to feel solid. Your fingers twist in soft sheets, and when you turn your head, you feel the plushness of a pillow. Smell petrichor and cedar.

It smells like… Yoongi.

“Hmmm?” you feel the vibration in your throat at your unspoken question, nothing but a rumble of noise and confusion. Something cradles your face. “Hunnn..?”

A deep, throaty laugh. “Mmm, I take care of you for a week straight and we’ve moved on to endearments?”

Your eyes flutter open, lids heavy. The world swims into view, a little blurry as your eyes try to focus in the dimly lit room, taking in the bed you’re in and the face hovering above yours.

“Yoongi,” you breathe, your heart expanding with unfettered joy.

“That’s the first time you’ve ever said my name.”

“What?”

“Say it more often.” He leans forward and you watch as his dark eyes drink you in. “And never do that to me again.”

Before you can ask him what that is, Yoongi’s mouth is pressing against yours. You melt immediately, going boneless in a bed you’re unfamiliar with, lost in the citrusy taste of his mouth and the gentle press of his lips. His kiss is soft soft soft, blurring reality as he pulls at your bottom lip teasingly before pulling away.

Eyes fluttering open, you stare at him in wonder. He hovers above your face, haloed by inky-black hair. “Yoongi.”

He smiles. “It sounds much better than hunter. Hun can stay, though.”

“You’re not calling the shots.”

“You’re in no condition to fight me.”

“I killed a prowler, I think you’re no problem.”

His eyes glow. “I think perhaps you’re right. But for now, you’re at my mercy.”

“Kiss me again.” You lift your hands and bring them toward his face, brushing a finger over the bottom of his scar. “And don’t stop this time. I’ll ask my questions later.”

“Of course, witch.”

Yoongi’s kiss is hungrier now. Desperate. Full of all the questions he never asked and you meet him with equal fire. You don’t care that you’ve beat the odds and lived. You don’t care about anything else but the weight of Yoongi straddling your waist and the feel of his velvet soft skin beneath your hands.

Every inch of him is warm, filled with the heat of the hunter’s fire that burns through every member of the Conclave. This hunter burns brighter than the rest, though. Warmth blooms where your fingers press over his stomach and chest, ridding him of his shirt. Fire burns where you grab his arms, arching into him as his teeth skim your throat.

You’ve never felt this in sync with someone, bodies twining together like you were made for one another. Yoongi’s hand is scorching as his touch ghosts down your body, his touch light and teasing as he lowers his mouth to your hardened nipple, catching it and giving a gentle suck.

Honey-dipped moans slip from your mouth. Yoongi’s mouth is wet-hot against your skin, tongue laving hungrily as his hand seeks the heat between your legs. Your thighs open for him easily, giving Yoongi access to the dripping mess of your folds. He curses when his fingers slide between your slit, gathering slick to circle his digits around your clit.

“Fuck,” you hiss, hips twitching. “Don’t bother. I can take you now. Want you now.”

“I told you that you were at my mercy.” You summon your magic, rattling his shelves. Yoongi leans over to your neglected nipple and plucks it with his teeth, making you squeal and shiver, pleasure rattling you. “Fine,” he agrees. “Greedy witch. Should have known.”

“Not greedy,” you shoot back as Yoongi sits up and sheds his pants. Your hands follow him, tracing the faint scars on his stomach, pressing against the muscle of his tapered hips. “I’ve waited for months for you to do something. To say something.”

“I’m not good at that.”

You hum. “It takes me dying for you to take initiative?”

“A lesson hard-learned and never to be repeated.”

Yoongi’s cock is hard, bobbing heavily as he shuffles you under him and presses your thighs open for him. The brown tip is sticky with precum, his shaft long and thick enough to make your cunt ache for him more.

“Nice cock,” you tease as he pumps himself, hand gliding and spreading his precum down his shaft.

He grunts. “Can’t wait to feel this fucking pussy,” he mutters, leaning forward and pressing the tip to your entrance. You make a breathy sound, eyes fluttering shut at the pleasure-pained stretch. “Think you can take it, witch?”

“Yes.”

Yoongi sinks in and you second-guess your statement for a second, but the stretch of his cock pressing you open feels good. Deliriously so, your back arching as he bottoms out. You feel him in your gut, deeper than anything ever before and you whine as he draws his hips back before snapping them forward, punching the breath from your lungs.

He sets a deep, hard pace. You grip his biceps, feeling the muscle flex in his arms. Every part of you is on fire, lit up from the closeness of your bodies as Yoongi leans down and melds your mouths together, continuing to fuck you so deep you know you’ll never forget what it feels like.

Every brush of his cock against your g-spot drives you mad. Every whisper of your name - your name, not witch - makes you shudder. His tongue is hungrily as it brushes against yours, his moans deep and throaty as your pussy grips him tight.

“Fuck,” he pants, sliding a hand down your body to grab your thigh and hoist your leg higher. It changes the angle, making his stroke somehow deeper. Your eyes roll back and your head digs into the mattress as you fist at the sheets. “You can fucking take it.”

“Keep going.”

“As if i could fucking stop.”

You never want him to stop. Fucking you, kisses you, teasing you, shadowing you as you take on the world. You want every part of your life colored with Yoongi. You want him to be a part of your mornings, your fights, your weaknesses, your strengths. You want to rile him up, needle him with little insults that get him going. Tease him to make him laugh and share that secret smile.

Every moment has led to this. You don’t know how you never saw this outcome, here with him, crying out his name as your orgasm crests into an unstoppable force. When you come around him, it’s with his name in your mouth and so much need for him in your heart that you think you might explode with energy for a second time.

After, when you’re wrapped in Yoongi and you feel his hunter’s skin blaze against you, sweat-slick skin pressed close, you think that finally, he’ll ask those questions. You’ll give him answers.

“Don’t do that ever again, witch,” Yoongi warns. “I will follow you into death.”

#yoongi smut #suga smut #min yoongi smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #bts suga #bts fanfic #minors do not interact #minors dni #bts suga smut #yoongi angst #halis happy agust

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touchoffleece · 5 days

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Apology in Advance for the probable incoming Sulemio v Destiel Poll posts.

There are layers to why the dumb ship poll has me feeling so passionate, some are: -Sulemio more or less checked off a Bucket List Want I thought I would die before seeing it become a reality. That being: a Sapphic Anime couple where the main focus and story doesn't revolve around discovering or accepting their sexuality and showing it can be a successful story public perception wise and money wise (G Witch has some of that self discovery stuff but it's like a D or E level plot). And having it so the gay relationship can't be perceived away as besties or sisterhood or with a Bury Your Gays end. -wlw/GL ships constantly getting overshadowed by mlm ships or get played down to hype up mlm ships because "there can only be 1 lgbtqi+ ship" mentality in fandoms. -Sulemio fandom was vibing and more or less quiet until this rewoke us up here on Tumblr. We are all once again speaking and writing deep analytical lengthy posts about how deep, well written and portrayed the love between both characters were not only in subtext but throughly explicit sentences in dialogue or actions of Suletta and Miorine, and the world around them. I am very happy to join in and revisit the awesomeness that their story was since I can't truly replicate the journey that was watching their story as it developed in real time. (Shout out to my 2 het cis male acquaintances who nagged me to give G Witch a shot back when only ep 0 and 1 were out you guys freaking amazing. Bros gave me unforgettable memories.) -But a big one I see not getting talked about a lot is how this match up is giving a big and much needed reality check to western-media-live-action-only-consumers/fans that: Just because something is an animation it does not make that type of art/storytelling/show/whatever you want to call it inferior to live action. A few years back I saw so many west live action tv fans shit endlessly and mercilessly on Magical Girl Utena because of a similar ship poll where it had come down to live action fandom ship vs canon anime ship. (iykyk, I don't want to restart that shit up again since it hurt a lot to watch as someone who liked the ship that was leading but didn't watch Utena-I'm too weak for that hurt- see the show and its contribution towards actual wlw/gl representation get shit on) A lot of the criticisms and punchlines of statements were mocking people for getting attached to cartoons as "grown ass adults"; a criticism any animation enjoyer probably knows all too well. Post so many animation shows in western streaming sites get cancelled or be erased and locked behind vaults because the CEOs think there is no fanbase or value in creating animation, this sentiment more towards animated shows with depth in their stories. I think back to that poll and the ensuing shit show. To think about that back then and see a reflection of that situation with the Ship (Sulemio) that has been stated to be inspired by the ship from Utena (Utenanthy) that was shat on so much by similar media consumers back then who perceived and said animation is a lesser form of storytelling-after seeing so many animation shows I enjoyed get cancelled because of this same sentiment from people thinking no adult wants animation as entertainment- to see Sulemio beat "the greater known" ship from a western live action media show that didn't even want the gay representation associated with itself, it feels like properly bandaging a seeping wound that you were letting "dry out". This all still feels like ship war with ships and fandoms that shouldn't have reason to beef, but the catharsis of seeing such a: powerful, moving, and overall amazing story that is Gundam the Witch from Mercury (free on Youtube to watch btw) and Sulemio's love story get recognized when it still feels like animation as a storytelling device gets looked down upon and has partially been erased, is making me cautiously optimistic that maybe in a few years we can get our amazing in depth animated shows that got taken away because animated storytelling is "just for kids" or "isn't good enough".

#rambles #rants #shower thoughts #sulemio #animation #g witch #gundam the witch from mercury #sapphic thoughts #fandom wank #fandom #fandom meta #lgbtqi+#media analysis #polls #pop culture #pop culture history #hollywood desperately needs change #ao3topshipsbracket

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alwaysonf1 · 7 months

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lewis is doing what?

Pairing: Charles LeClerc x Hamilton!OC

Genre: Slice of Life; Fluff

Word Count: 3k

Warning: Changes in the timeline for the sake of the story.

Rating: PG-13

Author's Note: This is my first F1 fic, which makes me nervous so why not start with a series.

Many Drive to Survive haters like to pretend everything that comes from the show and what it’s about are beneath them. That they couldn’t possibly care, and that the only important thing is the race on Sunday. And yet the day after the latest season drops you can find them amongst the chaos trying to figure out what the hell were all those hints about a new form of content that F1 plans to release.

Interwoven with the usual storylines and mild dramatics there was a lot of talk about how drivers show their families the support they’re given. How they show up for them in their careers and bits of their lives. It was weird at first, but then it sent off alarm bells when an almost fourth wall breaking moment happened where the Netflix team was blatantly dismissed.

“I think we have this one Netflix, but thanks for the help.” Those were the exact words spoken by the head of marketing as she closed the door to a room where you get a glimpse of team paraphernalia but see no faces.

Every social platform that you can find an F1 fan on has it trending and the conversations (and screams into the void) are fast paced. But Twitter is where the real unhinged and brain cell losing behavior is happening.

And the most accurate guessing.

Almost everyone within the community is discussing what that snippet could mean. Is it the end of DTS as they know it? The end of it completely? Are F1 and Netflix severing ties? Will F1 be taking over? Is this some little game they're playing with their viewers to keep them tuned in? Is it something completely different? What the actual fuck is going on?

In the middle of those questions are those who think themselves a genius or are delusional enough that they can’t help but form some wild ideas of what’s to come.

Someone must be retiring. Multiple people are retiring. There’s going to be a reality show ala Keeping Up with the Verstappens, where everyone learns that Max’s little trauma dumpy memories with Jos are just the surface level of how insane that man is. Someone is getting married. Someone is getting married to another driver. A nepo baby is going to become the “voice of the fandom” and host a show about the drivers during race weekends and it’s going to be all the wrong things. A dating show for all the singles. A behind the scenes at the lives of drivers and their families, but like Family Feud. And the penultimate dude bro dream of them getting to spend the season hanging out with drivers and get confirmation that their toxic thoughts that alienate most of the fan base is true.

After about twenty-four hours it all dies down. Everyone is still wondering, but they don’t feel like they’re losing their minds while they try to be the one who can say they were right when they news drops.

As if timed, the second that F1 drops in trends the F1 admin drops a graphic with the faces of six people who are clearly positioned like the thinking face emoji on every platform that they use. In the captions it says: Week in the Life - Sibling Edition.

If Twitter was home to the first wave of screaming, it belongs to Tumblr the second go round. Everyone is so excited for the content that someone must have thrown up from how aggressively happy they feel. Everyone is talking about who they want it to be and what content they’d love to see from which sibling. Those who make gifs are especially excited to get everything they can, though they won’t be outdone by those whose brains and fingers will be entities on their own once they get hold of a singular moment that will inspire the fic of everyone’s dreams.

Those who always have something negative to say are there as usual, but they aren’t as loud or upset as they often are. Being nosy doesn’t stop just because you want to pretend that you only care about the race, as if someone doesn’t have a file of screenshots from all the times, they’ve attacked the character of a driver for something not race related at all.

The reaction to this is the kind that instills faith in what is being done. The kind of thing that tells all the upper management who didn’t like it that it was a good idea, but also puts a certain bit of weight on the content team. They need this to deliver. Need to keep the hype, especially since the first episode doesn’t drop until the start of December and they’ve already recorded half the series so a failure could stop the rest.

So once the Singapore GP ends, Daniel Ricciardo’s face is no longer gray. You get to see that goofy smile and wink. You’d think they told everyone he was getting a permanent seat with a three year contract with the reception to it.

It’s Charles Leclerc for Japan.

Lance Stroll for Qatar.

Carlos Sainz for COTA.

Alex Albon for Mexico.

And coming off his first P1 of the season, Lewis Hamilton for Brazil.

For the next week or so if a tweet isn’t about excitement, disdain, or shock in regard to this new F1 exclusive content, it has a certain main character at its center.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x black!reader #f1 x reader #f1 x black!reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x black!reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fan fiction #f1 fanfic #f1 fan fiction #f1 imagine

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alchemicaladarna · 3 months

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I saw some people talking about how they want Bad to not log on to the server for a while, and I kind of want that too, but I also want him to do a stream where he talks about the behind the scenes of this arc.

Like, not necessarily the fallen angel stuff, because there's still a lot to be revealed, but more so the soul vultures and the memory loss part of it. I just really want to know his thought process behind creating the story and continuing it, because goddamn this arc lasted for SIX MONTHS. Surely, there were a few retcons and planned story elements that didn't make the cut right? Like, there were so many events in the server that kept interrupting it- purgatories, prison, THE RESET- I know there was a time during the beginning of the reset where he was even doubting continuing the story too, but SOMEHOW against all odds, he managed to not only conclude it in an emotionally phenomenal way, but also confirmed one of the biggest mysteries to his character and set up the next big plot line for not only qbbh but for other players too.

He's alluded to Greek mythology a lot in the past, but did he also research Egyptian mythology, or at least the Egyptian afterlife for this? Those scales and the giant door at the end allude to the Egyptian belief of balancing scales before someone can fully enter the afterlife (I can't remember the details I'm more attuned to Greek mythology (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠))

Among other things, I also want to know how much research he did for portraying memory loss. Like, a lot of people have said how difficult it was to follow this arc and watch the last stream in particular because they've known people with cases of dementia and his acting got way too real, even for me, and man, how much research did he do to portray such a sensitive topic this accurately??

Idk, maybe some ppl might find behind the scenes talk boring, but now that the arc is finished, as an artist, I want to know his inspirations and the research he did, because god knows he put in so much work for this story, and a little part of me wants that to be recognized as much as the cinematic part of it.

#qsmp #badboyhalo #qsmp badboyhalo #also “did he watch moon knight” is one of my burning questions after the stream #<- im only half joking but i really want yo know now if he did 0_0

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beemers-hell · 2 months

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holds out cup

a bit of your thoughts on character designing? your characters are all so distinct and unique, I've been wanting to ask for awhile how you went about your sillies!

You fool. You idiot. You absolute buffoon. You have no idea what you've done. You have no idea what I am about to unleash unto you all.

Hi i am extremely autistic about character design so obligatory [read more] because I am gonna fucking TALK your EAR OFF about this shit, prepare for a fuckass LOOOOOOOOONG post

So the first rule of character design is to fuck around and have fun :)

Anyway onto the real shit:

P1: Foundational Shit

For starters, I'll link you to a post I made like 3 years ago on this topic, just to get some foundational shit out of the way!

Me personally, I have a very rigid structure I stick to whenever I design characters, which is:

I must know what their personality is like

I must know what their fashion tastes are

I must know what their role in the story is (this one only applies if the character is even apart of a bigger narrative in the first place, obviously. I just am strict and don't make new characters unless I have a purpose for them to serve in my stories so it's hard baked into how I operate as a character designer lol)

By having these in mind when I design characters, shit becomes a WHOLE lot easier/more natural for me. This is because:

The personality of a character can usually be reflected in their design, whether it be a bubbly loud energetic guy who's dolled up in bright colors and playful clothing accessories, a commanding bossy stoic guy who's dolled up in subtle and professional clothing pieces, or even subverting this idea by having a character who acts one way but dresses in a way you'd expect from the opposite.

Knowing what kinds of fashion this character would be into in the first place makes it a whole lot easier to get ideas and look for resources on ways you can style them- Knowing the character would be interested in like, for example, scene fashion makes it far easier to look for the type of clothing they'd wear and find pieces that stand out to you so you can start experimenting with what works or what doesn't for that character.

Knowing the role they play can also help a lot when designing them, much like knowing their fashion tastes can. However, where knowing their fashion tastes helps in looking for visual inspiration, knowing their role in a story can help with their design in a thematic sense; If the character is supposed to be some kind of trouble maker rebellious kid, then you're probably going to wanna make them visually fit the bill (or, again, you might want to subvert the idea of what a rebellious little shithead looks like so you go for the opposite of what people imagine!) Ykwim?

Now with that out of the way, let's get some VISUAL EXAMPLES, using my guys obviously lmao

For an example of the personality thing, here's a page I made where I talk about my thought process behind the designs of some of my goons in regards to taking into account their personality (and aesthetic taste):

For an example of the story role thing, here's a page I made where I talk about my thought process behind the designs of Eb and Ben (+Neco and Alli) in regards to the role they play in their story:

I hope this gets the point across!

P2: Additional Stuff to Consider

In addition to the above section, there's also some other things you can utilize to try and make your designs stand out!

One such thing is brainstorming ideas for stand out design elements! Like, something that' makes them stand out from the crowd, or an element of their design that is so specific to them that they just can't be the same character without it. This thing in general is kind of vague by nature so here's some examples using my guys that I think get the point across:

You can also go the extra mile and give them little design details that just add that little extra bit of "oomf" to the character overall. Again, this is kind of vague by nature, but here are some examples I can give with my characters. Some of these doodles are OLD AS HELL so that's why the art style is outdated, but the point still stands!

You can also go the extra mile to try and diversify your designs by doing some structural tests with your characters. What I mean by this is by literally dumbing them down to their most basic attributes, or as I like to call it, "Run the Silhouette & Recognition Test" What I mean by this:

The Silhouette Test: Making a lineup of your characters and blacking them out so they show up as silhouettes, which allows you to check the readability and/or recognizability of your character's design, and if it's unique from your other characters!

Recognition Test: Make a lineup of all of your character's heads and/or bodies, and only draw their facial features/head shape and/or body shape/structure, nothing else. I do this mainly to help myself try to avoid face/body syndrome and I think it works pretty well for me!

Now, for my last extra thing; Remember my point about knowing a character's taste in fashion? This is applies here. Knowing your character's fashion tastes can make designing their main outfit, or any other alternate outfits you make for them, like SUPER fuckin easy. Here's a couple examples with some of my gals:

Raina likes real casual clothes, simple shit like crop tops/tank tops n' jeans, just styled to her liking. She's a simple chick with simple tastes! But there are noticeable touches, like how she has a habit of changing her earrings to match the occasion she's celebrating!

Eb likes grungy clothes, and adds flair to her outfits by dipping into a decora kei inspired style of accessorizing, which compliments her nicely since she loves customizing things to make them her own. She's not fully there with the extravagance of it yet but she's getting there!

Yume likes pastel colors and form fitting clothes, sometimes with loose jackets/robes to keep her cozy, with minimal accessories. She's also simple, but unlike Raina, she doesn't tend to try and go the extra mile with jewelry and/or makeup, not often.

Bank's a baby punk and is still finding her style, but it's clear she likes a lot of leather, spikes, chains, all that kind of shit. Dark colors, with minimal touches of her favorite color (pink lol), and some accessories like earrings, pins, and/or straps are enough to complete a look for her. And of course, any clothing article to obscure her face works for her!

I hope I don't sound fucking nuts I genuinely put way too much time into thinking about all of this stupid bullshit lmao

P3: Actual Examples of Me Working Through the Character Design Process

I figure if I show off examples where I was working on concept shit, that'd help put this into something digestible for y'all lol.

For starters, here's a doodle page I made back in 2021 when I was making small tweaks to a couple of my guys designs, which is why my art style looks old and some characters have their outdated looks lol:

Now, here's a MUCH more recent example of my concept process, where I was figuring out the idea for Namgi's new design (which is still being worked on atm lol):

Here's the concept pages I made when I was figuring out Majin's recent redesign:

And here's some concept pages I made when I I was figuring out the Possessed Form designs for my hosts!

I hope this is all actually helpful and not just like. stupid nothing shit lmao

And like, yanno, you don't HAVE to do/listen to any of this, this is just the kind of shit I've learned over the years that personally helps me with coming up with designs that feel fresh and distinct, at least for my personal tastes! Something I do might just not work for you, the design process is unique for everyone obviously. It's the same thing as your art style, everyone does shit differently lol

This concludes my Autism Ramble!!

#beemer asks #character design #beemers ocs #beemers lore #ebverse #yumeverse

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daffi-990 · 25 days

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WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @dangerpronebuddie @wikiangela @tizniz @bidisasterevankinard

I’ve been tagged by so many people for so many different wip games but after finishing Rival Firefighters 🚒 .. I’m a bit burnt out and the writing beans have taken a little vacay.

That being said, have something I wrote a while ago for my Daylight Series (which I would love to revisit .. just need inspiration to strike and stick around).

(Btw this is the song that Buck is singing ⬇️)

Eddie knocks on the front door, fiddling with his car keys as he waits for Buck to let him in. When he gets no response he tries again. Still nothing. Wondering whether Buck went down to the beach or if he’s fallen asleep on the hammock out back, Eddie makes his way around the back of the house.

He’s halfway along the side of the house when he hears the sounds of a guitar. Ah, so that’s why Buck didn’t hear him. Eddie is about to step up onto the porch to make his presence known when Buck starts singing, halting Eddie’s movements.

I can't tell which way is home

I've been gone for so long

It's an empty world up here

I skip stones and wonder

How long 'til I'm discovered

It's a quiet life up here

The song is hauntingly beautiful, and Eddie can hear the raw emotion in Buck’s voice that tells him the pain of the song was very real, is very real. He quietly moves forward, being careful not to interrupt Buck. The man in question is sitting on the back porch steps that lead down to the beach, guitar held comfortably against him like it’s a part of him.

What If I run away to Mars?

Would you find me in the stars?

Would you miss me in the end

If I run out of oxygen?

When I run away to Mars

Three, two, one I miss you.

I’m sorry, I’ve got issues.

Eddie hasn’t known Buck for long, but he feels a deep ache in his chest for his friend. What happened to Buck to warrant this heartache? Is that why he came to Hartlan Shore? Buck’s told him and everyone else who’s asked that he moved because he needed a fresh start and why not Hartlan?

Eddie’s starting to think maybe that’s not all to Buck’s story. Whatever Buck left behind to come here is Buck’s business and Eddie’s not going to push him for information, but her hopes that one day Buck will trust him enough to share that part of himself.

Would you miss me in the end

If I run out of oxygen?

When I run away to Mars

The song comes to an end, Buck staring blankly out towards the ocean. Eddie blinks back the tears from his eyes and gives Buck a few minutes before stepping onto the porch into Buck’s peripheral.

No pressure tagging: @diazsdimples @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck @exhuastedpigeon @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @evanbegins @rainbow-nerdss @thewolvesof1998 @the-likesofus @try-set-me-on-fire @theotherbuckley @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @athenagranted @steadfastsaturnsrings @shitouttabuck @spagheddiediaz @sunshinediaz @devirnis @fiona-fififi @fortheloveofbuddie @giddyupbuck @honestlydarkprincess @homerforsure @hoodie-buck @jeeyuns @jesuisici33 @lover-of-mine @loserdiaz @ladydorian05 @captain-hen @neverevan @bekkachaos @missmagooglie @monsterrae1 and as always, anyone else who wants to share something -> consider this your official tag 🏷

#daffi writes #daylight series #music #buddie wip #buddie #I’ve written a sentence here or there for my Eddie Breakdown fic and LA Lonely #but not too much writing happening atm #I have started playing Minecraft though 😅#my eldest is really into it so I thought I’d give it a go so we could play together #and just like with the Sims .. I love building and creating #no surprise there haha

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galaxyshine24-7 · 2 months

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Soooooo there this video from the HSR channel that has Acheron and Black Swan dancing together and for some reason i keep thinking MC dancing like that with someone. And it’s not from the TWST cast, like maybe someone from their childhood that they knew back then. I really dont know why i keep thinking about this scenario but…

So imagine the scene, MC is currently working in some high end job and the event was nearing it’s end so there are very little people around. Someone came up to the bar while MC was cleaning some glasses. It’s their old friend from the orphanage! So some conversations started and then the friend ask them to dance with them, MC agreed.

As they were dancing, unknown to the two of them, a certain hunter from Pomefiore just so happened to be there and also just so happened to be recording their dance as it was quite a dance and shared it to the other gangs. You can imagine the reaction those groups have when they see their bartender dancing such an intimate dance ;)

(Also here’s the link to the video im talking about https://youtu.be/e5xueJq4Lwc?si=GRJ4_OwCBaYaTJAq )

(If that doesnt work, the title is called “Rondo across countless Kalpas”)

A Dance to Remember: Twst Silver Bullet Au

(I love this video the music and the animation is amazing I can get much inspiration from this so I hope you enjoy the story.)

(F/N = Friend's name)

(Y/N = Your name or Yuu's real name)

(It's long so be warned)

A Dance to Remember A Silver Bullet AU story

It was a quiet night under the fog-covered sky as Yuu stared at the sparkling glass on the counter. They twirl their finger gently along the rim letting out a sigh. Another grand party hosted by Crewel that they were asked to work at. High society and eccentric people gather all from Crewel's circle drinking, dancing, and signing their life away under Crewel's watchful eye.

Same old, same old from Yuu's point of view, it's already late into the night branching into the morning. Most of the quests have gone home save for a few that have a meeting with Crewel. All that is left is the staff and the guards picking up what remains of the party. The only reason Yuu is still here is because Crewel wanted to talk to them about something, but he might as well have forgotten with it being an hour now. Still, Yuu knows better than to leave, especially if it's Crewel who wants something. So they sit behind the bar waiting for their teacher to finally arrive.

"Y/N is that you?" A voice breaks Yuu's train of thought as they turn to see a familiar face.

It was a friend from the orphanage Yuu stayed at. They never thought they would see them again. Especially hearing their real name after all these years.

"F/N it's you?!" Yuu couldn't believe their eyes jumping over the counter to give them a hug. "I can't believe it's you. What are you doing here?"

Yuu's friend picks them up and spins them around embracing Yuu with the same energy.

"Of course it's me, I haven't seen you in years, I can't believe you're here." F/N puts Yuu down. "I should ask what are you doing here Y/N?"

"I work as a bartender," The gesture to the bar behind them. "And I go by Yuu know."

F/N looks at Yuu in confusion but soon puts the pieces together.

"I see the years have changed both of us." F/N gives Yuu a sad smile. "After you disappeared from the orphanage I got adopted, by a pretty wealthy family. They are close to Crewel so I go to these parties often." They rub the back of their neck.

"I'm glade you found a family." Even if they are likely tied to the mafia if they are close to Crewel.

"Yeah, you could say I got lucky." They shrug.

Yuu can guess there is probably more there given Yuu's own past, but it's not their business to pry.

"So I'm guessing they're talking to Crewel right now." Yuu looks over to the grand stairs to the double doors at the top where Crewel holds his special meetings.

"Yeah, and I'm guessing you're waiting for Crewel?" F/N raises a brow.

"Yeah," Yuu chuckles.

"Which means we both have time to kill." F/N smirks.

"Yes, it would seem so." Yuu gives them a sly smile.

Music floats through the hall, has Yuu pictures all the dancing that took place earlier that day. The flowing bodies and the adoring smiles. Those who knew Yuu could tell they loved to sing and dance something their teachers took advantage of very often. It's been so long since Yuu has danced just for themselves. F/N can see them start to sway along with the tune. They outstretch their hand in front of Yuu catching the bartender by surprise.

"Really?" Yuu questions looking around, the staff and guards not really paying them any mind.

"When we dance it will be just us, like old times." F/N gives Yuu a warm smile.

How could they say no to that?

Yuu threw caution to the wind just this once and took their hand their bodies swayed and entwined to the music. They laughed and smiled on the dance floor, for it was true it felt like they were the only ones in the world to witness this moment.

Sadly like most gifts in the NRC, some things are too good to be true. Up in the rafters of the hall sits a hawk smirking with glee at what they happen to witness transpire.

"Magnifique," A camera snaps as the hawk can't help but admire his work. He didn't expect Yuu to be here or to get this thrilling scene in front of him. His queen would be most pleased with his work indeed, and to think he can see the beautiful image of Vil's scowl looking at the pictures and videos he procured. Not just Vil's of course, Yuu's beauty is too grand to share just with him and Vil, no Rook must tell the world about this diamond in the rough. Rook didn't wait to sneak out after the dance was over gleeful as he hums along to the song.

Much to Yuu's dismay it would be a long time before they could feel this relaxed with the flames of jealousy swirling around them from the mafia boys at the discovery of the treasured dance.

Vil was the first to witness the video and pictures, and even he couldn't find a flaw in Yuu's movements. The Pomefiore leader couldn't believe his eyes at the 180 the bartender could undertake, and their smile was so real and so beautiful he had to admit deep down it rivaled his own. Even Epel got to catch a glance has Vil was in a daze and he had to admit Yuu was a fine dancer. The last part he said out loud shocking Vil out of his thoughts has his emotions ran wild ordering Epel to go re do his makeup a ridiculous number of times along with the rest of Pomefiore to try to calm his emotions.

Rook did not keep this a secret he sent copies of the dance to the other leaders sitting back to watch the show. Leona couldn't help but smirk, the herbivore probably had no idea this was captured seeing their surprised face would make this worth while, but the person they where dancing with caused a bit of his blood to boil. The bartender was theirs's who would dare touch them so carelessly, and how dare Yuu laugh and enjoy their company it seems the bartender needed a reminder on their role. He makes Ruggie take the case to find any dirt on the person Yuu was with. As Jack stares at the video in awe trying hard not to show it.

Azul and the Leech twins had the same reaction in a way. If Azul knew Yuu had this talent he would have exploited them long ago when he had them in a binding contract. He needed to know who Yuu's friend was. It could be his one clue to find out who the bartender really was. The twins wanted Yuu to play with them instead and would deal with this mysterious figure that foolishly danced with their shrimpy.

Kamil stares at the video in a strange quietness a small frown adoring his face. Yuu looked so happy and was a wonderful dancer. Why didn't they ever dance with him? Did Yuu not like him? Who is that beside them? Kamil has so many questions and was in deep thought, so much that it worried Jamil at his state. Even Jamil couldn't help but raise a brow as the video questioning how stupid Yuu's dance partner must be since they now have a target on their back.

Idia made several copies of the video making sure he has it forever. He analyzed every moment of Yuu's dance partner and began to search the web to try and figure out who this person was that was so close to Yuu to dance with them. Ortho loved the video and hoped Yuu would one day ask his brother to dance with them as well. He himself now wanting to study dance styles and techniques to try out himself.

Riddle spits out his tea after viewing the first view seconds of the video. Trey rushes to clean up the mess as everyone wonders what disturbed the treasured tea time. Ace looks over Riddle's shoulder to see whistling at Yuu's dance moves soon telling the group making them gather around. Deuce is awe struck at the dance and how well Yuu knows the moves. Cater wants to post it online and tell everyone how they have a five star dancer in NRC. Trey is the first one to bring up who they are dancing with as the others zero in on the mysterious person. Riddle's face grows a bright red who dares touch their bartender. With Yuu's connection to the mafia they are too important to not know who they interact with. Riddle issues an order right then and there to bring the person to Heartslaybul he needs to interrogate this person himself to see if they are a threat or not. That is the only reason of course, don't question Riddle otherwise, the housewarden orders with a bright blush on his face.

Lilia is the first to see the video and brings it straight to Malleus with a mischievous grin on his face. Malleus sits in the lounge reading a book as Lilia hangs from the ceiling handing him his phone. Malleus is confused at what Lilia wants to show him until he sees Yuu dancing and smiling. His heart stops has he sees how graceful they dance. He never knew they could do that. It was a nice surprise at first until it starts to sink in. Was this a party, and he wasn't invited? Who was that person dancing with Yuu? They seemed very close, closer then he is too Yuu. Rain starts to pour from outside as the royal fae starts to sulk. His two attendants notice the change as they rush to his side seeing the video. Silver tilts his head wondering why Malleus is so upset at Yuu's dancing until he sees the dance partner he then starts to understand a little. Sebek is furious how dare the bartender not invite his Liege to the dance he will make sure they pay. Lilia pats Malleus on the head telling him he will find out more about what happened so Malleus could feel better. Yuu has certainly got a lot of explaining to do.

Has Yuu makes it back home and goes to bed they feel a bit happier and lighter as they fall asleep without a care in the world to the sound of rain outside their window.

(Thank you for reading💖)

#twisted wonderland #silver bullet au #twst silver bullet au #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #asks #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderlandxreader #my writing

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dinodontwait · 3 months

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Some things, you know, are meant to be

Pairing: Choi Vernon x afab!reader

Genre: Office au, Rom-com, fluff, full of fluff

Summary: A workplace comedy that unfolds amidst stapler shenanigans, coffee-stained kisses, and the unexpected melodies of a love story written in the margins of office chaos.

Word Count: ~3k

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY HANSOL!!!!!

Inspired by:

Like a river flows Surely to the sea Darling, so it goes Some things, you know, are meant to be

- “Can’t Help Falling in Love” by Elvis Presley

The fluorescent lights flickered above my desk as I furiously typed away on my keyboard. Meet deadlines, exceed expectations, that was my mantra. Vernon, the resident laid-back charmer, was stationed at the desk across from mine, seemingly unfazed by the whirlwind of papers around him.

"Hey, Y/N, have you tried this new relaxation technique?" Vernon flashed a grin, waving a stress ball in the air. "It works wonders."

I rolled my eyes, suppressing a smile. "I'll stick to my to-do lists, thanks."

Seungkwan, my best friend at work and partner in crime, shot me a knowing look. "Y/N, you need to loosen up. Look at Vernon here; he's like the office zen master."

I scoffed, glancing at Vernon who was now juggling stress balls effortlessly. "I'm here to work, not join the circus."

Mingyu, the charming office heartthrob, strolled by. "Y/N, you're missing out on all the fun. Vernon's stress ball circus is the highlight of my day."

Ignoring Mingyu's teasing, I turned my attention back to the computer screen. Little did they know, behind my focused facade, there was a secret crush brewing for Vernon – the guy with a grin that could disarm even the most stressed-out soul.

One day, as I meticulously organized my desk, Seungkwan leaned in with a mischievous grin. "You know, Y/N, I heard Vernon is single. Maybe you should consider letting loose a bit?"

I scoffed again, a little too loudly. "I'm not looking for love; I'm looking for a promotion."

Seungkwan raised an eyebrow. "¿Por qué no los dos?"

Our boss, Seungcheol, walked in, eyeing the lively atmosphere. "Can someone explain why there's a stress ball juggling act happening in the middle of a workday?"

Vernon, quick on his feet, quipped, "Just promoting a stress-free environment, boss!"

Seungcheol sighed, shaking his head. "Just get your work done, people."

Little did they know, the real circus was happening inside my head – a swirling mixture of deadlines, spreadsheets, and an unspoken crush on Vernon, the stress ball virtuoso.

Days turned into weeks, and my secret crush on Vernon continued to blossom like an office plant thriving on coffee spills and forgotten snack crumbs. Seungkwan, my ever-curious accomplice, kept pushing me to confess my feelings.

One afternoon, as I reached for a printer jam, Vernon appeared beside me. "Need a hand, Y/N?" he asked with that disarming smile.

"N-no, I'm good," I stammered, my fingers fumbling with the paper tray. Smooth, Y/N. Real smooth.

Seungkwan, sensing the tension, waltzed in. "Vernon, have you tried Y/N's favourite stress relief technique? It's called 'awkward small talk.'"

I shot Seungkwan an annoyed look, but Vernon chuckled. "Actually, I'm quite the expert in that field."

As the days went by, Vernon and I continued our friendly banter, oblivious to the silent romantic tension building up. One day, Mingyu, the office heartthrob, decided to play cupid.

"Seungcheol is throwing a little office gathering this Friday. You should come, Y/N," he suggested, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

Seungkwan, overhearing the conversation, grinned at me. "A little birdie told me Vernon might be there."

I rolled my eyes, "I'm not going for Vernon; I'm going for the free snacks."

Friday arrived, and the office was transformed into a makeshift party zone. Soonyoung and Chan, the resident party planners, had outdone themselves. The atmosphere was lively, and mingling was the order of the night.

As I casually hovered near the snack table (as promised), Vernon sidled up. "Hey, Y/N, mind if I join you?"

My heart raced, and my well-rehearsed response escaped me. Seungkwan, ever the opportunist, popped up from behind a potted plant. "This is your chance, Y/N!"

I shot him a death glare, but before I could say anything, Minghao, our boss, took the stage for an impromptu karaoke session. The crowd roared with laughter as Minghao belted out a surprisingly good rendition of a popular song.

Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Joshua joined the makeshift karaoke stage, turning the office gathering into an unexpected talent show. Amidst the chaos, Vernon leaned in, his voice barely audible over the laughter.

"Y/N, do you mind if I steal you away from the snack table for a moment?"

My heart skipped a beat as we slipped away from the cacophony of mingling coworkers. Little did I know; this office gathering was about to take an unexpected turn.

Away from the karaoke chaos, Vernon and I found ourselves on the office rooftop, a hidden sanctuary above the hustle and bustle of the party below.

"So, Y/N," Vernon began, leaning against the rooftop railing, "what's the verdict on Seungcheol’s karaoke skills?"

I chuckled, grateful for the brief escape from the office madness. "Surprisingly good! Who knew our boss had hidden talents?"

Vernon grinned, his eyes meeting mine. "Speaking of hidden talents, have you discovered any exciting stress-relief techniques lately?"

My cheeks flushed, and I laughed nervously. "Well, there's this one where you, um, take a deep breath and... forget about stress for a while?"

Vernon raised an eyebrow, "Sounds intriguing. Mind showing me?"

As I attempted to demonstrate the 'forget about stress' technique, our hands accidentally brushed against each other. A jolt of electricity shot through me, and I couldn't help but feel that maybe Mingyu's party suggestion wasn't all about the snacks.

Just as the moment was getting more intimate, Seungkwan's voice echoed through the rooftop door. "Y/N, Vernon, you won't believe what Seokmin is attempting on that karaoke stage!"

We exchanged an amused glance and headed back to the party, the rooftop escape lingering in the air like an unspoken secret.

Days turned into weeks, and the office dynamic shifted. Vernon and I found ourselves collaborating more often, whether it was on projects or sneaking away for a coffee break. The once-careful balance between professionalism and unspoken feelings began to blur.

One day, as I was drowning in a sea of spreadsheets, Vernon appeared at my desk with a cup of coffee. "Thought you could use a break, Y/N."

I smiled, touched by the gesture. "Thanks, Vernon. You always know when to save me from spreadsheet-induced insanity."

Vernon chuckled, "Just doing my superhero duty."

As he walked away, Seungkwan, ever the observant friend, nudged me. "Y/N, if Vernon's your superhero, maybe it's time to let him rescue more than just your sanity."

I sighed, realizing that maybe it was time to acknowledge the switch in my feelings. Little did I know; the office drama was far from over.

Embracing the subtle shift in dynamics, I decided to take Seungkwan's advice and let Vernon in a little more. As days passed, we found ourselves sharing stories, inside jokes, and even embarking on a few collaborative projects that had nothing to do with work.

One day, as we navigated a particularly tricky task, Vernon flashed that signature grin. "Y/N, who knew work could actually be fun?"

I smirked, "Well, considering you've turned our office into a circus more than once, I'd say fun is your specialty."

Vernon chuckled, and for a moment, our eyes locked. The unspoken tension between us was palpable, and I couldn't help but wonder if this was the moment to address the elephant in the room.

However, fate had different plans. Mingyu, the office charmer, decided to play cupid once again. "Guess what, lovebirds? There's a team-building retreat this weekend. You two should totally go together!"

I shot Mingyu a glare, but Vernon seemed unfazed. "A team-building retreat, huh? Sounds like a great opportunity to strengthen our professional synergy."

Seungkwan, who overheard the conversation, nudged me with a sly grin. "Looks like Mingyu's doing your job for you."

The weekend retreat was a mix of team-building exercises, trust falls, and awkward icebreakers. Vernon and I navigated through it all, trying to maintain our professional front. However, as the evening bonfire flickered to life, the atmosphere changed.

Under the starlit sky, surrounded by the laughter of colleagues, Vernon and I found ourselves drawn to the warmth of the flames. It was then that Mingyu, ever the matchmaker, suggested a round of sharing secrets around the fire.

Seated next to each other, Vernon and I exchanged hesitant glances. "I'll start," Mingyu declared. "I once accidentally sent a love letter to the office printer."

The group erupted in laughter, and the ice was broken. Colleagues shared embarrassing stories, dreams, and even fears. As the circle neared us, Vernon looked at me, his eyes reflecting a hidden vulnerability.

"I've got a secret," he began, "I'm not as carefree as I seem. There's more to me than meets the eye."

The sincerity in his voice struck a chord, and I felt a surge of courage. "I've got a secret too," I admitted, my gaze locked with Vernon's. "I never thought I'd find someone who could make me question my to-do lists and deadlines. Until now."

A hush fell over the group, and Mingyu, grinning like the ultimate cupid, whispered, "Looks like we've got a love confession in the making."

Vernon's eyes widened, and a smile played on his lips. The unspoken tension finally surfaced, and in that moment, surrounded by colleagues, deadlines, and the warmth of the bonfire, our secret crushes were no longer a secret.

The confession around the bonfire sparked a change in our dynamic. Colleagues became enthusiastic cheerleaders, and our interactions took on a newfound sweetness. The retreat ended with a subtle shift, leaving us on the brink of exploring a different facet of our relationship.

Back at the office, the atmosphere buzzed with playful teasing and knowing glances from our colleagues. Seungcheol, our boss, couldn't help but join in on the newfound workplace romance banter.

"Looks like we've got our very own office love story," he quipped during a team meeting, causing everyone to burst into laughter.

Vernon, ever the cool customer, took it in stride. "Guess we're the talk of the office now."

Seungkwan, who had become our unofficial relationship coach, couldn't resist chiming in. "Don't worry, you two. I've got a list of rom-coms we can use as a guide. First on the list, 'Office Love: A Spreadsheet Affair.'"

I rolled my eyes, "I think we can figure this out without consulting Hollywood."

As days turned into weeks, Vernon and I continued to explore the romance budding between us. The office dynamic remained lighthearted, with playful banter and camaraderie. Our desks, once separate islands in the sea of cubicles, were now like neighbouring countries, sharing secrets and stolen glances.

One day, as we worked on a project together, Mingyu sauntered over with a mischievous grin. "You know, there's a team-building workshop next month. More trust falls, more icebreakers. You guys up for it?"

Vernon and I exchanged a knowing glance, and he chuckled. "Why not? We've survived worse."

The workshop became another chapter in our evolving story. Trust falls turned into shared laughter, icebreakers transformed into inside jokes, and by the end of it, the unspoken romance had solidified into something more tangible.

As we navigated the workplace romance waters, our colleagues became our biggest cheerleaders. Soonyoung and Chan, known for their playful antics, organized a surprise 'office engagement' celebration, complete with streamers and confetti.

Vernon and I shared a glance, realising that our love story had taken a turn neither of us anticipated. Amidst the laughter and playful celebrations, the office had transformed into a haven of love and camaraderie.

In the midst of it all, Seungkwan, the unsung hero of our love story, grinned. "Who knew a stress ball circus could lead to all this?"

As the celebration continued, I couldn't help but marvel at the unexpected journey from unrequited feelings to a full-blown office romance. Little did I know, our story was far from ordinary, and the chapters that awaited us were bound to be filled with laughter, love, and the occasional office-related shenanigans.

And so, our office love story continued, each day bringing new adventures and discoveries, proving that sometimes, the best stories are the ones we never saw coming.

The end.

BONUS

Amidst the lovey-dovey glow of our budding romance, the office continued to be a hotbed of humor and shenanigans. Soonyoung and Chan, the dynamic duo of mischief, were determined to ensure our love story had its fair share of comedic moments.

One day, as Vernon and I were engrossed in a serious discussion about a project, Soonyoung burst into the room, wearing an oversized cupid costume complete with wings and heart-shaped arrows.

"Lovebirds! Cupid is here to spread the love!" he declared dramatically, shooting imaginary arrows in our direction.

Vernon burst into laughter, "Soonyoung, did you steal that from a costume shop?"

Soonyoung winked, "Let's just say they were happy to contribute to the office romance fund."

As cupid Soonyoung made his dramatic exit, Seungkwan appeared, holding a boombox blaring romantic ballads. "Cue the romantic background music, because love is in the air!"

I couldn't help but shake my head, "Are you all on a mission to turn our love story into a rom-com?"

Seungkwan grinned, "Of course! Every great love story needs a touch of drama and a splash of comedy."

The office antics continued, from surprise romantic dinners (courtesy of Mingyu's questionable cooking skills) to impromptu karaoke sessions led by Seungcheol. Each day brought a new twist, and our colleagues reveled in turning our office romance into a daily dose of entertainment.

One day, as Vernon and I enjoyed a quiet lunch in the office breakroom, Mingyu approached with a sly smile. "I've organised a team-building scavenger hunt. You two are partners, of course."

Vernon raised an eyebrow, "A scavenger hunt? Is this another attempt to set us up with more office romance drama?"

Mingyu winked, "Consider it a test of your teamwork skills."

And so, armed with a list of bizarre items to find around the office, Vernon and I embarked on the scavenger hunt. Little did we know; the items on the list were carefully curated for maximum comedic effect.

From finding the boss's favourite mug to retrieving Mingyu's missing pen, the scavenger hunt led us on a wild goose chase through the office, with our colleagues cheering us on and occasionally throwing in unexpected challenges.

As we raced against the clock, laughter echoed through the corridors. The scavenger hunt not only tested our teamwork but also became a hilarious adventure that further cemented the lighthearted spirit of our office romance.

In the end, we returned triumphant, armed with the requested items and a bag full of new inside jokes. Mingyu, grinning from ear to ear, declared, "Teamwork makes the dream work, especially in love!"

Our colleagues erupted in cheers, and as we caught our breaths, I couldn't help but appreciate the unexpected bonus of laughter and camaraderie that came with our office romance.

And so, amidst the office shenanigans and comedic chaos, Vernon and I embraced the joyous journey of love, proving that sometimes, a touch of humour is the perfect seasoning for a budding romance.

The real bonus, it seemed, wasn't just the love story but the incredible cast of characters who made our office romance an unforgettable and laughter-filled adventure.

ONE MORE BONUS

In the midst of our blossoming office romance, fate decided to throw a comical twist our way. Chan, the youngest member of our close-knit work family, found himself unintentionally at the epicenter of a lighthearted office drama.

As Vernon and I sought a moment of solitude for a stolen kiss, little did we know that Chan, armed with his characteristic youthful enthusiasm and penchant for timing, happened to be passing by. A sharp gasp from him caught our attention, and we quickly pulled away, glancing at each other with a mix of embarrassment and surprise.

The mischievous gleam in Chan's eyes hinted at trouble. "Caught you two in the act," he declared, brandishing his smartphone.

Seungkwan, never one to miss an opportunity for teasing, chimed in, "Looks like our baby Chan here just became the official office spy."

Chan, visibly annoyed but also reveling in the attention, shot back, "I am not a baby, and I was just passing by!"

Jeonghan, in his usual sarcastic tone, crossed his arms and looked at Chan with faux anger. "Oh, Chan, our innocent little baby. What have they done to you? You've been tainted by their lovey-dovey vibes."

Chan, with an eye roll, muttered, "I am not innocent, and I am certainly not a baby. Stop calling me that!"

Jeonghan continued in mock frustration, "Well, I hope you're happy now, Y/N and Vernon. You've officially corrupted our 'baby' Chan. Congratulations."

Chan, now slightly exasperated, grumbled, "I'm not corrupted, and I'm not your baby!"

The playful banter continued, with colleagues suggesting that Chan should be the official office witness for romantic moments. Mingyu, always ready for a bit of mischief, proposed a weekly "Chan's Chronicles" during team meetings, where Chan would share his accidental discoveries.

As the teasing persisted, Chan, despite his irritation, couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. "Fine, fine, make fun of me. But I'm not a baby, and I definitely didn't ask to witness their love drama."

And so, amidst the laughter and camaraderie, the unexpected witnessing by our 'baby' Chan became a quirky tale in our office romance saga. Chan, despite his protests, inadvertently added a touch of humour to our love story.

THE END

#svt fic #seventeen fanfic #svt x reader #svt fic recs #seventeen x reader #svt series #svt romcom #romantic comedy #svt comedy #svt fluff #vernon x reader #hansol x reader #hansol vernon chwe #vernon #svt #hoshi #jeonghan #mingyu #woozi

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hxney-lemcn · 7 months

Text

Is This Really Fake? — Fern Mertens x gn! reader

summary: Fern and reader fake date so Finn will stop bothering Fern. Only, it becomes a lot more real between the two behind closed doors.

tw: slightly suggestive at the end...but not really at the same time lol

a/n: Fake dating trope!!!!! Heavy inspiration from this post! Go check it out.

wc: 1.2k

Master List

“Please,” Fern pleaded. “Just until Finn gets off my back.”

I squinted at him, but his tired gaze finally convinced me.

“Fine,” I huffed.

In reality, I was ecstatic. I’ve had the fattest crush on Fern for as long as I could remember. And although I was a bit bummed he didn’t actually ask me out, I’d take what I could get.

It was game night at Finn and Jake’s place, and Fern’s plan was going to be set in motion. I felt nervous about what may happen tonight…

“Can you put on a smile?” Fern asked after he knocked on the door. “You look like you’re ready to dig your own grave.”

“For a matter of fact, I am,” I replied back with a fake glare.

When the sound of feet shuffling got close, I straightened my posture, quickly grabbing Fern's hand. He jumped slightly at the contact, but we quickly both threw on smiles when Finn opened the door.

“Hey guys! Come on in,” Finn invited. When we entered, climbing up to the living room, Jake waved us over to the couch.

This isn't your regular game night. This was video game night. Since there were only two controllers, we’d pass it on to the next person each round. Fern and I sat next to each other on the couch, closer than usual that is. The entire encounter was quite awkward. Perhaps pretending to be a couple wasn’t gonna work.

“So,” Jake spoke up, a cheesy smile on his face. “What’s going on with you two?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, playing coy. I glanced over to Fern whose face had been a dark shade of green ever since I grabbed his hand earlier.

“Yeah,” Finn added. “You two have been acting differently all night.”

“Uhm,” Fern mumbled, glancing to his side. “I mean…I guess we started dating-”

“WHAT!” Finn shouted, hands on the side of his head. “How long?”

“A week?” I asked more than stated. We went over our cover story, but being interrogated by Finn and Jake was slightly nerve wracking.

“A week!” Finn continued to exclaim. “Why didn’t you tell us man!”

“I…uh…didn’t think it was a big deal,” Fern shrugged.

“Calm down man,” Jake chuckled when Finn seemed like he was going to continue to explode. “We’re happy for you two. Now let's keep playing!”

The lie became more comfortable for Fern and I. An example being the new years party Marceline was holding. There were a lot of people, but Fern and I were chilling in a corner. We each held a red solo cup, his holding water and mine holding some punch. We were talking about whatever came to mind, just enjoying each other's company.

“Yeah, and Finn totally freaked out,” Fern chuckled, leaning against the wall.

“You two lovebirds having fun?” Marcy asked while approaching us.

“Totally,” I grinned at her from my place next to Fern. The teasing comments from our friends had become a norm we’ve grown used to. Not helped by the fact that Fern and I hung out a ton.

“Just a reminder,” Marcy grinned deviously. “It’s said if a couple doesn’t kiss at midnight, their bond weakens.”

I felt my face flush, and glancing at Fern revealed he was feeling the same way. Marcy only cackled as she floated away.

“You don’t gotta kiss me,” Fern spoke up after a few seconds of awkward silence. “Just a peck is fine…”

I smiled shyly, looking down at the drink in my hands, “It’s cool. As long as you’re okay with it.”

“Y-yeah!” Fern exclaimed before clearing his throat. “I mean, yeah. I don’t care.”

A small chuckle left me at his enthusiasm, butterflies fluttering in my stomach. Shuffling a bit, I found myself scooting closer to Fern, who smiled at me sheepishly. Suddenly, the entire room had people counting down.

“10!” People said in chorus. I tensed, not realizing how late it’s already gotten.

I looked over to Fern whose whole face turned a slightly darker shade of green.

My eyes swept across the whole room, landing on Marcy and Bonnibel who were cheering loudly together.

Taking a deep breath, I face Fern once more.

We shuffled closer together. “You’re really okay with this?”

“Yeah,” I replied breathlessly, in awe that this was actually happening.

Our faces inch closer.

I looked into his green eyes, afraid about how real this feels.

My heart twisted, hoping that this felt just as real for him.

Our lips connected in a light kiss. Neither one is sure how far to take it. I pushed a little more, not satisfied with just merely brushing our lips. Fern seemed to agree, as he raised a hand to rest on my arm.

We pulled apart after a few seconds, our faces both on fire. I looked off to the side, taking a small step back. I just kissed my best friend who I was pretending to date. Did I just reveal my feelings? Does Fern know that my feelings in this relationship aren’t as fake as they’re supposed to be?

After that night, things had taken a turn for the better. We were currently hanging out, just watching a show. My head rested on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around my shoulder. We both had become accustomed to each other's touch. In fact, I felt like I couldn’t imagine a world without it.

It was late, and my eyes kept fluttering close every so often. Fern rested his head against mine. He was so soft to lay against, not to mention warm. Like resting on freshly cut grass on a nice summer day.

“Could…could you kiss me?” Fern asked quietly, almost like he didn’t want me to hear.

“What?” I questioned, pulling away slowly to meet his eyes. “We don’t have to pretend right now.”

“I know,” Fern replied awkwardly, not able to meet my eyes. “But…I could use one right now.”

My heart rate accelerated. Perhaps, this was real for him too. These feelings that I felt were reciprocated. I felt like mush at the fact that Fern is asking me to kiss him, not somebody else.

“Of course,” I agreed. This was our second kiss, and it felt just as amazing, if not better than our previous one. Still a bit awkward, but it held a passion that threatened to take my breath away. His hands held my face softly as he angled his own to better match me. My fingers brushed through his hair, enjoying how soft it felt under my finger tips.

When we pulled away, Fern still held his face close to mine. My eyes fluttered open, drinking in his flustered expression. His cheeks were a deep green, eyes half lidded, mouth open as he tried to catch his breath.

“C-could we do that again?” I couldn’t help but ask, already missing the feeling of his lips on mine.

“Please,” Fern begged, meeting my lips once more without missing a beat. I let out a delightful hum, he tasted slightly sweet. It felt so intoxicating, I can only hope this means we’re official now. I pushed myself closer into his figure, and he wrapped his arms around me. I pulled away to take a breath, only for Fern to chase my lips.

I let out a soft chuckle, putting my hand against his chest, “I need to breathe.”

“Do you?” Fern replied stubbornly, eyes filled with such a strong want I felt myself melting against him.

“Kinda,” I muttered with a sly grin. I decided to snuggle up against him, laying my head in the crook of his neck, “...does this mean we’re actually dating now?”

“Yeah…I think so.”

"We better be," I grumbled.

#adventure time #fern mertens #fern the human #fern the human x reader #fern x reader #fern mertens x reader #adventure time x reader #fionna and cake x reader #fionna and cake #adventure time imagines #fionna and cake imagines

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