#their stupid school burned down actually i was like fuck yeah

[slutt4ellie]

Fated hearts starts with fire

(Will most likely have more then one part!!)

Ellie Williams x Reader

masterslist

PART 2 // PART 3 // PART 4 // PART 5

Moving to a new city is tough, but it’s even harder when your roommate is a dick.

Summery: You moved out of your childhood town to peruse writing in NYC. While apartment searching you ended up finding a place 10 minutes off your campus, the one down side is you had to share it with a complete stranger.

Warnings -> Ellie’s just a complete dick, for good reasons! (sorta) / Alcohol usage / Mean!Ellie / Mean!Reader (sorta idk!) / I explained the clothes the reader is wearing twice but it doesn’t describe the reader being masc or fem! / WILL BE A SLOW BURN! / (Eventual smut ) / mention of previous relationships / toxic relationships /(Lmk if I missed anything else!)

WC: 4k!!

(Not Proofread!!)

DAILY CLICK 🇵🇸

You were beyond fucking nervous. 

You grew up in a small town since childhood and you’re currently standing outside your apartment in one of the biggest cities in America. New York City. 

Your parents thought you were “foolish” for chasing an imaginary dream which was writing. They constantly let you know that too, telling you most authors and writers go unnoticed by people with a greater talent and following.

Regardless it didn’t stop you from applying to a university in New York, and once you got in, you assumed it was a sign to pack up and leave the small city you called home for 18 years. 

Getting into one of your dream schools, packing up and leaving your parents, that was a few weeks ago and now you’re standing outside your two bedroom apartment. That’s right, two bedroom fucking aparment, it definitely wasn’t your ideal choice but when you saw an ad posted for a shared apartment for about 1.5k a month, you couldn’t exactly pass. 

Rent was already fucking expessive and now that you live in New York finding a place to live for under 3k well that was nearly impossible. So you quickly passed on the opportunity and decided you needed to step out for once and meet a new person, that being your roommate. 

You didn’t really know much about them other than the fact she was a girl, I mean you exchanged a few messages but to be honest she was dry, she only wanted a roommate because she couldn’t afford the apartment on her own and the person that previously lived with her had to move back to their hometown.

The fact she was a girl actually shared some comfort, I mean if it was a guy you would have been fine but trying to find something to relate on probably would have eventually killed you. 

So here you are, standing outside your new apartment with a key that the receptionist gave you, after you explained you were a new tenant that was moving. You weren’t a huge “people person", you had a few friends in high school which you still talk to often but other than that you were a homebody. You decided to nervously knock before entering the apartment which on the contrary seemed stupid since it was now also your apartment but it almost seemed respectful.

A voice followed the knock “Yeah it’s open you can come in!” That was your cue to open the door and your eyes were quickly met with peircing green ones. The girl had auburn haired with freckles that trailed her face, and a tiny scar on her eyebrow. “Who are you?” The girl said harshly looking you up and down which genuinely made you uncomfortable, but it’s not something you decide to mention. “I-I’m your roommate we talked. I’m-” You nervously held out your hand to shake which led the auburn haired girl to shake her head “I don’t have to know your name, we’re roommates, not friends.” Harsh, is all you could think. You just uncomfortably nod your head and let out a slight “Right.”

She just looks at the few boxes you had on the transport trolley and focuses her attention back on the tv as she plops back down on the couch. “Your room is down the hall on the left. Just put your shit there.” She sighs. 

I mean she's not the nicest person you’ve ever met but as of now you're sorta intruding on her space so you’d like to give her the benefit of the doubt and say that’s why she seems to be on edge with your presence..!

It took you only a few hours to get your room setup. Since you moved pretty from your hometown you didn’t have the luxury of taking big things. Like your bed, mattress, shit like that. So you had a room, but the normal committees that come with a bedroom unfortunately didn’t apply. 

You also knew you had to get food considering you had nothing, you just took an assumption that the auburn hair girl wasn’t going to be suddenly sharing and giving you a helping hand allowing you to take something to eat. 

You got dressed throwing on a jacket and jeans to accommodate for the coldish weather that was taking place in NYC right now. But as you leave your room and walk down the hallway you notice the girl now has a friend sitting beside her on the couch. The person who you’re assuming is her friend has long brunette hair, brown doe eyes, and a nice smile. “Ellie just come onnnnn! Come to the party, forget about Cat and actually go out!” Okay so the auburn haired girl's name is Ellie, looks like her mysterious persona is now gone. You thought to yourself. 

And you must have been staring for to long because Ellies green eyes now meet yours and your face flushes red as she speaks “Can I fucking help you?” As Ellie finishes her sentence the brunette nudges her hard muttering something along the lines of “You don’t always have to be a dick!”

Now that you feel your self respect has gone since you were caught staring like a deer in headlights, you just shake your head fast, and incredibly embarrassed. This ultimately leads you to leave the apartment fast just as fast as you entered and go to the closest grocery store you could possibly find..

That whole interaction had to be at least an hour or so ago because when you entered the apartment both hands cuffing grocery bags it was completely empty, the fact that Ellie and the brunette were talking about some party had you come to the conscience that they most likely went to it, which to be fair you weren’t exactly complaining. You’re almost sure Ellie hates you anyway so the fact you didn’t have to deal with her almost felt like a breath of fresh air. 

After putting away the groceries you sat down on the couch and pulled out your phone. There were a few messages from your parents and your very few high school friends reaching out to see how the move went.

Mommmmmm ❤️ 

(5:30pm) - “Hey hun, checking to see how the move went! You’re officially a city girl 😎”

You

(7:32pm) - “So far so good! Settling in well!”

Mommmmmm ❤️

(7:33pm) - “How's ur roomy? Must be strange living with someone who's not me and dad. 😂”

You

(7:35pm) - “Definitely weird, but she's nice! I’m gonna make dinner love u mom ❤️”

Mommmmmm ❤️

(7:35pm) - “Love you honey! Get something in your stomach. 😘”

You knew lying to your mom was sorta shitty but if you told your mom “Yeah my roommate is kinda a dick. She wouldn’t drop it trying to convince you that you 100% would need a new apartment and you’ve already accepted that 1.5k a month is the cheapest you’re ever going to find. So lying seemed like a smooth approach to the situation. 

Dad  

(7:45pm) - Your mother let me know everything's going well with the move. Good to hear.

You

(7:47pm) - Yep! Thanks dad. 

(Read)

That was usually you the most you got from your dad, he wasn’t very “Lovey dovey” as your mom would say which you tried not to blame him, your relationship wasn’t too toxic other then the writing thing. 

One thing you have been doing is texting your friends all day letting the know about the roommate situation and everything that’s been going on. 

You 

(5:20pm)- I don't wanna move in, I don't wanna move in, I don't wanna move in, I don't wanna move in

Jess 🤗

(6:30pm) - Youll be fineeee!

Alex 🙊

(6:33pm) - yeah youll be fine! 

You

(6:34pm) - Guys actually help

(6:35pm) - Come to nyc

(6:35pm) - Come to nyc

(6:35pm) - SHE'S MEANN. 

Jess 🤗

(7:00pm) - WHO?

You

(7:10pm) - MY ROOMMATE

Alex 🙊

(7:33pm) - tf is happening? 😭

 You

(8:00pm) - fuck so when I first moved in she told me we dont have to fucking know each others names because were “Roomates and not friends” 

(8:01pm) - then I was gna go buy groceries and i accidentally stared and she she asked me if I fucking needed something

Alex 🙊

(8:33pm) - HUH? 

Jess 🤗

(8:40pm) - WHAT DID U DO?

 You

(8:44pm) - NOTHING. 

Jess 🤗

(8:40pm) - praying for u! 😁

Alex 🙊

(8:44pm) - same here girl

That was the last message you and your friends exchanged. They tried to calm you down a bit but you never had someone dislike you. You weren’t at all popular in school so you often went unnoticed which was FINE. But actually having someone dislike you and be open about the fact they actually don't enjoy your company was sorta humbling in a way?

You didn’t wanna force Ellie to like you but you didn’t understand why she already deemed that you were annoying or something.The thing you kept on going back to was the fact it was manly her space weather or not you liked it, it was almost like you were intruding and I guess if she felt that way you couldn’t blame her. 

It only took around 12 until your heard stumbling outside your apartment. It was a few seconds after when the front door opened and a man and woman let themselves in without knocking. You would have probably freaked out but the girl was the same one that was sitting on the couch with Ellie and she gave you a quick smile. “Hi” She has a very drunk Ellie on her shoulder which she quickly lets her down on the couch and picks her words back up looking straight at you “I’m Dina, this is Jesse, we're friends of Ellie.” She smiles and nudges Jesse which leads him to shake your hand softly. You followed up by telling them your name with a smile before you looked at Ellies limpish body on the couch. 

“Is she okay?” You looked at her, Ellie seemed way less hostile while she was sleeping which was refreshing. Dina almost instantly nods looking at you. “Oh yeah, she's just- she went a bit overboard tonight!” Jesse sorta chuckles “Cat situation clearly got her worked up” Your mind couldn’t help but wonder, did she fucking lose her cat or something, is that why shes so unreasonably moody. I mean it would make sense? 

You just nod looking at the pair, I mean you didn’t know what the fuck to say and this led Dina awkwardly make split eyecontact with you which followed by looking back at Jesse. “Well! We should get going It’s late and all and we got morning classes”

“Fuck tell me about it” You chuckle looking at them before talking “It was nice to meet you guys.” You smile nodding looking at them and Dina and Jesse both smile giving you a nice “Yeah you too” 

You went into your bedless room laying down a blanket against the cold wooden floor and layed a pillow right above that. Your mind wandered that night, you tried not to pay much attention to your roommate or what her friends said but you didn’t have much else to think about. Class started tomorrow and as much as you loved writing you had an undoubting feeling your professors were not going to pass up the chance to give you some insanely long ass writing assignment. So thinking about what Ellie's friends said was unfortunately on your mind.

When Jesse said “The cat situation” it had your mind go straight to the fact she probably lost her pet cat or something. But the more you thought about it, that seemed a tad bit far-fetched considering the conversion Dina was having with Ellie as they were talking on the couch “Ellie just come onnnnn! Come to the party, forget about Cat and actually go out!” you just took the benefit of the doubt and wanted to say that most people would probably say “Forget about the cat” while referring to the pet cat! I mean unless Dinas grammar is just really ass. Cat is most likely a person. 

You quickly shake your head mumbling out a quick “This is stupid” it was 1am, and you're thinking about whether your roommates' friends were talking about a real cat or a person. Fuck you need to make some friends here, because if this is how you’re going to be spending your nights it’s going to get rough quick!

The morning was groggy as your alarm woke you up. You had classes that you needed to go to and you refused to let yourself be late to the first day. You got up throwing on a pair of pants and a sweater that will make sure you’re not freezing your ass off during the day. You left your room and just to your fucking luck Ellie’s leaving her room at the exact same time leaving the both of you with weird ass awkward eye contact. You assumed she must have gotten off the couch some time throughout the night considering she's now in her bedroom. Since you were both staring for about 10 seconds Ellie finally talks. “I heard if you take a picture it will last longer?” 

You tried to shrug off the comment but each time she spoke it was like nothing nice was going to come out of her mouth. You just turned on your heel shifting your gaze from hers, going down the hallway trying your best to not give her a reaction. It was better to be the bigger person consider it feels like your literal fucking roomates with a 13 year old boy. 

“You look shitty?” She says with a slight chuckle. Well that one did hurt. Manly because you spent time this morning making sure you looked presentable for the people you were going to face in class. You didn’t understand why she said it, but whether or not it was supposed to come out as a joke it hurt. “Did I do something or are you just like this with literally everyone.” You say avoiding her gaze. 

“Like?” She says, and this is now the longest you two have had a reciprocating conversation and it’s literally just insults. “Just a fucking prick” You say grabbing your bag and a protein bar. Luckily for you this time she didn't respond, her eyebrows slightly furrowed at your comment and you can tell it definitely struck a nerve. She just leaves the kitchen island and sits on the couch. And that was your invitation to also leave. You couldn’t be bothered to pursue this conversation any longer so you left and caught a taxi to your University. 

(Ellies Pov)

Yesterday

“I don’t wanna go to a fucking party man” Ellie groans looking at Dina as she continues to beg. “Ellie just come onnnnn! Come to the party, forget about Cat and actually go out!” Ellie catches your gaze and talks directly at you “Can I fucking help you?” Ellie says getting followed up with a hard nudge from Dina “You don’t always need to be a dick!” Ellie watches as you trip over your feet stumbling out of the apartment with a red face, clearly embarrassed. “What’s your issue?” Dina says, turning Ellies concentration straight back on her. “Nothing!” Ellie says, trying to defend her shitty behaviour. “You realize you dont always have to be fucking passive” Dina says looking at Ellie, as Ellies desperately trying avoid it. “I'm not being passive?!” Dina scoffs and puts on a deep voice trying to mock her “Can I fucking help you?” Dina says, looking at Ellie. “Literally coming from the same girl who sleeps with a dinosaur stuffed animal” Dina laughs, causing Ellie to defensively shake her head. “What the fuck! No I don't!” Dina nods and talks again “Ellie just come to the party she won’t even be there!” 

“Cat suddenly doesn’t come to parties?” Ellie shakes her head looking at Dina. “She won't be at this one! Just pleaseeee!!! School is gonna start then you’re going to complain because you missed this party.” Ellie cracks out a little smile and finally nod “Fuck okay okay! 

That led Ellie to the point she is now, in a taxi with Dina and Jesse. “It’s gonna be funn!” Dina smiles reassuring Ellie, which clearly doesn’t work because Ellies shakes her head “I think we got different meanings of fun Dina.” Dina shakes her and looks at Jesse and nudges him “Jesse you convince her. “Dude just put on a smile and once we get some shots in you it will be fine. We’re gonna have fun!” Ellie just smiles at the pair and nods. “Alrightttt!” They both smile at Ellie finally cracking a smile. “Yess!” Dina says. 

The night was smooth sailing for most of the time, when Ellie got some shots in her the tenseness of the night sorta just faded and it allowed her to actually enjoy the night. Ellie even flirted with a couple girls which was rare. I mean it didn’t lead anywhere because she 100% wasn’t ready for that, but it was nice. Especially after Cat. 

And just as Ellie thought the night was going well and she was talking to a girl there was a light tap on the shoulder and she was met with the same brown eyes that she spent almost a full year with. 

Fucking cat.  

“Hey sun..” Cat says. And Ellie couldn’t help but cringe at the words. Sun, that’s what Cat always called Ellie when they were dating, and now that they 100% weren’t dating, it sorta just felt like a fresh wound. Ellie is a bit drunk (Really drunk) but she quickly spits out some words “Don’t call me that Cat.” Cat almost seems dumbfounded at Ellies words, like she couldn’t process the fact Ellie didn’t wanna get called some corny fucking pet name. 

“Okay..sorry. It’s like I always used to call you that?-” Cat says looking at Ellie trying to meet her green eyes but Ellie refuses to make eye contact. “Yeah, fucking used to. Just fu-” Dina quickly jumps in noticing Ellies hands are clenched and that nothing well is going to resolve from this conversation. “Hey Els go get some air with Jesse!” Dina quickly suggest signalling jesse over with a tilt of her head which causes him to walk over “Go take Ellie outside real quick please” He just smiles and nods, taking Ellie by the shoulder as she stumbles over her feet.

“Cat stop trying to talk to her. It’s still fresh and you’re acting like you breaking up with her was some game, okay you two are over and you made that decision.” Dina says sternly once Ellie and Jesse are outside. And Cat shakes her head fast. “I-I’m not even acting like it was some game?” Cat says getting defensive “I said we should take a break!” Cat says looking at Dina. “Then you fucking kissed a girl infront of her!” Dina says now also getting annoyed. The fact Cat wasn’t cluing into the fact she hurt Ellie was getting old. “Leave Ellie the fuck alone Cat” Dina says leaving the house to go meet up with Jesse and Ellie. 

“Is she okay?” Dina asks, looking at Ellie as she leans her head on his shoulder. Jesse looks at Dina and shrugs. “Other than the fact she just threw up 3 times I think she's okay!” He chuckles sarcastically. “Deal with Cat?” He asks as him and Dina now hold Ellie up. “Fuck shes unsufferable, but yeah, I think she got the message this time.”

This is what leads Dina and Jesse to drag and Ellie back to her shared apartment with you. They quickly open the door without knocking and Dina instantly notices your slightly panicked face “Hi” Dina says with a very drunk Ellie on her shoulder, Dina lets down Ellie lightly on the couch and Ellies body falls limp.

This is when Dina clues in you two haven’t properly met. “I’m Dina, this is Jesse, we're friends of Ellie.” Dina smiles and nudges Jesse which leads him to shake your hand softly. Dina and Jesse quickly learned your name as you followed up by telling them with a smile before you decide to talk again.. “Is she okay?”

Dina heard how your voice was soft. She wanted to give you props for even caring considering what Ellie said earlier to you  “Oh yeah, she's just- she went a bit overboard tonight!” Jesse sorta chuckles “Cat situation clearly got her worked up” They both noticed how your eyebrows furrowed clearly thinking about something but they didn’t think it was important to mention.

Dina breaks the awkward ass silence saying “Well! We should get going It’s late and all and we got morning classes”

You nodded to her words and said “Fuck tell me about it” You smiled looking at them before talking “It was nice to meet you guys.” You smile nodding looking at them and Dina and Jesse both smile giving you a nice “Yeah you too” 

Ellie’s night was shit, she woke up on the couch around 4am and noticed Dina and Jesse were nowhere to be seen. Since she woke up at 4am she did make it back into her bedroom but regardless the next morning her hangover was horrible. As she leaves her room she notices you walk out at the exact same fucking time. Great! It was followed by an awkward stare. Ellie noticed you must have gotten up early because you were put together but she would say that. Considering her night was shitty and you both were looking at each other like a deer lost in headlights she comes up with the bright idea to say “I heard if you take a picture it will last longer?” I mean it was harsh but it was easy!

You turned on your heel without giving Ellie a reaction which left her puzzled. I mean she didn’t do it for a reaction but the fact you didn’t give her one was weird. She sees you walk to the kitchen island and grab your bag. Again Ellie’s mouth thought way faster than her thoughts. “You look shitty?” She says it with a slight chuckle. I mean she didn’t mean it but now she was curious if you would break. 

And this time you did. Your eyebrows furrowed and she saw how her words actually affected you. Your eyes just looked more sad when she said those words. “Did I do something or are you just like this with literally everyone.” Ellie quickly picks up on how you’re avoiding her gaze, which works in her favor because if you did end up making eye contact with her you would see how her eyes faltered for a split second showing an ounce of sympathy.  

“Like?” Ellie says trying to keep up this shitty tough persona which really makes her come off as “Just a fucking prick” It’s like you finished what she was thinking and she didn’t like it. Because it’s one thing to act like one but now that it was brought to her attention it was like something she just really didn’t want to hear. 

This leads Ellie to get embarrassed on the fact you actually did call her out, she quickly turns her head facing away from you which was on purpose and she sat down on the couch which faces the tv. She hears your footsteps getting closer to the door and way more distance. Then there's a final slam of the door. You’re gone now.

Ellie’s not even looking at the tv, just straight ahead, because not only does she have a new roommate. But you fully were willing to actually call her out without a second thought.

Which Ellie doesn't like. 

A/N -> HI! I feel like I have to apologize for literally leaving for like a month but I have had almost 0 motivation to write.

School has me really busy so it’s sorta just consuming all my free time. I also realized in my first fic I rushed to get the parts out which made the whole process of making them less enjoyable!

That being said for this one i’m not going to force myself to write I’m going to do it on my accord! (but that doesn’t mean each part is gonna take like a month btw!)

I hope you guys enjoyed reading this because I did enjoy making/ coming up with the plot. And I promise in future chapters it will get more interesting 😭 (let’s also not talk about how the reader didn’t know ellie’s name till they moved in, which I know is unrealistic asf!)

This is really just to start it off making sure the plot is understandable. 🫶🏽

#ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #lgbtq #the last of us #the last of us two #ellie x y/n #mean ellie #ellie smut #cute #wlw post #wlw #lesbian #gay #slutt4ellie #like #thelastofus #elliewilliams #loser!ellie #ellie x you #wlw love #queer

[inkskinned]

something that stuck with me once, way back in middle school when i was still learning how to write - my teacher said "writing shock and tragedy is easy, it's humor that's the hardest."

i have been up and down the halls of academia. i have the fancy degree and the experience in publishing. i think i paved most of my own road with the little bricks of sorrow i had stored inside of me. i know i did it mostly with works that are blisteringly lonely. i know why we write like that. it's lifesaving.

but yeah, i mean. i also know how much people think that "sad" media is the same thing as "good" media. our human desire to connect is so hard-pressed that we immediately latch onto any broken themes. the bullied kids and the tales of inspiration. people keep saying things like "glass onion" and "everything everywhere" weren't actually good. because, you know, they're. happy. or happy-ish. happy enough. and we only value art if it's grimdark-adjacent.

do you know - people still consistently whine at me that my writing would be so good if i just capitalized things. i used to flinch. i get kind of a weird, vindictive little rush these days - i get to say thank you for the comment! i have chronic pain and this is how i conserve my hands so i can write more during the day :) grammar isn't real anyway! and now they're trapped in the room with me, you know? i get to pull out my map and show them how grammar is not the same thing as good writing.

writers have this thing. we scratch at our insides, constantly, prying our lives apart into splinters. prying the splinters apart into atoms. when we combust something into poetry, we control it. it cannot hurt us if it exists outside of us rather than burning a hole through the bottom of our lungs. it's not a wonder to me that so much of what i make comes out like a death gasp. i spent a long time at the bottom. i keep going back, too. when you're down there for so long, the only thing you can exhale is fumes.

but humor is hard. humor needs timing; which i can't promise in a paragraph. i can kind-of force it through careful spacing, but i have no idea how fast you're reading these things. humor needs a somewhat awareness of your audience, when really - anybody could be looking. humor needs us to understand what the joke is, why it's a joke, and to think - ha! that is funny. in tragedy, everyone understands the metaphor of a kicked puppy. in humor, you need to introduce them to the concept of a dog.

and forget about positivity. forget about anything not made for adults explicitly. every time i see a well-made children's media piece, i feel fucking horrible for the creators. most of the time, people see children's media as being sort of "not worth" applause, even though i'm pretty sure they have to work twice as hard. i have no idea how hard it must be to not be able to have your character just say. "well, fuck." something about a message of peace or friendship or caring - for some reason, that makes the media not for adults. like, okay. i'm pretty sure my father actually, out of all of us, could use a good book on how to control his temper and talk about his feelings.

but whatever. i write a short story about my ocd, and how it's fucking killing me. it gets an award. it gets published. i write a short story about my ocd, and how i'm overcoming it, and how my days are getting lighter and starting to flourish. i keep getting ghosted. no response. it just is lacking... something.

is this it, forever? you can be an artist, okay. but the trade off is that the things you make - if they're happy? if they're joyful? people will say it's stupid and pandering. you bite your nails off. you file your teeth. you hear something inside of you breaking.

the other day in a writing group, someone i'd thought of as a friend said: "you write so much better these days! i love what you make when you'd rather be dead."

#i have no idea what this is about #writeblr #i think u might tho. if ur an artist. u might. idk

[pupyuj]

campus rebel! g!p wonyoung who fucks the shit out of the stuco president for getting her into trouble 😵‍💫😵‍💫 OH MY GOD I WANNA HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS

bad girl wony... yeah.. yeah exactly. i giggle every time i get g!p ive asks esp annyeongz i just want them to double team me tbh—

LISTENNNN ... ever since 230423 wonyoung i have never been the same, that look is literally how i picture rebel wony 😭😭😭

wwhat if she has never gotten in trouble for all the bullshit she did when you weren't the stuco president :(( wony got away with everything scot-free bcs the previous presidents were scared of what might happen to them (like expulsion) bcs wony had a bit of a hold in the school 😟😟 but then you got elected, and things changed real fast 😁 teachers were actually scolding her?? giving her shit when she was late to class or wandered the halls during?? and she has never gotten detention before... until you personally put her in one 😭

the detention in question being held in the student council meeting room, it was just you and her. wony was pissed, she could be out partying and getting laid right now but instead, she had to stare at your pretty face while you did your work and babysat her at the same time! looking up from your desk briefly and seeing that the paper in front of wonyoung was still blank. "it's a simple apology, jang. i'm doing you a favor by saving you from a criminal charge. this won't hurt your reputation, you know." you said with a sigh.

"oh trust me, it's been hurt the moment you stepped up that stupid podium in the gym and did your campaign speech like you were the leader of the nation." wonyoung picked up her pen and started scribbling on her paper. well, at least you wouldn't have to deal with her eyes just burning holes into your head anymore! she doesn't even get why she has to apologize 🤨 spray-painting cock and balls to that creepy janitor's truck was funny! and he deserved it!

and then a few minutes later, here comes wony marching over to your desk and slamming her paper down in front of you. what you didn't see was a proper apology but rather a big drawing of a middle finger. this was useless.

"do you wanna go to jail, jang? don't forget that this isn't the first time you've broken a literal law!"

wonyoung merely shrugged, a cocky smile on her lips, "you're just afraid you'll miss me."

you grabbed a new piece of paper, stood up, and pushed it on her chest, "get your shit together. not even your daddy can pull you out of the mess you want to create." but wonyoung was not at all threatened! see, she has always thought that as much as you were a pain in her ass for always scolding her about what she wore, her attitude, and everything... you were still hot. and to you, even when wonyoung was the bane of your existence, you still wanted her badly deep down (pretty, charismatic, cute smile... who could ever resist?), so you didn't complain at all when she suddenly grabbed your waist and kissed you 😳😳

it was messy, what with wonyoung biting your lips and forcing her tongue in your mouth,,, and it wasn't until she lifted you on top of your desk that she finally pulled away, busying her hands with unbuttoning your shirt, her lips now on your neck,,, the way she wouldn't stop teasing you 😭😭 "d'you get me in trouble just so you can have me alone? you could have just told me that you wanted me, prez." shes so annoying 😩

shhdfdkffbf wony marking you all over and you complaining about it 😭😭 AND YOU'RE ARGUING EVEN WHEN SHE HAS HER DICK INSIDE YOU BCS SHE'S TOO FAST OR SOMETHING 💀 you really have no fucking idea why girls throw themselves on her all the time when all she's focused on is her pleasure 🙄 but wony doesn't give a fuck, she's still pissed at you for making her look weak and small now 🫠🫠 so she doesn't care that her pace is too fast, or that she practically forced her big cock inside your tight walls, or that she left too many bite marks on your neck and shoulders... people were gonna know what happened here, and people will know that it was all her doing 😈

wony forcing your legs open for her while she pounds your cunt 🤤🤤🤤 but she's baby so she was whining and groaning in your ear, head buried on your shoulder bcs you feel really good :(( and she gets addicted to the way you say her actual name, totally different from the usual spiteful way you say 'jang', so she makes you say it again and again :((( your voice becoming the thing that grounds her but god she literally can't help but just ruin you so after coming together for the first time, wony immediately puts your legs on the ground and bends you over :((((

her saying mean things to you while she's destrying your cunt from behindddd 🫠🫠

"you're a f-fucking bitch, prez... i hate you.."

"be thankful that you're so pretty, and that this pussy is fucking sweet c-cuz.. ahh, fuck...! i would have gotten you expelled a long time ago... mhmm.. feels so good... so good..."

"from now on, i'm gonna make you my slut... i'm sure you'd like that, unnie.. j-jang wonyoung's cute little cocksleeve sounds more of a better title than student council president..."

needless to say, she fucks you stupid until detention was over! but since you still had stuco prez things to do until sundown, you had to stay in school and ofc wony did too 😁 tho you didn't complain this time bcs cockwarming her while you did your work and kissing her from time to time made everything a little less boring! 🤤

#ive smut #ive x fem reader #ive x reader #ive imagines #jang wonyoung imagines #jang wonyoung x reader #jang wonyoung smut #wonyoung imagines #wonyoung smut #wonyoung x reader #girl group x reader #girl group imagines #girl group smut

[slayfics]

Explosive Tendencies a slow burn fan fiction about the readers developing relationship with Katsuki Bakugo.

Chapter twenty-one: Your class decides what to do for the School Festival.

Chapter links

In class, you overheard that your classmates had decided to put on a concert for the school festival. After classes, everyone huddled around in the common room trying to decide what the show would look like. You weren't surprised to see Katsuki wasn't there yet again.

Mina eyed you as you walked past your classmates debating on what kind of show to have. You slipped by them and made your way to the elevator for the boy's side of the dorms.

Once you finally made it to the fourth floor and Katsuki's door, you were greeted with his typical furious "What!?" when you knocked.

"Oh, hey," he said when he opened the door and realized it was you.

"Hiding up here again?" You asked, as you made your way into his room sitting in your usual spot on his rolling chair.

"I was about to head down," he said, as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

"What really!? You were actually going to help with ideas for the show?" You asked surprised.

"Tch- I don't know... the whole thing is pointless anyway," he said irritated, although you noticed he had been much more in thought about it than before.

"Pointless hu?" You asked.

"Yeah... I overheard some dumbasses from general studies talking about our class. Saying it's our fault everyone had to move into the dorm. As if we fucking asked for some villains to come and ruin everything. Just- I don't know..." He trailed off.

You could tell it was bothering Katsuki more than he was saying. You knew he must feel partially responsible given he was the one that got kidnapped at summer camp. You decided changing the subject to get his mind off it was best.

"Whatever, forget those extras," You joked. "I never asked how your classes went this past weekend for your provisional licenses," you said.

You were hoping a change of subject would help, but this also seemed to activate Katsuki.

"Fucking dumb," he said dryly.

"Tell me about it," You encouraged.

Katsuki grunted and looked away as he decided if he wanted to talk about it or not. "The test was fucking stupid and those damn airheads from Shiketsu were there," He spoke.

"Airheads?" You asked clarifying.

"Yeah, that fucking wind guy and some blond bitch that was all over Icy Hot," Katsuki said as he averted his gaze to the ground.

Katsuki wasn't saying it but the fact that Inasa and Camie ignored him while they fawned over Shoto upset him.

You noticed the dejected look on his face and laughed, "Well sounds like that blond girl has some horrible taste then."

"Hu?" He exclaimed and looked back up at you.

"I just mean if I was her, it's not Todoroki I'd be looking at," You explained.

"No?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "Who would you be looking at then?"

"Uh-," You felt your face get hot. You hadn't expected Katsuki to call you out to clarify.

"Come on, say it," He pushed.

Just then Katsuki's door flew open, "Are you seriously not going to come down again and help Kacchan?" Denki asked entering the room unannounced. "Oh! Uh hey! Didn't expect to find you here too," Denki said looking at you. "Sorry, am I interrupting something?"

"Didn't anyone teach you to knock dunce face!" Katsuki yelled.

"Sorry!" Denki said throwing his hands up. "But come on- you two should be helping us!" He complained.

"Fine," Katsuki grunted standing up. "Let's go see what these idiots are planning." He said waving at you to follow.

Once you three made your way down to join the rest of your classmates a discussion about who knew how to play instruments ensued.

That was when Denki shouted excitedly at Katsuki, "Hey! Didn't you say your parents made you take drum lessons?!"

"HU?! No way I'm playing and making a fucking idiot of myself on stage!" Katsuki barked.

"Oh, we get it- it's too hard for you, hu?" Hanta said snickering. He was clearly trying to anger Katsuki into playing them.

"WHAT!? THEY AREN'T EVEN THAT HARD!" Katsuki yelled as he stomped over to play.

"Well, that was easy," Hanta whispered to Denki, and they both broke laughing.

Katsuki proceeded to play a short drum solo that left everyone shocked. Jiro quickly proclaimed that Katsuki should be the drummer for the school festival.

"NO!" Katsuki said and began to walk back to his dorm.

A symphony of your classmates broke out trying to persuade him.

"Don't you idiots get it!" He yelled. "All the other classes blame us for why things are so strict now. They are only going to come and watch us to hope we make fools of ourselves," Katsuki explained.

"What?! We're just trying to help everyone have a good time!" Trou yelled back.

"You didn't help decide what we were going to do so you can't complain," Shoto said.

Katsuki let out an annoyed grunt, "Whatever, but doesn't it piss you off? It's not like we wanted villains to show up and attack us, but now we're being blamed for it? I don't give a damn how those other weak classes feel about us let's just destroy them by having the best event at the stupid festival." Katsuki replied.

Most of the class erupted in excitement at Katsuki agreeing to play drums, but few exchanged glances having a different understanding about what he said.

Some of your classmates picked up on the subtly of what Katsuki was saying. He had been carrying around the guilt of being kidnapped and causing all the strict changes to the school.

Tags: @anon-mouse223 @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @sikuthealien @queenpiranhadon @melrs21 @poemzcheng @kazuumii @bakunianadecorazon @ur-crusty-uncle @reads-stuff-quietly @chixkadee @perfectsukii @faetoraa @fem-weeb @nagicats @lees-chaotic-brain @maelibo

#katsuki x y/n #katsuki x you #katsuki x reader #katsuki fanfic #katsuki fluff #bnha katsuki #katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugo x reader #bakugo x self insert #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo katuski #bnha bakugou #mha bakugou #bakugou x you #great explosion murder god dynamight #explosive tendencies #mha x y/n #mha x you #mha x reader #bnha x self insert #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha fanfiction #bnha x reader

[jeonqkooks]

isn't it romantic? | myg (01)

ENTRY ONE: Me Before You

⟶ SERIES MASTERPOST

Many things in life have a polar opposite: left and right, night and day, yin and yang, you and Min Yoongi... Hopeless romantic meets gloomy cynic. The only thing you seem to share is a magazine column but even then, you still can’t seem to understand how Yoongi can be called ‘The Love Doctor’ when he is the antithesis of everything love represents.

pairing: yoongi x f!reader; side/past taehyung x f!reader

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genre/warnings: coworkers to lovers, magazine writers au, fluff, angst, eventual smut; central themes of cheating (not between yoongi and oc), swearing (a staple in this household 😗), one bit is a lilllll suggestive?, mentions of drinking, i think that's it hmmm, barely edited bc u know how we do

word count: 5.1k

note: this is the yoongi brainrot speaking !!! the banner for this entry is one of my all time favorite pics of him and i will find a way to use it in everything !!! but erhm yeah iir is officially starting and i'm very curious to see what y'all think about it 😗 please like it haha jk no i'm serious please like it it's my baby

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

I waste my breath on a prayer, you don't care, I was never a part of your plan, You can't make a God of somebody, Who's not even half of a half-decent man.

I Burned LA Down - Noah Cyrus

Half your life, you hated blue.

You often associated it with so many bad things - loss, betrayal, loneliness. The great big storm. The end of life.

Most of the pigtails-wearing girls in your class disliked it because it was often a boy’s color. You hated it because of a stranger on a beach.

Then you discovered Blue Side (as ironic as the name was), the magazine that everybody and their mother was reading. There was this column - the Love Maze (as corny as it sounded) - that had your 15-year-old self hooked from the first article you read, “Flirty Pickup Lines to Text Your Crush”. It gave you a nice little distraction from the reality of your fucked up family.

You’d get home from school and dive right into it. You could count on the maze for a new article every day, covering all kinds of things - cute little quizzes, daily love horoscopes, relationship tidbits…

You started reading it religiously because it was stupid, and fun, but it was more than that too. They covered real-life stories of actual people, which you’d never really thought about. For the most part, it was tedious. Rekindling with an old flame whilst grocery shopping, accidentally spilling coffee on a stranger who then asked you out on the spot, etc. Things like that. You found them so… unremarkable. 

But then it went beyond that, when they told their stories looking back on years and years after that first happenstance. How there was love in the mundane. How there was love every single day, even on the bad ones. How there was a spark that two people cared for and nurtured into a warm fire that never burnt out.

How there was love.

How there was always love.

To you, that was magical. It was something you’d only ever heard about in fairytales when you were a kid.

You still remember the exact moment when it all changed for you.

You met Kim Taehyung during your third week at Blue Side, where you were a wide-eyed assistant editor who somehow wiggled her way into a position there, and he was an effortlessly charming graphic designer.

Admittedly, the first time that you two had ever talked, wasn’t under ideal circumstances. You were tucked away behind the office building, nails digging into your palms at 3PM on a sunny but freezing afternoon, willing your tears to stay where they belonged. You’d felt severely underqualified, like you were only flailing about, trying to keep your head above water but something kept pulling at your feet, not stopping until you were at the very bottom. People always talked about how your early 20s were the most beautiful and freeing years, when you could truly live and feel your youth blossom all around you. But that just wasn’t true. Those were the loneliest years of your life.

Taehyung had found you then, while he was out for a quick smoke break. He could’ve made a lame excuse and left, or simply pretended to not notice you were even there, but he stayed. He approached you and asked what was wrong. He offered you words of reassurance and encouragement even though you were nothing but a stranger to him.

You were touched by his simple act of kindness and his endearing smile. Maybe it’s because you’d never been offered much kindness throughout your life that his small gesture seemed like everything. In a way, it was everything. He looked like the kind of fairytale love that you’d only seen in movies, only read about in Love Maze. To this day, a part of you still thinks that you fell in love with him the very second he asked, “Are you okay?”

The timing felt right.

Taehyung felt right.

He, too, was like the sun in the middle of a cold and isolating winter.

You remember the color of his sweater, and it was then that you realized blue didn’t have to be so bad after all.

[15:39] You: what r u doing tonight?

[15:45] Tae ♡: probably just head home after the gym. play a couple matches with Jungkook. hope i don’t die boiling water for ramen and hit the hay early

[15:46] Tae ♡: miss you :(

[15:49] You: thanks

[15:52] Tae ♡: mean

[15:53] You: lol 😇

[15:54] You: i miss you too <3

[15:56] Tae ♡: can’t you come back earlier?

[15:58] You: there’s only a week left. you’re a big boy, u can handle it :)

That was a lie. You were already on the train when you sent him that text, bouncing your leg all the way back to the city at the mere thought of surprising him with your early return. You’d taken a leave from work to visit your family, spent some time somewhere quieter, away from the hustle and bustle of the big city.

You watch as the scenery passes by, fast-paced like you’re in a montage. The rest of forever is right around the corner. You wish you could skip to your happily ever after and not have to rewind the tape ever again.

When the diamond on your ring finger catches the sunlight coming from outside the window, you allow yourself a blissful sigh as you gaze at the jewelry adorning your hand. But if you’re being honest, it doesn’t fit anymore, at least that’s what you’ve noticed over the past month. It’s a little loose now, not quite noticeable but you can still make out the slight difference if you concentrate hard enough. You should get it resized soon, maybe later this week now that your schedule has cleared up earlier than expected.

Three weeks is a lot of time to spend around only your family, you realize. You thought you could do it - seeing that you hadn’t been back in a while - but the second you stepped foot into your childhood home, you remembered what a dysfunctional household you had.

It was nice while it lasted, which wasn’t very long. You did all you could, bit your tongue and tried to suppress that unresolved anger until it eventually became too much to handle. Your mom has always been a complainer. Nobody likes talking about it, but she’d bring up the same old shit almost every day even though you all know what happened. Your dad would just sit there and listen as she berates him in front of you and your sister, and you suppose he keeps quiet because there’s really nothing to be said in his defense. It was his crime, and this is his punishment.

Sometimes, you wonder why dad still stays. Sometimes, you wonder why mom still lets him.

You just wanted to go, even though this was supposed to be home. You want to leave every time you visit, and it’s a haunting feeling that keeps following you around your whole life. Why is home always a place you want to leave?

When you arrived back in the city, the first place you went to was Taehyung’s apartment. You lounged about, enjoying the much needed silence after two whole weeks with your family, killing time as you waited for your fiance to return from work.

You thought about you and Taehyung, and how your wedding was only months away but this was still his place. You wondered why you hadn’t moved in yet, though it wasn’t for a lack of trying on his part. Even though you spent most days of the week at Taehyung’s, you still had your own place.

Twenty minutes before he was usually supposed to come home, you ordered from his favorite restaurant, so he would have a proper meal once he was back, instead of half-assing his dinner with flavorless ramen like he’d planned. 

But Taehyung didn’t come back, and the food has been cold for hours now.

You glance at your phone again.

11:02 PM.

No new notifications.

The last message you sent him was around 8:30 - just a simple Whatcha doing? - but he hasn’t replied. 

There’s a small part of you that goes into a dark place, and you physically have to shake off the thoughts. Taehyung has never given you a reason not to trust him, but still, the wandering thoughts can’t help themselves. Is it insecurity, or paranoia? Or have you been programmed to be skeptical after everything that’s happened?

Maybe he’s just caught up with work. Maybe the guys at the office had last minute plans. Maybe Jungkook showed up unannounced and dragged Taehyung into one of his shenanigans again. There’s a lot of reasons to explain why he isn’t home when he said he would be.

You wait for him. Sometimes, waiting is all you can do.

You don’t get any indication of life until some time after midnight, when the door opens and you hear him stumble into the hallway. The first thing that escapes you is a sigh of relief - relieved that he’s home, safe and sound, and not out there somewhere doing things you would really not even let yourself imagine. You sit there on the couch, shrouded by darkness, now even more committed to making him squeal out of his skin after (unintentionally) making you wait for hours like that.

You carefully listen to the sounds coming from down the hall, trying to time when you’ll jump up and shock him.

There’s his shoes dropping to the floor carelessly. There’s some shuffling as he moves about, navigating his way through the dark. There’s a light thud, the sound of something hitting the wall softly.

A sharp intake of breath. His familiar groan, muffled. A whimper, feminine.

Your mind instantly blanks, and that nervous breath from before has suddenly found its way back into your lungs, growing in size until you stand up and say, “Tae?”

Somebody shrieks, and it’s neither you nor Taehyung.

When he switches on the lights, you don’t know what to focus on first - your fiance with his shirt unbuttoned, red lipstick smudged around the corners of his mouth; or the woman next to him with her back against the wall, hair disheveled, one strap of her pretty blue dress pulled down.

Huh.

If this was what you wanted, then you suppose you succeeded.

Taehyung stares at you, eyes blown wide, mouth opening and closing dumbly as he searches for words. “Y/N, I-” he stutters, “w-what are you doing here?”

You’ve seen this exact moment in movies, read it in books and online posts on the Blue Side forum from people seeking advice. You witnessed your own mother go through it when you had just learned how to read. 

Your nails dig into the palm of your hands as you steady yourself. You’re not sure what your face is showing, if it’s even showing anything at all. You’re being pulled apart in every direction. Things that you felt as a child are things you never wanted to feel as an adult. It’s not until now that you finally understand why mom hasn’t gotten over it, even though it’s been decades. This is the kind of hurt that chases you wherever you go, never relenting until it makes sure it has a home deep within your bones.

You inhale a shaky breath, and take a step back when Taehyung starts approaching you. “Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice cracking on the apology. 

You don’t want to hear any of it. You don’t want to be here anymore. For the second time today, you’re leaving home. For the second time in your life, home is being taken away again.

Somewhere in the back of your head, a tiny voice echoes, There it is.

You run out of there, feeling like the ceiling is going to collapse on you. You hear him call out your name, but his voice drifts further and further away as you move. Taehyung isn’t even following you. The faint scent of whiskey on his breath follows you out, but not him.

You keep moving until you’re out on the street, until you can’t even see the building anymore. You shiver from the chilly air, and the influx of emotions that threatens to make you burst. Lightning cuts across the night sky, flashing bright for a split second before everything dulls into darkness again. The forecast said it was going to rain tonight, you recall. Your phone in your bag vibrates the whole time, but still, no one follows you.

Your feet slow to a halt when the first drop of rain hits the ground. You’re not even sure how long you were walking, but now that you’ve stopped, you notice the shiver is gone. You’re standing completely still, and that those seismic waves in the center of your chest from earlier are nowhere to be found.

Oh. You’re doing it again.

Heavier drops start to dampen the earth.

You don’t know where else to go.

Not your own apartment. Not now. No, it’s too empty there.

Maybe it’s a sign from the universe, that you’re just undeserving of a place to belong.

You open your phone to find his name on your screen, next to the words (7) missed calls. You ring up the only person you can, and when she finally picks up, you say, “Can I come over?”

Even when your voice cracks, you don’t cry. The earthquake never comes.

Sohee takes you in like the good friend she is. You’re grateful that she was someone you could count on to always have your back at work, who then turned into one of your best friends outside of the office too.

She gives you some clothes to change into, and doesn’t question anything when you ask if you could spend the night. Though, you have a feeling that she knows who this is about. She leaves you alone to get some rest, but it’s probably because she has work in the morning too, and it was already 1:30AM when you interrupted her peace and quiet with the call.

You don’t sleep a wink that night.

Instead, you think about your mom, and how she must have felt when she found out about your dad’s infidelity, time and time again. It’s true what they say, children really don’t know a lot about their parents. 

How did she feel when she first found out? You can’t imagine what it must have been like, going through all of that while having two kids to think about too.

You feel bad that just yesterday, you’d been so annoyed with her that you cut your trip short.

Outside Sohee’s windows, the sky cries, like it’s grieving in place of you, its tears drowning the earth in waves of sorrow. For a moment, you consider stepping out there, to feel the rain on your face and in your hair. But in the end, you stay inside, where you’re sheltered and dry.

You don’t realize that the sun has risen until Sohee knocks on your - well, her - door. 

She cracks it open gently. “Babe?” she asks, tentative like you’re a cornered animal, ready to bolt at any given moment. “Are you up?”

You lie in her bed, feeling so foreign in your own skin. You reckon your eyes must be bloodshot from the lack of sleep. You haven’t even cried once.

“I’m alive,” you tell her, as you stare up at the ceiling. There are no stars here, just plain cream-colored paint.

“Okay,” you hear her say, then she pauses for a moment, clearly not knowing how to proceed. 

Sohee approaches you, sits on the bed, and gives you a smile. She pats your hair, and it reminds you of your sister. “You wanna tell me what’s wrong? I have some time before I meet Namjoon for breakfast.”

You sit up, reaching for your phone on the bedside table. It’s been switched off since you got here, and when you turn it back on, a flurry of texts light up the device until the screen lags. Messages from Taehyung, asking where you were, begging you to tell him if you were safe.

You open the texts to show him that you’ve read them. That should be enough of an answer.

You test the words in your mouth for a moment. “Taehyung cheated on me,” you say, thinking that if you verbalize it, it would be real and you would finally feel bad. That it was just a delayed reaction, that you were just too in shock to process anything. You want to feel bad, but it doesn’t work.

Sohee’s eyes widen almost comically. “Are you fucking serious?” she asks in disbelief, half because of the nature of the news itself, and half because of how calm you are.

“He cheated on me,” you repeat and still, nothing surfaces. If anything, it backfires. You can physically feel yourself doing it again - shutting down. “I caught him last night.”

You’re not sure what’s wrong with you. This isn’t a normal person’s reaction after they found out their fiance was cheating on them.

But.

It is a you reaction. 

You keep doing this, even when you don’t mean to. You ran away last night, and you’re running away now. Your body shuts out every negative emotion until you feel nothing at all. It’s stupid that you do this, and it’s stupid that you don’t know how to stop doing it.

Fight or flight, and you choose flight every time. Every single fucking time.

You wish you could give Sohee something, anything would do. Scream, cry, go back to your apartment to set fire to all of Taehyung’s belongings. Anything would be better than this complete lack of emotions you’re showing. 

You watch her face as it happens, things that you should be feeling but aren’t. She’s mostly shocked, angry, but not hurt. How could she? She wasn’t the one being played for a fool. You wish you could ask her to give you some of that anger, even if it’s only a fraction.

You don’t see Taehyung again until two days later, when he shows up at your door. Even when he’s standing in front of you, words spilling from his lips like prayers instead of apologies, you just feel… empty.

You let him inside, and the second that the door closes behind him, you fill up with unease. All your walls are up again, your system on high alert. Everything in your body is telling you that there’s an intruder in your space. Your feet are ready to bolt, just itching to get out of there Go, your head says, you’re not safe here.

Taehyung approaches you, tries to hold your hand, but you just shrug him off. The man in front of you visibly deflates, and despite the way his face falls, you don’t soften. 

The first thing he asks you is, “Why didn’t you cry?”

“What?”

“You don’t look like you’ve been crying,” he points out. “Did you cry?”

Reluctantly, you admit, “No.”

Then he just stares at you. When his judgmental gaze holds yours, you feel guilty. Guilty that you’re not mourning the death of this relationship. Guilty that you’re just letting it go, but the truth is you don’t have any fight in you. You don’t see the point in trying to salvage what’s no longer alive.

“Do you even love me?” His voice is hard when he asks this, like he’s trying to keep his anger at bay.

“Of course I love you,” you say, but it lacks conviction. You both know it. The words sound so flaccid coming out of your mouth.

But you love him.

You do.

Did?

“Then why didn’t you cry?”

How do you tell him that you can’t? That you don’t know how?

How do you tell him that if you could, you would reach inside and claw out your feelings like digging for water in a desert. 

What the hell is wrong with you? This isn’t a high school crush, or a casual summer fling.

You two were supposed to get married, for fuck’s sake. You were supposed to spend the rest of your life with him. If there’s anything that could make you break through those godforsaken defense mechanisms to let the hurt in, it should be this.

“Did you kiss someone else just to see if I would cry?” you ask. Your voice is even, and you can see that it makes Taehyung more frustrated than he already is.

He grits his teeth, exhaling. You notice his blue sweater, and you stop him before he can say anything else. Obviously, it looks a lot more worn than it did back then, but over the years you’ve always found it endearing. It’s the first memory that you have of him. It was always something you could cherish.

Now, you can’t even bear to look at it.

It’s then that you realize it doesn’t matter what answer he gives you. Yes? No? It genuinely doesn’t matter. There is nothing that can make you see him the same way ever again.

You run your thumb over the ring on your finger, twisting it for a moment to memorize the feel of it. It’s the last thing that ties you to him. “You can have this back,” you say, handing the piece of jewelry back to him.

When a relationship ends, especially for a reason like this, people tend to think it’ll go down in a kdrama-esque fashion - crying, slapping, throwing water in the other person’s face. But that’s not what this is. It’s not cathartic; sometimes the end of a relationship is just a fizzle, doesn’t even make it to a fullburn. It might be unsatisfying, but it happens every day. It’s not always a pivotal point; sometimes it’s just a point.

Taehyung stares at the object in his palm. “That’s it?” he asks in disbelief. “We’re breaking up?”

“What else is there to do?”

“You’re not even gonna ask me anything? Who she was, how it started, how long it’s been going on?”

The other morning, Sohee had asked you to elaborate after you told her what happened, but there was just not that much to tell. You were there. He brought someone else home. End of story.

It was enough for Sohee to call him every name in the book and curse his entire bloodline though.

You suppose that’s a reasonable reaction. Taehyung cheated. You never thought he was a person capable of doing that. Three years of your life, down the drain. There’s nothing left to save.

“Okay,” you shrug tiredly, like you’re just having a casual and dull conversation about the weather. “Who was she? How did it start? How long has it been going on?”

Your name comes out of his mouth, sounding like a scoff. “Ask it like you mean it.”

“But I don’t mean it,” you say. “What difference does it make? Knowing doesn’t change the fact that you still cheated on me. You know what I’ve been through and you still fucked it up. You did the worst thing you could ever do to me.”

“Fuck, I know that!” he groans, throwing his hands up. “I messed up badly, and I’m sorry. Y/N, I’m so fucking sorry. I will never deny that what I did wasn’t wrong. But have you ever stopped to think that maybe you’re to blame for this too? You never want to admit that it could be your fault too.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You tell me. I keep having to put up with your baggage.” Then he shuts right up, barely even makes it through the last syllable before he’s squeezing his eyes shut for a second, clearly realizing that out of all the things he could’ve said, that was grossly out of line. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean th-”

And now you’re getting angry for the wrong reasons.

“You cheated but somehow it’s my fault, right?” you snap. “Boohoo. Sorry that you’ve had to put up with me all these years. I’m such a burden, right? Fuck you, Taehyung.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“I think you should leave.”

You think it’s the steel in your voice as you say this that makes him stop arguing. 

He holds your gaze for a moment longer. You’re someone who tears up when you see stray dogs, who cries alongside the fictional characters in your favorite show. And yet, as you watch your own fiance leave…

The door clicks shut as he exits your life, but everything he said stays behind, clings to your walls and festers like mold.

The second you step onto the floor, everyone grows quiet. Lively chatter turns into hushed whispers. People go back to making their morning coffee, side-eyeing each other in a way that’s not meant to be very subtle.

You quietly make your way to your desk, all the while feeling the nosy pairs of eyes on you as you walk. You don’t know how word got out, but you were sure that everyone would know eventually. You just didn’t expect it’d be this soon. Sohee would never do that to you, and you highly doubt that Taehyung would go around broadcasting his infidelity. 

As you set your stuff down, you make eye contact with the new intern who sits a few spots away from you. You haven’t had the chance to talk to her much, but she’s a nice girl. She gives you a small smile in greeting, and even though you know she doesn’t mean to pity you, you can still see it in her eyes.

A minute later, Sohee comes up to you. “Hey, babe,” she says, leaning on your desk with two plastic cups in her hands. One iced latte and one mango smoothie. She puts the yellow-colored beverage down and nudges it toward you, a little lackluster and unlike her usual playful self.

“Thanks,” you say, taking the smoothie with a smile, commenting, “Interesting morning so far. Never thought I’d ever be the subject of office gossip.”

“Yeah, about that. Do you know who was Taehyung’s… uhm… y’know?”

It’s okay. She can say it. You can handle it.

You already feel nothing, and there’s nothing you can even do to rectify it. Might as well lean into it, right?

Or maybe you should just go to therapy.

“No,” you tell her. “I didn’t want to know.”

“Well, uhm, now that the whole office knows, I think you should hear this from me first…” Sohee bites her bottom lip as she gauges your reaction. When you only sigh and give her the go-ahead, she continues, “It was Yura from Marketing.”

“What?”

“Yura from Marketing. You know the one. Brought muffins for the whole office on her first day? A little too bubbly for my taste. But yeah, she was at work the other day and suddenly burst into tears at, like, 10AM, and that’s how everybody found out.”

Of course. Even though people here are surrounded by celebrity gossip on the daily, nothing beats the good old-fashioned office affair. Why bother with celebrity gossip when you have front row seats to live drama unfolding ten feet away?

You take a sip of your smoothie, swallowing down the inkling of irritation that tickles the back of your throat. “Well,” you say, “I’m glad the downfall of my relationship is like a circus animal for them to gawk at. Can’t wait until they move onto the next big thing.”

“Honestly, it might blow over sooner than you think. The Love Doctor is back today.”

“What?” Your ears perk up at the mention of his name, glancing up at her in surprise as you put your drink down. “Doesn’t he work at the Paris office?”

“He used to work here. We joined around the same time. Then he transferred to Paris a few years ago. Nobody even knows why. One day he just upped and left.”

“Why didn’t you tell me he’d be here? I didn’t have time t-”

“Calm down, sweetcheeks, I only just found out,” Sohee chuckles, holding a finger against your mouth to shush you. “We all know you used to have a major lady boner for him.”

“I do not.” You don’t even know what he looks like, just his name when it appears in the byline of an article. “I admire him.”

Which is true, you do admire him. He’s your own version of a freaking rockstar. Though, you have to admit that Love Doctor is a huge cliche of a nickname, and significantly reduces the scope of his brilliance. The way that man writes makes it seem like he’s experienced lifetimes and is now here to pass on his wisdom. 

He doesn’t feel like a mere magazine writer like yourself. There’s something in his words that turns you inside out, makes you experience things that you’ve never even gone through. He flows like poetry, and leaves you stunned every time.

Okay, maybe you do have a lady boner, but for his brain.

Which… is probably something you should never say out loud.

Someone walks in then, a man you’ve never seen before. He looks around your age, if not a couple of years older. He bypasses all of the other desks without saying anything, not a single Hi or Good morning. He doesn’t look like the type to speak if not spoken to.

Then he walks over to where you and Sohee sit, and sets his bag on the empty desk next to yours.

You look at Sohee, and she just shrugs.

It can’t be him. Surely, it’s not…?

“Min Yoongi,” she says in greeting.

Oh, it is.

He spares her a nod before he looks away again. “Sohee.”

Is that the Parisian way? Is that how people normally greet someone they haven’t seen in years? Sohee and him were only colleagues, but still, the least you could do is pretend.

You’re not one to judge a book by its cover, but c’mon, seriously? Were you wrong for expecting the person who writes about love in its most raw and beautiful form to look… not like Grumpy Cat personified? It makes you even more fucking intimidated. And he’s going to be sitting next to you? The fuck?

As he sits down, you blink, still a bit dazed, not sure how to process this. Sohee gently pushes you forward, which makes you nearly stumble right into him. You turn to her with a glare, but she just motions to him, mouthing ‘Go on.’

You clear your throat, wiping your hand on your pants before you hold it out. “Hi, I’m Y/N. It’s so nice to finally meet you,” you say, trying to sound as professional as you can. “I’m really looking forward to working with you.”

He glances at you, and reaches out to meet your outstretched hand in a barely-there handshake. “Yoongi.”

— all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 07.05.2023]

#yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi x you #yoongi fanfic #yoongi imagines #bts x reader #bts x you #bts fluff #bts smut #bts angst #bts scenarios #bangtanbathhouse #bangtantheatrenet #btshoneyhive #52hertz #fic: isn't it romantic? #yoongi #bts

[hotxcheeto]

━ 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Cursing, smut, oral sex ( r! receiving ), vaginal fingering ( r! receiving ), kissing, making out, hickey's, talk of sex, talk of shitty moms, talk of foster care, mentions and talk of reader and ellie being nervous/having date anxiety, legal alcohol consumption ( they're over 21 ), mentions of drugs ( no actual use ), super fluffy and cute, awkwardness of a second date 

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ? - Yeah/Nope/mostly

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - SHE'S BACKKKKKKKKKK, I'm so sorry this part took so long I started writing it yesterday because I forgot about this series but she's here, she's queer, and she's smutttyyyyyyy, part 5 is already being worked on ;)))

𝗔𝗨 - Modern !

PREV | NEXT

☾ ONE NIGHT STAND MASTERLIST ☽

PLEASE REBLOG! I NOTICE YOU ALL!! THANK YOU!!

Barely a week had gone by since the shit show of the first date.

So Ellie had took it upon herself to try and fix what had already happened.

But something about this second date was different for both of you. Something had shifted. Whether it was the horrid end to the last one or maybe it was the fact that you would be completely alone with her instead of in public.

Just you two, meaning the only people who could fuck up this chance was yourselves. And neither of your minds let you forget that fact.

To say Ellie as nervous was an understatement.

Her palms were always sweaty, but by God she swore her jeans would have hand prints if she kept wiping away the anxiety onto them.

It wasn't the first date, but the date was at her place. She planned it because the one you'd planned went to shit. Neither of your faults, but she felt she had to make it up.

But now she'd probably ruin it by passing out the moment you stepped through the threshold.

The girl had cleaned her apartment a thousand times. Maybe it'd been more, she'd lost count. Jesse was openly shocked when he'd came to hang out with her two days before, almost positive Ellie had been under the influence from how spotless the usually cluttered place was.

But now Ellie was trying to make it look 'lived in', Dina telling her you'd know as soon as you walked in she'd only cleaned for you.

According to Dina, it was a red flag.

The auburn haired girl found it stupid though, despite listening to the advice and trying her best to make it look natural.

To clean or not to clean. To live, or look like a fucking magazine. What did it matter, if you didn't like her, you didn't like her.

But that's not how it felt, it felt like she was ready to implode every time she even thought of your face. Or how the last date had went, or the fact that you'd be coming to her apartment and be at the door in less then..

"Fuck." She whispered, looking at the time on her phone while she buttoned her shirt up, leaving enough showing to ensure she didn't look like a child trying to wear a school uniform for the first time.

She then rolled the sleeves to her elbows, showing off her tattoo. Soon beginning to start the pacing once more, letting out a few whispers to herself that were filled with encouragement and a shaky tone.

For a moment, she even pondered texting you and telling you that her apartment had spontaneously burned down and that she'd never be able to talk to you again because she was relocating to the most secluded town in Alaska.

But then a knock made her jump, swallowing hard to push back any embarrassing things that might try to crawl out of her throat to fuck with her. Praying the anxious rambling would stay at a minimum.

You waited at the door, rocking back and forth on your heels. Wondering if your outfit was too much, or was it too little? Jeans were enough, right? Or was this too dressy? Should you have decided against flats? But it was an apartment, not a fancy restaurant. You'd probably just take them off anyway.

You didn't get to run away from your thoughts though, the door opening too quickly making you look up with a smile. Trying your best to hide the overthinking.

"Hey." You greeted, voice excited yet soft. Ellie immediately noticing the vanilla scent that practically radiated off of you, like a candy shop. It was comforting, making her relax and her fears calm for just a moment.

"Hey, you look.. amazing." Your smile seemed to get even larger at her compliment, making something inside her flutter. "Here,"

She finally seemed to get a grip, moving to the side to let you in, nearly fainting when you began to look around.

"Your apartment's cute, and you said it was too nerdy." You referenced her texts, stepping forward so that her living room was in sight, looking at the small figurines on her TV stand along with the art on her walls. "I think it's nice."

You turned around as she shut the door, awkwardly standing in the tiny entrance while glancing around, not exactly sure what to do next.

Like you were lost in the middle of the woods, except it was only you two and you'd never met one another. The silence thick for a moments time, suffocating yourself while the sound of her front door lock echoed against the walls.

"Do you want me to take off my shoes?" You broke the quiet first, hating the way it felt on your ears.

"Yeah, if you want. It doesn't really matter." So you did, noticing that she obviously didn't have hers on, instead black socks that went with the rest of her dark outfit.

The entire apartment smelled like faint cologne and another scent you couldn't recognize, you assumed it was her own. Looking at her back as you followed her while she moved away from the door, feeling like a lost child in a new environment.

"Sorry I haven't had anyone over in a long time. Anyone meaning like a date, or... whatever. Yeah, you know what I mean." You grinned, agreeing with her. "Yeah I do. Trust me, it's been a while since I've done anything like this."

On her small coffee table were a few comic books she'd told you about, along with a bottle of wine and two glasses set out and a few other things scattered about neatly.

You sat down, setting your bag on the ground beside you while looking at Ellie. The girl plopping down on the cushion, immediatley grabbing the bottle of alcohol.

"M'gonna be honest, I don't really drink wine but you don't really look like a dark whiskey or scotch type." You giggled, watching her arms flex as she took the cork from the top, pouring the red liquid equally into both of them.

"You drink whiskey?" You asked, ignoring your hot face as you watched her hands grab the glass, handing it to you. "Big fan, Joel mainly got me hooked, he's a bourbon drinker." "By how he sounds, I thought he was a Pink Whitney type." You joked.

Ellie snorted, taking a large drink of the wine while you sipped. Nodding as she pulled it away from her lips.

"Definitely, he's a partier. Gets high on the weekends for fun." You laughed, swirling the alcohol around the glass before drinking some more, hoping it would calm your beating heart.

"The food would be here, but I fucked the order up the first time. Then it said another hour or two like five minutes ago. Dinner rush." She awkwardly rubbed the back of her neck, grinning when you found the statement funny. "It's okay, I'm gonna be honest I thought I was gonna end up super late because I couldn't find my way here, so cheers to that."

You both downed the rest in your cups, Ellie leaning over to pour you some more while also doing the same to hers.

"How's work been?" She asked, the wine bottle clinked as she set it down, meeting your eyes once again. "Boring, besides me and my boss getting into arguments every now and again. He just doesn't understand the demographics these days, he's stuck in the past."

"Old fuck." She muttered, hearing you chuckle while taking a sip. "For sure. Especially with how condescending he is." You rolled your eyes, leaning back as the wine slowly began to relax you.

"How's it been at the shop?" "Oh!" The excitement on her face made you feel the same, laying your head against your knuckles while she set her glass down. "Hold on, I wanted to show you this."

Ellie got up from the couch, walking down a small hallway before disappearing leaving you to enjoy the quiet comfort of her living room.

It was warm, she kept all the big lights off and instead opted for lamps and string lights. The yellow glow reminding you of your own home. You wondered in the moment how Poppy was and if she'd finished her dinner.

You also wondered how long she'd lived alone. And where she'd gotten the pictures she'd hung up that were far from fancy, more like collectable. But they were interesting, especially the few above the TV.

She sounded so shy about her place in writing, almost scared you'd think she was weird. You promised that you would go in judgement free. Besides, it made you feel even more excited to see it, wondering what hers could look like compared to yours.

"New back piece I came up with, guy came in yesterday to get this approved." Ellie appeared in the hallway again, her voice shaking you from your thoughts.

In her hands was a very colorful, thick-looking sketchbook. The couch dipped making you bounce while Ellie flipped through to find what she was looking for.

As she went through, you spotted small sketches of her friends and who you presumed to be Vegas and Joel. There were some others you weren't sure about, a couple sceneries, animals, but then she passed a sketch of Cat, the girl who you'd met on your very failed first date.

A strange feeling entered your stomach, shifting uncomfortably and pretending you hadn't noticed. But you knew that she had known you seen it, choosing not to say a word as she finally found the right drawing.

"It's based off a bunch of scary movies." She let you set your glass down before she handed it to you, allowing you to examine her art while carefully watching your face. "This is amazing. You really drew this?" Slightly stupid question, but it had already came out before you could stop it.

"Yeah, took me forever." Her eyes bounced back and forth between your fingers lightly moving over the pen and pencil marks, and your expressions that subtly shifted here and there.

"That's so cool, especially the ghostface. And I like where you put Sam, Trick 'r Treat is one of the best scary movies ever made. Just saying." You turned to face her, handing her back the sketchbook. Picking up your wine once more and drinking the rest, neither of you noticing how close your bodies had become.

"Thanks." Her cheeks were flushed, a light pink dust that was hard to hide. So instead she grabbed her drink, doing the same thing you'd just done.

"Fuck I'm hungry." You nodded in agreeance, pouring you both a third glass. Thighs bumping while you shifted to sit more comfortably.

"Y'know, you're way too humble about your artwork. That's fucking awesome, and here you talk about your work like you're some amateur." "They're really not that good." You lightly hit her shoulder with your fingers, huffing.

"You're so annoying. Trust me, they are." "Yeah, yeah. How's the book going?" "Ah, changing the conversation, how subtle." Ellie leaned against the back of the couch, playfully swatting her hand at you.

You turned your entire body to the side, facing her, laying your hand on your head while the other held your wine. Raising your eyebrow at her before you decided to instead leave the art talk in the past.

"It's going slow, but writing book is always slow. Unless you're using the power of plagiarism." "Fuck, I used to plagiarize all my essays in high school, if only I had you back then." You scoffed, smiling, "Oh yeah, I was a stellar essay writer. But you would've had to pay."

"What, I wouldn't get a discount?" You shrugged, bringing the rim of the glass to your lips. "Not without something in return." "Oh... I see how it is." "Can't have nothing reduced nor free in this world, Miss Williams. Gotta survive out here."

"Hey, m'not judging." She put her hands up in faux innocence.

"What were you like in high school?" Shrugging, Ellie took in a breath, eyes wide before you both began to chuckle.

"Dork. I was such a dork, and I was a closeted lesbian who had no idea what I was feeling. I dressed like a twelve year old boy on top of that, so I was closeted to... myself? It was pretty fucking obvious."

"Oh God.' You covered your mouth, Ellie hiding her face with her free hand. "Oh my fuck, I can't believe I had friends. On top of that, I was just getting out of foster care." "Geez, that had to have been such a shit time."

She nodded, finishing her drink and moving forward to set it down before returning back to her old position.

"It helped though, when Joel took me in. I had somewhere to go everyday. Going from house to house, family to family, fucked up my shit."

You moved a piece of hair from her face, tucking it behind ear while she talked. Staring forward, and around the room, but not at you.

"We ran into each other a few times before that. I'd fuck with him, make fun of him. He kind of... took me in on accident, like a stray dog, even after I drove him insane. But it helped both of us."

"You guys sound like you have a pretty good relationship."

"It was rocky, for a minute there. Angsty fucking teenage shit. But we're good now, really good."

Her gaze finally settled on yours, spotting the softness in your irises. Trying not to smile to herself when she seen your own small one dancing on your lips.

"What about you?" She watched you take in a deep breath, biting on your lip while looking down.

"My mom is... a piece of work. We're not really the greatest when we're together. She's gotta be the better one in the relationship, the one with the upper hand every time, the one to get the last word. Y'know what I mean?"

Ellie shook her head.

"I went no contact after I turned nineteen, I just couldn't take it anymore. My dad, he understood even if he wasn't the best along the way, they're divorced now, my siblings understood too. But for a while my other family didn't get it. That was until she couldn't target me anymore. Fuckers."

"She sounds..." "Like a bitch?" "Just a tiny bit."

You rubbed your face with your hands, letting them fall into your lap.

"Yep. Mother dearest." "So sweet."

You grabbed the bottle again, filling up both the wine glasses. Taking your own and handing Ellie hers.

"Alright, enough of the sad shit. Truth or drink." Ellie laughed, shaking her head while adjusting her entire body parallel to yours. "What are we? Thirteen?" "Yes, I get to go first."

Ellie motioned to you, a silent 'go ahead' while glancing at her phone that had lit up from a notification.

"Have you ever done any drugs besides weed?" "Yes, not telling what though." You brought your legs up, sitting criss cross on the couch. "Boring. Your turn."

"Are one night stands normal for you?" You made an indescribable noise, shaking your head. "Nope. Not usually. You're one of the firsts. Despite my drunk confidence, you were actually probably only the second or third."

"Well shit, guess I'm special." "Fuck off, my turn."

You thought for a moment, swishing the red drink around and around.

"Do you stay friends with all your exes?" Her mouth dropped while you cackled, taking a drink just to drink while giggling to yourself.

"C'mon, Cat literally introduced herself as your ex. I have to ask!"

"I don't, promise, she's the only one and technically I don't think of her as a friend." "What do you think of her as?" "First of all, that's two questions. And two, an annoying date ruiner." Ellie drank for no particular reason, looking at you with a curious face as your amusement calmed.

"What happened between you and Ava, or whatever the fuck her name was." You choked, looking up at the ceiling as you thought of how to word your response.

"Anya. Just didn't work out, she was about as bad as my mother. But at least my mom leaves me alone now. She also cheated on me, like, a lot." "Fuck, man, that's horrible." "I know right?"

You both seemed to realize you were answering and drinking, taking a sip at the same time while you thought of a question. Biting the inside of your cheek.

"Why do you have a sketch of Cat?"

"Walked myself into that." You nodded, "Yep."

"Forgot I did. That sketchbook is old, I just found it a few weeks ago, wanted to use the rest of the blank pages." "Hmm... bet you were her knight in dull armor."

Ellie flipped you off, grabbing the half empty bottle while then filling the cups, not caring about it being equal or a small amount, it was clear the end of the night was far from over.

"Nah. Got another girl in mind." "Is that so?" "Right, my turn."

Ellie went quiet for a second, her eyes running over your face a thousand times while you just stared back. Letting her come up with her next question.

"Last person you had sex with?"

You didn't hesitate.

"You."

"Oh really?" She whispered.

"Mhm."

"And how was that?"

You shrugged, taking a large drink of the wine.

"Not bad. Would probably do it again, great service."

You hadn't realized that her hand had settled on the knee closest to the back of the couch. Her fingers moving to run up and towards your thigh, you now also realized how close she was, your ability to see every individual freckle on her face seemed to give it away.

"My turn. Last person you had sex with?" Ellie faked thinking for a second, tapping her finger on her cup. "Umm... right, you."

"Really?" "What? Do I give off a different feeling?" You nodded very widely, downing the rest of your wine. "You give me nerdy fuckboy vibes." Ellie coughed a laugh, her grip on your thigh tightening.

"No fucking way." "You bet. It's kind of attractive. Unless you're a fuckboy cheater, and not the fuckboy hot character in a romance novel. That's not attractive." "Right, there's a difference." "Obviously."

You let your fingers run along her knuckles, still feeling her grasp on you. Nails running up and down her wrist. Watching your own movements.

"M'gonna be honest, but only because I'm wine drunk." You were tispy, but when it was wine it was different, everyone knows that. And something about it made you want to tell her, a flirty confidence, something you sure wouldn't have if you were sober.

"You were like one of the best." "Better than Anya?" You snickered, humming. "Yeah, way better. But I dunno, that liquor was a lot stronger than the wine, some of its a little fuzzy."

Her warm palm moved inwards, your own hand ending up on her arm. A tight, pulsing feeling entering the area between your legs making you want to squeeze them shut.

"What? Want me to remind you?"

You moved your shoulders,

"Depends, how much do you want me to remember?"

A second passed, wondering if she'd make a move or if she was waiting for you to do so. But all your questions were quickly answered when she drank the rest from her cup and grabbed yours. Clumsily setting them both on the table before turning back to you.

She grabbed your face, pushing lips against yours so suddenly it pushed you backwards. Your entire being welcoming her in when you kissed back, tasting the berry flavored drink on her tongue paired with the feeling of her soft lips.

"Ellie.." She cut you off, kissing you again, letting your hand run through her hair and undo any style that she had. Nails raking against her scalp when she grinded her hips against yours, a light sound passing your lips.

Her touch was less rough than the first time, her sensual caresses never going unnoticed.

"Marks or no marks?" "Deja vu much?" "I had to ask."

You smiled, letting your thumb run over upturned line of her mouth.

"Whatever you prefer."

She moved back down, kissing even deeper than she had before. Hand cupping your ass while she pushed into you, burying you into the cushions, her other arm keeping her body above yours.

Her lips moving down to your jawline, teeth lightly grazing your flesh as she made her way down to the collar of your shirt.

Ellie's hands then slipped under the bottom of your top, harshly tugging you forward making you laugh, grabbing her shoulders to keep yourself steady.

"Go ahead."

She didn't wait either, pulling it off your body and throwing it off somewhere. Lips meeting the valley of your tits, your bra keeping them perfectly pushed up for her to see.

"You're so fucking pretty.." Your breathy laugh made her smile, moving her knee to the middle of your legs while her mouth met yours again. Her fingers messing with the button of your jeans leading to the sound of the zipper coming undone.

"Sit up for me." You listened, lifting your hips and feeling your pants disappearing in just a swift movement.

"Someone's impatient."

"Fuck, if only you could see yourself." She whispered.

It sent your mind into a frenzy, shy under her watchful eyes that scanned your body, wanting to remember every detail she didn't care to look at the first time.

"I could say the same about you, pretty girl." Her blush darkened, noticing the way you sat up to take your bra off, throwing it away before you grabbed the hem of her shirt just as she did yours.

"Your turn." Silently, the girl ripped her top off, throwing it away. Looking down at your fingers undoing her bottoms, yanking her towards you by the waistband and giving her another kiss.

"Lay back." She muttered, kicking her jeans onto the floor, moving backwards to put herself between your legs. "Please.. please just fuck me." "Since you're asking so nicely."

Fingers hooking around the band of your underwear, slowly dragging them down your thighs, her nails tickling your skin. The sight of your wet cunt drove her insane making her spend no time getting rid of the garment.

Her warm tongue then swirled around your clit, a strangled gasp escaping your throat, your hand slapping over your mouth to keep yourself quiet.

"Oh my God." "Remember that?" She teased, not letting you answer when she sucked roughly on the small bundle of nerves. Moving your hand over your tit, the other threaded itself in her hair.

"Mhm! Oh fuck- Ellie I-" Your legs tried their best to squeeze around her head but she wouldn't let them, pushing your thighs down keeping you perfectly spread for her.

"Fuck you taste good." Ellie removed one of her hands from your thigh, two fingers prodding your hole making you unintentionally let out a loud, girly moan.

"More please.." You squeaked out, but she could barely hear you, seemingly getting the message though when her two fingers dipped inside. Pushing against your favorite spot while reaching deep inside your cunt, kissing your clit as she entered.

"Ellie!" She kissed the inside of your thigh, going back to circling your bud her tongue again.

You swore you were seeing stars, head digging into the couch while your back arched right off the cushions. Your belly tight, legs going numb as your entire body tingled.

Nails digging into her scalp, her arm keeping your hips down by keeping her arm wrapped around your thigh.

She didn't go slow, fingering you as deeply and quickly as her stamina would allow. Fingers running along your gushy walls, and this time she actually got to enjoy it.

Enjoy how you squeezed around her while she slipped a third finger in, sitting up slightly to push her knuckled even deeper. Never letting up, your wet sounds going unheard of by you surely but complained about by her neighbors.

"You close babe?" You nodded profusely. "Uh huh, fuck." She wouldn't slow down though. "You gonna cum?" "Yes- yes- please- oh fuck!"

Your hand moved over your mouth again, keeping your whines to a low volume when you let go, Ellie's hand wrapping around your wrist and tugging it away from your face.

"Oh my God!" You all but screamed, shaking as you came against her tongue, her pace never stopping. Instead her fingers sped up, a loud squelching sound then entering your ears as the fuzzy cotton feeling left your mind.

Coming down, you felt empty when her fingers slipped away, rubbing your clit lightly while her face pulled away. Lips glistening with your cum, her tongue running over them while you watched.

Ellie moved to then kiss the area on your lower belly a few times, moving up to do the same to your lips. It took you a moment to kiss back, brain still scrambled but eventually you did so, grabbing her cheeks to keep her there.

"I..." Your chest moved up and down quickly, Ellie nuzzling the side of your face as you tried to catch your breath. Entire body shaking lightly while your mind raced to run at the same pace as the rest of you.

The silence comforting unlike it was earlier, no longer awkward or shy, it was comfortable. It was becoming familiar to you, you liked it.

You liked it a lot.

The moment was interrupted though, a knock at the door then made you both jump, the girl gripping you close while looking up towards the front door that was out of her sight.

"I'll be right back, okay?" You nodded your head, finally meeting her eyes. "M'kay. I have money-" "I got it."

She kissed you again, running her thumb over your cheek.

"Be right back."

"Are you sure? I can do the tip."

She sat up, pulling her shirt back on as quickly as possible, another knock coming from the door making her yell out.

"I promise, besides, there's always next time."

"That's what you said last time."

"Fuck, that sucks, already got my wallet."

"Oh my God, Ellie."

#ellie williams smut #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x reader #ellie #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #the last of us #the last of us part 2 #the last of us x reader #ellie williams #tlou #ellie tlou2 #ellie tlou

[bisexual-horror-fan]

I know you’re requests are closed but I had an idea for a Mickey fic and I’m an awful writer and you’re amazing so imma just leave this here. What if reader and Mickey are both the Ghostfaces along with Nancy and they’re both like, literally insane. Like to the point where after they kill they gotta fuck then and there whilst covered in their victims blood blah. blah but in the end Nancy kills one of them and it makes the other completely fucking INSANE for revenge.

OKAY! SO! Anon! I fucking love this ask. I went so hard. I hope you enjoy this enemies to friends to lovers over 7K massive fic! I stretched out the timeline of Scream 2 because fuck you, this is fanfic and we can do whatever we want to! I love this request and where it leaves off? I already have a sequel planned and mostly plotted. So thank you Anon seriously. Also, shoutout to @mrsaltieri-real for helping me out on this one! You are the best.

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 7.9K. Mickey Altieri X AFAB! Ghostface! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Reader Is A Killer. Reader Has Anger Issues. Fighting. Taunting. Teasing. Mickey And Reader Are ASSHOLES To Each Other. Blood. Gore. Murder. Death. Mild Fluff. Enemies To Friends To Lovers. Ghostface Partners In Crime Couple. Mickey Is Crushing Hard. Angst. Hurt. Crying. Emotional Pain. I Apologize In Advance.

—

“So Good To You.”

—

You never cared much for the idea of getting a college education, or at least that is what you told yourself because financially it was way out of reach for you, an impossibility. That was until you got an offer you simply couldn’t turn down, what that offer was? It was for a free ride at a college by a benefactor with money to burn and some revenge she needed to be carried out. It would be a hindrance for some, but not for you. The reason you were chosen was because of not only your previous experience with this, but your outright willingness to spill blood. So you accept, you follow her instructions to the fucking letter and arrive at school in September. 

Once moved into your dorm, a few days into college you were meeting up with her in person, all the correspondence up to this point has been online and on the phone, meeting her had to be done carefully. The meeting is not even in town, the process must be delicate, and the wrong people cannot see you together lest there be talk and suspicion. When you show up and see that she is not alone you are confused, when you sit down, and she explains that you are not the only student she is “sponsoring” you are pissed.

You don’t hide this either, gripping your menu, so tightly it might bend, speaking in a hushed yell whisper, “Nancy, what the fuck?”

He, whoever he was, agreed, leaning forward and voice low, “Yeah actually, what the fuck?”

Nancy tried to have a measured response, attempting to calm you both, she set her own menu aside, fingers laced together, hands resting on top of the tablecloth. She says your name and then his, “Mickey-” you scrunch your nose, who the fuck is named Mickey? Like the fucking mouse? 

“-I have to make sure this happens. You both know the motive and I figured having two of you would make this better, all the easier. I can be very hands-off and honestly, you are both such great talents. How could I choose just one of you?”

That pissed you off further. You keep your voice hushed, not wanting to be overheard, “It sounds to me more that you don’t think I can handle this myself and that I need some shitty fucking guy’s help to kill.” 

Mickey scoffed, a roll of his eyes as he leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed as he said, “Yeah, you are such an empowered woman who doesn’t need any help to kill. So tough. So strong. If you are so capable, why do you need someone to fund your college career?”

You hated him. Everything about him. His stupid spiky hair, the dumb shade of blue on his sweater, his face, his voice, what he said in tone and also in content. “It’s called a scholarship. I know it’s a big word, you’ve probably never heard it, and what about you? She thinks that YOU need a woman’s help to kill, how sad is that for you?” 

By the way his eyes narrowed, you feel like he doesn't like you either. Good. You don’t want him to. 

The dinner is tense, but you manage to make it through and Nancy makes it clear that if you want to go or if he does that you can, but she will pull her funding and whoever is left will get to do it alone. You don’t back down and neither does he, so you are forced to work together, and you accept this fact with extreme reluctance.

The plan is for you and him to get as close to Sidney and her friends as possible, to insert yourselves and get in the right position at just the right time to make sure that this happens just as Nancy wanted. You did, and you were barely able to restrain your rage against him, it comes out sometimes, everyone else thinks it is an affectionate thing, a long-running joke of both of you disliking each other and exchanging barbs, but no one thought it was serious. 

You had to get used to his presence, but that proved to be difficult, you would sometimes get so riled up after an argument with him that you felt like screaming and ripping your hair out, he got under your skin in the worst way possible. You got to him similarly it seemed, you sometimes knew he left your interactions being the one who could barely reign in his temper, part of you liked getting to him like that. 

Staying away from him and avoiding any time you and Mickey were solo was a must, but sometimes you can’t help it when you are in the same friend group like this. You and he were at the same party and Sidney left to go use the bathroom, and Randy went to go get a drink, and that left you and him in proximity.

You and Mickey were both leaning against the same wall. He speaks first, “Getting real friendly with Sid there.” 

You smile, proud of yourself, you were making a great impression, fantastic progress, you allow yourself to indulge in feeling pride as you agree with his assessment, “Yeah, I am.”

“She seems super invested. You do know that you need more than a low cut shirt to get her fallin’ all over herself for you, right?” He turned to face you, and you turn too as you respond, “Yeah unlike you, I am not a total slut, I am not trying to fuck her.”

“Why not?” He asked, and you laughed into your cup, making sure to keep your voice low enough just for him to hear, “Who am I? Billy Loomis? Gonna fuck her then gut her?” 

He shrugs before taking a sip from his own cup, a swallow before he says casually, “I’ve read your papers in film class, derivative is your whole thing.” 

“Is it now?” You ask and he says, “It is. Taking from someone great, and regurgitating it back out as if it is some amazing new or profound thought, something original all your own, when it very obviously is not.” 

He was such an insufferable asshole. 

You swallow what is left in your cup and then push off the wall, “I need another fucking drink if I am gonna have to be around you.” 

He lets you go. 

After lunch one day you, and he ended up in the same direction, you don’t want to deal with him and so you pick up the pace, walk faster, and he makes sure to speed up too, “Awe where you off to in such a rush? Gonna be late for your gender studies class, princess?” 

“Gross, do not call me that shit.” You say as you adjust your backpack, rolling your eyes before you retort, “You ready to fail that test tomorrow? I know you haven’t been studying.”

His hands are thrown up, eyes skyward and a grin as he says, “Heaven forbid, I wanna enjoy the college experience and make the most of it out and about, not with my nose in a book all the time.” 

“I think you could stand to be a little more well-read, you are painfully fucking dull whenever I am forced to talk to you.” Breaking off for the turn you head towards the building for your next class, he calls after you, “I am so, so hurt. Hey, don’t forget to spell women with a y, you’ll lose points otherwise, okay?” 

He knew just how to really fucking bother you. 

You know how to bother him, too. 

A different day, you and him were meant to have a meeting with Nancy. You were waiting for her to arrive, and he was boasting about how he had gotten in with Randy and Derek, you said, “Finally, took you long enough. It’s weird, though, considering that you are the fucking worst.” 

“I’m the worst?” He asked, and you nod, “Yes you are, I don’t know how you pulled it off, I have seen your acting ability.”

His hand rubs over his eyes as he asks, “You insult my acting ability now? What is wrong with it?” 

“Mickey. Virgin teens faking on prom night are better actors than you are.” 

His jaw drops, brows pinch together, and you pile on before he can respond, “You seem so chummy with Randy though, you blown him yet orrr?”

Nancy walked into you both locked in another augment, and she slammed the door, making you both stop. “Can you please, please, for the love of God, not fight for one day? I know it must be very hard, but do it for me?”

“It isn’t my fault she is such a frigid bitch.” He spits, and you say back, “Rich coming from the school slut, seriously, do you sweat chlamydia?” 

Mickey opens his mouth and Nancy cuts him off, “Please, save it! Can’t you be the bigger person here?”

Mickey doesn’t even look at her, eyes locked with you, he says, “I know you are a real maternal figure, but I am not your fucking son so can you not talk to me like I am?” 

You have to bite back the laugh you were about to bark out, and Nancy was just done, thoroughly over you both and your petty rivalry. “If you both don’t knock it off, I will call off the whole thing!”

That had you and he both turning to her, “You can’t!” 

It is reminiscent of a tired parent on a car trip sick of hearing, “Are we there yet?” and responding with, “I will turn this car around!” When she tells you both, “I can, and I will if you don’t play nice at least in front of me!” 

You and Mickey both know she is serious. You do your best to chill the hell out and just get through this without killing each other. 

The road is long until the first kill is meant to happen. You and he have ebbs and flows of seriously deep hatred, neutral times of acceptance and even an instance or two of actually kind of getting along, at least on the surface. Below that, you still find times of hating each other.

One night after yet another tense meeting, after yet more endless frustration, you and he locked in another fight it happens without you meaning to. Both of you are just too pent-up and when he spits, “I am so tired of you being such a bitch, have you tried loosening up sometimes?”

“How would you recommend I do that in between keeping a low profile, getting closer to Sid and the rest, and keeping my grades up?” He tells you with crossed arms over his chest, “I’d recommend you taking a good dick every once in a while.” 

“Does it always gotta come back to that? Just fuck my stress away and that will fix me?” 

“Why not try it?” And he says it so smugly, something inside just snaps inside of you, leading to you both being in your bed. Your clothes don’t even totally come off, it is a messy hate-fuck, “I knew you wanted me-”

Your teeth sink into his throat, a sharp bite that makes him jerk back, his hips faltering as you respond, “I don’t want you, this means fucking nothing, you mean fucking nothing, okay?”

 “Fine, fuck.” Another roll of his hips pulls a moan from you before he mutters out, “Crazy fucking bitch, just stop biting me.”

A terrible idea hits, and you execute it, a slap to his face as opposed to a bite and it is so shocking, catches him so off guard he has to actively fight the urge to cum. “Better?”

You ask sugary sweet, and he grits out, “I fucking hate you.” 

“I fucking hate you too.”

Hate fucking when the wait for the plan to kick off becomes a somewhat regular occurrence, one neither of you chose to acknowledge unless you were splayed over a surface together.

Currently, you were in Mickey’s place. You and he agreed to head over to a party together to meet up with everyone else, you were in one of those times when you didn’t totally hate his guts, just mostly did, so you could tolerate his presence. You were getting impatient, you were a punctual person, and he was not when it came to things like this. You were tapping your foot on the bottom rung of a stool as you sat at the bar as you waited, calling out to him while he is in his bedroom, “What are you doing in there? Jacking off? I’d like to go sometime this century.” 

“Yeah, I bet you like to think about that.” He called back, and you scoffed, “As fucking if.” 

While you waited, your eyes flitted over the bar, and you noticed there were scattered papers about, you are so bored you start to sift through them, looks like some kind of project he was working on. You look further, wondering what it was, you skim pages and words caught on, “slice” and “blood”.

You start to look further, flip through pages, and you find descriptions of murder, violent kills, strangulation, knives stabbed into warm bodies. You read of terrible brutality and the feelings that are invoked while experiencing it. You become so absorbed in the reading when his hand touches your shoulder, you jump nearly a foot in the air, heart hammering. 

“Catching up on some reading?” He asked with a grin, and you roll your eyes as you shake off his hand, “Creep.” 

“Says the girl who is currently rummaging through MY shit.”  Your eyes are back on the papers, ignoring what he said, and instead you ask, “What even is all this? Some fucked up project for a class?”

He takes the seat on the stool next to you, “It’s my work before coming to school.”

Your eyes go wide, you look at him, “Wait is this-”

He brightens further, “A scrapbook, yeah! I was rearranging it before you showed up, got a bit too into it, lost track of time, so I couldn’t clean it up before you came in, and then you were fucking rushing me-” 

“Holy fucking shit, you have a scrapbook of your previous kills?” You flip through, detailed accounts, pictures, small souvenirs, more still. It was amazing but also infuriating, how the fuck did you never think to do something like this? Most you had was scrawled out diary entries post kill, but this was truly in depth, a testament to his commitment to wielding a knife and bringing pain.

He leans closer, starts pointing out particular details, and you have to admit, an impressive body of work, clear effort put forth into this catalogue of violence. “She was the first. She was in my math class in high school, the kind of girl who thought she was way too good for everyone, you know the type.” 

His eyes meet yours, a taunting smile, and you find yourself letting out a laugh. He kept talking, and you kept listening until he says, “You are being awfully quiet.”

“Am I not allowed to be quiet?” You ask, and he laughs, “No. It just isn’t like you, normally you make your opinions very painfully known.”

You sighed, “I just can’t get over what a good idea this is, I’m fucking pissed I didn’t think of it myself.” You admit, and he laughed louder, “I got one up on you and you admit it? Fuck, it is a good night.” He gets up, collects the papers and puts them in the open box nearby. You try to stop him, “Wait, where are you going?”

You ask as he takes the box back to his room, and he says, “We have a party to get to, remember? I’ll let you read it in full another time for you to cream yourself over, alright?” 

Yeah, sure, cream yourself over is what you’d do. You are simply curious about his work before you both met, you liked getting a feel for him and what he had done, it only makes sense since you are going to work together. He comes back and you both leave, but that night you had to admit is what started the shift, you started to look at Mickey a bit differently, had more respect for him. He obviously had skills to back up his talk, it was a comfort as well as just nice to get to know him on this level. No one else understood that side of you, getting to talk with someone else who has killed, he understands the depth, the complexity and more, you didn’t know how nice it would be.

After that night, you and he talk some more about it, his kills and yours, it is bonding, and it goes from hating each other and somewhat tolerating to being more like co-workers. A different night you were in your dorm room alone and both going over what your pasts. He showed you his newly minted scrap book, and you read aloud from your diary about how your first date ended in your killing the guy. 

“How often have you gotten blood in your mouth?” He asks, and you gagged jokingly, “Too many times! You never think that it is gonna spray like that until the first time you slash a throat, right?”

“Seriously. Okay, okay. Least favourite part?” He asked, and you groaned, “Disposal, dead weight is such a bitch at times. Once a guy almost got away from me, I cornered and killed him at the bottom of some stairs, but once he was dead I had to drag him back UP those same stairs.” 

“Fuck, how did you do it?” He genuinely asked, and you tell him, “With ropes and determination. How about you?” He hums, “My least favourite part has to be when the chase goes on for too long. Nothing worse than being winded before you even get the knife in them, feel like I can’t enjoy it properly, and I hate to do a rush job like that. It’s like the option is taken from me.”

“Lack of control is truly the worst.” You agree. 

While you felt closer, a small kinship as well as more mutual understanding, Mickey could still be a bit much at times, you still clashed on occasion, but those times were becoming fewer and further between. It makes the path to the plan easier. You study on occasion, able to have meals together, Nancy is pretty pleased you’d both calmed down, and you find yourself consumed with regular daily life. The hate fucking isn’t so hateful and has also slowed considerably to a near stop.

When you got the go ahead, you and he were giddy. Alight. It caused one of the worst fights you had with him where you insisted that you be the first one to kill, you wanted to show that you could, prove yourself and also, it had been so, so fucking long since you had. Eventually, Nancy sides with you but insists Mickey be nearby in case shit goes screwy, and you can deal with that. 

You revel in it. The phone call, the break in, the case and the actual kill. You being on top of her, stabbing her, running her through with one hand as your other is over her mouth. She struggles and whines, and you feel powerful, watching the light drain from her eyes the same way the blood does. 

Perhaps you linger just a touch too long, but you just can’t help it. Mickey comes to get you, urge you out, and then he sees it, the aftermath. You still sitting on top of her in your costume, the knife to the hilt inside of her, and you turn, ghostly white mask with small spots of red and his breath catches. He read your accounts, you’d talked in depth, he’d killed people himself, but this, seeing it, you, post kill, was a totally different animal. 

You pull off your mask, hair a mess, face sweaty with the effort, a manic smile as you ask, “What’s up?”

He lingers by the door of the balcony you were on, stuck in the threshold, the sliding glass was acting like a metaphorical doorway as much as a physical one, a turning point, one that cannot be forgotten or ignored. A shifting tide, your relationship, how he viewed you, permanently changed. His mouth feels dry, he swallows and says, “We have to go.”

“Shit, yeah, you’re right, just got a little uh-” You look down at the body, pull the knife out and drive it in one last time, you sound gleeful, “-stab happy.” 

The laugh spills from you both unbidden and then, you flee the scene of the crime. Costumes stowed in bags and knife hastily wiped down. He couldn’t stop looking at you after that night. Every time he saw you, it was like you went from black and white static to live and in colour, as if he was seeing you for the first time, truly seeing you. He had it and had it so fucking badly for you, it was embarrassing. 

You could get him, understand him on levels no one else could or probably ever would. 

Mickey started treating you differently. You think it is because of what he saw, he finally was respecting you and sure it was part of it, but much more than you could have realized went into it. He was being much more than pleasant to be around, he was nice, fun to be around, he wasn’t an asshole like previously and slowly, much, much too slowly, after many meals bought, coffees given and notes shared you figure out that you think, he has a crush on you. It slips through even when with your “friends” and it doesn’t go unnoticed. Especially because he doesn’t hide it. He is kind, he flirts shamelessly, he makes his wants and intentions known.

You don’t know how to deal with or process that. 

So you don’t.

You let him treat you better, you feel previous hate and anger melt, but you write it off as friendship, nothing wrong with that considering what you were doing. You take his compliments with a smile, you laugh off his over the top promises of “I’d be so, so good to you.” with a wave of your hand.

The plan continues on, stretches out from days to weeks, Nancy claims she wants Sidney to really suffer, and you aren’t going to question or complain. 

The next kill is up to Mickey, you weren’t able to be there, but you got to see him after. Amped the fuck-up and excited, he told you about it all, how it went. “He was so pathetic, you should have seen him, begging for his life, crawling on the ground, oh my God.” 

You watched him pace back and forth, animated hand gestures, his t-shirt was sticking to him from the sweat, your eyes aren’t sure where to linger, defined arm muscles or that wide sick smile. He flops onto the couch beside you, a large exhale, “It was fucking incredible.” 

“And what are you feeling like, right now?” You asked as you looked down at him, and he says as his head pitches to look up at you, “I am feeling fucking starving. You want to order in a pizza?”

So you did. You ate sprawled on the floor and talked about the fact everything was meant to ramp up soon, that you and he were expected to both go in hard within the next few weeks. 

It still goes on, you and both grow closer, another kill here, one there until finally there is a night where you have to murder together. The talking beforehand is frantic, both planning what was going to happen, honestly excited to do this together. You and Mickey started off hating each other's guts, but that seems so far away now, you and he were actually good friends and a united front on this plan.

It doesn’t go well at first.

The struggle is hard, you and he almost lose the two people you were planning on killing, but you manged it. Watching Mickey up close, not only that but you both doing this together, it makes something in you and your perception of him change. It is startlingly intimate, you are so in the moment, weirdly in sync with very little verbal communication, at one point you are gutting one of them while he holds them down and even through the masks, you know your eyes are locked, you can’t see his gaze, but you feel it. 

It’s then. Between the smell of blood, the sweat making your black robe stick to you, over the screams of your shared victims, that all of it hits you.

It all comes crashing in, you thought he was the only one with a crush, with deeper feelings, that is not the case. You’ve come to realize that you have feelings for him too, deep and intense, scary and all consuming feelings, you care about Mickey and more than as a friend, a fellow killer, a partner in crime. You like him. Old memories flow through your mind now tinged differently, a highlight reel of neon recollection, synapses sparking, forcing you back, dragging you along to really look at those moments in the new light and context of your now fully exposed feelings. Raw and wriggling and out in the open air for you to contend with, screaming for acceptance and to be dealt with in some fucking fashion.

You had liked him for a long while and were far too stubborn and stupid to realize it. And you can’t ignore it any longer.

Snapped back into the moment you are staring. His strong gloved hands around the bitch’s throat, you can see the power he has, the way his arms strain from the effort, you can’t look away. 

Once it was over, once they are both dead, you and he had to separate, and it made your mind run. You were so nervous, you trusted him completely now.

You knew Mickey was more than capable, but still, the thought of him actually being caught, you don’t know how you’d handle it. The sudden change steals your breath, you feel crushed by your new feelings, the unexpected care you feel for him.

The emotions run high during a kill night on the best of times, but the rough and rocky start, the joined act of killing, the fact the police presence as stepped up, it all mixes together. You were worried, very fucking worried, and that makes you terrified. 

When you come back to the meeting point, he is already there, his mask is taken off, and you hastily remove your own. Staring across the space at each other, heavy breathing, and the look in his eyes upon meetings yours, he knows. He knows you feel differently now, and it can be felt in the air. You stride forward first as you exhale out, “Thank fuck you’re okay-”

As soon as you are close enough Mickey’s hands are on the sides of your face, pulling you to him and his mouth crashing into yours, swallowing you up in him, preventing you from speaking, stealing all words, you return his affection hastily, clumsily and with a moan of relief. Even during all your hate fucking, it wasn’t like this. There were no presses of your mouth to his, the only times your mouths were used were to bite, cause pain, or on occasion give each other some truly rough but brutal oral sex. 

You are greedy, need to make up for lost time. You kiss him hard, want to make him as breathless as you are, more than the chase made him. You and he end up on the couch in his place. Costumes are long forgotten on the floor. His hands wander, touch you all over, help pull clothes away and aside, “I’ve been thinking about this so fucking much.”

A laugh slips out as you straddle him, helping him out of his shirt and throwing it aside, “Yeah Mickey?”

He takes in the view of you in just your pants and bra perched on his thighs, his hands run up your sides, fingers press over an already flowering bruise left from when one of your murder victims kneed you in the ribs. You hiss slightly, a sharp intake of air from the stab of pain, you retaliate, fingers in his hair, you thread, twist and pull. He gasps, smile widens, and he nods as much as you allow, “Yeah, been thinking about you just like this.” 

“Just like this?” You grind on his lap, bare down on his clothed erection, short muted sounds of pleasure leave you both as you lose yourselves in the action, the friction before he manages to get out, “Almost, there are no clothes in the way, and I am buried deep again in that sweet fucking cun-”

You pull even harder and his sentence breaks off with a groan as you prompt him. “Stop talking and start doing.” 

He was losing it. Normally whenever he hooked up with people he was sure, in total control, but you got the drop on him. He should know better, especially after all the previous very violent hook-ups. 

At first, he was on top, or rather, he was trying to be, but all of a sudden a leg was around his hip and hands were on his broad chest pushing him until he fell onto his ass, back propped up on the arm rest of the couch. You settle into his lap quickly, straddling him and then lowering yourself, taking him deep, to the hilt, before he could protest. The moan leaves him on an exhalation at feeling how soaked and hot you are. His hands are on your hips, and he rocks up into you once before your hands are in his hair once more. Fingers thread anew, wrap around and twist before pulling, it makes his eyes shoot open, a harsh inhale from the pain, brows knitted together in confusion when you tell him firmly, "Stay fucking still. This is for me right now, not you."

He is shocked, stunned, your tone so harsh, leaving no room for argument, and you start to move, hips rise and fall as you ride him for all he's worth.

You look fucking stunning, gorgeous, and you feel even better. 

He didn’t know he could be so into this, but he thinks it is because it’s you. He has seen you kill, seen how capable and powerful you are, he is so fucking into you, feels so deeply for you, he thinks you could carve your name into his flesh and he’d beg for more. The praise tumbles out between groan and gasps, timed with the falls and of your hips, the rolls of your body, and it makes you laugh breathy, “You are really into this.” 

“Been a, fuck, while.” He confesses, and you slow your hips, “Mickey, have you kept it in your pants? Stopped fucking half the student body?”

You knew he was seeing other people in between your fucking for a while, but when you and he stopped, did he not get his fill elsewhere? He shrugs, tries to seem unbothered, but it’s hard when his hands are gripping your hips so tightly, browns pinched together, you clench on him and his head is thrown back against the arm rest of the couch. Sweat is down his temple, tendons in his throat as he swallows thickly, “Been busy.”

It is all he can force out. This is serious. Mickey the slut stopped screwing anyone else because he was crushing on you so severely. He did really like you, holy shit. Not an act at all, he was so consumed with you that fucking other people wasn’t something he wanted. 

The emotion radiating off him is filling you, bleeding back into you, and you let it take you without trying to show it too heavily. You fucking care about him, you really fucking do. 

Your hand below your waist, quick fingers bring you to your peak twice in short succession as you ride him before he finds his own high. The first time is frantic, needy, more about getting it out of your systems after so long without. It is undeniably satisfying and thoroughly enjoyable. 

The next time happens that same night. With reheated Chinese and in his bed. You talked about it all, how the kill that night went and in the process worked yourself up once more and made the shower you shared after your time on the couch utterly pointless from how sweaty you got again. 

After that night, you were together. You and he often fucked, maybe more than you should, but you just could not get enough. You’d been so busy that you hadn’t really fucked anyone other than him since getting here over a year ago. Times in your dorm or his, shared showers, traded oral in places that you shouldn’t like between library stacks. Once you had sex in the band pit of the theatre, your hands over his mouth and his over yours as you worked to keep quiet, him thrusting up into you, and you are slamming down on him as you worked each other over, bringing him and yourself to Earth shattering pleasure. 

Both of you kept it more hush, hush, but another secret just added to it. You didn’t run from your feelings, nor did you attempt to hide how into him, you were. The dates squeezed in everywhere you could also try to make up for your stubborn bullshit earlier. Affection was, often, moments of tenderness and vulnerability in private were shared. 

There is a moment that you keep coming back to. 

Another kill. You and he are blood splattered, you had a quickie next to the body, a rushed moment of passion with you pushed over a desk. Your legs were shaking from the strength of the orgasm he fucked out of you. Over the past while you’d gotten much more comfortable with him taking control, it wasn’t a fight for dominance, it was shared responsibility that you give into as often as he does. His cum was leaking out into your panties that you had just pulled back into place. You were heaving, body slick, and resting for a moment when he comes around the desk. His mask is pulled up, and he leans down, gloved hands come to your face, one hand holds the knife in his leather clad grip, the other holds your cheek. You feel the knife handle against the opposite side, and he moves in, he kisses your forehead half-in-half-out of his killer garb, and you melt. You smile up at him and he returns it. 

The lies and secrecy shouldn’t turn you on like this. Lying to Sidney and everyone else, the high you are both on from so far getting away with it is immense. You and he are too perfect of a fit.

It’s the day of. You and he are about to head out when the urge strikes. “Hey-“ Your hand quickly reached out and grabs his wrist, pulling him back from the door, so he was stood facing you again. His hand dropped to your waist, and he smiled down at you, that stupid damn devastating smile you used to hate that you now couldn’t see yourself living without, “- before we do this, there’s something I wanna tell you. Just in case.” 

He noticed you looked almost nervous, weight shifting from one foot to the other, he had never seen this emotion on your face before, and he knew exactly what was coming before you took a deep, unsteady breath and opened your mouth to speak again. “I lo-”

“Don’t.” He said quickly, eyes wide, raising his hand to place it over your mouth, an action you had both done to each other God knows how many times in a much different context. “Save it. Tell me after we’ve won, okay?”

You rolled your eyes slightly, prying his fingers away from your mouth. “God, you’re such an overdramatic dork, Mickey. Okay.”

It was stupid. You shouldn’t have listened to him. You should have said it.

You and he and Nancy were in the theatre with Sidney. The monologue was underway, big speeches, reveals, shock and awe. You’d been watching from afar, waiting for your cue to come in, when it happens all too quickly. Sidney made Nancy so angry so fast, unable to control herself, and she points the gun and with a simple move of her finger, the trigger is pulled and all of a fucking sudden just like that night your world is coming crashing in. He wasn’t expecting it, the bullet holes in his chest pour blood out rapidly. 

You are frozen in place. Rooted to the spot. You watch as his body falls. Here then gone. Stole from you in a single moment, no time to react, nothing to do, no time to process either. He was ripped from you, and it takes a moment for everything to come back into focus. Sidney and Nancy are struggling, and you find the strength. 

You move. 

The weapon in your hand is used on Sidney, not the way you’d intended to, the butt of your own gun is smacked full force on the back of her head. You knock her out and let her fall to the stage. You are left standing there with Nancy, who is wondering what you are doing. You are holding up the gun, pointing it straight at her, questioning her in the same way, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” 

“Why are you pointing that at me?” She asked in seeming disbelief, and you scoff, “Why do you think?! I heard you! I heard what you said, I watched you shoot Mickey, I know you want me dead next, right? Clean up the loose ends?”

You spit it at her with vitriol before you do your best impression of her annoying voice during her speech to Sidney, “There was a big scuffle, and you-” your foot kicking Sidney’s boot for emphasis, gesturing down to her with your other hand, “-shoot Mickey-”

Saying it makes you sob. Tears start to stain your cheeks, “I cannot believe you! Bringing us here, making us do your dirty work, and you were planning on killing us the whole fucking time!” 

“What, did you really think that he’d get away with it? His big plan about blaming the movies? What jury would believe that-” She shouts, and you stomp your foot, “Shut the fuck up, that isn’t the point!” You weren’t going to tolerate her speaking ill of him, not while he is still bleeding out in the band pit, you kept talking, “You double-crossed us!”

Your gun moves down, and you shoot, getting her in the knee. She crumples under the weight of her own body. She is on the ground, and she is the one sobbing in short order. You make your way to her, you step onto her busted knee, grinding your boot down into it and revelling in her anguished screams. Blood gushes and you still are not satisfied. You sink down, you lay into her. First the gun across her face, teeth are knocked out, displaced and rattle as they roll across the wooden stage. 

You hit her again and again, next the gun is dropped, your hand takes over, punching her, nose breaks, cartilage cracks, bones snap, she is coughing and wheezing and weak. Your knife is removed from the holster stored in your boot, and you hold it to her throat, “You are such a stupid fucking bitch.”

She was delirious, and you slammed her head against the stage, “Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

Her eyes are unfocused, but they are on you, “This is your fault. You are going to die, but you didn’t have to. You killed him first, and now I’m gonna kill you.”

The response is weak from her dry cracked lips, “Why?”

“Why?” You asked, a bitter laugh, you hold the knife closer to her throat, “Dumb cunt wants to know why? Sure, I can tell you.” 

A deep inhale before you say, “You brought me here under false pretenses, made me work with one of the most annoying and insufferable people I have ever met in my life, forced me to be around him and in the process made me realize that…”

You can’t bring yourself to say it, but you instead say, “-That I care about him. That I needed someone else who could truly understand me on this level, who cared, who showed me how I deserved to be fucking treated and then, you just…You kill him, snuff him out, like he was nothing!”

You feel the tears falling again, “After all we’ve done to make your fucked up dream of a revenge plot come true, and you expect me to just lie down and take it when you kill him?!”

You can’t see her properly, not through how watery your eyes were. A steadying breath before you say, “And the way you did it. With a gun? It is insulting! Where is the intimacy? The care? The artistry, if he had to die by murder, he deserved better! Do you care about the art form at all?!”

You are tired of her, the anger and sadness had been bubbling up, it all comes to a head and bursts, the knife slices through her throat, she is choking on her blood when you tell her, “I’m not playing along, I’m not doing your stupid plot, not anymore. I’m rewriting it, Sidney’s gonna live.”

You don’t stop there. The knife is forced into her over and over. By the time you are done, her stupid white unflattering white suit is stained completely red. 

Getting up from the complete mess, you look over your shoulder, Sidney is still passed out. This is your chance to run, but you can’t. Not yet.

Your steps are tentative, your knees hurt from how long you were on them while hunched over Nancy’s body while you were killing her. Your hands shake, and you peek over the edge of the stage and see him down there, amongst upturned band chairs, and your breath is stolen. You and he hooked up down there weeks prior, and now he was down there, looking wrong, totally fucking wrong. He looks lonely, and you hate that, you move quickly, one hand on the edge of the stage, and you jump down, it hurts your ankles from the height, you don’t care. 

You stay there with him. You cling to him, you are reminded of that conversation, your least favourite. Dead weight. Quickly going cold, lifeless eyes staring up, past you, to some point on the ceiling, unseeing. You let yourself cry. You want to say it, tell him the depth of your feeling want to force the words out, you want to tell him you love him, but now it doesn’t feel right at all. He should have been able to hear those words from you while he was alive, while you still had a shot at a future together, whatever it would have looked like.You let yourself say this at the very least. 

“You were right…” You sniff, you wipe at your cheeks and say, “The time we had was short but fuck. You were so good to me. I should have let you be good to me sooner. I should have been better to you, too.” The next words sit heavy on your tongue, no matter how much you want to they are left unsaid, and you make yourself leave him. 

Before you do, there is one thing that feels necessary, like you have to. Hands cradle his face, one hand still holding the knife, and you lean down, you press a blood stained kiss to his forehead, near his hairline just like he did to you before. A mirror of that previous act of tenderness on a scarlet tinged afternoon but so much sadder because it was the last moment like this you’d ever have with him and again still, it was totally wrong. He can’t feel it, because he’s dead.

You get up and with one last forlorn look to him, you run. 

Sidney wakes up unscathed but dazed, Mickey dead and Nancy too. You hadn’t revealed yourself, she hadn’t seen you, Nancy and Mickey hadn’t made mention of you, you’d been wearing gloves and there was none of your blood or DNA at the finale’ site, so you got away with it. They think the last person is still at large, but they have no clue who. 

Your sadness is understandable, your real grief is able to be spread around, it is believable that it is for Hallie and Derek and everyone else but Mickey on the surface. You and Sidney drift apart. You tell her it’s too hard and she more than understands, she was initially suspicious at first, but you were too good an actor, your alibis too well planned and airtight. 

The unmarked account that your tuition came out of was still full. You intend to transfer to a different college next semester. You can’t stay here, the idea of graduating from here without Mickey is horrible. You need a new state, a new school, a fresh chance to try and attempt to move on. It’s after winter break at that new school that you meet. 

The events happened over a year ago, and you were still not doing good. Still sad, you wonder how you can ever process this pain, this total loss, no way can you talk about it, no way another person could ever understand. 

Until that is one fateful day, you get a knock at your apartment door. You answer it and standing in front of you is a ghost, one person who you thought, just like everyone else, was dead, and maybe, perhaps, the only one who can relate to you. 

Brows furrowed and gripping the door, so your legs won’t buckle, you asked nervously, in total shock and disbelief, “Stu Macher?”

He grinned with a point to himself, “That’s me. Can I come in?”

#Mickey Altieri X reader #slasher x reader #Ghostface x reader #BHF asks #BHF writing #HERE #HAVE IT #ENJOY IT #FUCK #FINALLY #Been working on this one for a WHILE

[gerrystamour]

i could be honest, i could be human [Chapter 3]

Rated E | Steddie

[ FIRST PART ] [ NEXT PART ]

Summary: “God actually hates me, He has to,” Steve muttered darkly, tipping his head back to look up at the sky. “Kinda rich, coming from God’s favourite Golden Child,” Eddie said, coming around in front of Steve. Seeing his tears, Eddie’s grin faltered. “Shit, who hurt you, Harrington?”

Chapter Three: October 1984

If it didn’t suck so much, Steve would probably laugh about his situation.

Once again, he felt sorry. Not for himself at the moment, even if it felt like he had been gutted, his chest hollowed out with a dull knife. Mostly, he felt sorry for hurting Nancy all over again. The first time he hurt her, it was him being cruel because he was hurt. This time, it was him trying so hard to make things normal for both of them again.

Maybe he felt a little sorry for himself, he thought sadly, his heart heavy with hurt.

He sat at the far side of Tina’s backyard on a bench that faced the forest, smoking a cigarette and trying really hard not to actually cry.

“Hey, Steve?”

Looking up at the sky, Steve blinked rapidly to compose himself before he glanced over his shoulder. “Hey Jonathan, what’s up?” he greeted, his voice only a little shaky.

“Is everything—I saw you come out here, and Nancy is—?” Jonathan stopped abruptly when Steve blinked a tear loose and it streaked down the cheek he could see.

“Shit,” Steve hissed as another tear fell and he scrubbed at his face roughly. “Fuck!”

“Is there some way I can help?” Jonathan asked, soft and genuine, and Steve wished he could be mad at him. If this happened a year ago, he definitely would have snapped at him, maybe even hit him just for seeing him cry.

Blowing out a gusty breath, Steve nodded. “Can you get Nancy home? She’s had a lot to drink and she doesn’t want me—my help,” he said quietly.

“Hey, don’t say that, she loves—” Jonathan started, and Steve cut him off with a sharp sound.

“Jonathan, please. I don’t—just… Make sure Nancy gets home okay?” Steve nearly begged, pinching the bridge of his nose as another stupid wave of tears welled up.

“Yeah, man, totally,” Jonathan said and he grabbed Steve’s shoulder with a gentle firmness that went a long way toward comforting him. “You okay to get home too?”

“I live down the street, man, I’m fine,” Steve chuckled, his voice still wavering and a bit watery.

“Oh, right, I guess I forgot,” Jonathan laughed, and that actually brought a bit of a real smile to Steve’s face. He must have been doing something right over the past year for Jonathan to forget that his parents were rich. “See you at school?”

“Yeah, see you at school,” Steve replied with a nod, patting Jonathan’s hand where it still held his shoulder before the other boy let go.

With a heavy sigh, Steve leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, hanging his head while his forgotten cigarette slowly burned down. He had been quitting that stupid habit, which he’d only picked up in the first place because Tommy smoked. Nancy always made a face when he would lean in to kiss her, even hours after he had smoked, so he gradually just stopped entirely. Of course, now that he was apparently cut loose from that relationship, he was back to his old habits. Would he go back to being King Steve, supreme asshole of Hawkins High? Reclaim his throne from that piece of shit Billy Hargrove?

Was he only a good person because he thought Nancy Wheeler was in love with him?

A new wave of tears welled up and he choked around a sob that stuck in his throat like shards of glass. He let the tears happen this time, staring listlessly down at the ground between his feet, miserably trying to figure out where his performance for Nancy ended and his actual personality began.

When he couldn’t immediately determine that answer, he let out a sighing sob.

He was probably too drunk to be thinking about it.

A shoe scuffed the ground just behind Steve and he tensed, screwing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose. Of course Jonathan didn’t actually walk away, too soft to leave his former-bully and sort-of-friend crying on Halloween.

“Byers, I swear to God, if you don’t go take care of Nance like I asked, I’m going to barge into the dark room every time you’re in there until I graduate,” Steve threatened half-heartedly. He somehow already did that more often than he cared to admit, but that was neither here nor there.

“Not Byers, Your Majesty.”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve hissed, sitting up to take a long drag from his cigarette.

Eddie chuckled behind him. “Damn, you’re bad at this, Harrington. Guess again.”

“God actually hates me, He has to,” Steve muttered darkly, tipping his head back to look up at the sky.

“Kinda rich, coming from God’s favourite Golden Child,” Eddie said, coming around in front of Steve. Seeing his tears, Eddie’s grin faltered. “Shit, who hurt you, Harrington?”

Steve bristled, and the thought of telling Eddie anything about what happened in that bathroom… he would legitimately rather take on a Demogorgon again.

“Can we just get this over with, Munson?” Steve asked tiredly, wiping the tears off of his cheeks. To his frustration, they were immediately replaced with fresh ones.

“Get what over—?”

“Y’know, where you laugh at me, call me a bitch or a pussy, and then leave me alone,” Steve said, trying for angry, but he was apparently too sad to muster it and just sounded depressingly resigned.

When Eddie didn’t immediately say anything, Steve met his gaze. The other man’s expression was startling, honestly. It wasn’t the gleeful, delighted expression Eddie had worn outside The Hawk, or any variation of the smiles that seemed to be a permanent feature on his face. He looked… afraid?

At least that would be how Steve would normally identify the wide-eyed, slack-jawed expression. Then again, Steve had determined over the past year of casually noticing Eddie that wide-eyed was more like his default setting.

Eddie finally shut his mouth to clear his throat before shaking his head. “Nah, man. It’s only funny when you’re bleeding,” he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his worn leather jacket.

“What?” Steve scoffed, sneering up at Eddie.

“I don’t like laughing at people who’re crying,” he elaborated with a shrug. “It feels like punching down, even if they probably deserve it.”

“Gee, how fucking kind of you,” Steve grumbled, tossing his cigarette to the ground and snuffing it with his shoe.

“Seriously, Harrington, what’s this all about?” Eddie asked, and Steve hated how genuine he somehow made his voice. Like he actually cared. “Did Byers do this too?”

“Jonathan?” Steve laughed, shaking his head and chewing the inside of his cheek. “Nah, he was just checking on me. I was like this before he showed up.”

After a few moments of silence between them, Eddie sat down next to him and leaned back, spreading his long arms across the back of the bench. “If it wasn’t Byers, who was it?” he asked before affecting a knowing look. “Was it that dick, Billy? Did losing your title as King Douche of the Keg do this?”

Steve laughed and something fluttered in his chest at Eddie’s pleased expression. “For the record, no, this has nothing to do with that bullshit—” Steve cut himself off, sighing heavily and tipping his head back to look up at the sky again. Nancy’s words came back to him in a rush, about the party being bullshit, him being bullshit, their love being bullshit. Steve shook his head and said, “it doesn’t matter. I did this to myself.”

“You… made yourself cry?”

“Yeah, because I’m just… bullshit, y’know?” Steve said, frowning as he idly tried to identify whatever constellations he could remember.

“Well shit, Harrington. I could’ve told you that years ago and saved you the drunken epiphany,” Eddie teased, lifting a hand to shove Steve’s shoulder lightly and knocking another proper laugh out of him.

“You’re not wrong, Munson,” he murmured with a little smile. Despite that, more tears spilled down his cheeks and he hissed, “fuck, I hate this. I just want to go home.”

“How about you just go home then?” Eddie asked as he draped his arm around the back of the bench again.

Steve sighed, rolling his eyes. “Can’t go home like this,” he replied.

Eddie tilted his head. “And… why not?” he pressed, and Steve jumped when he felt Eddie’s thumb begin to idly stroke the cap of his shoulder. 

It was a motion that seemed thoughtless, like it was just what you did when your hand was resting near someone else. It was weird for a guy to be doing that with him, and Steve knew he should probably pull away, but it felt… nice, especially with how upset he was.

“Hello? Earth to Harrington?” Eddie crooned in his ear, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Sorry, what?” Steve said, shaking his head a bit.

“I asked why you can’t go home like this,” Eddie reminded him, an eyebrow raised.

‘Because my dad might still be up.’ “I just can’t, Munson, drop it,” he finally replied, fear and shame twisting in his gut along with his heartbreak. When he returned his gaze to Eddie’s, the expression on his face was a mixture of skepticism and understanding.

Silence stretched between them, Eddie’s thumb switching from rubbing Steve’s shoulder to lightly tapping out a beat. “Want a joint?” Eddie asked suddenly, and Steve blinked at him in confusion.

“I don’t have cash on me, man,” Steve managed to say after a moment when his tipsy brain caught up. “I wasn’t planning on—”

“I’m not trying to sell you anything,” Eddie interrupted, shaking his head. “I was going to smoke one anyway. We can share.”

Steve glared suspiciously. “What’s the catch? There has to be some kind of catch,” he accused. Finally, Eddie’s mean smirk rose to his face.

“Why? Because there’d be one if you were offering?” he asked and Steve reared back a bit at that, properly angry.

“What? No! People who don’t like me generally don’t offer me free shit, Munson,” Steve bit out as he stood up to glare down at him.

Eddie glowered right back up at him, his mean smirk slipping. “I just felt bad for you. Was trying to be nice,” he said sullenly, and Steve felt a little bad for snapping at him. Only a little, though, because pity? From Eddie “The Freak” Munson? That was enough to fire him back up, even if he withered at his own unkind thoughts.

“I don’t need or want your pity, Munson,” he practically growled, hands balling into tight fists at his sides.

“Then why’re you out here crying?” Eddie snapped, his face twisted in a mean scowl.

“In here feeling sorry for yourself, Stephen?” The sound of belt snapping. “I’ll give you a real reason to cry.”

Steve swatted at an imaginary bug to disguise his flinch. Eddie was watching him with those stupid, wide brown eyes that seemed to notice and understand too much. He didn’t want to give him more ammo, more ways to get under his skin.

“Yeah, I was crying out here alone for pity,” Steve spat sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he turned around to leave. He would take his chances calming down in the forest, maybe get eaten by a Demogorgon or something. That would definitely spare him any more embarrassment.

“Harrington, wait.” A hand closed around Steve’s wrist, the grip firm enough to stop him but immediately gentled so Steve could pull away if he wanted. The cool, slender fingers and cold metal of Eddie’s rings against his wrist were grounding, kind of comforting, so Steve didn’t immediately pull away. Again, it struck Steve as something that was probably weird for two guys to be doing, but the physical touch did wonders to settle his head a bit.

“What?” Steve asked, his anger and embarrassment slowly bleeding out of him.

“I offered because I figured it might help you calm down, that’s it,” Eddie said, his big brown eyes looking up at Steve earnestly. “I do actually feel bad about you crying, because I mean it, I don’t like seeing anyone crying. And feeling bad isn’t always pity, y’know?”

Steve thought back to all the times he had insisted Jonathan share his lunches with him over the past year, always making excuses about not liking half of it or lying about eating too much breakfast. It was never out of pity that he did that. He had genuinely cared and wanted to share because he had enough to do so.

All of the anger left Steve at once, leaving him feeling hollow and exhausted. Numb. “I can’t just accept free shit from you, Munson, even if you want to pretend to share it with me,” he said after a few moments with a tired smile, then he shrugged. “That, and I can’t go home high either.”

Eddie watched him unblinkingly for several moments before he nodded slowly. “Yeah, okay. Makes sense,” he conceded, his thumb idly stroking the inside of Steve’s wrist.

The gentle touch sent goosebumps up Steve’s arm, right up the side of his neck and onto his scalp. His eyes flickered down to watch the movement, getting lost in it. There was a weird, warm weight that settled in his gut as he watched that thumb shift, each sweep making that feeling crawl up into his chest. Heat rose to his cheeks and that embarrassed fluttering returned to his chest.

Pulling his wrist away suddenly, Steve cleared his throat. “Thanks, though. For the offer,” he said, the words a bit stilted. “And I guess for getting me to stop crying after all.”

“Oh yeah, I guess I did,” Eddie laughed, and Steve was taken aback by how big his true smile was up close. How bright Eddie’s eyes lit up with it, and how deep the dimples formed in his cheeks. Steve had only ever seen that smile from across the cafeteria, and he had never had it directed at him. “How’d I manage that?”

“Being a dick, mostly,” Steve retorted, his tone teasing. The joke landed just the way he had hoped, keeping that huge grin on Eddie’s face as he laughed. The embarrassed fluttering got stronger in his gut.

“I’ll be a dick to you any day of the week, Harrington. Whenever you need it,” Eddie said, winking up at Steve when he scoffed.

“How generous of you, Munson,” Steve chuckled, rolling his eyes before taking a step backward. “See you around?”

Eddie’s grin settled into a smile. “You know it, Harrington,” he replied, spreading his arms wide along the back of the bench and tilting his head.

Steve glanced down the long line of Eddie’s body before clearing his throat. Waving awkwardly, Steve turned around and quickly left, practically jogging home.

When he got there, the house was dark and silent, his parents already in bed. No doubt he would have to deal with a lecture the next morning, but he would just get up early for a run and hopefully avoid them before he went to school. He paused in his plan, trying to do the mental math to figure out how early he would have to wake up to have time for a run and have enough time to pick Nancy up before school.

Steve abruptly stopped that train of thought; did he even have to pick her up? Should he?

The thought of showing up at her house in the morning to give her a ride to school after what she said was nauseating. He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his composure if he had to be alone with her in his car which would be humiliating at best.

And what if she didn’t even remember what she said?

No, he wouldn’t be able to handle that first thing in the morning. He shouldn’t be expected to handle that first thing in the morning.

A spark of anger finally ignited inside him at that thought. 

Steve was fucked up from everything that happened last year, too. Maybe not the same way Nancy was, but his pain mattered, too, didn’t it? And yeah, maybe the way he had been dealing with it wasn’t great, but it wasn’t any worse than how Nancy was, right? It was completely reasonable to try to find some normalcy, to move on, to try to stop seeing a dead girl every time he looked at his pool, or glanced at the woods behind his house. It was reasonable and sane to just try to survive his senior year.

Steve didn’t have to feel bad for not mourning Barb or carrying the guilt of her death the same way as Nancy. He didn’t have to feel bad for being scared of the people who made them sign confidentiality paperwork while armed guards stood over them. He didn’t have to feel bad for just wanting to keep his head down, graduate high school, and get the hell out of that town.

Despite all of those self-righteous thoughts, Steve went to bed feeling sick to his stomach with his guilt and shame, thinking of all the ways he could have done better by Nancy, no matter the cost to his peace of mind.

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#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie fic #stranger things fic #gerry writes #i could be human fic

[misseviehyde]

WICKED WAX

Jordan had always known that his best-friend Micky was a total bullshitter - but this time the stupid douche-bag had got himself into real trouble.  Inventing an imaginary girlfriend called Ashley and telling everyone at school they were dating was one thing - but bragging to the school bully that he was bringing his girl to the pool party and wagering $300 on it was crazy.

"Look Micky - when 'Ashley' doesn't show up at the pool party with you, you're gonna owe that ape $300 ," groaned Jordan.  "You don't have that kind of money and the bastard is lining up practically the whole school to humiliate you tomorrow."

"Which is why it is totally going to throw him when she actually shows up and I actually humiliate him," grinned Micky.

"But Ashley isn't real you moron.  You downloaded her photo off a website, the real girl probably lives thousands of miles away - she might even be in a different country!"

"Relax bro," smirked Micky pulling out the offending picture from his wallet where he always kept it.  It showed an incredibly hot and busty teenage girl standing next to a car, her huge breasts barely contained within her tight white top.  Her nails were long and sexy, and her eyes had a sexy intensity to them.  She was the hot girl next-door and then some.  Most of the guys at school had enjoyed drooling over the photo - Jordan had been no exception.

Placing the photo down carefully, Micky opened a box and pulled out a candle inscribed with strange symbols.  He turned to his friend and grinned.  "You see Jordan, Ashley is gonna become real."

"What the hell are you talking about you total cretin," scoffed Jordan as his friend lit the candle which burned with a pinkish flame.

"My aunt is a witch.  I convinced her to give me this magic candle.  All you have to do is burn a picture in the candle flame and you will become the person pictured. I just need you to burn it so you turn into Ashley."

"Are you nuts? Magic isn't real dude... and even if it was, I don't want to turn into a girl."

"Sure you do.  It would be fun.  Are you telling me you'd really pass up the chance to be THAT hot?  Look, all you'd have to do is turn into Ashley for a couple of hours.  Just long enough to show up with me to the party and get the $300.  Then we'll burn a photo of you and turn you back!  I'll give you half the cash, you can't say fairer than that."

Jordan winced.  This was crazy, but his friend seemed dead set on it.  "Tell you what.  I'll go through with your stupid plan, but you have to give me 20 bucks when it doesn't work, just for wasting my time.  I can't believe you're going to get me to burn this picture... it's so hot."

"Yeah, but soon you'll be her and YOU'LL be that hot.  Go on, I've been dying to see this in action..."

Jordan reluctantly took the photo and held it into the candle flame.  It took almost instantly, burning bright pink and rapidly being consumed.  To his amazement the flames didn't emit any heat and the smoke that gathered from the burning, instead of dissipating, began to writhe and coil around him. Something magical was indeed occurring. "Woah, what's happening?"

Micky watched in amazement as his friend was completely obscured by smoke... cocooned in it.  From inside the haze he heard grunts and groans, his friends voice seeming to radically change and get sexier. "Oooooh, oh wow, ohhhh Micky, you gotta try this ahhhh I feel... mmmmmmmmh ohhh amazing!"

Inside the smoke Jordan was transforming and altering.  He felt his fingernails lengthen like those of the girl in the picture and he suddenly felt smaller and sexier.  His hair tickled his shoulders as he felt an insistent weight on his chest and looking down was amazed to see his chest was swelling and pushing out!  The magic was real!  He was turning into a girl!

"OHHHHH FUCK!" groaned Jordan as he felt a strange absence growing in his crotch area and his skin tingled prettily.  His clothing seemed to be changing to match his new body and he could taste lipstick on his mouth.  This was weird... but kinda nice.  His insides tingled and his features transformed, his mouth breaking into an infectiously cute smile.  He reached up to his face to feel soft, smooth skin... impossibly soft.  "Ohhhh yeah," he moaned in his new softer voice - turning himself on at how girly and sexy it sounded.  

As the last of the photo was consumed and vanished, the pink flames spluttered and the candle wick went out - leaving it ready to be used again sometime...

The smoke began to clear and Jordan sat down on the bed with a squeak, his plump new ass taking the weight nicely. His new sexy mouth curved into a grin as he examined himself and giggled.  His formerly male body was completely transformed.  He was now dressed in a tight, barely decent pink boob tube and had a light teal skirt on.  His formerly hairy legs were completely smooth and he had a big pair of big boobies bouncing on his chest.  He was incredibly sexy and feminine - he had become Ashley.

"Micky, this is awesome!" laughed Jordan in his funny new girls voice.  "For the first time ever in your life, your bullshit has turned out to be true!"

"See!  I told you my aunt really was a witch.  Pretty cool huh?"

"Oh my God, my dick is totally gone," gasped Jordan with a hand down Ashley's skirt.  His fingers felt the elastic of a pair of panties and he rubbed his flat front, gasping as he touched his new pussy for the first time ever.  Ashley's was totally smooth and shaven and it felt so good to touch.  Even better than a dick.  He began to massage his clit, groaning as his nipples got hard through his top - before realising where he was and what he was doing!

"Oh shit, sorry," he blushed realising what he was doing and snatching his hand out of his hemline. "Sorry dude, it's just weird.  Fuck, my tits are huge... I mean, I look so feminine now!  I must have bigger boobs than every girl at school.  Wow, these nails are super long too... are these those gel nail thingy's all the girls at school are always bragging about?"

"I guess so," grinned Micky. "Do you like them?"

"Hmmm, strangely... I do.  I never really noticed before, but long nails are kinda hot."

"I meant your tits!"

"Oh, yeah... sure, God... is that all you can think about?"

Standing up from the bed, Jordan walked over to the mirror.  Even his walk was different now.  He held his arms differently and his hips swayed when he moved.  He looked like a real girl.

"Hey, why am I dressed differently to the girl in the photo? I thought I was gonna turn into a copy of her, shouldn't I be in that white top and daisy dukes?"

"Well, the way my aunt described it - you didn't just become a copy of Ashley - you ARE Ashley.  Reality has altered to fit you in. So you're wearing what she would be wearing right now under normal circumstances... carrying what she would be carrying.  For the time being Jordan has ceased to exist and no one will remember him.  If you were to go home now, you'd find your room is now a girls room.   Look you even have a handbag."

Spotting the handbag on the bed, Jordan pulled it open and found an iphone and a purse.  Inside was a drivers license for 'Ashley Hilton'.  He guessed that was him now - he was Ashley Hilton.  Unlocking the phone, he found he had contacts galore for various girls - many of them the popular girls from his school.  There were plenty of messages from them, one or two of their half-naked boyfriends sent to the rest of the girls to check out.   Looking at a picture of the star quarterback with his rippling muscles on show was kind of weird... and kind of sexy.  There were plenty of private messages for Ashley.  Quite a few of them were variations on: Hey Ash... looking forward to seeing you at the party tomorrow... XXX

It was clear that Ashley was pretty fucking popular... which made Jordan think.  Now she was real and reality had changed... did that change this entire situation?

"Micky - if this thing changed reality, does that mean that Jackson won't have made the bet with you and this is all for nothing?  I mean it kind of looks like Ashley goes to our school, so why would he bet $300 dollars on her turning up at the party tomorrow?"

"Oh crap, that's a point.  Well ummmm, hopefully the bet is because he doesn't believe she would ever date a loser like me.  I better check though."  Micky began doing something with his phone whilst Jordan inspected his new body and prodded his face.  Looking through the handbag he found some lipgloss, mascara and some tampons.  "Holy shit, I get periods now!  Oh fuck, I hope I'm not on one at the moment..."

Opening up his phone and checking the calendar, Jordan breathed a sigh of relief as he saw 'Ashley' had marked her times of the month carefully.  Looks like he didn't have to worry about that right away!

"Okay dude, I just checked with some of the guys and the bet is still on.  It's pretty much like you thought though, you aren't my 'imaginary' girlfriend anymore... everyone knows you exist, it's just no one can believe we are dating.  Damn it - that's going to make things harder though."

"How do you mean?" 

"Well, you can't just 'show up' at the party anymore.  You're gonna have to tell people we are dating and maybe kiss me to prove it..."

"KISS YOU! You have got to be kidding!"

"Hey... am I that bad looking?"

Folding his arms under his boobs and giving Micky an irritated look, Jordan shook his head.  "Forget it. I am not kissing a boy."

"Why not?  You are a girl now, and if the candle worked right you should have a healthy female sex drive and sexual orientation."

"WHAT! You fucker! You didn't tell me it was going to do that!"

"Well I was hardly going to tell you that as well as changing your body, the candle would transform your mind was I?  I knew you'd freak out!  Haven't you noticed that you're already acting more feminine?  The way you're walking, the way you are talking?  It would hardly be of much use to either of us if you needed months of preparation to pass as female.  The spell made you Ashley and Ashley you are becoming."

Jordan stamped his foot in annoyance.  He should have known not to trust that little shit - this spell was fucking up his mind as well as his body.  That would explain why he had known the unlock code for Ashley's phone... why when he thought of some of the girls that were messaging him, he suddenly knew things about them he had never known before.  Details and events of a life that was now his were hazily beginning to appear in his mind.  For instance, he knew he had a hairdressers appointment next week and he also knew that he was meeting the girls on Monday to go shopping at the Mall.  The longer he stayed as Ashley, the stronger those memories would become.  

"Don't worry, we'll turn you back before those memories becoming too overwhelming, it's only for today and tomorrow."

Jordan suddenly pursed his soft lips and looked at his friend in dawning horror.  "Hang on though - we need a photo of me to turn back though right?  And since this stupid spell just transformed reality and made it so I have always been Ashley, surely all the photos of me will have changed too?"

Micky felt his stomach lurch and a flush of panic creep into him.  Grabbing his phone, he began looking back through his albums, but to his growing alarm - every photo of Jordan was gone.  "Ohhhh fuck, I didn't think of that."

"YOU IDIOT!" screamed Jordan.  "YOU MEAN I'M STUCK LIKE THIS!?!"

"NO!  Of course not.  There has to be a way to turn you back - I just need to errrr, talk to my aunt!"

"You better," screamed Jordan.  "I'll see you at this fucking party tomorrow and if you don't have a way to turn me back to normal, you're going to regret it!"

Turning on his sexy new heels, Jordan stormed out of the room and Micky ran to the window as he watched his friend run away, fighting back tears, to a cute red convertible, climb in and screech off in a cloud of rubber.

"Oh shit..."

****

Micky had never felt so nervous in all his life as he arrived at the party, butterflies in his tummy.  He'd hardly slept a wink last night and he had desperately wanted to call Jordan and check his friend was okay, but to his annoyance he found he didn't have Ashley's number in his phone and he had no way to contact her!

Urgent phone-calls to his aunt had been made, but so far there was no response.  He just had to hope that he could see Jordan, promise his friend everything would be okay and do whatever he could.

Arriving pool-side, Micky looked around urgently and gulped in relief as he saw Jordan.  His friend was sitting by a group of gossiping girls and Micky's eyes opened wide in amazement at how sexy Jordan was looking.  He had dressed Ashley's body in a tiny pink plaid bikini set and his hair and makeup looked incredible.  He was perfectly made up, from the sexy white gel nails still on his fingers, to the glittering belly button ring in his navel.  He looked every inch a hot girl.

"Give us a moment will you girls," commanded Ashley as Micky slunk over.  "I need to have a quick chat with this loser."

"Oh yeah, your so called 'boyfriend'," giggled one girl - Chloe.  "Give him hell Ash... what a fucking loser.  Imagining lying to the whole school that he was dating you, what an idiot.  See you later 'Little Micky' hehe... "

"Hey what did you tell them?" asked an embarrassed Micky as the girls walked off shooting his venomous glances and giggling to themselves.

"Ohhhh, just girl talk...  don't worry about it 'tiny'.  So did you find a way to turn me back?" asked Jordan almost disinterestedly.

"Jordan... I'm sorry, I'm waiting for my aunt to call me..."

"It's ASHLEY, now loser.  Since you've trapped me as a girl, I may as well own it," sneered Ashley as she inspected a nail.  "I had a feeling you'd let me down, so I'm going to have to go to plan B."

"Wh... wait... what's plan B?"

"Well you see Micky... the longer I stay in this body, the more comfortable and girly I feel.  I was pretty upset with you last night, but once I got home and started thinking about it - I realised this isn't so bad.  The longer I stay this way, the more I get to like it.  I can feel Jordan slipping away... soon I'll just be Ashley."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that if I'm stuck as Ashley... I may as well BE Ashley. I'm not going to waste anytime feeling sorry for myself... I'm going to start enjoying being a hot girl right away. Being this way does come with certain advantages after all."

"But Jordan, my aunt might still be able to..."

"Fuck your aunt and fuck you.  You are such a selfish prick.  You just wanted to be the big man and show off your super hot girlfriend.  You thought you could use me to make £300 dollars and get the reputation as a stud you always desired.  But your little plan has totally backfired you dweeb.   You've made me into a hot, spoiled, party girl - but I have zero interest in helping you out.  In a way it's a shame.  You've turned me into your dream girl - but guess what... your dream girl isn't interested in your scrawny body and pathetic personality.  She prefers a real man. A man like Jackson."

"WHAT!  You have got to be kidding, that douchebag..."

"That douchebag is the richest boy in school, plus he's handsome and ripped. Why wouldn't I be interested in him instead of you?  Since you've turned me into this superficial slut, I may as well act like one."

"Jordan - please dude... I know you're mad at me. It was an oversight, I'm sure my aunt can help us out.  Please don't do anything crazy... we're best-friends."

"We WERE best-friends.  I don't feel anything for you anymore," sneered Ashley.  "In fact, it's kind of a turn on to betray you and fuck you over like this.  Just talking between the two of us, I don't think I'm a very nice girl, and I'm probably just gonna get badder the longer I stay like this.  It kinda makes my pussy wet to boss the other girls around and be the hottest one here.  I think I'm a bitch... and once Jordan fades away completely I'll just be a naughty slut forever.  Oh by the way, Jackson just showed up and he's coming over here... looks like you're in the shit..."

Micky turned round in horror as he saw Jackson was approaching.  The strong confident boy smirked as he saw his victim and easily read the cold body language between him and Ashley.  "Yo, dickweed.  I guess this is the moment that Ashley here tells me you are dating and I pay you $300? Or maybe not?"

"Me? Dating this loser," sneered Ashley like a cold-hearted bitch,  "you must be kidding."

"Guess you owe me $300," laughed Jackson.  "I can't believe you would make up such a stupid rumour.  Why would a hot girl like Ashley ever see anything in a loser like you?  Have you got my money with you?"

"I ummm, I'll get it you tomorrow," squeaked Micky as Jackson lifted him up by his shirt and leered into his face.

"You better... or you ain't gonna be able to walk for a month."  The bully turned to go, but Ashley suddenly smiled at him and beckoned him over.

"Hey Jackson, whilst you are over here, I'm trying to avoid tan lines on my back.  Will you do me a big favour and rub some lotion into my back?"

"What are you doing?" hissed Micky to Ashley as she enticingly pushed out her chest and flashed her perfect smile at the bully.

Loosening her bikini, Ashley smiled at Jackson and the bigger boy grinned back. "Well would you look at that Micky, look's like your 'girlfriend' needs a real man to help her out."  Grabbing the lotion bottle he squeezed it out onto his hands and sitting up behind Ashley began rubbing it into her back.  "Fuck you have amazing skin Ash," he grinned, "feels so soft and smooth."

"Mmmmh, that feels nice Jackson," purred Ashley like a cat.  "Ooooh, I don't suppose you could do my front too?" Grabbing his hands she pulled them slowly and irresistibly over her shoulders and onto her tits.  "Oooooh, whoops," she giggled.

"Holy shit Ashley, what are you doing?" groaned Jackson as he found his hands full of her boobs.  "Are you trying to get us kicked out?"  His hands slid down her body and Ashley helped guide one into her bikini bottoms.

"I'm so fucking wet Jackson, I need you to fuck me so badly."

"Mmmmh, we'll go inside and fuck there.   Make that dweeb Micky act as our look-out... he won't dare tell on us."

"Ohhh yeah, that's such a hot idea," giggled Ashley.  "Make him watch as you fuck me like a real man."

"Jordan, what the hell are you doing?  This is INSANE!"

"Who the fuck is Jordan?" asked Jackson in confusion.

"I have no idea," moaned Ashley, "this dweeb is such a little freak.   Lets go and fuck, I can barely stand it anymore.  I need your cock inside me."

"Come on Micky, you're gonna stand guard at the door whilst I bang her brains out.  I'll give you a one day extension on my money as a reward... plus you get to watch the show.  This little bitch is begging for it."

Micky had no choice as the bigger boy bullied him into following them inside and finding an empty room led them inside.  Making Micky stand by the door to watch out for other guests, Jackson continued fingering Ashley and they kissed passionately - Ashley moaning in pleasure as she got hornier and hornier.

I can't believe that's my friend!  Why is he doing this? What a bastard!

"Mmmmh, let me suck your cock baby..."

Sinking to her knees, Ashley eagerly pulled down Jackson's jeans and cooed happily as she saw his large penis. It was already huge, but it could only get bigger and her mouth was already watering at the thought. Grabbing it in her sexy hands she began to jerk it and suck on it, her big tits jiggling as she went to work on pleasing her man.

"Ahhhh, fuck that feels amazing.  Mmmmh looks like she likes it huh Micky?  Damn girl, you suck cock good."

"Mmmmh his dick is so big," giggled Ashley turning to her former friend with a slutty smile on her face, "so much bigger than a loser like you."

"Shut up and suck it bitch," groaned Jackson, forcing his dick back into her pink mouth with a pop.  Ashley eagerly obeyed, she loved sucking dick.

Grabbing Ashley's head, Jackson helped her suck his dick... the moaning slut gagging happily and sucking wetly as she bobbed her pretty head up and down.  Watching her give him head, Micky felt sick... a few days ago this had been his friend, now he was acting like some dumb spoiled cum-slut.  That wasn't the worst of it though... if he was being truthful, the real problem was he was jealous.  He'd give anything for Ashley to suck his dick instead.  It looked amazing.

"God damn it, I need to feel that tight pussy.  Stand up slut, let me fuck you and show our friend here what a big cock does to a hot bitch like you."

Grabbing Ashley and ripping off her bikini bottoms, Jackson spun her around and smacked and squeezed her ass.  She moaned in pleasure, and submissively used her hands to spread her ass cheeks... revealing her dripping hole and pushing it out to tempt him.  Jackson knew she was wet and ready, his fingers had already been deep in her slit.. he grunted as he pushed his massive dick slowly inside her tight cunt, and grabbing onto her tits began to fuck her.

"OOoooooh YES! Fuck me Jackson, mmmmmh, ohhh your big dick feels so good!"

Ashley was facing Micky directly and her face was one of ecstasy as her lover began to roughly pound her from behind.  She moaned in pure pleasure, pushing back to take him deeper as they got into a rhythmn and hot wet slaps filled the room.

"Ohhh mmmmh, this... is... how a real man... uuggggh fucks a girl," she cried, looking Micky directly in the eyes without even a hint of shame.  "You'll never get to know how good this feels."

"Damn Micky, her pussy is the tightest I ever had, fucking hell she's amazing.  Mmmmmh, it fits like a glove."

"Ooooh, I love being filled up with your big cock," screamed Ashley juices running down her legs as she got fucked so good.  "I... I... OHHHH YESSS DON'T STOP OHHHHHH FUCCCCCCCCCKKKKK!"  Ashley's eyes rolled as she cummed and Jackson grinned as he grabbed her hair and began thrusting even harder and deeper into her, not even giving her a break.  She continued to orgasm, moaning and screaming as she cummed repeatedly on the giant dick inside her and squirted over her lovers cock.

Meanwhile Micky felt sick to his stomach. His friend had totally transformed into a naughty slut and it was all his fault. Worse, she was making him watch all this... and it was making him hard. He wanted to cum his own pants, but he could barely watch as the couple continued to fuck, trying different positions out and filling the room with the stink of hot sex and cum as they rutted like animals in heat.

Suddenly he became aware that his phone was vibrating in his pocket and grabbing it out saw that there was an incoming phone call from his aunt.

"Micky, it's your aunt.  I'm so sorry, I only just got your messages."

"Auntie, please... you gotta help me, Jordan used the candle and he turned into a girl.  Now he's stuck!"

"Don't panic Nephew.  It's easy to reverse.  You just need to completely burn down the candle you used and everything will go back to normal... well... just so long as nobody had sex."

"Thank God... ummm, sex? Wh...what do you mean?"

"The magic locks and becomes permanent if anyone who has transformed has penetrative sex.  Just so long as your friend hasn't fucked anyone, he should be fine."

Turning around, Micky groaned as he watched Ashley slide Jackson's cock out of her pussy with a pop and jerk it till her came over her face and tits.  Hot cum dripping down her body, the slut luxuriated in the glow of sex as she basked in her new sexuality and power.  "Mmmmh, I fucking love being a slut... I feel like such a dirty whore and I love it. Being a hot girl is the best, I'm so glad I got stuck this way.  Jordan is dead... that loser is nothing compared to me."

Looking into Ashley's wicked eyes, Micky wanted to weep.  His friend was lost forever now and she didn't even care.  Ashley had consumed Jordan and turned him into a wicked, popular slut.  Her corruption into a bitch was complete.  Micky would never again see his friend - he had been completely replaced by her. And worst of all... he owed her new boyfriend over $300.

"So then Micky, lets talk about how you can get me my money," grinned Jackon as Ashley eagerly sucked the last of the cum out of his cock.  "After all, looks like I have a new girlfriend to pay for and I'm guessing she has expensive tastes."

This was not going to be a good year...

****

THE END

#evie hyde #m2f transformation #corruption #m2f corruption #bully #candle #magic candle

[fsiryspit]

𖥦 𝚈𝙴𝙻𝙻𝙾𝚆. steve harrington x fem!reader.

warnings : bimbo!reader, perv!steve, dom!steve, praise kink, degrading, spanking, thigh riding, touch starved fr, public. just mdni !! all characters of age. not proof read.

𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘴4 & 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥.

they had ventured out to lovers lake earlier in the day, chatting and carrying on about whatever joke or subject that had been annoying them in school. the spring breeze was cooling, much nicer than that hot and sticky kind that came around in the summer time. steve was sporting a pair of jeans and a new yellow, pullover sweatshirt. it had to have been new — didn’t smell like him yet, which made the girl frown. as for her, she was wearing a frilly, white blouse and baby blue mini skirt. but she was chilly . . . why did it have to be cool, hm? she just wanted to enjoy herself in peace. “ you okay sweetheart? ” he asked. oh steve . . . sweet stevie. always so kind and thinking of others. but she nodded, the outside granting her another chill up the spine. “ mm, don’t think you are. ” he chuckled, motioning her to come closer. sure, the big fuzzy blanket underneath them was kindaaa helping, she was still slightly shivering. the girl looked up at steve with big puppy dog eyes.

“ jesus, you’re shaking like a leaf, c’mere. ” he tsked, snaking his arms around her waist before pulling her in, placing her atop his lap. “ now whyd you have to go and wear a skirt? you know it’s too chilly for that.” he clicked his tongue, making her huff. there happened to be an underlying wonder, though, in steve’s handsome head. although he was curious as to her choice in attire today, he was also frustrated how she *always* wore a skirt. it bugged him, made his cock twitch. if she just bent over, he’d be able to see whatever panties she decided to wear that day. “ . . . fuck. ” he mumbled, making the girl tilt her head. she had actually been in the middle of replying, but clearly, his mind was elsewhere. “ did you say something? ” she asked and received a quick shake of his head. sure, she was stupid, but she wasn’t an idiot. she knew when something was up and she wasn’t buying this game he was playing.

but she’d push it off for the time being, shivering once more, her body shifting in his lap. “ fuu—! ” he quickly slapped his hand over his mouth, another twitch to his cock. she looked up at him with wide eyes and blushed cheeks. did he . . . did steve just moan? and that slight shift in his pants, she felt it against her ass. he looked down at the girl, half lidded eyelids and a blush creeping upon his cheeks. and she giggled. she fucking giggled. “ looks like someone— ” his free hand gripped at her cheeks, squishing them together, lips pursing. “ shut the fuck up. ” he growled, the girl blinking beneath him. where did this come from? was he really that turned on? embarrassed that he had a semi hard on? steve was never good with expressing his feelings, or maybe she was just fucking clueless. “ i’m tired of you being fucking dumb, pretty baby. know i like you, ‘kay? think about you all the time and fucking that pretty cunt of yours. ” his hips bucked upward, receiving a whimper from the girl. “ and those skirts. goddamn, always thinkin’ how i wanna fuck you in ‘em. ” he moaned at the thought, his large hands traveling down to her ass and gripping it tightly - like her ass was his and his only. as for her, she was already a mess, her panties becoming soiled from the wet patch she had made. she had never seen steve . . . her best friend, like this before. but she wasn’t complaining. as for his confession, it made her smile — a dumb, little smile, like she had been drunk off her ass. “i like you too. ” she confessed, leaning in slightly. “have for a while. ” yet she cried . . . cried when a harsh slap hit her asscheek. it burned, stung, but fuck - it was hot. “ yeah, no shit, sweetheart. you make it pretty obvious. ” he replied, kneading roughly at the cheek he just spanked. “ on my thigh for me, please. now. ” even with the please, it sounded demanding but the girl quickly obliged, sitting prettily on his big thigh.

now, she was embarrassed : her panties pressed against his jean clad thigh. he let out a dark chuckle, leaning down to quickly kiss her lips before pulling away. “ haven’t even done anything and i can feel how wet you are. ” he whispered, her hand gripping at his yellow sweatshirt. she didn’t dare look up at steve, far too embarrassed to see that smug smirk that painted his lips. “ it’s okay, baby. if you wanna get yourself off, you can. ” he offered oh so graciously. she wouldn’t deny something so pleasurable. she dug up the courage, making eye contact with the male, her hips slowly rocking back and forth. she whimpered, walls clenching around nothing. she had never felt this turned on before — not even when she played with herself at home. steve’s demeanor was fucking hot and she couldn’t get enough of it. “ . . . that’s it baby, so good for me. ” a moan slipped from her lips, receiving another dark chuckle. steve knew what she liked : as he said before, he wasn’t stupid. her free hand ventured toward his hair, his leg slightly bouncing underneath her.

“ste — eve ! ” she moaned, grinding down roughly against his thigh. the fabric of her panties and friction of his leg, loved on her clit, hitting the right spot with every sway. “ tsk, knew you were a whore. from the moment we became friends. ” he snickered, biting down on her right cheek. she whined, another harsh slap hitting her ass. she’d have hand marks in the morning but that was steve’s goal. both hands landed on her hips with a tight grip, rocking them at a rough and fast pace, his thigh leg bouncing every so often. “ steve . . . t-too much ! ” she cried, head falling back. again, her walls clenched around nothing — begging to be filled up, to be ruined. “ aw, c’mon sweetheart. you can take it. ” he cooed, her hips stuttering slightly.

there was a constant twitch from his cock, feeling his pants tighten around him. the leak of precum had painted a pretty spot on the fabric, begging to be let out, to fuck that pretty cunt of hers. but he’d wait — wait until she was done pleasuring herself before absolutely ruining her. steve’s left hand trailed up towards her blouse, far too impatient to open it, hiking it over her chest. as for her bra, it was ripped off, thrown elsewhere like it was fucking useless. “ you’re so pretty, sweetheart. ” he whispered, greedily taking a nipple into his mouth. “ steve ! ” she moaned loudly, back arching as his teeth clamped down on the hardened nipple, pulling at the poor thing.

his mouth sucked her tit, tongue ever so lovingly swirling around it, abusing it until she was crying. she felt so overstimulated, hips stuttering as a familiar knot in her stomach began to form. “ stevie, i’m close. ” she whined, feeling the infamous smirk against her skin. pulling away from her chest with the sound of a ‘pop !’, steve looked up at the girl. “ you better fucking cum. ” he growled, his hand slipping under her skirt and into her pretty pink panties. his middle finger worked at her clit, drawing circles in a slow pace. the girl cried out, hips rocking more greedily, trying to get any more friction from his finger. “ such a needy whore. ” he tsked, his pace quickening. and she leaned down, hiding her face in his neck. she was so close . . . so fucking close, desperately grinding down on the boy’s thigh.

“ cum for me . . . ” he whispered and almost, as if on command, she came — letting out a cry of pleasure, her whole body shaking. “ fuuuck, baby. just about made me cum. ” he groaned, hands going to her back to bring her into a hug. “ shhh, it’s okay. you did so good. ” he said, comforting her as she came down from her high. the girl eventually looked at steve, big tears in her eyes. “ nothin’ to cry about, darling. ” he cooed, kissing her tears away. “ besides, we’re just getting started . . . ”

aaahhh omgg you guys !! this is the first fic i’ve written in such a long time. i hope you guys enjoyed this as much as i did x

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #joe keery #steve harrington smut #bimbo reader #stranger things #x reader #shameless smut

[number1rizgukgakstan]

FANTASY HIGH JUNIOR YEAR EPISODE 19 (PART 1) LIVEBLOG

HERE WE GO FOLKS! THE BEGINNING OF THE END!

Spoilers below (under the cut)

FANTASY HIGH JUNIOR YEAR EPISODE 19 (PART 1) LIVEBLOG

HERE WE GO FOLKS! THE BEGINNING OF THE END!

Spoilers below (under the cut)

"Re-ANKARNATE" Brennan Lee Mulligan the man that you are!!! Excellent pun

Fig Faeth and Gerard Neigh are my favorite animal companion duo ever <333

"Kristen Applebees might be class president in her senior year" crying laughing. Yeah the world is ending but isn't THAT the real thing to stress about??

So do we think that the Thistlesprings are watching the world end from their front porch? Or are they driving the fucking tank across the town to go fuck shit up? I hope they show up.

"This ship isn't actually flying by the way" insane.

"FABIAN DO YOU HAVE A PLACE YOU'RE HOPING TO LIVE?" GORGUG I LOVE YOU

they're putting the seacaster manor by the school's campus I'm crying. Fabian's mom IS going to kill him.

ASK FOR ALLIES! ASK FOR ALLIES! DO NOT BRING K2 BACK AT THE EXPENSE OF BETTER OPTIONS NOOOO

KRISTEN NOOOOOO KRISTEN I GET IT YOU HAVE BIG SISTER HEART BUT I'M CRYING.

ARE THEY ALL MOVING INTO SEACASTER MANOR??? SCREAMING.

Zac Oyama's comedic genius is insane. This man is so fucking brilliant give him a season as a DM

"zelgug fans are finally recovering- WHAT'S THAT? IT'S GORGUG AND UNIT WITH A STEEL CHAIR?????"

"107 degrees farehenheit" average summer temps tbh.

MAZEY! MAZEY! MAZEY! The fact that she's taking everything in stride is brilliant. She's definitely an honorary bad kid now

Ragh + Jawbone flying is a great picture. They're so cool.

I love their strategizing. They're right- Oisin first because wizard's are excellent at crowd control. But Mary Anne needs to go down or be persuaded to not fight ASAP because a powerful barbarian can do massive damage. Gorgug is one example of that- if Mary Anne is allowed to fuck around as much as she wants she'd wipe them out.

Ruben is a lesser threat, as even a high level bard isn't the strongest fighter on the field, but his spell list matters because shit like Irresistible Dance and the higher level buff spells can turn a fight very quickly. Ivy as a Gloomstalker is a problem, but if they can get her to burn her abilities quickly she might be easier to manage. If Buddy's still a Life cleric, he's easier to deal with, but if he switched subclasses upon raging out, a War cleric in particular is a HUGE problem. Offensive clerics are stupid busted.

Honestly is the Ratgrinder's are ACTUALLY level 20, they're going to need a miracle on their side, because level 20 pcs have insane hp and damage outputs, and some of their class skills are busted. Rogue's 'stroke of luck' alone is fucking scary. Not to mention that KLCK might have Elusive if she's level 17, which means RIZ CANT GET SNEAK ATTACKS OFF ON HER. This is INSANE.

ICE FEAST IS REAL!!! FUCK YEAH!!!! 1 level of exhaustion and 1d12 ice damage is insane but the benefits are CRAZY. Holy shit why the FUCK did Kristen never used this before

'Only 1 person needs to be exhausted' and it should be Fabian, actually, because if they only have 1 person on counterspell Jace and Oisin are going to fuck them over so hard.

K2 WITH THE UNION JACK IS ABSURD.

"Fuck it I'm playing the pipes" the most hilarious bit ever especially when they immediately stop being able to fight with the party as soon as he stops concentrating on playing them. 10/10 gag gift

SQUEEM SHOWS UP FOR THE FINAL BATTLE???? HUH??? SQUEEM SHOWS UP??? INSANE ENERGY

Ruben: "why are you so yoked"

Gorgug, in the deepest voice imaginable: "I'm a wizard"

You know what? PEAK Bad Kids energy tonight. We're winning.

"Loser says what" GORGUG IS FUCKING GOING OFF TONIGHT. THE FACT THAT PORTER FELL FOR THAT IS WILD

No one recognizing Fig is so funny. Wanda Childa, the secret seventh Bad Kid

I never noticed Riz has a 6 in strength- no wonder he had to have people load canons for him. Absurd.

PORTER HAD TO BURN A LEGENDARY RESISTANCE??? BEAUTIFUL.

RUBEN's COUNTERSPELL BEING ROBBED BECAUSE OF SLOW IS THE BEST FUCKING MOVE EVER. That takes them down to 2 counterspells a turn, assuming Jace and Oisin both have it prepared, since its a reaction. The ability to prevent multiattacks, slow spells, and force them to use either an action or a bonus action

IVY'S TARGETING HIS FUCKING DOG??? :( EVIL!

Oisin is getting his ass beat by Fig and the Vultures and I love it. Fucking GET THAT BITCH!

"That bitch in the back? I'm gonna skin her alive. She said she was going to do it to Maisey, so I'm gonna do it to her" THATS THAT SEACASTER BLOOD IN HIM!!! Bill would be so proud.

26 AC is wild. Fucking- this battle is going to go so hard I can't wait.

If Ivy dies in 1 turn I'm going to laugh so hard. Most cringefail ranger ever. I love her and hope she gets to come back Aelwyn style.

HOLY SHIT HE DIDN'T EVEN GET TO USE THE ACTION SURGE ATTACKS. HOW LOW WAS IVY????????

"I'm Going to Lose My Virginity to That Girl" FABIAN ARAMAIS SEACASTER, THE MAN, THE MYTH, THE LEGEND.

DOES OISIIN NOT HAVE SHIELD???? WHY DOES OISIIN NOT HAVE SHIELD????? WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED THERE???

Kristen leaping under the disintegrating gym is such a beautiful idea and I need to see fanart immediately.

God, Porter's such an intimidating villain. That's some scary ass shit.

I forgot how fucking powerful Psychic Scream is. Bards get insane shit.

NOOOO THE HANGMAN :(

The party has been doing so well in combat it was bound to take a bad turn at some point

"YOU SUCK AT PVP! YOU SUCK AT PVP!" That was Murph possessing Riz for a brief moment.

The fact that they all have low HP but level 9 spells is fascinating. That's not a natural curve to end up on. They must either have shitty con, or level 10 or so stats but access to higher abilities?

"You're a WASTE OF MY TIME" OUCH. OW! OUCH! GET HIM FIG! That whole speech at Ruben fucking HURTS she got his ass good holy shit.

"BUDDY, BAKARATH IS! NOT! REAL!" I love all of them actually.

They all got clustered together because of Riz's slow and now Adaine is casting SYNAPTIC STATIC??? holy shit. This was the most brutal set-up ever.

HOLY SHIT I FORGOT HOW OP SYNAPTIC STATIC IS. GET FUCKED JACE!!!

HOW the FUCK IS JACE CONCENTRATING ON 4 FUCKING SPELLS??? I WANT WHAT HE HAS

This battle is, again, super fucking scary. They're clearly fighting for their lives right now and they just do not have the numbers or the spell slots. I have to have faith BleeM wouldn't give them a fight they didn't have the resources to win,,,, but oh god is it a nail-biter.

Maybe if we're lucky, Arthur Aguefort will come in with the steel chair? Come on man come back and DO YOUR JOB

FABIAN DROPS???

Jace splitting into multiple versions of himself makes this fight brutal. They just don't have the manpower to fight this many spellcasters.

Kristen should have picked allies </3 it makes sense to pick K2 but god yeah

Gorgug's clutch NAT 20s coming back!

OISIN + IVY are both defeated, meaning that they've gone 2 for 2 so far on main party deaths.

"Make sure to cut his head off so he can't be revivified" CANONICALLY SAID BY RIZ??? THIS IS HIS MOMENT.

Holy shit, Gorgug manhandling Porter is maybe the coolest fucking move ever. Gorgug is the world's GREATEST WIZARD!

OISIN DIDN'T EVEN GET A TURN??? LMAO GET WRECKED DRAGON BOY!

What they need is some kind of powerful magic of their own, but none of them have high level spells left. It sucks ass but they're going to get through it cause these are the BAD KIDS!!!

RIZ IS IMMUNE TO FIRE???? OH MY GOD. LAVA SWIMMING TIME!

Brennan not taking into account what full fire damage immunity would do is maybe the funniest bit of this episode. He's essentially given them free range to play lava shenanigans with his battlefield. He has essentially built a battlefield where ONLY HIS VILLAINS have to worry about the hazards.

The army of spellcasters being unable to counterspell because the Bad Kids are being tactical wizards is so fucking sick. I hope Jace and Reuben feel as useless as they fucking are.

"all the jace's waste their reactions' PEAK CLOWNERY!

NOOOO GORGUG WENT DOWN :[

"What's my name?" The SASS! I love Adaine so much

Mary-Anne is my favorite character forever and ever. "Jace, I don't feel well" GIRL ME TOO!

"I counterspell his counterspell" WIZARD BATTLESSSSSS!!!! AND SHE CRITTED THE SAVE FOR FLESH TO STONE??? HELL YEAH!

"STUPID IDIOT! HAVE WE EVER HAD A CONVERSATION?" THEY ARE BEATING HIS ASS!

THE RAGE TOKEN MECHANIC WAS FOR THE FINAL BATTLE??? HOLY SHIT THEY LUCKED OUT!

"No one wants to engage with the temptation of my sort of philosophy- You're juicing and we can all see it" DEVASTATING. Porter keeps taking hits that would kill me instantly

There's only ten minutes left in the episode right now so I have to ask- how did they cut this? What cliffhanger am I going to be left on? Should i be fearful? I'm gonna be fearful.

Riz's mindgames are so fucking brilliant. This man is just as much as a Mastermind as KLCK, he just has better motivations. (They're real

The music kicked up? What the fuck is this music? Hm? Hm? Is this a good sign or a bad sign? Whatever it is, I'm fucking with it.

FIG SURVIVING BY THE SKIN OF HER FUCKING TEETH! SHE IS THE CHOSEN ONE BITCHES!!!!!!

"YOU DON'T KNOW HER LIKE I DO!" FUCK YEAH!

That moment with Ankarna was seriously sweet. They are the best friends forever to me.

NOOO MARY-ANN'S STRAWBERRY D: BRENNAN THAT WAS THE CRUELEST THING YOU COULD HAVE DONE.

BUDDY LOST CONCENTRATION!!!!!! HELL YEAH!!

Fig is THE plan-slayer. The bit-defeater! THE SCHEME-FOILER!

RUBEN FUCKING DIED! FIG FUCKING MURDERED THE SHIT OUT OF HIM? HOLY SHIT???? SHE SENT HIS ASS TO THE BLACK PIT!

THE OUTFITS IN THE PREVIEW ARE BRILLIANT AND I LOVE THEM!!!

ARTHUR SHOWING UP AT THE LAST SECOND IS BRILLIANT!

I'm SO EXCITED FOR THE LAST EPISODE!!! :D

#fhjy spoilers #fantasy high junior year spoilers #fantasy high junior year #fantasy high #dimension 20 #fhjy liveblog #fhjy #d20 spoilers #dimension 20 spoilers #d20 finale

[yourweeklydoseofanxiety]

Incorrect BNHA LOV quotes Featuring: Sarcastic Viewer!

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Dabi: Just trust me.

Viewer: Last time you said that my apartment complex was reduced to ashes.

Dabi: Be happy you didn't die.

Viewer: At this point I wish I did.

______

Tomura: Oh. You're still alive.

Viewer, wrapped in bandages: Don't sound so disappointed, I might think you don't like me.

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Kurogiri: Your arm is bleeding.

Viewer, letting blood drip on the floor out of spite: Oh really? I hadn't noticed that my blood was currently being used as floor cleaner as it flows from my gaping wound. Thanks for letting me know!

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Viewer: Well. This is a nice change. of scenery!

Tomura: It's a prison cell.

Viewer: I was being sarcastic.

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Dabi: I think I actually hate you.

Viewer; waving him off: Yeah. I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that.

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Dabi; tired of their shit: Don't you have to be stupid somewhere else?

Viewer; irritated as all hell: Not till four.

______

Viewer; putting their coat on:

Spinner: Where are you going?

Viewer: Hell, most likely.

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Dabi: I'll kill you.

Viewer; done with his edgy shit: If you want to seem threatening; don't go straight for death, describe how you're gonna torture me then the way you'd destroy all I loved and stood for.

______

Tomura: Go to hell.

Viewer: Tried that. Devil said I misbehaved too much.

Tomura: I am this close to dusting you.

Viewer: Do it. Pussy.

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Random stranger: Um... Excuse me, are these guys bothering you?

Viewer; almost immediately: Yes.

Toga; in a panic: You know us!

Twice, in the process of panicking: Its true!

Viewer: Unfortunately

______

Mr. Compress: Smiles are congaguious!

Viewer: Don't worry, I'm vaccinated.

______

Magne: That's not funny.

Dabi; snickering: I thought it was.

Viewer: You don't count. You started laughing in the middle of a funeral home because you started thinking of a meme you saw on facebook!

Spinner: Who the fuck still uses facebook!?

______

Twice: Hold on, you DIED!

Viewer; holding an IV stand: Yeah, well it didn't stick!

______

Overhaul: Are you scared?

Viewer: No, I have this terrified look on my face 'cause I'm having so. Much. FUN.

______

Spinner: I.... is that blood?

Viewer; in a deadpan: No. It's Satan juice.

Spinner; concerned: What?...

Viewer: Of course, its blood jackass! Now come over here and help me move the body!

______

Kurogiri: Go on, apologize.

Toga: I'd like to apologize-

Viewer: Nuh uh.

Toga: The fuck you mean nuh uh?

Viewer: You want me to pretend getting stabbed never happened!

______

Viewer: I'm gonna need chicken blood, salt, five candles and a bottle of vodka.

Dabi: Vodka? For a spell?

Viewer; fed up: No. That's just to make me feel better after burning down that nursing home and making it look like an Eldrich cult!

______

Toga: Oh, look at all the pretties!

Viewer: Can you please stop taking about the knives the same way you talk about shoes?

______

Viewer: What's the word for that infestation of tiny creatures over there?

Kurogiri: Those are children. That's a school.

______

Spinner; laid back: It'll be easy! All you have to do is seduce them!

Viewer: Me? You're joking right? I'm about as seductive as a head of cabbage that was just tossed around like a socker ball!

______

Kurogiri; concerned: Viewer, where is your left shoe?

Viewer: The giant puddle down the street demanded a sacrifice.

#mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha #afo #all for one #Meow Hero Academia #deku #izuku midoriya #lov #spinner #paranormal liberation front #league of villains #shigaraki tomura #incorrect quotes #incorrect merlin quotes #incorrect marauders quotes #incorrect marvel quotes

[oneinonemillion]

~~I only want sympathy in the form of you crawling into bed with me~~~ (🫥🐟)

(Heavily based on this drawing by @theboyskisser. ❤️❤️)

Cw: Bullying (It's silly) lot's of degradation and name calling, kind of creepy behavior coming from Translucent, a strange abundance of teenage yearning, horrible love confession, some foul language (These are two teenage boys in the 2000s, don't expect common decency), some awkward kissing, guilty dry humping .

For Translucent's name, I'm just gonna be calling him nerd or something.

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Walking through the hallways of this shitty school was always a death sentence for just about anyone. Girls with a-cups, guys who didn't lose their virginity in the 9th grade, kids who don't speak a lick of English. It doesn't matter who you are, if you aren't a superpowered freak of nature or rich, attractive, or had a very friendly personality that made people swoon over your sheer presence.

I didn't have any of that. Well, I have superpowers, and I'm pretty well off, but I'm not popular. I was, but a lot of shit happened. Y'know, the usual highschool stuff. A lot of teenage boys get exposed as perverts that use their ghastly powers to creep on chicks, right?

Christ, it's a miracle I wasn't thrown in jail or something. That would be lame. Probably a bit better than school, though.

Anyways, yeah, school fucking sucked for me. People were repulsed by the sight of me, always looking at me sideways when I just walked through the halls, trying to keep my head high before another dick minded asshole humiliated me and pushed my head back down.

It was sometime different people. A cheerleader, a dork with friends, a teacher unintentionally ruining my school year even further. It sucked dick. I made a promise to myself I just wouldn't go to college or anything like that, why would I want to suffer more of the same shitty fate? Loser in middle school, loser in highschool, future loser in college. I was receiving a lot of invitations from some fancy school called "God-U". I thought it sounded gay, but a school full of freaks like me? It made me curious.

My inner monologue about colleges was interrupted by a hand smacking my dried fruit from my hands, sending the dehydrated apples and raspberries cascading in the middle of the hallway. A burning ball of lead built in my throat. Of course. Of fucking course I couldn't get through the day without being the butt of the joke. It's only 8:10, what the fuck?!

I look up into the pretty blue eyes of my assailant, immediately snarling in disgust. I didn't think of turning invisible. People got the wrong idea when I did that. So I'm just standing there, so utterly exposed and watched by everyone.

Kevin Moskowitz. The biggest douchebag you'll ever see, obnoxious and horrible about his status as the top alpha, sneering down at the lowly peasants known as teenagers who actually had a loving relationship with their family instead of overcompensating for a lack of love and attention.

I wanted to yell at him. It was hot and heavy on my tongue, all the insults building in my throat. That was quickly sprayed away by Kevin speaking to me.

"woops. Sorry about the fruits, man. I'm pretty sure that wasn't a kosher brand anyways. You gotta watch yourself, bro, I can't keep doing it for you."

I fume. He smirks at me, and I'm stomping away, stepping on dried fruit and a stupid crumbled bag. I was so tired of cleaning up shit that he destroyed. Moskowitz was a fucking dick.

He doesn't even allow me to have a clean escape, a hand tangling in my greasy hair and making me curse, my hands trying to pull his grubby paws out of my fucking hair.

"Whoa there, slow down. I'm just here to ask you something. Just a little *consent*, if you catch my drift."

Kevin Moskowitz winks at me. And he pulls, hard and twists my hair. There's tears of pain in my eyes. Probably not just pain, probably some humiliation and embarrassment that he keeps doing to me.

It's like he targets me. Me only treating me worse than any of the other dicks in our grade. He's just... Cruel. He's horrible and I despised him.

Sure, maybe I used to want to be his friend cause I looked up to him and thought he kicked ass for being a super that people liked.

Yeah, maybe that dream was dashed when he pinned me to a bathroom stall door, staring me deep in my eyes and snarling about how disgusting I am.

Maybe I did cry. Sue me.

"Got a party going on at my place later, thought I should even it out with adding some dorks. And look at you! You're the lucky fuck I chose!"

He tossed me against the locker, my body rattled the doors as I fought tears.

"I don't want to go." I rasped, hiccuping and miserable as I fought back crying. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. Not here. Not right now when I'm so *visible*.

His eyes widen, a stupid grin growing on his face.

"Of course you do! Because if you don't, you're going to get your rapist ass kicked right in front of the whole school!" Ohhh a threat. Oh, I'm shaking in my fucking boots.

"No I'm not," I weakly fire back,

"Oh yes you fucking will. Who's gonna stop me? The students? The teachers? No one is coming to help your ass, cause you wanna know why? They know what you are. You're a fucking loser, Schecht."

I bite my lip. Hard enough to make it sting and throb.

"Anyways, see you at the party. We've got rape kits just in case."

His stupid friends giggle along with him. They walked away, triumph with their brutal mental beat down of me. How lovely.

I don't bother to go to class. I sat in the hallway, and I fought back tears until a fat black security lady told me to move my ass and go to the first period. I did it, dragging my feet as the humiliation hung heavy on my shoulders.

The dick head didn't even tell me his address.

I already knew it cause I was a weird fucking kid.

I left before the last bell rang, carefully slipping out of my chair before the teacher could rip me a new one for interrupting the lesson 30 minutes before it was even time to go. Whatever, I'm doing good in that class anyway, skipping one class wouldn't kill me.

I rush out of the front door, the warm air of summer immediately scolding me for wearing baggy shit. Not my fault. I just look weird, man.

I wasn't even down the street before I'm stopped by-

"Hey ghosty I think you're going the wrong way."

Of fucking course Deep would be skipping class. I don't even know why I thought any different of the faggot with blond highlights, thinking he looks cool and not like a total manwhore.

I stopped, closing my eyes as he took my shoulder, guiding me back towards his car he got for his stupid 17th birthday. I hate him.

He basically forced me into the passenger seat. I sit there, staring out the window. He doesn't want to be seen with me. I know he doesn't, that's why he forced me into this stupid fucking car that stinks of the sea and perfume that I couldn't pin point. It makes me upset.

He apparently doesn't buckle his seatbelt. How cool. I didn't either, subconsciously hoping I can appeal to his coolness. I wanted to be cool too. I can be cool. I am cool.

I don't speak the entire car ride, ignoring him as I look at the suburban houses. They all look the same, so perfectly put together and built, not one of them looking disheveled or like you can successfully sell meth in one. It's lame. But I'm not really allowed to complain, cause my bro Reggie came up from nothing. I applaud him, love that guy.

We don't talk much. He doesn't... Associate with me. Not after everything.

It hurts my chest a bit. I loved that dude. He was my brother.

God, why'd I have to be a fucking pervert?

"So, uh... Can I tell you something?"

Kevin questions me. I want to tell him fuck no and tell him to kill himself, but I don't.

"What?" I snap. He giggles at that. It's an awkward sound.

"You know that party, right?"

"Yeah?"

"There... There isn't a party."

Oh. Ok. The rape bells are ringing in my head, telling me to immediately get the fuck out.

"What." It's blunt and directly to the point. What?

"There isn't a party. My friends think that this is gonna be a fucking prank and You're gonna be humiliated or beat up or some shit."

"Why the fuck are you telling me this shit?"

"Because-? Because I don't want to do it. Not today, at least. I just..."

He pauses, pulling over into the park. I didn't realize we were so far past his house.

He pulls into the trees, driving in further and further until I couldn't see the playground or the main walkway. It makes me gag. He seems worried.

When he parks, I stare at him. Wide eyed, indignant, disgusted.

He looks over at me. His eyes look strangely watery, almost pleading for something that isn't there.

"You're freaking me the fuck out." My voice wavers. He blinks.

"DUDE. Why the fuck did you drag me out here?!"

Kevin flinches.

"I... Uhm, you want a cigarette?"

"What?"

He pats his pocket, digging through them and pulling out a crumpled pack. He offered me one. I hesitantly take it.

Kevin's fingers shook as he lit his cigarette, trying and failing miserably to light it the first few times before he sparked a flame. He lights the cigarette. I just hold mine. I hate cigarettes.

He releases a stream of smoke past his lips, one of his hands grasping at the steering wheel.

"Dude."

"Yeah?"

"Why."

I'm asking for the cigarette, the weird ass car ride, the warning. What the fuck was happening?

He hesitates, taking two more drags of his cancer stick. A blush paints his face.

"We... We've known each other for a while, right?"

"I wouldn't say know, because you've only been a dick to me these few years I've seen you." I was displeased, obviously, and he was cringing at that. My scathing rudeness.

"Yeah, I just... I have a crush on you."

Huh.

Whuh.

Uhm?????

"I'm sorry?" I sort of wish I lit my cigarette too because this is smoke worthy.

"I have a crush on you. A- and I know you hate it, and you hate *me* cause I'm a dick, but please. I... I like you, and I think you're the most wonderful-" He gasps,

"The most wonderful dude I could ever ask for. I like you, Schecht."

I wanna gag, but I can't help but... Think about it.

It's wonderful. To be adored by the guy I used to worship and idolize in my creep head. I look like a deer in headlights, shy and horrified. Horrified and flushed. Deers aren't horny when they're about to get rammed by a thousand pound mechanical abomination, so that was a stupid comparison on my part. Sorry, I guess.

"Ok."

"Can we kiss?" He asks, pouting as he looks at me with those stupid baby blues. It makes me frown.

"F-Fine, God you're so fucking annoying."

He laughs, shaking as he snuffs out his cigarette and crawls onto my lap, taking me completely off guard as he slots his lips onto my. His palms on the side of my face are sticky with sweat.

And I lean into it. I lean into the kiss, and I hold him, my hands traveling up his back as we suck each other's faces off. He's making weird noises, garbled and strangled. It's strange, but I can't help but moan back. Kevin's loud. He's whiny, loud like a virgin.

I melt underneath his eager, swiping tongue and uncoordinated lips. I'm suffocating, tasting his spit, the taste of nicotine and Doritos making an honestly disgusting taste on his tongue, but I can't bring myself to care. I just...

I just wanted to keep kissing him. Until I died.

He bucks his hips against mine, and I pull away from the breath taking gross kiss. I stare, wide eyed at my semi stiff cock being stimulated by his boner. God, it was so fucking faggy that he can't even pretend it wasn't. This was a gay moment, he's getting off to another dude.

"I've been- I've been wanting this. For so long." He's whimpering. I can't speak, my eyes wide as I nod along, frantic and dazed. I want him to move. Get me off. I can't answer anything.

"'M so sorry, I'm so sorry for being so mean I love you so much-" He grinds down onto my lap, leaving stars in my vision as I whine and squirm, pulling at his clothes and trying my best to not rip the fucking clothes off his back.

It's like a dance, trying to see who would cum first from the uncoordinated and weird dry humping. We were both so flustered, whining messes as we embraced, touched, and pulled.

"I love you, I love you, you're my everything, I'm so sorry for being mean I wanted you youyouonlyyoufuck-"

"Yeah-" I moan, the only word coming from my pathetic noises.

"You're my- You're my boyfriend-" He whines the word boyfriend like he's dying, whimpering so high pitched and pleasured.

"Yeah- Yeah I'm your boyfriend, we're boyfriends-" Oh look at me. I'm becoming whiny now. I'm getting his fag disease.

Maybe I sorta loved him.

That sends us over the edge. One last sloppy kiss and I'm cumming in my pants, a high pitched keen mingling with Kevin's noises. It's sticky. It's gross, and I need a shower, but I love it so much.

We don't stop kissing for awhile, our tongues are too busy trying to suck the others soul. I wanted him. That's it. Him. That's all I needed, fuck.

Fine. I forgave him. And his stupid pretty ocean eyes.

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A/N: Wrote this shit in two hours. I never really thought of this ship, but it's neat to me. I just like men who hate each other.

Was blasting Dance, Dance by Fall out boy over and over again lmao.

#the boys #the boys fandom #fanfic #rarepair #shipping #fanfic based on drawing #highschool au #i hate it here #the deep #translucent the boys #cw slurs #i hate teenage boys

[ubelforge]

i saw you were looking for fic inspo.. lemme preface by saying literally anything jonathan davis x ftm reader. im like desperate, there needs to be more out there for us (T___T)

loose ideas; jd comforts reader while they’re sick or vice versa / maybe they’re high school friends who’ve been into each other for a while - idk im not great at coming up with this stuff but i’m excited to see what you end up writing!

HELL YEAH‼️‼️‼️🤯

Dude, this actually fits so perfectly for what I’m going for for my first fanfiction, plus I’m sick right now and this fits perfectly along with me being FTM myself! Thank you very much Anonymous and shall receive for what they asked for :) I admit my fanfic is kind of bad because I’ve never really posted it before,lmao, anyway, I’ll stop yapping (but Ty)❤️

🪐⊹｡⋆✧｡˚⭒ ⋆ ✦ ⋆⭒˚｡✧⋆｡⊹🛸 ⊹｡⋆✧｡˚⭒ ⋆ ✦ ⋆⭒˚｡✧⋆｡⊹👽

Jonathan Davis x Sick! FTM Reader

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┃takes place in 1998. Someone snook away from the studio to take care of you and brought some.. toxic waste- I mean, soup to take care of you, ends up in cuddling and fluff <3

┃words: 1209

┃Physical sex: none mentioned!

┃Contains of the following: Coughing, sickness, fluff, a little nsfw (if you squint very hard), overthinking, gender dysphoria, scar mention, use of slurs

🔭.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・☄️

Jonathan opened your door slowly to see if you were awake. You were playing your Game Boy with a smile on your face with some Flyleaf in the background. You had to skip work due to your sickness. You are wearing a no shirt and some boxers lying flat in bed. No one usually sees you like this. You were always wearing hoodies and sweaters with some long pants. You tried your best to fit in, mainly in public too. Luckily, your boyfriend and his bandmates support you. The door creaked open which caught your attention. You looked up to see your boyfriend, Jonathan. You let out a sharp gasp along with some crunchy-ass coughing.

You tried to let out some words but couldn't due to your coughing.

"J-Jonathan wha-" you kept coughing which caused you to sit up in bed. Jon stood awkwardly.

He shut the door behind him holding a plastic container. Something. Jonathan stared at you. He slowly walked over to you standing at a reasonable distance.

"I know I'm supposed to be out at work and shit, but I just wanted to...I don't know. Cheer you up, dude. Couldn't stay in the recording room knowing you were suffering at home. Well.. looks like you're having fun though." he points to your game boy. You let out a weak laugh. He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly as he stared. You blushed deeply but you were already red in the first place because of your stupid Flu and hay fever. "Plus. I made something for you to hopefully cheer you up and make you feel just a little better I guess." He smiled. He was very.VERY proud of himself.

"Yeah.. no." you looked at the plastic container. Looks like something you find at the Chernobyl site.

"Come on, just fucking eat it it’s not that hard, babe." Jonathan glared as he stared at you. You kept staring at the ceiling as you rolled your eyes and coughed. The back of your throat felt like fire from hell itself. It felt raw and a burning sensation filled your throat. You had a raging flu along with hay fever. You scuffed.

"Jonathan, I'm fine. Just.. leave me alone, I don't wanna get you sick." you half lied. All you wanted to do was be alone and not eat the toxic waste that he made. But at the same time, you didn't want him to catch what. Jonathan laughed.

"Nice try man just.. Eat it. Please?" He placed it on the bedside table. Jonathan sat down on your bed, he faked puppy eyes and he put his hands together. In a begging position. God, he was annoying as hell sometimes. But you loved him for that. You admit, it was adorable. you looked at the bedside table at the soup. Before you even opened your mouth Jonathan Blurted out, making you snap out of your thoughts. "Plus, turn this Emo shit off dude. I brought some REAL music for you." He happily pulled out a CD case, opening it to reveal just a plain disk. He ran over to your CD player, taking Fly Leaf out of the CD player to replace it with some "real music" of his. You scuffed and smiled, along with a few annoying ass coughs. Some of his music started to play. He smiled and started to ngid his head, proud of himself. You let out a small laugh, starting to enjoy his company. In your room, trying to make you feel better. Jonathan walked over to you,

"'ll make you a deal, ___, if you at least take a few bites of my soup I'll leave you alone, how about that?" he smiled at you as he grabbed the soup and sat crisscrossed on your guy's bed. You laughed, weakly. Now was your chance, you thought. You grinned

"If.. I ate the soup, could you stay the whole day, perhaps?" you asked. Your face flushed up as he nodded.

"Sure, but Only if you eat it. I spent my whole soul on that." he playfully nudges your leg.

Fuck, he was a sarcastic mother fucker. Again, you loved him for that. You grinned widely as you happily grabbed the soup and spoon that came along with it, opening the container, and going wild on the soup, wasn't as bad as you thought. He kept telling you to slow down. A little while after, he broke the silence as he continued to stare into your eyes. "I hmm.. You're quite a handsome man, ____," he muttered as he scratched his head awkwardly. You would have started to feel better about the situation.

"Thank you, Jonny. I.. really appreciate it." you smiled softly as you set down the soup on the bedside table. Jonathan's face was flustered as shit. You sat on your knees to face him, your cough was slowly weakening, so this wouldn't be as awkward. Jonathan got an idea. He crawled over the top of your bed, laying his back against the headboards. With his legs spread out on the bed. He smiled softly, tapping his thigh.

"Here, if you want you could rest your head on my lap. If you.. Wanted to." he got quiet at the end of his sentence muttering. You smiled and cupped his cheek softly as your hand glided up the back of his head, interlocking your fingers with his dreads.

"If I get you sick, don't blame me." you laughed a little as you looked into his eyes.

"Just come here and fucking kiss me you fag." He said playfully as he placed his hands on your face, pulling you into a passionate but rough kiss. You moaned softly as you placed your hands on his hips, guiding yourself onto his lap. You pull away from the kiss he chuckles as he gives you one last quick kiss.

"Now you're going to get sick." You sorely laughed.

“It's worth it if it means I can be with you," he mutters as he places his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. You giggled as you placed your head into the crevice of his neck. Jon placed his arms on your chest, caressing your scars. He mumbled some words into your shoulder and you both held each other in a tight embrace." I love your scars baby. I love how they feel, they fit you too, it makes you look manly." you smiled and let out a few coughs.

"Thank you, Jonny," you mumbled into his ear then wrapped your legs around his waist.

"You're the best boyfriend in the whole wide world, baby. No matter what. I just wanted to tell you that no matter what happens, you can always come to me, baby. If anyone calls you mean shit or even verbally or physically hurts you just.. Come to me or just call them a cunty fag." he laughed light heartedly. You laughed as you held on tighter. "You'll always be my boy, and I love you for who you are." he started to lay down on the bed, dragging you with him. Once you guys fully lay down, he caressed the back of your head letting you fall into a deep sleep on his chest.

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WAZZAP‼️🤯 I understand if this fix was shitty or the grammar wasn’t right, I understand. But I had fun making this!! But I hope you liked it! {=^w^=}

#fanfic #jonathan davis #korn band #tumblr fyp #jonathan davis x reader #my fic #sickness #jd korn #jonathan davis korn #TWIST?!? #ftm trans #transgender #🤯 #🎗️

[shyphonics]

Salad Days, Chapter 6: Just You and Me, Punk Rock Girl

(Rodrick Heffley x reader)

chapter directory here

Light sex warning for the beginning- 18+ plz

This chapter took me a while - I wrote the beginning the same night I wrote the first and second chapters. Then I realized I think I'm more comfortable writing horrific and sad moments than sweet moments and I kinda froze trying to fill the plot in around it lol.

Thank you so much to everyone reading this!!! The fact that it's actually getting notes makes me really, really happy :)

Also this chapter's run of songs contains a secret song in the spotify playlist oooooh

Oh my mama mama mo-my-mum

Have you kept an eye, an eye on your son?

I know you've got problems, you're not the only one

Since your sugar left, left you on the run

The gas cans felt good in his hands. Heavy. Smooth plastic snug in his fingers. His grip was tight. He reveled in the sound of the liquid sloshing around. The unmistakable smell.

Everybody fucking hated him. Every second of every day, he felt like his brain was on fire. A full body burn begging him to get out.

Get out now.

It's not like anyone was inside. The old library had been gutted weeks ago. They were supposed to demolish it next week. If he really thought about it… he was doing them a favor.

Yeah. So do it. Who gives a fuck.

He busted a window and stuck his leg inside, stepping into the decayed, old building. It smelled like dust. It smelled like school.

Stupid Frank and Susan.

Stupid Heather Hills.

Stupid Rodrick. Going nowhere, doing nothing, being nothing. Stupid.

The smell was strong, but he liked it.

He grinned, he nearly hyperventilated as he doused as much as he could.

Dizzy in his head, laughing maniacally

Breathing in fumes, killing brain cells.

What did it matter.

He shook the last drops out of the second can and tossed it across the room.

He struck a match. Let it burn out.

Struck another. Toss.

The fire erupted.

He stood there to watch it for a second, and ducked back out the window.

He knew he wouldn't have much time to admire his work, so he started running.

Deep into the woods.

He stopped and saw a ball of flames rise in the distance. The ground rumbled. His eyes went wide. He ran all the way home.

Nobody even knew he was gone. He'd left music playing in his room so it'd sound like he never left.

He watched the living room from the top of the stairs. A news report was on.

The library was directly on top of an open gas line. No fucking kidding.

Half the street went up in flames.

It's not like there was much on that street anyway, besides a strip mall with one or two active tenants. Closed for the night. No injuries reported.

His mom was crying. His dad was in shock. Greg and Manny were already asleep.

How could something like this happen? his mom whispered.

They're saying it was just some freak accident. They can't put it out. It's going to burn straight down to the foundation. Frank, incredulous.

Rodrick was silent.

~

Words to memorize

Words hypnotize

Words make my mouth exercise

Words all fail the magic prize

Nothing I can say when I'm in your thighs

“Hey,” a cool hand on his face, “where are you? Are you okay?”

He’s sent flying back to reality suddenly, looking up into your eyes. He looks frazzled. He’s not sure where that came from. All he knows is that he can never tell you.

“I'm fine,” he breathes, his hands moving to your hips, squeezing. Like he’s making sure you’re real.

How could he not be fine? The realization of what's going on hits him like a brick and he squeezes you harder.

He looks up at you like you're a goddess. Hips perfectly situated on his, eyes glinting in the low light of your bedroom. Every subtle movement you make sends a twitch through his body. Breath hitching through plush pink lips, mouth agape.

“I'm fucking amazing,” he sighs.

“Okay, good. Thought I lost you for a second.” you smile, placing a hand on his chest. His heart is racing.

You move your hips, just a little, testing the water.

He throws his head back and huffs, moving with you. He always figured that this- all of this- would be good, but he never dreamed it would be this good. It must be something special about you, he thinks.

You keep smiling down at him.

“If you wanna pick it up a little bit, go ahead,”

“P-pick it up?”

You raise yourself up off him a little, and then send yourself back down. He shudders, a grin spreading across his face. You keep it up, laughing softly, slowly bouncing up and down, skin slapping skin. Obscene, wet sounds. A groan comes from deep within his throat. He's thrusting up to meet you, knuckles white on your hips.

You haven’t had an impressive amount of sex in your life, but you’ve certainly had some experiences. Nothing has ever been like this. Rodrick is looking at you- not your body- he’s looking into your eyes. His eye contact has a sense of pleading, his lips are trembling. You lean down to kiss him. It’s tender. It’s intimate. You’d figured he’d be quick and chaotic. Experienced, maybe, but not learned.

Everything just feels so good.

His hands are gentle on your back, rubbing up around your shoulder blades. You feel his hips roll, and it sends waves of heat through your body. You keep a slow and passionate pace together, it feels like your bodies are perfectly in tune with each other.

“I can't believe that you… I…” Rodrick breathes, his brain turned to mush.

“I know,” a sharp breath leaves you as he hits a certain spot.

You speed up, both of you seeming to know what you need. Your bodies glisten with sweat, and you throw your head back, hands anchored to his shoulders. His hands move up to your chest, gently squeezing, then ghosting down your ribcage. His hands- so large, so strong. They’re slightly weathered, calloused from his drumsticks, and they’re so warm. His bony hips poke into your thighs with every thrust. You can just feel him. All of him.

Then you feel him twitch inside of you.

“I think I…” Rodrick gasps.

You look down at him, your eyes warm, reassuring him. You feel close too, still warmed up from earlier. He ruts up into you, flushed and panting. You feel yourself squeeze around him, your vision blurring slightly, as a rush of tingles runs through your whole body, and that seems to send him over the edge. He stops suddenly, breathing heavily, holding your hip down onto his, the other cupping your face. His eyes squeeze shut, then open wide, and roll back into his head.

You both sit and recover for a second, gasping for air, looking at each other. You roll off of him, and lay next to him, exhausted. He reaches out desperately to grab your thigh, as you turn to your side and throw your arm over his chest. You reach up and feel his cheek. His skin is hot, and slightly stubbled.

“I’m glad I didn’t wait.”

“You were gonna wait?” He pants.

“I don’t usually do that. That fast. But now I know.”

“Know what?” He turns his head to look at you, eyes tired.

“That I really, definitely like you.”

He laughs, pulling you closer to his chest and kissing the top of your head.

“I really, definitely like you too.”

You wriggle the comforter out from underneath you, and throw it over the both of you. It doesn’t take long for you to drift off, hands on each other, legs tangled.

For the first time in a long time, Rodrick dreams of absolutely nothing.

~

I've been waiting for a guide to come and take me by the hand

Could these sensations make me feel the pleasures of a normal man?

Lose sensations, spare the insults, save them for another day

I've got the spirit, lose the feeling, take the shock away

~

Rodrick wakes up before you, lifting his head in confusion at his unfamiliar surroundings. Until he feels your arm draped over him, and remembers where he is. It’s still early, and you’re dead asleep. He smiles, pulling you closer to him. He gazes over your face, lit up in the early morning light. You stir, coming to rest your head on his bare chest, and he’s so happy he could cry.

“Go back to sleep,” you mumble.

He does.

You wake once the sun is all the way up, blinking at the beams coming in through your window. Rodrick has an iron hold on you, and little snores are coming from him.

You can see your alarm clock from where you are, and it’s a little after 9 AM.

You turn slightly onto your back, and feel Rodrick moving.

“You up?” You look over at him. His eyelids are heavy, and there’s a lazy smile on his face.

“I’m up,” he sighs.

“Glad you didn’t sneak out on me.” You chuckle.

“Why would I do that?” His voice is sleepy, and a little whiny.

“I don’t know. Boys are weird.”

He gives you one last squeeze before he lets you up.

“You wanna shower?” You ask, running a hand through your hair.

The water is warm, and you can finally see Rodrick’s lanky body in all its glory. Steam fills the bathroom, and his face is slightly flushed.

“So, last night,” Rodrick stretches under the stream of water. You find yourself admiring the lightly defined muscles in his back, and fighting the urge to smack his ass. Maybe later.

“What about it?” You smirk, squeezing some body wash onto a washcloth.

“It was… real? Like, it happened, right?” He turns around, eyebrow raised, grinning smugly.

“As far as I'm aware,” you laugh, beginning to scrub yourself.

Rodrick pauses, water running down his shoulders.

“Wow,” he smiles, then his face falters just a little, “and… you enjoyed it?”

You give him a look, wringing out your washcloth. Instead of answering him, you just step forward and kiss him, warm water flowing over you. Your hands travel over his body, slick with water and soap. You pull away.

“Duh.” You smile.

You dry off. Rodrick's wet hair is wild, and he still has a little bit of eyeliner on.

He grabs his clothes from the night before, and you stop him.

“Are you sure about that?”

He freezes, holding his boxers with the tips of his fingers, like a deer in the headlights.

“I can… turn ‘em inside out,”

“Ew. I have clothes you can wear,” you laugh, “boxers make good pajamas, and most bands don't really make women's shirts.”

“Really?”

You toss him a pair of plain, black boxers, then get an idea. You head to your closet, where you keep your band merch.

“Y'know what? I'm returning the favor. You look like a medium.” You root through the box, and toss him a shirt with your band’s logo on the front. He holds it up to himself and smiles. You find your Löded Diper shirt, discarded along with your purse by the front door, and put it on. As you come back, he's pulling the boxers on, and you take your chance.

Smack.

“Hey!” he yelps, turning to face you, blushing just a little.

He sees your shirt, and a giddy grin appears on his face.

You find yourself at the coffee shop across the street, sitting on the little patio. The streets are packed with groups of people, enjoying the spring day. Rodrick mangles a croissant as you sip from a large, white mug. You appreciate the fact that the two of you can sit in a comfortable silence like this. You flip through the local alt paper, The Eye.

“Ooh, there's a Pyramid show tonight, my friend’s band is playing. That'd be a good place to show you. They have an entire wall of pinball machines.”

“Are you friends with all the bands?” Rodrick asks, pouring 4 packets of sugar into his coffee at once.

“Not all of them. But a lot of them. I try to network.” You shrug, reading through the event calendar.

“All the major bars are kind of in one strip, with a few outliers. Then you have your DIYs and house venues.”

Rodrick sips his coffee, makes a face, and adds 2 more sugar packets.

“Do you think we have a chance at any of them?”

“You guys are gonna have good word of mouth after last night,” you nod, “I bet in a week you'll have an offer from Pyramid or Dime Store.”

“Wow,” Rodrick breathes, assuming that must be really good.

“It looked like your guys got along with everyone, too, and Mike likes you. You've got a great start. You might even get to open for a real band once they start coming in the summer.” You smile at him, looking up from the paper.

“We are a real band,” he looks confused.

“Yeah, but, y'know. A touring band. The Casualties are coming back this summer… Circle Jerks usually run through with Descendents once a year, D.R.I. has been on a ‘retirement tour’ for the past few years,” you say, adding air quotes, “your name's on the opener list now. And most of the time, picking someone from that list falls to me… but don't expect any obvious nepotism. I try to match people up by sound.”

Rodrick grins, stars in his eyes.

“Do any bands around here, um,” he pauses, unsure how to word it, “make it?”

“Sometimes,” you lean back, thinking, “it's hard nowadays. There was this super popular indie band last year. They got picked up to be on a movie soundtrack, and they're huge now. That's what sells, these days. I'll let you work out the irony of indie selling.” You smirk.

“So, what? Heavier bands are just shit out of luck?” He takes another sip of his sugary coffee.

“That's how it goes,” you shrug, “you give up most of the hope of being famous to be a real musician. There's a reason that even huge punk bands are still just playing at bars instead of stadiums. It was never marketable. Punk’s not even a genre anymore. To me, it's having the attitude of ‘I’m pissed off, and I'm making it your problem.”

Rodrick laughs, “Okay, I do like that.”

You finish the last of your coffee, and roll up your paper, tucking it in your bag.

“You ready?” You stand up, stretching.

“For what?” he looks at you, draining his mug.

“I'm gonna show you the strip, rookie.”

You smile, holding your hand out, and he takes it.

“The Strike’s back that way, you’ve already seen it. There’s a pretty big gap of old shops and abandoned buildings from here to there.”

You lead him down the street, pointing out bars. Most of them will be closed until the late afternoon.

“There’s Pyramid, there’s Dime store. That one’s cool, the upstairs is a drag bar called Fluorescence, and the downstairs is a dive called Dim Bulb.”

Rodrick laughs, taking in the sights of the street.

“First time I ever came down here, I was with a bunch of friends who were 21, and I was still 19. Dim Bulb is all ages if you put the X’s on your hands, but Fluorescence is strictly 21+. My friends went upstairs. Downstairs was dead that night. They told me to wait in the bar and not go off walking by myself, but…”

“You went off walking by yourself?” Rodrick smirks at you.

“How’d you know?” You chuckle, “Yeah, and I had just gotten these leather pants, and I felt so fucking cool. But I was so stupid. And this gross, old guy stopped me and asked if I was ‘working’, and I said ‘no, fuck off, get away from me’,” you say, your tone nonchalant.

Rodrick raises his eyebrows, his mouth falling open.

“So, he starts chasing me down the street, yelling, ‘I’ll kill you’, and I was yelling back all this bullshit, just totally bluffing,”

You stop in front of a bodega along the street.

“And the guy who owns this place came out and scared the guy off. He’s good people.”

You wave at the man inside, who perks up and waves back.

“That place has everything. 9-volt batteries, first aid stuff, you name it. If you find yourself in a jam, head over there.”

Rodrick looks through the windows as you walk by.

“This whole street is, like… a tiny little town all on its own. Also, I'm glad you didn't get murdered.”

“Yeah,” you sigh out, looking over the strip, feeling proud, “it really is. I love it here. I’m glad I could show you around. And thanks.” You laugh, squeezing his hand.

You keep walking, down towards the point where the bars end and the shops begin. Rodrick walks slowly, swinging his hand with yours. He keeps his head on a swivel, trying to take in all there is to see. Old neon signs, graffiti-covered brick walls, and show fliers absolutely everywhere.

“I think you’re gonna like this place,” you turn to look back at Rodrick, who looks absolutely awestruck.

The bell on the record store door rings, and you're greeted by the familiar woman behind the counter, Jennifer. She’s tall and muscular, with a smoker’s voice, and impeccably curled baby bangs.

Rodrick stops as the door closes behind him. It’s a cozy, dark little room. There are houseplants everywhere, among long boxes of records on high tables. The walls are exposed brick, and light is coming in through two long, skinny windows. An orange cat rests on one of the tables, in a sunbeam. The walls are completely covered in posters, framed records, and old fliers.

“It's you! I have pulls for you,” she looks over thick-rimmed glasses at you, reaching under the counter, then sees your shirt, “what in the hell is that?”

You look down at the bold, white letters on your shirt and laugh.

“Best new band in this town. You really haven't heard of them?” You say, teasingly.

“Diaper…?” she squints, looking at you, bewildered.

“I'm just messing with you, they played their first show last night. This is the drummer, Rodrick,” you gesture to Rodrick. He approaches the counter and sticks out his hand, smiling politely.

Jennifer looks back to your shirt, then at Rodrick.

“Kid, I'll level with you. There are worse names out there.” She barks out a laugh, looking down at her hands, both being used to hold a stack of records.

Rodrick notices, and retracts his hand, laughing nervously.

You kill about an hour in the shop, looking at all the things Jennifer has hidden for you over the week. It was once a very kind thing she did when you were flat broke and new in town, but she kept it up as a tradition, because she said you got it.

Rodrick exhausts each box, looking in amazement at all the different records. 'Dad Rock,' 'Punk Rock,' 'Rockabilly,' 'Psychobilly,' 'Synth Shit for Weirdos.'

The ‘misc.’ box contains a Jane Fonda home workout, a square dancing instructional record, and a full album of canine heartbeats, meant for veterinary students. Rodrick pulls it out and looks at it, reading the cover in confusion.

“See something cool?” You perk up and walk over to him, reading the record.

“Canine Heart Sounds? Is that a band?” You squint. He stays quiet, holding in a laugh.

“‘4-10 acquired murmurs', what the fuck?”

You see the text for ‘Berkeley Medical Veterinary Group’ and let out a cackle, lightly punching Rodrick on the shoulder. He breaks too, putting the record back in the box.

“You totally thought I was all cool and underground for a second.” Rodrick laughs.

You leave the record shop, and you decide to take him to see everything. You try on leather jackets way beyond your means at the biker shop, spiked collars at the goth shop, and hats at the western shop. You point and laugh at each other the whole way, except that some of that leather had looked pretty good on Rodrick… and he might’ve thought the same about you.

By late afternoon, you’re both a little worn out, and you wind up back near where you started, at a tall, yellow building. It’s an ancient pizza joint.

Inside is a massive, wooden staircase, and yellow walls covered in sharpie graffiti. Dumb little messages, from mystery people. From who knows how long ago. It feels like a million little voices yelling at him all at once.

Penelope was here!

Aaron is a cheating douchebag!

George Dubya, suck my dick!

And band names. So many band names.

“Whoa,” Rodrick looks up. It’s even on the ceiling.

You lead him to a large window, with a greyed, wooden frame.

You fish in your purse and find a sharpie, handing it to him.

“When we first started the band, we came here to make it official. I wrote our name, right here, under the window.” You look down, away from him, feeling a little sappy.

Rodrick looks at the smooth, black writing.

The Shrieks

10.15.03

He smiles.

“And, if you’ll notice, there’s an empty space right there next to it…” you say, trying to sound nonchalant.

Rodrick smiles, then crouches down, uncapping the sharpie.

He carefully draws his logo, adding the little horns and tail, with a small safety pin and the date underneath.

He stands up, handing the marker back to you. You look down at your two logos together, then up at your coordinated shirts.

“Yeah. They look great together,” you smile up at him, “now it’s official. Welcome to the scene.”

Rodrick feels a swell in his chest, looking down at your genuine smile. He’s been just a little guarded all day, but… now he gets it. You actually want him around. It’s not a joke. It’s not a trick. You’d wanted his band to be immortalized next to yours on this greasy, strangely beautiful wall.

He catches you off guard, pulling you into a tight hug. You blink once or twice, then wrap your arms around him, smiling against his chest.

“Hey!”

You pull away from each other, and turn to where the voice came from. It’s Ward, in an apron, by the counter.

“I got a job!” He’s grinning.

The two of you walk up to the counter and catch up, refusing to give him any details, no matter how much he wiggles his eyebrows.

~

So we jumped up on the table, and shouted “anarchy!”

And someone played a Beach Boys song on the jukebox

It was “California Dreamin’”

So we started screamin’

“On such a winter’s day!”

~

The two of you sit at your little table, the sun beginning to set outside. You’re laughing at some high school story he’d been telling you- something about how he’d been in love with some girl and ruined her sweet 16.

He pauses, taking a sip out of his glass bottle, beaming.

“God, and she was really into N’Sync, so we spent all this time learning ‘Tearin’ up my Heart’,”

You cackle, slamming your hands on the table, “Oh, god, no!”

“But last minute, I told Ben I wanted to sing, and he could play drums-”

“Can he play drums?”

“Nope!” Rodrick laughs, “And I sang in this high pitched voice- she wanted us in tuxes, but, um, I kinda wasn’t listening when my brother told me that? Also didn’t have the money. But I figured all black was good enough.”

“Did you learn any boy band moves?” You wipe away a stray tear that had escaped your eye.

“I wish. That would’ve been awesome, but, no. We did set off a bunch of pyro, and I jumped off the stage.”

“Pyro?!”

“Ben’s brother is in demolition,” Rodrick laughs, but feels a little pang of anxiety with the words that leave his lips.

You don’t notice his face change, still laughing. Rodrick grins at you, wanting to make the big reveal good.

“This family was loaded, okay? Country club rich. So, the pyro goes off, and it’s chaos. I was, like, dancing around her? And I backed up right into a giant ice sculpture of her head.”

You look at him, in shock, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah, and then she tried to kill me with a mic stand, but ended up knocking over a chocolate fountain, and everyone got absolutely covered in chocolate… and then she hated me forever. Still hates me. That’s the girl from last night, by the way- my ‘girlfriend’?”

“No fucking way,” your eyes go wide. “That’s why you were staring each other down.”

Rodrick gives a satisfied nod, chuckling slightly.

“Well, I guess you learned your lesson: don’t trust the rich. First rule of punk.” You tease.

“Yeah, and if she’d actually liked it, I… I would probably be miserable,” He says, a look of realization on his face. You raise your eyebrows.

“I’d probably be at some fancy event right now wearing, like, a polo or something. Oh, god. I’d probably be working for her dad.” He looks down, eyes wide.

You boo him, giving him a thumbs down.

“I wouldn’t have met you,” He stares at you in surprise.

You smile, leaning towards him, your elbow on the table.

“I’m… so fucking glad all that bullshit back home happened,” He shakes his head, smiling, “Because now I’m here.”

“In a greasy, old pizzeria?” You smirk.

“In a greasy, old pizzeria, with you,”

You laugh, at a loss for words. Something about Rodrick seems to have bloomed today, and you like it. It’s like he finally evened out. You lean closer to him.

“I’m glad I’m here with you too,” You smile.

Your lips almost touch, but the buzzing of your cell phone interrupts you. You groan. It's Mike.

“Hey, what's up?”

“They got us! They fucking got us!”

Rodrick hears Mike screaming through the phone, and feels his heart drop.

“What? Who got us? What are you talking about?” Your heart skips a beat.

“They smashed the window! And wrote all over the walls! It's like Sharon Tate all over again!”

Your jaw drops. He's serious.

“Mike, who?”

You hear the sound of glass crunching down the line, along with Mike's enraged muttering.

“How many people did we kick out last night?” He spits.

You take a second to think.

“A lot. It got crazy.”

“Did we have to put anybody on the list?”

You make eye contact with Rodrick. His eyebrows knit together in worry.

“Yeah, there were a few.”

The List is only to be used in extreme circumstances. Any bar patrons found guilty of irredeemable asshole behavior have their IDs taken, photocopied, and returned as their asses are kicked out the front door. You're not sure how legal it is, but it's very effective.

The guy who had punched Rodrick last night, along with all of his friends, had absolutely made The List.

“I know who it was,” your voice shakes, “I’ll be right over.”

You hang up, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Did he say someone smashed the window?” Rodrick breathes in disbelief.

“Yeah,” you put your head in your hands, “do you know the name of that guy who punched you?”

“Ugh. Bryan Kent.” Rodrick frowns.

“Do you think he'd do something like that?”

“Yeah.” He says, without hesitation.

“Fuck!” You sigh, “At least we have a name.”

Rodrick looks at you, guilty, like he might cry. You feel a pang of sadness.

“No, no, sorry. Shit. Don’t feel bad, it’s not your fault, I’m just pissed off.” You ramble.

The bar is like your baby. Though you’ve only worked there a year, it means a lot to you. Mike had drunkenly promised to leave it to you several times, and you feel a strong protective urge over it.

“I gotta go,” you grimace, “Should I take you home?”

He nods, looking dejected.

There are two cop cars parked outside Rodrick’s apartment building, and you notice him gripping the door handle tightly.

“Wonder what that’s about?” You murmur.

“Could you take me around the back?” Rodrick’s voice shakes.

You look at him, raising an eyebrow, but circle around back anyway.

 He opens your car door and gets out.

“Hey,” you stop him, “that was really fun. I hate that it ended this way, but… we’ll see each other again, okay? I don’t want this to be a one time thing. I… I really like you.”

“Me either.” He nods. His voice is cold, and his eyes are void of all emotion.

You know something is wrong, but you have bigger problems on your hands right now.

“Okay,” you give him a weak smile.

He grimaces, and shuts the door. You watch him walk through a grimy back entrance, and pull off.

“Rodrick, dude,” Ben looks at him with bug eyes when he walks through the door, “the fucking cops were here!”

Rodrick freezes.

“Did they leave?”

“Yeah, but they were looking for you, man.” His voice is hushed and panicked.

Rodrick checks the window, and the cop cars are gone.

“What did they say?”

“Something about your name being associated with a crime scene?”

Rodrick turns to look at him, “What?”

~

So while you sit back and wonder why

I got this fuckin’ thorn in my side

Oh my god, it’s a mirage

I’m tellin’ y’all, it’s sabotage

~

tag list: @crumpets-are-better-with-jam

#this has been in my docs since march with the title 'arson reveal into sex???' lmao #also I spent a while thinking of a 2005 alternate to baby #i feel like heather would be an nsync girl #i love this chapter #and I'm so excited for the next ones #rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick x reader #rodrick rules #doawk rodrick #rodrick heffley fanfic #rodrick heffley fanfiction #salad days #my #stuff

[starrynightarchive]

19, 6, 42, 22, 38, 33, 47, 50, 92, 90, 72, 75, 70

answer them all

demanding. hello to you too anon

19. what's been keeping you up at night lately?

your mom.

ok just kidding. uhhh not much. maybe the mistakes I need to fix and this distinct feeling of wrongness that lingers.

6. what role do you play in your group of friends?

let's ask them shall we

42. how did you meet your best friend(s)?

aha i actually wanted someone to ask this one! I'll give you three stories

sri: when i was in kindergarten i remember very clearly seeing this fucker in the restroom. she pulled out her handkerchief and made a banana out of it? i was not impressed. but she then proceeded to eat it/put it in her mouth. which I was impressed with. and then she saw me when I got stuck on the very top of this giraffe thing which you can climb. a teacher had to come up and get me down. bitch was just staring at me the whole time. didn't move a muscle. i love her so very much.

vhas: ok so. i had (have. love her very very much she's a menace and we met in a whole other way) a best friend and I got them into wattpad when I was 13. or 12. idk. then that friend in turn went to a classmate and made them join wattpad. so now all three of us started writing very bad very cringe stories. i was writing a straight romance paranormal story and vhas was writing some tragic yaoi godbles. i read it and fell in love with his writing. so one day, without warning, I just went up to him and said "hey! i love your writing!" and fucked right off. no intro no how are you no nothing. we ended up talking in hangouts (rip) and I made covers for his stories and shit. and then the rest is history.

sree: this is the menace friend. she lives really close to my house. first way we met was through our school bus (we took the same one and I sat next to her one day). she was reading harry potter and we figured that we both loved books. i introduced her to a few. and the very same week I went to my classical music class and they were there. i was like ??? but we became quick friends. proximity, similar interests, orange slices and stupidity. yeah. they're pretty neat.

22. how old were you when you joined the internet?

around 12, i think

38. what is your love language? i'm very expressive about my love for people, but the main ones are: physical touch, words of affirmation and gift giving.

33. have you ever thought about changing your name?

nope! i love my name very very much :D

47. how well-decorated is your bedroom?

not much. at first i had a sticky notes wall filled with quotes poetry etc etc but then had to take it down because it was getting dusty. then there's this huge ass micky mouse sticker stuck on my wardrobe (my dad bought it when I was a kid). skk chibi figurines and iwaoi standee both from my lovely friend vhas. then books. a few magnets stuck to my wardrobe. that's all

50. what do you consider most important in a romantic/platonic partner? being ready to put in work in the relationship. must be an open communicator/must be willing to try. oh, and a good sense of humour (this is very specific btw. i have a type. i will not elaborate).

92. who's in your dream blunt rotation? great question. idk if I'll ever smoke weed but. if I do tay will be my go-to person (@spiderbends)

90. weirdest habit?

i bite people. is that weird? idk

72. which is more important when it comes to clothing, comfort or style?

comfort all the wayyyy

75. how would you describe your favorite person?

icarus. burning wings. the kindest smile. the bravest man. lover, healer, believer. object of all my sweet dreams and sweetest nightmares.

70. when it comes to affection/intimacy, do you prefer to stick to one person or are you more open about it?

intimacy/affection to me isn't strictly connected to romance. and I'm a very affectionate person by nature. i love fiercely. all my loved ones will be bombarded with my love. get loved, loser.

#vi talks #ask game