#Outing my taste in fanfic to the irls | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sorrowsofsilence · 1 month ago

Text

liminal • n.s

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x fem!reader (oneshot)

Words: 7.5k

Warnings: Angst, Part Smut 18+ (fem!receiving), mean!noah, fixing(ish) an unhealthy relationship, alcohol / cigarettes

Prompt: he hates you. yet, he hates that he’s so obsessed with you.

Authors note: This is something I slowly worked on throughout my Taiwan practicum. I had planned for a hot sexy one-shot and instead, it turned out like this lmao (I think, despite how much fun I had, I was feeling angsty and sad) sooooo, here's this. Not my finest work IMO but it is something, to get the writing brain sparked again :-:

THIS IS A FANFIC ABOUT REAL PEOPLE IN FICTIONAL SCENARIOS. I AM NOT IMPLYING THIS IS HOW THESE PEOPLE ARE IRL OR THAT THIS SITUATION WOULD HAPPEN. IT IS FOR FANFIC PURPOSES ONLY!

Noah’s eyes narrowed, dark brown slits fixated on the smile planted on your face as the stranger next to you leaned into your ear.

You let out a laugh that echoed across the room, causing the brunette to become even more irritated. He leaned against the wall, refusing to look away from you.

He furrowed his brows as he placed a cigarette between his lips and took a drag, inhaling the smoke with a grimace, and a hand suddenly clapped him on the back, causing him to double over and cough.

Annoyed, he turned to see Folio with a drunken smile on his face like a jester, "You know, for someone who claims to despise her, you sure do stare at her a lot."

Noah let out a bitter laugh at his friend's comment, only briefly glancing at the drummer before returning his attention to you.

As you laughed again and leaned closer to the stranger, tilting your head with interest, Noah felt sick.

"Fuck off," he spat, taking another drag of his cigarette.

Folio chuckled beside him and swayed unsteadily, "I'm just saying, your actions show otherwise."

Noah scoffed and blew smoke through his teeth as he shook his head, "I want nothing to do with her. She's annoying." But deep down, he knew it was a lie.

In reality, he was obsessed with you. Every thought in his mind was consumed by thoughts of you. The coffee he had this morning? Your favorite kind. The movie he watched on the bus? One you had mentioned loving before. The song he couldn't stop listening to? The one that was playing when you two first met, over a year ago now.

Yet despite all this, you never showed any interest in him. In fact, you seemed to avoid him whenever possible.

And he knew he was the reason why.

Pulling his gaze from you, he flicked the cigarette away and tried to focus on the grungy bar wall before him- anything but your laughter. He hated the way it echoed through his mind, drowning out everything else around him. He hated how his heart stuttered when the sound reached his ears.

"You're pathetic, Noah," Folio slurred beside him, leaning heavily against the wall. He held an empty beer bottle loosely in his hand.

This comment should have provoked anger like most of Folio's words did, but he knew it was true.

“She’s done nothing to you, yet you treat her like shit.”

The brunette laughed bitterly, exhaling a plume of smoke before tossing the cigarette into the ashtray.

"Did I ask for your input, Folio?" Noah retorted, his voice laced with poisonous acidity, "No, I don't believe I did."

Pushing off the wall, he sidestepped Folio's swaying attempt to stop him and marched towards the bar in a few determined strides.

"Noah!" Folio called after him in a drunken daze, but Noah ignored him, instead focusing on blocking out the laughter ringing through the room.

And yet, even as he reached the bar and leaned against it, ordering another drink with an irritated grunt, Noah couldn't stop himself from darting one more glance in your direction. You were still chatting and laughing as if there weren't a care in the world.

Swirling the drink in hand, an acidic taste of bitter resentment washed over him as he gulped. He slammed back shots after shots, each stinging swallow seemed to fade away into insignificance when compared to the pain of seeing you so carefree and unattainable.

As his vision began to blur around the edges and his sense of balance teetered on the edge, Noah lost count.

He felt the familiar sting of alcohol in his throat and welcomed it, hoping that every shot he took would help him forget—but every time he closed his eyes, he saw your face. He was stuck in an endless loop of self-loathing, alcohol, and you.

Noah’s hand trembled as he raised the shot glass for yet another round; the liquid sploshed over the rim, dribbling down his fist - it was the first sign of his escalating intoxication. He squinted at the mirrored wall before him, trying to form coherent words to order yet another round.

Then, he saw you or rather, your reflection. You had abandoned your comfortable spot next to the stranger and were now making your way towards him, pushing through the clusters of bodies in a determined fashion. Panic boiled with the alcohol in his veins. He quickly turned away from the mirror, pretending to study something at the end of the bar.

"Noah,” you stopped right beside him, and for a moment he thought he could smell you amidst the stench of alcohol, body sweat, and stale smoke. Your perfume was a faint note wafting through it all - a sweet scent that clashed with his surroundings and hurtled him even further into his spiral of self-loathing.

He didn't turn to face you, but he could sense your uneasy presence.

"Noah," you began again, this time softer, feeling the hostile coldness radiating from him.

"You’re drunk," you stated matter-of-factly, reaching out and pulling the shot glass from his alcohol-slicked hand. Overhead music thumped against his eardrums and he swallowed roughly, his jaw clenching as he finally turned to face you. Your expression was softer than he anticipated; sympathy and worry replacing the joy-filled laughter that had resonated within each corner of the bar minutes before.

"You don’t know what you’re talking about," He retorted bitterly, veering his attention away from your accusing gaze and towards his empty shot glass instead. He moved forward to reach for it once more but you were quicker, sliding the glass out of his reach and signalling to the bartender.

"No more for him tonight," you instructed, your voice steady but he could detect an underlying note of concern as your gaze alternated between him and the burly man behind the bar.

"Mind your own fucking business," he seethed, feeling a pang of anger ricocheting off his skull. Swiping his arm across the counter, Noah managed to snag another shot glass filled to the brim before throwing it back and wincing at the harsh liquid burning down his throat.

He could feel your disapproving stare on him; it was both satisfying and infuriating.

"Noah…" Your voice was pleading now. It was so unlike you, so gentle and empathetic that he nearly choked on his anguish.

"Didn’t you hear me?" He chastised bitterly, slamming the empty glass onto the counter, "Or are you just as deaf as you are ignorant?"

You winced, quickly replacing the dejection with a scowl. Yet, instead of responding, you merely sighed and reached into your pocket, pulling out a small wad of cash and tossing it onto the counter. Without another word, you grabbed his arm, your grip surprisingly firm in comparison to your soft voice.

He didn't resist you as you dragged him away from the bar and through the throng of loud, drunken patrons.

The cool outside air hit him when you pushed open the exit door, clearing his foggy mind a little. He pulled his arm from your grip and staggered away, leaning against the brick wall for support.

"Why do you care?" he spat angrily, turning his bleary gaze to you. Your eyes held that same softness he had seen at the bar, now accompanied by a sad frown.

He scowled, disgusted by the fabricated pity radiating off you.

"I don't," You replied in annoyance, before letting out a soft sigh, "I just couldn't stand watching you become another wasted drunk in that bar. And your photoshoots tomorrow so you’ll look like shit if you don’t stop.”

"It's my life, isn't it?" He spat back, his words slurred and barely intelligible.

He pushed away from the wall, trying to reestablish some distance between the two of you, “I don’t need you acting as my manager. I pay Matt for a reason.”

“It is your life,” You conceded, straightening up to your full height, “But as your photographer, I’m looking out for you.”

“Just as my photographer, huh?”

He echoed your words in a low voice, with cold mockery. But deep down, they stung. The silence that stretched between you two was filled with the noises of the city: far-off laughter, screeching tires, and the hollow echo of a lonely siren. He pushed his tangled locks out of his eyes and stared at you, a challenge in his gaze.

For a moment your eyes wavered, flickering over to him as if you were about to say something more. But you quickly turned away and gave a vague nod.

"Just as your photographer, Noah," you confirmed, your voice steady but he could see that your lips tightened.

His heart roared its protest but he gave you a dismissive wave.

“Fantastic,” he spat back with as much sarcasm he could muster, "Don't push yourself too hard for my sake."

"I won't," you shot back, shrugging off his bitterness as easily as if it were an old jacket. You turned away then, leaving him to stew in silence under the harsh glare of the streetlamp.

He watched your retreating figure with a burning intensity, all his regret and anger pooling into a bitter pit in his stomach. As he saw you disappear round the corner, he felt a pang of longing. Regret.

For once, he wished for you to look back, or better - to stay. But you didn't.

You never did.

Feeling a chill settling on him, Noah slid down onto the grimy pavement, pulling out the pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He lit one up slowly as if taking his time would somehow delay the sting of reality. The smoke curled upwards, disappearing into the cool night air — ephemeral, just like what was left of his dignity.

With a heavy sigh, Noah pulled the cigarette from his lips, gazing at the glowing ember as if it held the answers to his misery. Each puff was a silent, disgusting prayer vibrating out into the universe, swallowed up by the sky that never listened to his pleas.

Suddenly, he started laughing—a low, humourless sound that resonated off the empty street. How pathetic was he, hoping for answers in a goddamn cigarette ember?

The night was quiet, unresponsive to his breakdown. It was as cold and uncaring as he always thought you were, as indifferent as you proved yourself tonight.

As distant as the love he craved but never found reciprocated—that was how he felt about you.

But then footsteps echoed off the brick, getting closer and closer to him.

And suddenly you were there, clutching onto Noah’s jacket with a firm grip.

"Forgot your damn jacket, asshole," you muttered irritably, flinging the piece of clothing at him.

His reflexes weren't quick enough, so instead of catching the jacket, it ended up draped across his lap. In the silence that stretched, he thought he saw a flicker of hesitation in your eyes...or maybe it was pity.

He took another drag of the cigarette, then spat onto the ground before flicking the remaining butt onto the concrete.

"If you hate the taste, why do you keep smoking?"

"Why do you keep asking pointless fucking questions?" Noah snapped back, giving you a piercing stare.

“Why are you always such a fucking asshole?” You sighed, brows furrowing in anger. You knew now was not the time to ask questions but the word vomit spewed forth anyways.

"Maybe because you're always so fucking annoying," Noah countered venomously, his words carrying a warning of a fit of anger quick to unravel.

"Stop avoiding the question!" You exclaimed, looking frustrated, “You’ve been acting this way since we met! I’m sick and fucking tired of being treated like complete shit by you.”

"Great," He replied sarcastically, forcing himself to his feet, "Quit then. I didn't ask you to stick around."

The finality of his words echoed in the silence between them. They stung like hell, tearing through the icy air and hitting you like a train. There was no room for negotiation; it was a clear ultimatum.

"I…" You started, your voice barely even a whisper. The hurt was evident on your face but you quickly masked it with a hardened exterior.

“Maybe I will,” You shot back, meeting his gaze head-on.

You took a step back, distancing yourself from him. A wave of vulnerability washed over you but you kept your stance firm and determined, refusing to allow him to see your weakness. The dimly lit street blurred your vision, painting Noah inside thick shadows. But there in the gloom, you could still make out that cocky grin he always wore when he got under your skin.

"So quit!" he retorted with a shrug, crossing his arms over his chest.

His nonchalance hung in the air between you like a brutal slap to your face.

You tugged at your sleeves nervously and took one last look at him. The cold street light painted harsh shadows onto his callous features; the skin under his eyes looked darker than usual. For a moment, despite all his bravado and cruelty, you almost felt sorry for him.

"Fine," You finally uttered, each word like poison on your tongue. The venom in your voice surprised even yourself, but there was no turning back now, "I'm done. Fuck you, Noah."

Then you turned, just like before and walked away.

Only this time, something in Noah cracked. A stark realization that felt like an invisible punch straight to his gut - he was the only one responsible for pushing you away.

"No," He murmured hesitantly at first, watching your retreating as every step you took sent a flare of panic through his system.

"No!" This time his voice resonated through the empty street. The echo bounced off the barren walls as if mocking him in his misery. He stood up, chest heaving in drunken contemplation.

"No!" He shouted again, racing off after you through the maze of alleyways. The cool night air bit at his face, tugging at his hair and clothes in a desperate attempt to slow him down.

He didn't know why it mattered now. Why, when he'd already pushed you far beyond your limits, and vilified himself beyond redemption, he still felt a desperate need to make things right.

Or maybe, Noah realized as he sprinted full tilt towards the receding echo of your footsteps, it was because, despite everything, he cared. He cared more than he'd allowed himself to admit.

"Wait!" He shouted out hoarsely, pumping his legs as fast as they would carry him until finally, your silhouette came into view once more. You froze mid-step as if contemplating turning around or keep walking.

Seeing you hesitate gave him that glimmer of hope which fuelled his final sprint till he was standing in front of you, panting heavily from the exertion. His sharp eyes studied your figure in the dim lighting of a distant street lamp, his gaze intense and desperate.

“You were supposed to keep walking,” Noah rasped out after he managed to collect enough breath, his mind fighting his body as he stepped closer toward you.

“Why?” you asked, crossing your arms defensively across your chest, stepping backwards.

“Because…” His voice trailed off as he struggled to put his chaotic feelings into words. He looked away for a moment, gathering himself.

When he finally met your gaze again, there was an uncharacteristic vulnerability that had crept into his voice, “Because I can’t keep pushing you away.”

You blinked at him, processing his words. There was a long stretch of silence between you two as the cool nocturnal breeze gently rustled.

“And why is that? You’d have trouble sleeping at night without someone to torment?” The sarcasm in your voice was thick, but it hinted at something more - a sliver of hurt seeping through the cracks of your anger.

Noah shook his head, running a hand through his tangled hair, "You don’t get it, do you?" He growled, frustration edging into his voice.

"Get what?" You shot back, your gaze unwavering.

Noah shouted before turning away from you, pacing a couple of steps back and forth, “I just can’t stand the thought of you not being here. I need you.”

That revelation hung heavy in the air, wrapping around the both of you like a shroud. He needed you. After all that was said and done, that was his bare truth. His earlier bravado was nowhere to be found, just raw honesty.

You stared at him – really stared at him – for the first time in what felt like an eternity, taking in the sight of Noah: unkempt, haggard and vulnerable. It wasn't a sight you were used to seeing and it unsettled you.

"You need me," The words seemed absurd as they fell from your lips, incredulous.

A bitter laugh rose to your throat but died before it could pass your lips, "If you need me, you've got a fucked-up way of showing it."

"I told you," Noah snapped, agitation seeping into his tone, "I'm an asshole."

"An asshole that 'needs me'," you retorted with a roll of your eyes, “You’re messing with me.”

"No," Noah insisted, his gaze levelling with yours, "I'm not messing with you."

A moment's silence intercepted as he let the gravity of his admission sink in. The air between you was tense and fraught with a slew of complex emotions – shared longing, regret and frustration.

"Do you even understand what you're saying?" Your words echoed through the bare passageways, shattering the very core of silence lurking around them.

"I think so," he admitted hesitantly, "Believe it or not, I do."

"You 'think so'?" You repeated, frustration evident in your tone.

"No. Actually," Noah corrected himself, taking an unsteady step towards you; an abrupt hesitation weighing down his tangled words.

His eyes were pleading now, "I know so."

The sincerity in his voice took you by surprise; you squinted at him through the semi-darkness.

“You’ve treated me like absolute shit since we’ve met Noah. One year of you being rude, selfish, and just straight-up mean! And why? All because you want me?” You tried not to laugh, shaking your head as if to dismiss this absurd idea.

But why did your stomach flutter

"I don't get it either," Noah responded sharply, completely off balance with the turmoil of the conversation. He ran a hand through his hair once more, "I can't explain half the shit I do or say to you.”

You crossed your arms again as if shielding yourself from his words. But when you spoke, your voice was surprisingly soft and devoid of its usual flippant defence, "Then maybe you should try harder."

A silence fell between you two again, ringing loudly in your ears. You stared at each other for a while, a silent battleground where words were weapons and silence was an uncertain truce.

Slowly, hesitantly, Noah took a step toward you. His dark eyes bore into yours, the moonlight reflecting off them with an almost eerie intensity. For a moment, in that silent exchange, you saw him stripped of all his defences, vulnerable and bare.

“Yeah. I will try harder. Because the truth is, you drive me fucking nuts,” He whispered, standing inches from you now. His breath brushed your forehead as you stared up at him, hands hesitant to push against his chest.

But you did just that, feeling his racing heart beneath the cloth.

"You have consumed my mind. And there's nothing I can do about it. Even if I wanted to," Noah went on, his voice cracking with the brutal honesty of his confession.

Your eyes flitted up to meet- the sinking October sea radiant in the dark. “You do a brilliant job at hiding it,” you said, the venom in your words tainted by doubt.

Noah laughed again, but there was no mirth in his eyes; only a raw, shared pain and understanding that transcended your mutual resentment.

“I suppose,” he said, taking another step closer as you involuntarily stepped back against the cold brick. Your hands still pushed against his chest but faltered as he stepped closer, holding you against the wall.

Inexorably drawn to you despite your resistance – or perhaps because of it – Noah found himself looming over you, one arm braced against the wall next to your head boxing you in. The immediate proximity made every breath you drew quiver.

"Let me go," you warned, your eyes brimming with defiance and a hint of fear, your hands pushing him away without conviction. But Noah didn't move. He just hung there, inches away from you, a look of palpable desperation on his face.

"I can't..." Noah whispered, sounding more to himself than to you. His gaze flickered to your lips for a fleeting moment before locking with your startled eyes once more. It was in this moment that you saw him - truly saw him for the first time.

Behind the hostile exterior was a man who grappled with complexities just as you did. His struggle was reflected in his piercing gaze – both harshly real and terrifyingly vulnerable at the same time.

"Coward," you spat, voice trembling along with your heart. His stubborn refusal to move stirred a maelstrom inside of you. But even as the word floated between the two of you, your hands had stilled on his chest and somewhat relaxed, betraying your seemingly confident exterior.

"Maybe," he admitted, his gaze remaining deeply locked with yours. His hand came up, fingers brushing against your cheek in an unnerving tenderness that felt almost alien coming from him, "Or maybe I'm just scared."

"Scared of what?" You scoffed, trying - and failing - to keep the quiver out of your voice.

"Of losing you," He whispered honestly, dropping the hard shell built around him. The rawness in his tone was enough to catalyze the slow crumbling of walls around both your hearts.

His confession hung between you.

"You've never had me to begin with," you managed to retort eventually, your voice barely audible.

"And that is what scares me," Noah's response was immediate and sincere, "If I push you away first, you can’t hurt me."

"Your logic is flawed, Noah," you snorted, although the harshness lacked the conviction needed to drive him away.

Noah winced as if your words had physically struck him, "Isn't it?" he mockingly retorted, but his levity was inadequate to mask the vulnerability seeping through.

"You have no guarantee that I would hurt you," you countered stubbornly, "And even if I did..." you paused, suddenly uncertain. The idea that you could cause him pain was oddly upsetting.

"And even if you did?" Noah prodded gently.

"You'd survive," you finished reluctantly. Your gaze dropped from his face, focusing at some abstract point on his broad chest.

“It’s not about surviving. It’s about not understanding why it’s you that I want so badly. I don’t know how to handle this... intensity. I have never felt this way for anyone else before," His voice was barely audible, echoing the vulnerable tremor that had crept into his tone.

A moment of silence ensued as you absorbed the gravity of his confession. Noah's gaze remained locked on your face, watching as emotions flickered like ephemeral flames in your wide eyes. Somewhere between disbelief, anger and overwhelming sadness, you drowned in a frustration tinged with regret.

"Reducing me to an object of fear does not justify your cruel actions, Noah," you whispered, holding his gaze. Your hands clenched at your sides, urging every single nerve ending to maintain resistance against the man leaning dangerously close to you.

"Is that what this is?" Noah's features hardened at your accusation. Eyes narrowing, lips pressed into a thin line again. "Fear?"

"What else could it possibly be?" You shot back acerbically, jerking away from his touch - but he quickly caught your wrist, not in a punishing grasp but with an almost desperate hold.

“More than fear,” His voice barely a whisper, his eyes hollow, “It’s despair. It’s knowing that I would never be good enough for you - that you'll find someone who is.”

You stiffened at his words, unable to respond or look away from his penetrating gaze. You remembered every slight, every curt word he’d fired your way, wondering now if they were born of this terror he talked about.

"Noah," you murmured, feeling suddenly weak. He watched your every breath, waiting, his eyes searching yours for a sign of understanding.

“I hate feeling this way," he confessed with an overwhelming gravity in his tone. "It’s like...” Noah exhaled heavily as if the admission was physically draining him. "Like I'm in the middle of a lake... And just when I think I'm about to drown... I see you on shore, standing there... watching."

Your heart ached at his words, but you kept your expression neutral, aware that any break in semblance could send him retreating back into his shell.

For a while, an uncomfortable silence stretched between you two, broken only by the distant howl of the wind.

“Noah,” you said, meeting his gaze with newfound determination, “I can’t be held responsible for your fears.”

You could see him flinch, even though he tried to hide it, his gaze faltering from yours. “No… you’re right. You can’t. I’m to blame for letting this get out of hand.”

As you were about to sigh, Noah pressed his forehead against yours. The scent of stale cigarettes and alcohol filled your senses, and somehow, it was comforting.

“I need you,” he whispered, closing his eyes briefly before staring into your own.

You whispered his name as his lips brushed against yours; but you pushed his chest, turning your head away.

“You’re drunk.”

Your words snapped back to him, causing his shoulders to falter as he then clung to your body. Engulfing you into his chest, you wrapped your arms around him, your own chest heaving with the confession that lingered between you.

You’ve always found him irritably attractive. Even through his asshole demeanour, you wanted him to.

But not now. Not while he stood there, vulnerable.

“Let’s get back to the bus.”

+++++

Things weren’t the same now, and the rest of the crew noticed.

The next morning Noah’s head pounded as he laid in his bunk. A symphony of aches in his body reminded him of the previous night's raw conversation with you. His mouth felt like a sandbox, grains of regret cramped on his tongue.

“What the hell happened last night?” a dishevelled Ruffilo slid from the bunk above Noah. His voice pierced through the pounding in Noah's head like a well-aimed knife.

Noah grunted, shielding his eyes from the intrusive morning light streaming from an open window.

“Don’t remember,” he muttered, his voice raspy from sleep and too much alcohol.

Nicholas scoffed, tugging on a t-shirt crumpled on the floor, "You expect anybody to believe that?"

“Not my problem,” Noah grumbled, rolling over to ignore further questioning.

The remainder of their ride was spent in an unusual silence disrupted intermittently by the rumble of the bus over bumpy roads and occasional small talks among band members.

Your mutual avoidance turned noticeable. You were unusually still, almost as if your vivacious spark had been snuffed out, an unusual calm that gave away your internal storm. Similarly, Noah wore an impenetrable outer shell, venturing out only for a smoke or a swig from his water bottle.

There was a thick blanket of tension cast over the bus, which twitched and palpitated with each stolen glance between you two. It was like everyone aboard the bus could quite literally feel the static charge crackling in the air.

"Is something wrong?" Jolly finally broke the silence, oblivious to the undercurrent. His loud question rang through the silent bus, making everyone flinch at the sudden noise.

Nothing was said for a moment as all eyes turned to you, then Noah. You wrapped your arms tighter around your body, staring out at the road unfurling before you. "Nothing's wrong," came your curt reply.

Jolly was about to retort when a sharp glare from Nicholas stopped him in his tracks.

As soon as the studio came into view from the window, you stood up quickly, packing up your camera into your bag, “I’ll meet you inside. Don’t forget your outfits.”

You didn’t wait for the bus to fully stop before jumping out, bag slung over your shoulder and cap shielding your eyes. You dashed towards the studio without a backward glance, leaving the rest behind in dazed silence.

As the dust settled, Noah watched you disappear into the distance, your retreating figure growing fainter with each passing moment till all he was left with was an overwhelming emptiness and the scent of you lingering in the air.

“Gonna go after her?” Ruffilo finally broke Noah’s trance, pulling him back to reality.

Noah glanced back at him. There was a strange glint in his eyes. He shook his head, his stoic expression not revealing what he truly felt. “Not now, Nick. Just...not now.” His voice betrayed him, a single shard of vulnerability slipping through his walls of defence.

“Very well,” Ruffilo finally conceded, albeit reluctantly.

With that, Noah found himself standing alone as others headed inside. His grip tightened on the strap of his backpack before he followed in, dreading your gaze.

He didn’t fear losing you anymore- he knew he was never yours to lose. But what haunted him was the constant pain in your eyes, caused by him.

The photoshoot continued swiftly as you guided the boys into various poses. Adjusting their hair and shirts, you hesitantly brushed Noah’s bangs away from his face.

He stiffened at your touch, his anxious gaze darting to meet yours. You wanted to reassure him, tell him you weren't disgusted by him, but your pride got in the way. Your hand pulled away, leaving an invisible trail of tension on his forehead.

The shoot dragged on, and despite their best efforts to act normal and keep the mood light, the crew could feel the tension between you two. Noah was quieter than he'd ever been, and his eyes followed you around the room. The glances he sent you were just a shadow of his usual provocative smirks.

The other guys in the band tried to fill the void left by Noah's silence with lame jokes and exaggerated laughter. You appreciated their efforts, but it wasn't enough to completely wash away the sour taste that Noah's confession had left.

"Time for solos," You announced tiredly, nodding at the boys to change outfits. The portraits went relatively quickly until you reached Noah.

“You guys don’t need to stay,” You nodded at Jolly, who whispered a quiet ‘thank god’ under his breath.

Once you were alone, the studio seemed much larger than it was before. The high ceiling echoed back Noah’s steps as he approached the designated section for the photoshoot.

“Stand there,” You ordered, pointing to a spot against a rustic backdrop that you had prepared earlier. You could see him swallow nervously, his Adam's apple bobbing conspicuously.

You shifted your focus back to your camera, busying yourself with the various settings. You couldn't deny, though, that your mind was filled with thoughts of him.

Just as you brought the camera up to your eye, Noah cleared his throat. "I just wanted to say..." He began awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

Your heart thumped loudly in your ears as you lowered the camera to look at him. His eyes were wary, but determined as they met yours.

“I’m sorry," he finally muttered.

You remained silent, studying him through the lens of your camera. He looked different somehow - less of the bold, arrogant frontman and more of a man carrying the weight of his actions.

"Thanks for saying that, but it's not enough," you replied, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions within you. The charged stillness settled over both of you again like a shroud

Noah winced at your words, regret sharpening the usually soft curves of his face. As you snapped photos of him, capturing every painful oscillation of emotion on his hardened features, the air between you two thickened further.

“Fix your tie,” You mumbled, nodding at him as his hands fumbled with the fabric.

"There's nothing I can say, is there?" Noah said, his tone jittery as his hands fell to the sides.

Your heart clenched at his question. You wanted so desperately to reassure him, to let him know that things could be fixed, but doing so felt unfair - both to you and to him.

"Right now... No," you whispered finally, your voice barely audible. You sighed annoyed at his inability to fix the fabric, and strutted towards him, pulling the tie to the side gently.

You were inches from his body as you reached up, hands around his neck to fix the tie.

His body stiffened and he barely seemed to breathe, but he didn't move away or protest. For all his bluster and bravado, there was an inexplicably endearing quality to Noah in those moments of vulnerability.

Just as you were about done, your fingers grazed against his collarbone beneath his shirt. A sudden realization hit you; despite being so close physically, and emotionally you two were miles apart.

"There." You stepped back and met his eyes again, parrying the intensity of his gaze with your own cool neutrality.

“Thank you," he said, his voice barely a whisper. Yet you couldn’t let yourself back away just yet, “If there’s nothing I can say, can I show you?”

Your breath hitched as his eyes bore into yours, hands slowly reaching up to grip either side of your hip.

“Show me what?” You breathed, staring at his fixated gaze that now danced between your eyes and lips.

“Show you how much I care for you, deep down.”

His words hung in the air like a sharp winter wind, chilling you to the bone. But before you could reply, he dipped his head down, capturing your lips in a kiss. It was filled with desperation, whispering about his buried feelings in a way words never could.

You froze but didn’t pull back, his grip on your waist tightened, holding you with intense need.

His kiss was apologetic, passionate, and a plea for another chance all wrapped up in one. You found yourself surprised by how desperately you wanted to believe him, how badly you wanted this to be the answer

Instead of pulling away, you reached up, holding the collar of his shirt with clenched fists. You kissed him back, allowing your lips to move in sync with newfound heartache as he moulded into your body.

The surge of electricity that ran through your veins was enough to make your heart race. Noah's arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer to his firm body. He wanted to make this right, he wanted to show you that his apology was sincere.

His touch was tender but firm, filled with a longing that spoke volumes more than his heated whispers ever could. His lips on yours felt like a desperate plea for forgiveness and comprehension; it was harrowingly sweet

As the heat between both of you simmered down, your lips parted from his slowly. Your breaths mingled in the silence of the studio, his forehead gently resting against yours as neither of you made an effort to pull away.

"Noah," you murmured, hesitating before scrambling to find the words that had been replaced by a strange echo of warmth spreading through you

He only responded by taking the camera off of your neck, placing it gently on the ground as he took your hips again, pushing you backwards toward the couch.

He stopped only a few inches away from the worn leather, brown eyes meeting yours. He was searching your gaze for guidance, for a sign you had not rejected his overtures. Even in the hushed inevitability of the moment, it seemed Noah was capable of respecting your boundaries. It was a level of sensitivity you hadn't expected from him; from the man who had just recently been a source of anguish.

He must have found whatever reassurance he'd been seeking because he guided you back until the back of your knees collided with the low couch. You fell onto its cushions rather gracelessly, Noah following you closely. The firm press of his body against yours lulled the protests stirring at the back of your mind.

His lips found yours again, their warmth seeping through your defences as though they were melting snow. And, despite his desperately shaking hands, Noah somehow managed to be delicate with you – cautious even. His movements were slow and measured, as though he was etching a memory onto his mind – this moment, you, everything about this.

His hand journeyed the curve of your waist, and the small of your back, exploring your body with an intimacy that reflected his longing. It pondered hesitantly at the hem of your shirt, a silent request seeking permission. You nodded slightly against his kiss – affirmation and surrender.

Noah's fingers crept under your shirt, pressing into the small of your back with an intensity that quickened your breath. You gasped at the contact of skin on skin; it felt like fire, burning through your inhibitions and reservations.

In the wake of that touch, you found yourself reciprocating; fingers tracing his broad shoulders before venturing down to his toned arms, all the way to the base of his spine. As if driven by instinct, you pulled him closer to you.

His hand found its way to your cheek, sweeping away a loose strand of hair as he broke the kiss and looked at you with a vulnerability that made your heart flutter.

"I’ll be different this time forward, I swear," he murmured, his eyes riddled with hope and fear, "I'll make it right.

His declaration sent a jolt of hope coursing through your veins, and you found yourself reaching up to gently stroke his cheek. It wasn’t often you saw him like this - so raw, so open. The sight of him, so beautifully vulnerable under your touch, stole your breath away.

"I don't just want different Noah," you replied softly, fingers brushing against his jawline, "I want better. I need better."

His eyes hardened for a moment - not in anger, but in determination. His arms pulled you closer to him as if he was afraid you'd disappear. You let out a giggle at his quaint possessiveness and pressed your forehead against his.

“Better...” he murmured, committing the word to memory. His hand slipped from your waist to capture yours, weaving his fingers through yours so naturally that it took your breath away. His grip was steady and warm, a promise of what was to come. He kissed down your jaw, to the bottom of your ear. Following down the skin of your neck he stopped, just above your collarbone with a gentle bite and kiss.

“I can do better,” he vowed, “You deserve better.”

You peered down at him beneath thick lashes, seeing a flicker of the man you once knew.

There was no guarantee that he could deliver on his promises or that you'd be strong enough to withstand the hurt if he didn't, but in this instance, under the lights of your shared studio, you didn’t care.

You needed him.

“Prove it,” you replied, causing Noah’s cheeks to burn with desire as he lifted your shirt over your head, kissing down the skin towards your jeans.

"Noah," you breathed, squirming against his touch.

His hands trembling slightly, and Noah undid the button of your jeans, drawing them down your legs.

“Look at me,” he whispered, forcing himself to still as he levelled his gaze with yours. You saw flashes of insecurity flicker in the depths of his eyes before they were smothered by resolve, "I mean it, I'll be better."

Taking a deep breath, you squeezed his hand as if to anchor him—and yourself—in this moment.

"Show me," you dared again. Your voice sounded stronger than you felt, braver than you thought possible. And when he reverently kissed a path upward from your navel—each touch a promise and a plea—you realized that this was not just about words and apologies, this was about actions.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as he peppered soft kisses along your bare skin, every brush of his lips sending sparks skittering across your body. The intimacy was powerful, overwhelming in its tenderness.

Noah stopped at your ribcage, locking eyes with you as he observed the rise and fall of your chest, his breath hitching in awe at the vulnerabilities you were sharing. In the silence of the room, his thumb drew invisible circles at the dip of your hip bone, soothing and tranquil amid burning desires.

In contrast to Noah's tenderness was the fierce desire reflected in your eyes - it mirrored his hunger, stirring a fire within him he thought had been extinguished. Swallowing down his nerves, he continued to trail kisses up your torso, each one laced with an affection that was as profound as it was raw.

A hushed "Wait," escaped your mouth, catching him off guard. Seeing uncertainty cloud his eyes, you squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"This doesn't mean everything is forgiven, Noah. It means I'm giving you a chance."

The sombre tones of your voice sparked a flicker of something in his eyes—scared but hopeful.

"I know," he whispered, brushing your hair away gently from your face. "And thank you...for giving me this chance."

You nodded and reached up to trace a finger along his jawline, pulling him back closer to you. Your lips met once again in a dance familiar yet new; a single affirmation of trust and longing that extinguished any lingering hesitation.

His breath fanned along the fabric that coated your desire, leaving you nervous as his eyes devoured you.

Yet you nodded, allowing him to pull the fabric to the side, and gently glide a finger between the folds.

Your hips withered at his touch, fighting the urge to rut upward against his fingers in desperation for more.

"Noah," you whispered again, echoing through the silent studio.

The soft plea tugged at something in his chest. He was as eager as you, but he knew something like this had to be savoured. With that in mind, he deepened his ministrations, taking slow strokes, tormenting you with an agonizingly measured pace with his fingers that left you gasping for breath.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured against your skin while his fingers continued their dance, pushing in and out of your body.

Your fingers clung onto his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as his movements drove you to the edge. Yet there was still a resistance within you, a pull back from the precipice of surrender.

Seeing your turmoil reflected in your tightly shut eyes and furrowed eyebrows, Noah paused before latching his mouth against you, flicking his tongue in long, delicate stripes.

The sudden pleasure of his mouth made you arch your back with a sharp gasp, every lingering hint of resistance crumbling under the litany of sensations flooding your body. Your fingers tangled even more desperately in his hair, encouraging him, pleading without words.

His moans vibrated against your skin, and you dared to watch as he enjoyed every taste you offered him.

The sight caused you to shudder, allowing your body to release and shake around his mouth as you held him in place with your hand, fingers gripping along his scalp.

His whispered praises and adorations mingled with your own gasping cries; an unfinished symphony of pleasure and connection. You called his name, a plea and a prayer laced with ecstasy that reverberated through the studio.

Breathing heavily, you held him still as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. Noah's teasing stopped his soft touch now providing comfort as he rode out the aftershocks with you.

When your trembling subsided, you carefully released him, moving your hand away from his head. He slowly kissed up your body, each one a silent thank you left in its wake until you found yourself locking eyes with Noah again

You sensed the eagerness in him, yet also restrained. He stared at you warily as if asking for permission, and while nervous butterflies fluttered in your stomach, you nodded.

"I can show you the world if you’ll let me,” He said softly, a promise twining itself around each word. His breath was hot against your skin, causing a shiver to run down your spine, exacerbating the butterflies in your belly into starlings.

"Show me," you whispered again, finally allowing yourself to fall, to let go of every single thread of resistance you'd clung to with desperation- ready to be pulled deeper into liminal space.

tags:

@xxkittenkissesxx @deathblacksmoke @nyxisnotok @anameunmusical @sitkowski

@sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @th4t-em0-k1d @dsireland86 @thefallennightmare

@whenthesummerdies @spicywhenspeaking @veronicaphoenix @calleyx13 @tosoundlessdarkistare

@somewhere-diamond @auratheopossumwitch @blackveilomens @skulliecadaver-blog @silentglassbreak

@darkmxgician @sprokat @thatchickwiththecamera @xserenax-13 @fadingangelwisp

@philomenie @into-the-grey @amelia-acero @rumoured-whispers @anything-more-than-human @blacksoul-2 @sweetwombatpizza

@fuck-me-muke @ferduttini @lacy1986

#bad omens fanfiction #Noah Sebastian fanfiction #Noah Sebastian smut #noah sebastian angst #bad omens angst

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simp-ly-writes · 5 months ago

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Chocolate Chip Cookies

─────── · · A Smosh / Mythical Kitchen Fanfic

Pairing: Trevor Evarts x short!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: You are Trevor can't be trusted anywhere with one another, so during one of the few occasions you are allowed to film together- you both decide to make the most of it.

─ · · TAGS: gender-neutral pronouns, light swearing, mutual pining, friends/lovers, play fighting, Ian/Anthnoy/Rhett/Link are all "dads". small reference to the comments section

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 1,477

─ · · A/N: I fully support Trevors IRL relationships, this is fully fictional and meant for entertainment purposes! Man I am craving cookies after writing this. Smosh asks are now open!

─────── · ·

"Hey guys!" you call towards the camera, smiling widely while doing your best to ignore the tall man beside you leaning into your personal space.

"Hey guys!" Trevor mocks your voice before turning around to laugh as you punch his back. The camera cuts to you both standing beside one another, hands purposefully clasped in front as to not touch one another. You both had just been told off by the crew who were growing more annoyed with you two.

Yes, you both pulled many views being on camera together and held the best chemistry of anyone in the cast besides Spencer and his... best friend. But your ability to actually work beside one another was little to none, and your bosses knew this.

"Mine and (name)'s dads have finally allowed them to come over and play in the kitchen with me here at Mythical-" Trevor begins to say before you conclude his sentence.

"Thank you Ian and Anthony and Rhett and Link!" you speak sweetly into the camera, batting your eyelashes for extra effect. "-So as I was saying before being ever so rudely interrupted," Trevor looks down at you, eyes crinkling as you send him a playful glare, leaning into his side. "-we are going up against one another to see who can make the better dish. Josh will be coming in later to blind taste test and determine the winner of todays competition, you ready?"

Trevor asks you, rubbing the side of your arm. "I'm ready to kick you ass!" you declare, breaking away from his touch to move to your side of the kitchen as he does the same. A crew member begins to count off camera as you bounce in your spot, adrenaline pumping through your ears at the sound of one you are darting off. You pray that Trevor does not have the same ideas as you but as he moves to the fridge the same time at you, spreading out his arms to block your view as you slip underneath them and stand proudly in front, reaching in for your chilling dough.

He grabs a very similar looking one, allowing you to sneak back under before moving to his own station and as you both turn to your respective cameras to announce, you are shocked to find your answer echoing. "Today, I will be making my favorite cookies, the best kind of cookies- chocolate chip..."

"Fuck off, you're not," you voice out, pointing your spatula at him with ferociousness. Trevor puts his hands up before smirking and leaning down to look you in the eyes, "Well I am," be begins childishly as you roll eyes towards the camera. "But we will just have to see who makes the better one's now."

You refuse to look back at him as you grab an ice cream scooper from one of the drawers before showing the camera, "tip here: I recommend using this guy to get the perfect serving amount to place on your baking tray. Work smarter not harder-"

"That was cringe," Trevor yells from across the kitchen, you are confused as to how he heard you over the two mixing bowls he has running in the background. "Your bandana is cringe, never had the heart to tell you before," you retort back before smiling at the camera, trying to keep your 'good-child' persona on.

"From what I remember, you said you liked it quite a bit before we starting rolling," he voices, coming around your table and stealing a bit from your dough as you grumble your protest. Smacking his hand away when he goes in for seconds, "you're making your own cookies, remember?"

"But your's taste really good," Trevor says, now emptying his stand mixers as he preps his own trays flowing with memorized precision around the kitchen. You get lost in watching him work, spilling around, towel over his shoulder as he casts you a wink. You blush, flipping him off before sending your tray into the oven. Waving the camera crew over to get a shot of the temperature and times you recommend before going to clean your station.

─────── · ·

You were doing laps around the kitchen and set, trying to find where they kept the serving plates. Growing increasingly frustrated you walked into Trevors side of the kitchen, while grabbing a bite of his leftover dough and asked, "Where do you keep the plates? I can't find them in any of the cupboards..."

"Oh, they are on the top shelf," he moves to show you towards the cabinet. "Why would you guys keep plates on the top shelf?" You question as Trevor keeps his back to you, people behind the camera snicker as your raised eyebrows find the truth in his flushed ears.

"You hid them up there on purpose!" you gasp, hand clutching the false pearls on your chest as he brings the options down for you, leaning against the counter with nonchalance. "Well any excuse for more time filming with you," he hopes to soften your reaction with his comment as you shake your head at him. Holding your lip in from making a reply as you pick your plate and follow Trevor back to the oven as he takes out both of your baked goods.

You look at the two batches side by side curiously. Taking in the added rise in Trevor as yours have spread much wider. Both look mouthwatering as you are tempted to steal one of his and by the growing small smile on his face, he is thinking the same thing.

Reaching over and taking a bite out of one another, you both wave your mouths, dropping the cookies on the counter. "Hot, hot, fuck those are hot!" A staff member comes over, rushing with your water bottles.

After burning your mouths off you both hold each other and laugh, hands gripping aprons before you both move on to plating. You crumble some extra chocolate chunks on the plate with some sea salt chunks before stepping back with a smile, hands raised.

Trevor stands in the same position, "How did you think you did?" Still feeling as completive as ever, you watch both of your plates get carried away to get some close up shots before answering, "I am hopeful to win, but yours did taste incredible. Kinda wished I used the mixture of chocolates that you did instead of the one."

He hums out, nodding along to your reply before you both stand behind Josh as he introduces the judging segment. You grip Trevors hand in waiting, shaking it excitedly as you both score highly.

"It appears you both had fun in the kitchen with one another, in all honesty I was surprised to see the place still standing knowing your history with one another," Josh begins, you imagine the music in the editing later to be getting more dramatic now as the lights in the studio dim.

"Did you really have that little faith in us?" Trevor questions back, Josh twists over the bench to look at you both, returning the mock hurtful look you send him with an equal glare. "Well, this is the first time either of you were allowed in the kitchen without a babysitter and by the mess of your aprons- we should have had another person on the call sheet but nevertheless, we are here for these cookies today. So todays winner is..."

You and Trevor lean down, preparing for the answer and Josh proudly calls out your name, "congratulations!"

You scream, jumping up and down, Trevors hand still in your own as he pulls you into a celebratory hug that you return, giggling happily into his chest as Josh does the outro for you both. The whole studio is clapping, also celebrating the last shooting for the week as you turn to find your office dads waiting. They each send you a pair of thumbs up as the cameras cut and you walk over to them.

"So does this mean me and Trevor can hang out more often?" you ask, looking up at Trevor with hopeful eyes as he nods his head, looking between all four owners. All everyone can do is sigh, exhausted by the seemingly endless energy you and Trevor have when one another are in the room, rolling off each over.

"We will have to check with both of your schedules but... its a yes from our side," Rhett sighs, looking over at Ian who nods his head in a agreement, fixing his glasses. "Yup, but maybe we can double up on some more Mythical Kitchen shoots of you both since you both are still banned from being on Smosh together after breaking that couch..."

"and that lighting panel," Anthony adds before Link steps in to conclude, "You know, I rather like their energy together..."

"-oh god."

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: the smosh fics just keep flowing from my brain.

─ · · TAGLIST: @lisiliely

#trevor evarts #trevor evarts x reader #smosh #smosh imagine #smosh fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #trevor x reader #reader insert #x reader #smosh fanfic #simp ly writes #simp ly

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littleslaywrites · 2 months ago

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dixieland delight | professor!spencer reid x student!reader

summary: spencer reid is your professor, and you find out he’s never been to a football game. you take him to the last game of your senior year. (in honor of going to my first iron bowl tomorrow. roll tide beat auburn.)

word count: 2.3k

cw: f!reader, fluff, minor age gap (reader is 21, spencer is about 15 years older), possibly niche references to bama gameday traditions, excuse to write fanfic of bama winning since we can’t do that irl this season apparently

As Spencer Reid’s student, you spent a good amount of your time visiting during his office hours. In fact, that’s how you got close enough to him that he asked you to become his girlfriend about six months ago. It was his first year teaching, and your final year in college. You assumed, considering that football was a prominent part of the campus culture, that he had been to at least one game this season. Therefore, it came as a surprise to you when he revealed that he had never been to any college football games. Something about him being a little too young and far too nerdy to enjoy the environment.

You had made it your mission for the past two months to convince him to come with you to just one game. He was resistant at first, but eventually you convinced him to attend the last game of the season. Your selling point was that it would be a great way to observe the minds of college students. A weak argument, sure, but he secretly wanted to spend time with you. It was the school’s big rivalry game, and he felt that he should experience it just once. He thought of it as an opportunity to do something he could never enjoy when he was younger, and if he could go with you, that would make it even better.

The week before the game, you made sure to prepare him for the traditions. First and foremost, you went to the store on campus and got him a polo with the team logo. He had to wear something nice to match you, but he couldn’t wear a suit and tie, or he’d end up looking like a pledge. You gave it to him in a gift bag with tulle, along with a shaker in the team colors. When you presented it to him, he was grateful for the gift, but not too thrilled about the outfit. You eventually convinced him to wear it, saying that he’d stick out in his usual outfit. You couldn’t convince him to forgo the mismatched socks, though. Next, you sent him all the chants and songs he would need to learn, Dixieland Delight being the most important. His reply was something about chants being passed down to each generation and popular culture transitioning to folk, but you were more focused on him focussing on not messing up the words come the fourth quarter. It was just one instance of many where you were grateful for his eidetic memory. Most importantly, you make sure he remembers the four most important words in the English language: “Roll Tide” and “Beat Auburn”.

The morning of the game, you wake up bright and early at 8am. You told Spencer to meet you outside of your sorority house at 9:30. He was a little taken aback, considering the game didn’t start until 2:30, but you insisted on him getting the full experience, including early morning tailgating. It took you longer than usual to get ready, considering it was a full glam event. You put on your dress and boots, put your gameday pin on, and walked down the stairs, grabbing a sticker with your letters on it for Spencer.

He is waiting outside your house, looking slightly out of place in the enthused crowd of girls that were taking pictures along the row.

“I like the shirt,” you say, complementing your own taste.

“Thanks,” he replies, “I had a fantastic personal shopper.”

You laugh, pressing the sticker on his chest. He politely grabs your hand, intertwining his finger with yours.

Making your way to the quad, you tell him about who you’d be tailgating with. Some were clubs and organizations you were in at school, others were friends that lived nearby. He listens intently, curious about the peek into your world.

“I brought earplugs,” he says as you walk to the grassy plain of pop-up tents.

“Are you serious?” you say, lightly laughing at him.

“You know, repeated exposure to loud noise due to crowds can cause permanent hearing loss, especially–”

“Alright, I get it.” You smile at his aversion to even the slightest form of risk-taking. It’s hard to believe he rushed into danger as a special agent, but his innate instinct to help others must’ve driven him, you conclude. He smiles back, admiring your outfit and hair. He hardly ever gets to see you done up like this, so the picture of you makes his heart flutter like the first time he saw you.

By the time you’re done tailgating at about one, Spencer is tired from all the social interaction. Of course, he enjoyed meeting your friends, but he’s not necessarily the social type. Noticing his quickly draining social battery, you reassure him that he won’t have to be as conversational once you get to the stadium.

“I know it’s a little hectic,” you reassure him. “Believe me, I was just as lost as you were as a freshman.”

You think of yourself at the beginning of college, an out-of-state freshman who’d never been to a big SEC game before. You were grateful for your sorority sisters who had shown you around, and you were excited to be that person for Spencer.

You stand together outside of the steps of the library, watching the band play the elephant stomp. Once they finish their routine, you follow the band, along with the crowd, to the stadium. Spencer is mesmerized by the crowd and their traditions, as well as their passion for the team. You follow his eyes, seeing your younger self in him, a reversal of the usual dynamic where he sees his younger self in you.

His one request was that you wouldn’t sit in the student section. He could picture how thousands of drunk college students would be, and decided that it would set his germaphobia off as soon as he got there. You two are sitting near the field, Spencer not minding spending the extra for a better view. As you told him, if he was going to do it, he should do it right.

Before you take your seats, you stop by the concessions. You get stadium essentials: pretzels, Denny dogs, and popcorn to share. When you walk out of the tunnel, Spencer is instantly blinded by the sun. The fans are astonishingly excited, considering there’s still 45 minutes until kickoff.

“Are they a little more peppy than the crowds at your comic cons?” you ask, seeing his eyes widening.

“A little.” he smiles down at you, following the lead of your clomping boots up the stairs.

When the game starts, he follows along in the fight song, thankful it’s not too hot. He brought sunscreen along, explaining to you that UV is damaging even when it’s cloudy. At his request, you put it on, wanting to make him happy.

Throughout the game, you lean in to his ear to explain the plays. He opts not to wear the earplugs, wanting to hear every word you say.

“So they get four more downs?” he asks after one particular play where the announcer calls out “first down Alabama”, and the crowd replies with a Roll Tide.

“Exactly,” you say, proud of how fast he’s learning. “You're almost as good of a student as you are a teacher.”

He smiles at your compliment. “It helps when the rest of the crowd is giving hints.”

At halftime, he finds he enjoys the band performance a little more than the actual game, but he’d never tell you that. He makes sure to sing along when they play “Yea Alabama”, knowing it’ll make you proud of his memorization. Your enthusiasm in his interests made him feel supported, and he wanted you to feel the same. He knows what it’s like to be ignored when ranting about whatever fun facts he had to share, so he takes effort to not make you feel the same.

He tentatively wraps his arm around your waist, reassured when you lean into him. He’s always nervous to be affectionate with you, knowing you were worried at first how people would see you when you started dating. Slowly, you got more comfortable in his presence, allowing him to steal a kiss every now and then. He was professional in class, but after that, you were just like any other couple. In a sense, the game was a milestone. Not only were you in public with him, but surrounded by your peers. It warmed his heart that you were proud enough of your relationship to let others see you with him. He always feared he would date someone who would be embarrassed by him, but you were the opposite. You were enamored by everything about him, you loved his brain, his looks, his heart. Enough that you even asked the people sitting behind you to take pictures of the two of you.

You smile down at the image, the two of you in your gameday outfits with the field behind you.

“You look downright southern,” you say, turning your phone to show him.

You both laugh at this, him asking you to send the picture to him. He likes to print his photos out, organizing them in physical albums rather than on his phone, like you did. He makes sure to remember to get an extra for you.

At the start of the fourth quarter, they play “Basket Case” by Green Day, the only song he knew before his lessons in football. He dances along with you, embarrassment escaping him due to your carefree moves.

It’s not too sunny but not too cold, the perfect weather, in your mind, for a game. You wish it was a night game, but the rivalry makes up for it.

When “Dixieland Delight” comes on, he pulls out the shaker you bought for him.

Holding my lover with the other, a sweet, soft, Southern thrill

For a moment, he understands why the crowd doesn’t make you feel claustrophobic.

Hold her up tight (against the wall), make a little loving (all night)

There’s a unity he feels with the other fans as they chant the same words as him.

The sun begins to set over the stadium, dipping below the edge of the upper bowl. You comment on it, and Spencer says something about why the colors look the way they do, but you’re instantly distracted by the Tide running in the game winning touchdown with a 1:32 left in the fourth quarter. The stadium erupts right as Spencer finishes talking, confusing him as he wasn’t really watching the game as his attention was on you.

You’re jumping around and cheering, so he joins in. He would usually feel weird being so enthusiastic, but with the crowd all screaming, he’d almost feel weirder if he didn’t. As the clock runs down, he remembers the final tradition of the game: Rammer Jammer.

When you made him learn all the traditions, you told him that this one was for when you won. Not if, but when. He pointed out your phrasing, but your reply was only “we’re Alabama, of course we’ll win”.

You assumed prior to the game he’d be opposed to heading down to the strip afterwards, considering the crowd would probably pack the streets. He didn’t seem like the type of guy to go to Rounders, anyway. However, as everyone filed out of the stadium, he turned to you and asked what you were doing after the game.

The high from the win was infectious, and, realizing how fun your traditions were, he wanted to do it all.

“What about Taco Bell?” you ask, making the executive decision to rule out any bars. He agrees to that plan, holding your hand as you two walk down University Blvd, packed on all sides by the celebrating students.

“You people go crazy when you win, huh?”

“You should be glad this wasn’t against Tennessee,” you reply.” “I would’ve made you pull out a cigar with the rest of the crowd.”

He smiles, just slightly concerned at the tradition, but choosing not to mention the health risks of smoking. Since you’ve been dating, he’s loosened up, your spirit infectious.

Crammed between the rowdy crowd, he looks at you and smiles. He can tell you have a hint of concern for him, so he squeezes your hand, signifying that he’s enjoying himself.

“I’m glad you convinced me to come,” he says, taking in the energy.

“Me, too. I just wish I convinced you before my last home game.”

“I guess we’ll just have to come back next year.”

This makes you blush, being the first time he’s mentioned anything long term. Part of him enjoys seeing your reaction. He’d usually fumble over his words, explaining himself away, but he sticks with it this time, meaning what he says about the future.

The two of you grab your food, watching everyone on the street from inside.

“A little different from CalTech?”

“A bit,” he smiled. “I wouldn’t call it a party school, and we sure didn’t do football like you guys do.”

“Ever wish you went somewhere down South?”

“I think today was about enough for me.”

You both laugh at this, knowing, even if he wasn’t as young as he was in college, he wasn’t in his element.

He walks you back to the house afterwards, hugging you outside the door. In bed that night, you find yourself smiling at a future where you can drag him along to more games, hoping his comment of “next year” would ring true by then. Or this year would work better, a playoff at Bryant-Denny or even the Rose Bowl. Now that you thought about it, that’d be even better. You fall asleep with visions of a national championship (with Spencer and you in the crowds watching) dancing in your head.

Lucky as a seven, living in heaven with my dixieland delight

a/n: This fic is majorly based on my own life and my own daydreams about our boy Spencer if he worked at my school. Reading it over it sounds like I’m crushing on bama football more than Spencer (which might be true oops). Anyway, I'm gonna start going thru requests soon but I just had to put this idea into writing 🫶

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x you

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fettuccin-e · 2 years ago

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The Wonderful Way Things Change

A/N: hi there everyone... shamefully, very shamefully, I have not posted anything original since i think like february. it was an unplanned hiatus! promise it was completely unplanned, this semester just really kicked my ass lol. BUT HERE WE ARE! with matt smut of course how could I not because he is the loml so please enjoy! love you!

Description: Based off this ask, and can be read as a loose sequel to this (my first ever fanfic oh boy oh boy). In which Foggy calls you to check in on Matt, and the sight of your boyfriend all disheveled in a suit is making you a tad desperate. Thankfully, neither of you have the self-control to keep your hands to yourselves.

Tags: Matt Murdock x Reader, afab!fem!reader, no use of y/n, smut like so much smut who do you think I am, fucking Matty in a suit, oral (f!recieving), unprotected piv (pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids) (w/c: 2.5K)

Yours and Matt’s relationship is new, somewhat, but you both know that it’s been a long time coming. It’s only been a few weeks since he finally kissed you for the first time, since he healed your poor, pining heart. It’s not like other relationships you’ve had, with the talking stage at the beginning, where you’re still asking each other about your childhoods, favorite movies, and songs. You and Matt already know everything about each other.

He knows about your shitty job that you hate but manages to pay the bills. He knows all about your childhood, all of your hopes and dreams. Up until a few weeks ago, the only secret you’d kept from him was your frankly ridiculous crush on him.

But you know that it’s the same way for him. You already know about Daredevil, and to Matt’s unending surprise, you accept him, love him for who he is. You don’t want him to give up either side of himself; you’re happy to just have him. Matt is still trying to get used to the feeling of actually having you, instead of just being by your side, letting you slip through his fingers.

Up until a few weeks ago, Matt had resigned himself to only being your friend. The friendship he’d found in you at Columbia would remain just that. Unbeknownst to him, you’d resigned yourself the exact same way. But a misunderstanding and a frustrated and ridiculously dramatic love confession later, you’d finally kissed him like he’d only dreamed of. You’d allowed him to touch you like he’d always wanted, and Matt could swear that he’s never felt anything softer, never tasted anything sweeter than you.

So the relationship is new, but it also feels like you and Matt have just been waiting, settling into routines like you’ve been together for years. You know how Matt is, how he’ll bury himself into cases and recordings and court documents, searching for that one bit of evidence that proves his client is innocent. He sends Foggy and Karen home on nights like these, insisting that they need to sleep, that they work too hard as is.

“He’s gonna be there for hours,” Foggy tells you over the phone. “You’ve gotta get him out of there or he’s going to collapse.” You laugh, pulling on your coat and stepping out of Matt’s apartment.

Ever since you had both confessed your feelings for each other, and Matt had finally, finally taken you to bed, you had more or less moved in. It hadn’t been intentional, nor had Matt officially asked you, but the one time you had broached the subject of maybe sleeping at your own apartment, Matt’s arms had wrapped around you, holding you to him while he pressed desperate kisses all over your face and neck, telling you that his apartment was so cold without you there.

“C’mon, sweetheart, haven’t we spent more than enough time apart?” he had murmured, and you had agreed.

“Yeah, alright Fog, I’m heading over there now. I’ll make sure you have a well-rested partner by tomorrow,” you giggle into the phone, and you laughed even harder at Foggy’s genuine sigh of relief.

“Christ, how did Nelson, Murdock and Page survive without you and Matt together?”

“It’s truly a mystery, Foggy,” you tease, and Foggy laughs with you. He keeps you on the phone the entire walk to their office building, filling you in on the cases he, Karen, and Matt are working on. You could talk to Foggy for hours, really, but he lets you go as you walk up the steps to their offices. With a promise to talk soon, maybe take a trip to Josie’s, you hang up, shoving your phone into your coat pocket.

You can hear the recording Matt is listening to through the door to his office, some judge droning on and on. You enter the room quietly, heart beating wildly at Matt in his sharp suit, without his glasses, hair mussed from his fingers running through it the way they usually do when he’s working through a case. You watch as a smile blooms across his pretty lips, his eyes lifting to your direction as he pauses the recording.

“Hi, baby,” he says, and his sheer beauty in that moment nearly brings you to your knees. This man, with his hair sticking up in every direction, his tie slightly loosened at his chest, big brown eyes and wide smile is yours. All yours. You can’t help how your heart beats even harder at the thought.

You watch his grin meld into a knowing smirk as he listens to the quick pattering of your heartbeat. “Something got you worked up, sweetheart?”

You hum, crossing the room to where he sits in his office chair. “Oh, you know,” you drawl, trying to keep your voice coy and light, even though you know that your heart is giving away your sudden desperation for the man in front of you. “I’m just thinking about all of the things I get to do now.”

“To me?” He’s playing coy too, trying to goad you.

“Always to you, Matty,” you giggle, and he chuckles in return. You swing a leg over his lap, straddling him and relishing in how his chuckle morphs into a choked gasp.

“What- What kinds of things, gorgeous?” his voice is breathier now, beautifully affected by your actions.

“Just how I can do things like this,” you wrap your hand into his tie, tugging him towards your mouth. “And things like this-” you breathe over his mouth, before capturing his pretty, enticing lips with your own.

Matt groans into the kiss, smoothing his hands over your hips before reaching behind you to grab your ass in his big, thick hands, tugging you further up his lap. Your clothed pussy rests just over the bulge of his cock through his slacks, and you can feel it thickening beneath you.

“And you call me worked up, Matty?” you murmur against his mouth, wiggling in his lap and pulling a soft moan from his lips.

“When my gorgeous girlfriend walks into my office, smelling like my apartment and so fucking soft on top of me,” he says, squeezing your ass again, “how can you expect me to be calm, baby?”

Your stomach bursts into butterflies at the title. You’re his girlfriend. He’s your boyfriend. It feels so very juvenile, like you’re twenty years old again and still trying to get through calculus class. Maybe it’s because you’ve been waiting that long. Waiting for him, since you first met him and Foggy at Columbia. It feels so far away now, so different, and yet, you still burn bright and warm with Matt’s attention on you. Calling you his girlfriend.

He shifts his hips under yours, the bulge of his thick cock against your pussy impossible to ignore, and you whine, just barely, but Matt hears. Of course he does.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “So fucking needy.” He lurches forward again to press his lips to yours, licking into your mouth.

“Please, Matty,” you whisper, and he groans into your mouth all over again. He doesn’t separate his mouth from yours as he lifts you against him, using a hand to brush the cumbersome documents and files off the desk behind you, before laying you softly against it, running his hands over your waist and kissing you like you’re something precious.

But you are, Matt knows that you are the most precious thing in the fucking world. And you want him. Matt can hardly believe it sometimes; he still sometimes thinks he’s dreaming when he feels you in the morning, pressed tight against him, your heart calm and steady with sleep.

He licks into your mouth like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, and what a way to go. He could stay in this moment forever, kissing you while your hands tangle into his hair. But your sexy little whines are echoing around him, your hips moving in desperate little circles against the aching bulge in his slacks.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he whispers, and you just whine louder. It’s a nearly painful thing, taking his lips from yours, but he can fucking smell your arousal, and the need to dive between your thighs is suddenly too much for him to handle.

You kind of want to cry when Matt breaks your kiss, but your mourning at the loss of his lips is quickly cut short by his thick, calloused hands pushing your skirt up your thighs, leaving the material to bunch around your waist. He nudges his nose against your clit through your panties, taking a deep breath in through his nose, savoring it, and you nearly black out.

“Oh- oh my God,” you stutter, and Matt smirks in that ridiculously cocky way you hate that you love.

“I mean, I go by Matt, but if you want to call me God-” Matt starts, tugging your panties down your legs.

“Matthew Michael Murdock, I swear-” You want to continue, you really do, but it’s really hard to keep your train of thought when Matt is leaning down and licking a long stripe up your soaked pussy, swirling around your clit and making your hips buck up uncontrollably. He quickly braces a forearm over your twitching body, holding you still with his strength while he eats your pretty cunt.

“So fucking wet for me, gorgeous,” he mutters between your thighs, the vibrations feeling like shockwaves up your spine. “So pretty, baby, could’ve been eating this pretty cunt since college.”

You can barely form a sentence, only able to utter out whines of Matt, Matt Matt, between desperate moans as he licks into you. You can feel him grinning into your cunt, knowing he’s driving you fucking crazy, before he’s drawing up to capture your throbbing clit into his mouth and sucks. He brings his free hand up to sink a thick finger into your needy entrance, crooking it up and pressing into a spot inside that makes white creep into the edges of your vision. He just sucks and sucks, swirling his tongue around our achy clit and playing with you like a toy.

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, unexpected and brutal, and you would have thrashed off the desk if it weren’t for Matt’s strong arms holding you steady. He carries you through it, licking at you softly while he keeps his finger inside, giving your pussy something to clutch onto. As your hips finally stop twitching, Matt rises, leaning over you again, and you can’t help but tug at his tie again, dragging his mouth to yours, uncaring of the taste of your pussy covering his lips.

“Please fuck me, Matty, oh god, please. Need you in me, baby,” you whine, and you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed at how needy you sound. Matt groans, sounding just as desperate as he licks into your mouth. He takes his hands from your body to reach down, undoing his belt and slacks just enough to tug his aching cock out. He’s so hard it’s nearly painful, the head sticky and red and throbbing with the need to fuck you. To claim you.

You wrap your arms over his back, tucking your head into the crook of his neck as he sinks into your sensitive pussy. As he finally bottoms out, you lean back to look at him, at his big eyes staring just off your face, his mouth slightly agape.

“I thought about this, y’know,” you whisper, your nails digging into his back as he presses just a bit deeper inside. “Every time I brought you guys lunch, I-” you moan softly as Matt thrusts, hard and so fucking deep you swear you swear you can feel him in your guts. “I thought about you, fucking me on this desk, in-in this fucking suit, god, Matt.”

“Shit, baby,” he grunts, rocking into you so hard the desk rattles beneath you. You can barely pay attention to it, not when the tip of Matt’s thick cock is grinding into the spot inside you that makes you scream, your nails digging into the soft fabric covering his back. “I thought about you too, god, you have no idea, sweetheart.” You can only whine in response as he continues, “You’d bring us all lunch, wearing your little uniform, fuck, with that pretty skirt and those heels.”

Matt’s hands tighten over your hips, forcing you to meet him thrust for thrust, and it’s so fucking good. You can’t manage to answer him through your desperate whines of his name and choked moans as his thick cock stretches you out for him, but Matt’s still talking. You don’t know if he can stop.

“I could hear your thighs brushing together under that tight fucking skirt, your heels clicking up the hall, and all I could think about was ruining you. Ripping that skirt off you and making you beg for my cock,” he grunts, driving desperately into your soaked pussy. Your head is swimming, drowning in Matt’s words, his scent, his cock.

“Now I can, baby,” he grunts, voice breaking on a choked moan. “I can fuck you just how I’ve wanted, make this pretty pussy soak my cock. Can wake up to you in my bed, fuck you whenever I want, whenever you want, baby, fuck I’m yours. You hear me, angel? I’m yours.” Matt can feel your pussy fluttering desperately around his cock, and snakes a hand between your bodies to press a thumb over your clit.

He leans over you, his tie loose and dangling over your face as he growls, “and you’re mine. Mine.”

And you’re gone, pussy tightening like a vice around Matt’s thick cock, screaming his name. Little tears escape your eyes, dripping down your cheeks as Matt groans your name in return, hips stuttering into yours and flooding your overwhelmed pussy with his cum. You can hear him, just barely, through the roar of blood in your ears as he whispers, “So good, baby, so perfect. Love you so much, so much, you have no idea. I love you, loved you for so fucking long, angel.”

You bring your hands up to tangle your fingers into his soft hair, bringing him to your lips, whispering a soft “I love you so much, Matty,” in return before meeting him in a soft kiss. His smile against your mouth is blinding, endlessly joyful, and slightly delirious.

He’s still buried inside you a few minutes later, when you finally whisper, “I’m not sure this is what Foggy had in mind when he sent me over here.”

“If this is what Foggy had in mind, I might have to send him a fruit basket, or buy him a round,” Matt chuckles, and you smack him lightly on the shoulder before you’re laughing too. Matt smiles, unable to believe that you’re his, before he cuts your giggling off with a loving kiss.

#hey I'm back #with daredevil smut #what else did you expect #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock smut #daredevil x you #daredevil x reader #daredevil smut #daredevil fanfiction

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olderthannetfic · 10 months ago

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I always see people who have never been antis, talking about/questioning how some antis even ARE antis when you look at their taste in media - ie the ever famous joke of "Hannigram is #problematique" "but it's a show where he eats people" or whatever.

I thought I'd weigh in as someone who could, hypothetically, be called an ex-anti (which, thankfully, nothing ever really came out of it - it was just very 2014 keyboardwarrior-esque behavior of me being a chronically online young adult who would share posts in a group chat making fun of certain shippers, or reblog posts about how 50shades is The Most Problematic Media Ever to exist -- basically I was an anti with anti-lines of thoughts, but i never, like, a ran a Shipping Discourse Blog or whatever)

For me, personally, it was a few different things. I can now see how it's incredibly hypocritical that teenaged me shipped Light/L, while still thinking that Dramione was Bad And Abusive. It ultimately boiled down to a) being pretentious, and b) just not understanding media or what proshippers REALLY believed, with a side of c) not realizing that nuance exists. like i was pretty late to join tumblr, I think I immigrated here during PEAK "yourfaveisproblematic" era which definitely did have an impact on my opinions and my tastes.

to elaborate, a.) being pretentious. i mean this one just kinda goes without saying. "I engage in media in a way more intellectual way than you do, don't you know that? You're a filthy and disgusting person who writes Snape/Hermione because you're an actually disgusting pedophile IRL who would probably date your own student that you're abusing if you could. Meanwhile, I'm a very smart, good, and pure person. When I read Uncle Vernon/Harry, I'm doing it in a G-d honoring whump way that clearly condemns abuse, incest, and rape. Unlike YOU who only writes harmful stuff as a way to get people off :/"

(as an aside, i think this line of thinking will ALWAYS be present in fandom and popculture in some way, sadly. ie the recent trend of people hating on booktok bc the books are 'trashy' and how these porn addicts should read real classic literature instead.)

as for b.), not understanding media - i cannot emphasize enough that i was GENUINELY stupid and disconnected enough to think that proshippers REALLY WERE pro-All Of The Degenerate Dead Doves That They Wrote.

why did i feel this way? why did i understand that Lolita clearly isnt pro-pedophilia, but for some reason i thought that someone shipping weecest was? well, first of all, i think that fanfiction is (generally) seen as Less Serious than classic literature, and fandom is a fun place, so i guess i somehow thought that every fanfic/fanartist who wrote Problematic Things, especially Problematic Things that they portrayed as Sexy, really DID enjoy the thought of that Actually Happening To Real People.

and i think THIS is the bulk of why antis ARE antis. i'm not calling them all stupid - i do think BEING an anti is stupid, but at the same time, there are people who are truly smart and good-intended people who just have some really off color opinions about, like, homestuck ships or whatever. Lawlight is okay because notebooks that kill people don't exist so it's IMPOSSIBLE for the Harmful Aspects of Light/L to be romanticized! but schoolyard prejudiced bullies DO exist and are a REAL problem so Drarry is BAD (*truly completely unaware of the fact that there's 'realistic' aspects of the Light/L dynamic and 'unrealistic' aspects of Drarry - such as, for example, Hogwarts arguably being even MORE of a fantasy setting than DN is.*) I know that media literacy is the hot buzzword of the year to throw around in 2024, but, like, i really did not have media literacy.

as for c.), not realizing nuance exists - ok "nuance" might not be the best word here, but i dont know how else to describe it. like, each time ive typed the word "problematic" out in this ask, i've done so in a very tongue in cheek/ironic/retroactive way, but, like, those posts about how Everything Is Problematic, Including Your Fave ARE true. and i didn't like the fact that my favorite media or favorite person might've Made A Mistake! i need to Talk About Its Issues Because I'm So Betrayed That My Dear Sweet Comfort Media Would Do This To Me. I Need To Prove I Clearly Condemn It.

like, i legit morally could not justify reblogging a twilight post without adding in the tags '#this is my guilty pleasure it sucks that the books were so racist though' or whatever. Most people were lucky enough to avoid that line of thinking, but there was an actual group of people who felt a genuine need to virtue signal all the time, partly bc, hey, they WERE passionate about talking abt #issues in media, but also bc of a subconscious fear of If You Reblog A Singular Piece Of Hetalia Fanart, You're Literally A Nazi And Will Get A Callout Post Written About You.

and during all of this i was at the tail end of my high school experience (yes i know im younger than most of your audience, ha). i was going through A Lot emotionally, going through a lot of life changes, and lived in a very . . . interesting household/place where i couldn't do ACTUAL good in the world that i was passionate about. so to make up for the fact that i was genuinely in no place to do legit activism, clearly i had to save the gay community by arguing about johnlock queerbaiting or whatever.

^ and honestly i do think that is the position of most antis. theyre isolated and cant seem to do Enough in the Real Scary World so they have to resort to talking about how bad of a person someone is for "shipping abuse", bc theyre not in a situation where they could, for example, ACTUALLY fight the good fight to end abuse or raise awareness for it.

There was way more to it and way more that I could say, if I wanted to, but this post is long enough as it is and probably doesn't make much sense.

I feel bad for antis, honestly, or at least the ones who are antis in the way I used to be.

Oh yes, passionate young fools who think they can at least fix the internet if not their lives make up most of the cannon fodder. Some of the ringleaders are just mini dictators and wannabe cult leaders, but most anti-leaning types are just traumatized or clueless, even a lot of the ones who do serious damage and don't just mock shit in private with their friends.

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katsu-not-found · 11 months ago

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Are there any Dazatsu fics that you can recommend reading? I've tried finding some but not all are really great so I thought a second persons advice might help.

Hi anon! Of course I can but I dont really read recent fics on ao3 so they are probably a bit old but! I'll put author recommendations instead who writes dazatsu and example of the fics I like from them so you can check them out yourself!

First is @looking-for-stray-dogs or planet_b612 on ao3. She is like, the goddess of dazatsu fanfics if you ask me because she captured their characters perfectly in my opinion. I think there's not any dazatsu shippers who dont know her but here is one of the fics I like from them. It has getting back together trope which is rare for dazatsu.

Second is @blchwaaaan with the same username on ao3. They are specialized in writing angst, but their fluff is top tier too. This is one of their dazatsu fluff I like, and this one is the angst one.

Next is @mamichigo though they are currently not actively writing for bsd anymore but it's worth checking them out. Here is one of the ones I like from them.

@ladytective is good too. They are samuela on ao3 and not really active now but still updating their ongoing series that I really look forward to. They write romance with humors but still will make you clench your heart with the fluff and light angst. This is one of my fav!

Their friend treetrunkdaddy also write good dazatsu but I forgot their tumblr (sorry!) but this one is example of their fics.

@datura-foxglove is not an active author anymore too but their dazatsu is worth checking! There are some on their blog but there are some on ao3 too. This one is one of the fics I like.

The rest I'll put my recs to the fic only because I dont know or not sure of their tumblr handle😅😔

In Coming Years by chimesDissent

Take Me Back to The Night We Met by Mushroomfields

thinking till the sun comes up by arrrowiee

a history of me and you (writer AU) by murakamism

The Disqualified by corgo_queen (this one is very angsty but thrilling)

mum's the word by angelofgrief

Damn The Bastard Anyway by galliechan

the little moments in life by eunhami

Late Night Thesis Excuses series by tamarind (this one is really angsty too)

something worth living for by monomoon

Our Love (in a Ball of Yarn) by celestial_sorrow (one of my fav)

Healing Touch by WalkingFadingColors

live for something beautiful by lostdandelion

heat of the moment by anonymous (this one is omegaverse and nsfw so please read the tags with caution)

Mokita by Hinenokubi (atsushi is sick like his IRL counterpart here and yes it's very angst with no happy thing for dazai)

From an empty apartment by Iaka_Linksar

love in a cauldron by sleepyfoxthieves

I think that's all for now? Or this post will be even longer than this akjsjss I'm sorry if you've already read some of these but if not, I hope they are into your tastes. And dont forget you can check on the authors' account if you like their writing. Good luck and happy reading!

#dazatsu #fic recommendations #fic rec #asks

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v4mpib4mbi · 9 months ago

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𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐒!:𝐩

also sort of intro post?

⛧°｡⋆༺♱༻⋆｡°⛧

hi hello queens and queers, im currently rotting in my bed with no intention to sleep any time soon, hiding from a creature with wings that is flying in my room and yearning for people to share interests with

this is not a safe space for bigots so if you're a racist homophobic ableist piece of shit, you can get off my post <3

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Things about me:

🥀 mdni! id prefer 20+ moots since im 23 myself and sometimes my content can get a bit nsfw; please have your age in your bio if you wanna be moots;

if you’re a minor and interact with any of my posts (whether they’re suitable for younger audiences or not), you are responsible for your own media consumption, but keep in mind i won’t be interacting with you!

🦇 horror/gothic media has been my whole personality since i was a toddler so it's a big bonus if you're into this type of media; slashers are especially a big slap for me (mentally im in a spooky 80s summercamp);

🥀 my hobbies include reading, writing fanfics (that i usually never finish lmao but i do love sharing my works!), roleplaying, videogaming and i started drawing again! (usually my ocs lol);

you can find my art under the #my art tag!

🦇 I have a pretty wide music taste, but i listen to 80% alt music and mostly fall into the goth and emo subgenres (still love metal, numetal, grunge, new wave and punk!);

🥀 i am queer and go by she/her and xe/xis; been out for about 9 years;

🦇 i am pagan and occasionally practice soft witchcraft (mostly protection spells, though i am a bit irresponsible…); i also read tarot but im a lazy bitch and can’t bring myself to practice more sorry;

🥀 i’m the ultimate fangirl you will ever meet — i LOVE fiction, i love pop culture, i WILL self insert myself in everything and make our ocs go out shopping ;p

Some of my fandoms

note: hyperfixating ; not really in touch with it anymore

The Arcana

Baldur's Gate 3

Genshin Impact

Honkai Star Rail

Creepypasta/Marble Hornets

Undertale

Death Note

Stranger Things

Hazbin Hotel

Helluva Boss

Criminal Minds

SallyFace

Penny Dreadful

American Horror Story

Merlin

Mindhunter

Avatar: The Last Airbender

Avatar: The Legwnd of Korra

Mystic Messenger

Diabolik Lovers

Vampire Knight

Castlevania

Arcane

Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji

Gravity Falls

Steven Universe

She Ra

Twin Peaks

The Walking Dead

Scream

if you feel like we would click follow me, dm me or interact with this post (or all of the above!) and feel free to ask me anything, start a conversation or even send me random stuff here or on my discord! :p

Also! I’d love to watch movies with someone as im kinda lonely irl so if u are a movie person DOOO remind me of this when/if you text me !

SOCIALS:

letterboxd

tiktok

instagram

spotify

xoxo bye bye <3

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paletigers · 2 years ago

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Some Stardew Valley redesigns/reimaginings!! these pics were about a week apart from one another so theyre in two different styles lol

some explainations below the cut!

For Context: A lot of these headcanons are based off of my own personal lived experiences! They're also just my preferences for their characters in general. I have only romanced Sebastian in-game but looked at Alex's Wiki page for context on the background for his character. I don't really know much about him canon wise, I've only read fanfics with him in it LOL ANWAY!

Sebastian: -25 yrs old + Transman + Gay/MLM -I really liked how he had a motorcycle in-game but thought that there wasn't much to say about it, so I wanted to make it apart of his core as a character! He's a sport motorcyclist as a hobby. He loves high speed racing.

-He's still a programmer, but he's now a Game designer! This is mainly because my lovely boyfriend is a game designer irl and he's like my muse and I love cramming his traits into my favorite characters.

-He plays bass istead of keyboard in Sam's band. I dunno, I think keyboard is fun and all (i actually own two keyboards and played piano in hs) but like. cmon. Bass would suit him so much better.

-I gave him a battle jacket he wears over his normal hoodie. I feel like he has a couple of these from over the years that are DIY with his ever growing music taste. Battle jackets are such a staple in the alt music scene I felt like its a crime he doesn't have one in game. Sebastian you would love battle jackets.

-His motorcycle is a sportsbike instead of a standard/chopper. His helmet also resembles a cat, but definitely not on purpose! Definitely not.

-He has a LOT of scars. Some self inflicted (but he's recovering), others from surgery! He has top surgery scars designed to resemble spider webs, a phaloplasty skin graft scar on his left arm, and gnarly huge scars on his ribs down to his legs.

-He suffered a motorcycle accident resulting in his bike being damaged as well as giving him a limp. He's constantly fixing up his bike since then, wanting to ensure another wipe out won't happen again and that his bike is reall okay to ride again.

-HIS PIERCINNGNSSSSS he has a shit ton of piercings! Not shown, he has a Jacob's ladder piercing. :3c

-His personality doesn't really change much from in-game. I'd personally prefer if he was less bitchy and more just a rarely speaking type. The kind to keep his comments to himself. Bitching about your step sibling and your step dad gets stale, bro

Alex: (Sorry to any alex fans, I changed him a LOT)

-27 + Cismale + Closeted Bisexual

-An ex-pro hockey player (goalie). I don't really care for "gridball" since it's just a couple of sports mixed together (from my understanding) so I decided to just give him a real world sport to play. Plus, hockey just kind of suits him for some reason?? I dunno

-Moved back to Pelican town after the news of his Mother's condition worsening and his Father jumping ship. In my version, he got recruited straight out of highschool to go pro for hockey. He had reservations about leaving his Mother with his Dad, but decided it was the best solution to the shitty situation. This way, he'd have more money to help her medical costs since his Dad's insurance was shitty anyway. A few years go by with constant health updates from his Grandparents, when one day his Dad just calls it quits on caregiving, deciding he doesn't want to waste his life away caring for his wife, and leaves. Without physical support from his Father to help around the house and help his Mother, Alex makes the choice to move back home and become his Mother's caregiver. He struggles with the emotional weight of this job ontop of how extremely demanding it is, but does his best for his Mother. She dies, and now he's taking care of his Grandparents. -I really wanted him to be a caregiver to his grandparents because my family were caregivers to both my Mother and my Father's parents LOL we spent all 23 years of my life taking care of them, so i thought it would be fun to think about. I imagine Evelyn and George to be my grandparents and constantly give them their favorite gifts in-game. (mainly george. i love him) (hes not homophobic hes just OLD and STUPID i LOVE HIM !!!!!!)

-Alex is constantly worried he won't be the same after caregiving for this long. He's worried he won't be able to go back to pro-hockey without reliving the stress of his mother's death. He's been having trouble keeping asleep at night, often waking up every few hours and being completely restless. He'll decompress at the sauna at unbearable hours of the night just because he can't sleep.

-He's the town helper! I thought it would be cute if he's the guy the town usually went to if they needed serious physical help with something, like setting up festival decorations, fixing fenceposts, shit like that. He loves helping out the town and INSISTS sometimes to be the one to fix a problem. When the farmer first comes into town and starts being the more dependable one, he starts feeling hopeless and easily emotionally distant. It's hard being the one everyone depended on to suddenly not being needed anymore. (It's not all entirely in his head, but he gets really worked up sometimes about feeling useless)

-Still an arrogant little shit! Instead of dreams of stardom, it's kind of a "washed up" celebrity kind of arrogance. He thinks he's hot shit because he travelled the world playing games for a couple of years. This backfires in his face, he'll sometimes sit for too long on his "glory days" and spiral, getting depressed about not playing anymore and his role as a caregiver despite loving his grandparents immensely.

-This headcanon is just silly but i think he likes to fish. He's so arrogant that he thinks hes amazing at it but fish rarely bite his line and when they do, they drag him into the river or sand at the beach. It's even more embarrassing because he thinks he's fine and continues to fish despite having sand and dirt all over himself.

-He's covered in moles! I also gave him freckles in places where his skin sees the most sun. (He's also got chest hair bc yall know i love hair on a man LMAO)

anyway. Long post! My bad. I was thinking of writing some Stardew Valley fanfics while working on some other stuff bc I want to explore my versions of Alex and Seb, and also maybe they explore each others bodies???? Let me know if that's something you'd guys like to read/offer up suggestions!!!

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edenian-gothik · 11 days ago

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Can I have some Kabal Headcanons?

Plz I wanna marry him! 🫣🫣🫣.

Dear anon, I hope this Headkanon finds you well (Why does this feel like I’m sending a formal letter all of a sudden…??).

Ah, that’s a common experience in the fandom, who wouldn't want to marry someone as cool and great as Kabal? 10/10 Childhood and teenage crush for me, and dare I say it still holds strong to this day too.

Also, thank you @singlecelledthot , I give you credit for creating one of the best Kabal Fanfics I’ve ever read and I referenced some of the lines (although poorly, apologies for that), but not exactly, so anon will still get surprised when they read it for the first time ;).

But anyways, back to the Headcanon:

Trigger warnings: Mild angst (?) , SFW. EDNI (Empaths, Do Not Interact.)

—--

Since I was little I always perceived him a certain way, then I saw his Shaolin Monks version and I was disappointed that he looked so different x’D (Not that he looks bad or anything, just different).

Then MK11 came out years later, and I was like “That’s closer to the Kabal of my imagination!” Albeit, with some differences.

I imagined his face was more elongated.

I also imagined he had a cleft chin, don't ask me why lol (?).

I always thought his hair was a lighter shade of brown and not black as it was commonly depicted at that time.

For some reason, as a child I thought the black thing above his mask wasn't actually his hair but some kind of cloth attached to it? Maybe it was the pixelar texture or me just not paying attention (or the Sega Genesis compression, Idk.)

I imagine his hair to be hard and kind of “porous”. Not that shiny even before getting burned.

Also, I headcanon that his laugh is kind of like Beavis and Butthead's. More like “Uhuhuhuhuhuh”.

He would have loved MTV as a teenager. And if he was born in a more modern area, he would be chronically online on Reddit lol.

He doesn't give a fuck wether his music taste is good or not. He always assumes all music is okay even if people say it's trash or smth. He listens to Korn, Slipknot, and maybe Limp Bizkit. Take that as you will. Maybe even…(Dare I say it?...) Linkin Park (?).

He adores Goth fashion. Dyed hair? Darker clothes? Dark lipstick and very bold, edgy makeup? You name it. He's all for it. However, this is just a preference, not an obligation really.

I don't remember the specific fanfic, but there was a phrase that I loved about him, something along the lines of “Confidence looked so sexy in him”. And I can totally see it.

Kabal has had many ups and downs, highs and lows with his own appearance (Especially post!burn), and how he is perceived by the people surrounding him.

But I know we know he will never not be a handsome young man (I sounded like a grandma but I legit say those things irl, lol.). He deserves everything good life can offer to him, honestly.

I headcanon him as a libra! And that may be the cause of him being strict on his own looks. I have to search for that fanfic, but in it he literally thought “He couldn fathom, or stomach, watching himself in the mirror”.

As I said earlier, he has low self esteem (always had IMHO, the fact that he got burned only fueled his insecurities.)

He sometimes can come off as harsh when setting boundaries, but please have patience with him, he has gone through a lot.

He also probably has to do some kind of treatment for his skin. I cannot imagine him putting lotion on his skin so you will have to help him with that.

You will also have to help him to wash himself while bathing or having a shower because sometimes, even the water going through his skin can be painful. So, overall, you will have to help him with some specific things about his hygiene.

He can also start scratching his own skin and start bleeding, you will have to be patient while curing him and reassuring him, because he will tell you things like “I’m such a burden to you”, or “I ruined your life.”. You will have to stay strong through those times. (And I know you will.)

While you're asleep, he might hug you from behind (He likes being both big and small spoon), and think “I don't deserve you…”. But he knows you actually love him. He just hopes his love for you is enough so you won't want to run away eventually.

Sometimes he has trouble breathing well so he prefers to sleep in more of a sitting position.

About marriage and kids…:

I do think he would love to be legally married to you, if things weren't so…complicated. He wouldn't tell anyone about it. Everything would be done in secret for the most part.

If you had kids, they would probably be twins (like the ones in his MK11 ending, just imagine it is you and not Sareena, lol.). I imagine they would be a son and a daughter.

Your son’s name would probably be Kaleb, and your daughter could be Keirah (These are just some ideas, it's up to you how you name them or what do you choose about all these headkanons.)

I found the fanfic and the fanfic creator!! They are @singlecelledthot here on Tumblr and their fanfic is called “Fancy meeting you here”. Please give their blog a chance!! They are so good at writing!! Omg!!

They’ve also got some memes and more stories, so I’m leaving you in good hands/care, anon! And thank you for your request!!

See you all in another post!!

#Kabal #Mortal Kombat #Kabal x Reader #Kabal x Y/N #Post!Burn Kabal #MK9 #UMK3 #MKX #MK11 #Gotta go fast lol

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ofmermaidstories · 25 days ago

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hiya mermie! i hope you’re doing well 💕💕 for your latest game: 🥸 ✍️

hiiii symmiee. how are you doing?? i feel like i’m slowly losing the last of that dreamy end-of-year seasonal magic but that’s okay. 😔🥹 it just leaves the normal summer magic ig LOL. actually now that i say that aloud, i’m kinda realising how much i associate peak-summer vibes with christmas and NYE… now it’s just kinda like oh yeah. here’s the rest of it, LOL. ANYWAYS let’s play. 🥹

🥸 Does anyone in IRL know you write fanfic or original fiction? If not, do you plan on telling anyone this year?

lmaoooo, everyone knows i write fanfic. i am not embarrassed about it!! if i end up talking to you for more than like, five minutes, then ur gonna learn!! the last random i told was the new bookseller in town—that was a bit of a eh kinda situation tho bc we’d been talking about like, books beforehand, like, kid books and YA and then i launched into my whole theory about adults clinging to YA/trying to make New Adult a thing bc like, they want the finding-yourself-quest vibes that YA has but with like, sex, lmaooo, and then she was telling me about her book that she’s writing (middle aged woman finds a magical companion, quest ensures) and i was like yayay that sounds so fun and then she asked me if i wrote and i was like YEPP self-insert fic baby. 😌 and then she was like oh, and then she was like, for what fandom, and then bc i am a shitstirrer i was like, My Hero Academia 🙂 and then she was like oh. and then she tried to double charge me for the book i was buying LMAOO. that’s actually not funny, bc i had to be like sorry babe you already got me for it, i have the receipt right here. 😔 i think that’s been the first interaction i’ve ever had IRL where someone like, visibly became disinterested as soon as the words “self-insert” happen, but like, i use that term very deliberately whenever i’m talking with another chronically online adult!! it’s a good way of testing the waters etc etc. fanfic is suchhhh a funny topic to talk about IRL tbh, because you either encounter people who like, don’t know what it is, or people who do—and then you get to see how wildly different everyone’s tastes can be. the last time i ended up talking with someone in real life about fic (before this), they were telling me all about the Hazbin Hotel stuff they were reading and i was like ohhh, i know what that is!! and they were like, omg do you read adamsapple too? and i was like nah, but i did see people on twitter whinging about the series being staffed with people who have kinks or w/e? which then devolved into a convo about the local BDSM community that they (the person i was talking to) was apart of and i was like ooooh bc then they were spilling some of the local tea, but anyways my point is that talking about fanfic is fun and i do not shy away from it LOL.

✍🏽 Which stat matters most to you (if at all!): subscriptions, kudos/favourites, comments, bookmarks, word count, or hits?

i am not impressed by numbers as a general rule (maths is for nerds), but i will celebrate if i happen to be on Ao3 and notice a fic hits like, a significant milestone in terms of hits or kudos. it is important to have fun with this stuff. 🎂🥹 saying that i—like most of us here—am incredibly susceptible to the idea of like, comments. being reached out to, really. 🥺🥹 i save every single one that hits my inbox lmao. like a little dragon holding a pile of words xdlkfjskldjfdsj.

#ofmermaidstories-asks #hi sym hiiiii #[ask game tag insert here]

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sorrowsofsilence · 1 year ago

Text

Deeper • Ruffilo

Pairing: Nicholas Ruffilo x FemReader

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: Smut (18+, unprotected PnV pls wrap it before u tap it, slight breeding, inside orgasm), alcohol, swearing, jealousy, teasing. Legit just smut but with some plot lol

Prompt: you know what they say, bassist string it deeper.

Authors note: I’m so fucking tired but I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I am a literal puddle. Also this ended up being way longer than intended, oops :3

THIS IS A FANFIC USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THAT THIS PERSON WOULD DO THIS IRL OR ACT LIKE THIS! ITS FICTION!

Tags: @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @th4t-em0-k1d @lans-angels @dsireland86

Well, you know what they say, bassists do it deeper.

Ruffilo was never a fan of social situations, or people he didn’t know. If he could stay at home and away from the public’s eye, he would. He’d be happy just living with his best friends and some cats, as he was extremely shy; but he was also very needy.

Nick was always fighting for your attention; especially when you laughed a little too hard at one of Folio’s jokes, or a sarcastic comment of Jolly’s. He’d wrap your fingers through his, pulling at your arm so you would sit next to him, tugging you gently away from whoever else you were talking to. Sometimes he got jealous of all the attention you’d receive, especially when out in public; but if anything he despised when you talked to Noah. You were definitely waaay too flirty with him- in Nick’s opinion- but he’d never tell you he thought this because you and him were just friends. Noah played into the teasing you gave him; even though he knew Nick had a thing for you.

It was Halloween, Noah’s birthday; all the boys plus a bunch of friends were celebrating in their Los Angeles home. Nick’s leg bounced anxiously as he sat at the kitchen table with a drink in hand, waiting for you to show up. He exhaled sharply through his nose, eyes staying fixed on the front door as he took a sip, nearly spitting out the vile red mixture. Vodka cran my ass tastes more like some sort of disgusting pink Whitney mix. He thought.

Nick’s mind began to race, thinking about you. You were an hour late, something that rarely occurred because you were always extremely punctual. He wondered where you were; his comfort person. His anxiety was rampant at the amount of people in their house. All he wanted was to see you, so you could tell him everything would be okay; but also because he was head over heels in fucking love with you.

Folio and Jolly were off playing a game of definitely rigged cup-pong, while Noah jumped through various conversations with each guest, thanking everyone for showing up to celebrate his birthday.

Nick took another sip, hand shaking in anticipation as he watched various couples dance through the kitchen, the music loud, echoing through the walls. He readjusted his Jedi- robes multiple times, tugging on the fabric nervously.

Finally, the front door opened, and Nick had to stop himself from standing up immediately at the sight of you, ready for you to hold him in your arms. You waltzed into the house, the thick-heeled boots you wore thumping against the ground, following the beat of his heart.

You smiled when your eyes met his, your dark burgundy lipstick parting, radiating against your skin; his heart pounded heavily. His eyes fought the urge to skim across your body, particularly across your exposed thighs, as the short black skirt you wore rode up dangerously high. He was practically melting in his chair, pants beginning to tighten at the thought of bending you over the counter, taking you from behind.

“What’s up Anakin,” you said, your own eyes glancing across his robes, grinning at his nerdy costume. Nick was always such a dork for Star Wars, but he was your dork.

Nick smiled, relief evident on his face that you were here; but the lingering lust he felt towards you crawled through his skin. His throat began to tighten, and words fumbled. He grabbed his cup, swallowing the remaining vodka-Whitney-cran or whatever the fuck it was, eyeing your every move as you made yourself at home, navigating through the kitchen with ease.

You placed your grocery bag of snacks and drinks you brought in the fridge, closing the door with your heel before cracking open a cooler, and taking a sip as you turned towards Nick. He loved how comfortable you were here, in his house, as if it was your own. Where you were meant to be.

“Hey,” Nick nodded, the corners of his mouth turned up. “Freddy Kruger.”

He maintained eye contact, your E/C eyes lingering in his, the glint in them playful, as if you knew what you were doing to him. The cut-up red and black striped sweater hung cropped across your body, leaving one shoulder exposed, a variety of fake slashes drawn into your skin. The faux-clawed glove was placed on your non-dominant hand, and a brimmed felt hat was placed on top of your head.

“Do you like it?” You asked, giving a slight twirl, and as you turned Nick swore he could see the bottom outline of your cheeks. His face flushed as he shifted in his seat, eyes turning to the floor, becoming very interested in the wood.

“You look fantastic,” Nick said.

You smiled as your face warmed at Nick’s words, even if prompted. Taking another sip of your cooler you hoisted yourself on the counter, sitting on top of the faux marble, the top cold against your thighs.

Nick’s silver eyes glanced up at you through his lashes, before he stood up, grabbing himself another drink.

“You drunk yet?” You asked him, and Nick shook his head in response.

“I was waiting for you, plus, I didn’t want to participate in folio’s rigged version of cup pong. Who plays it where if you miss the ball you drink?” Nick pressed his lips together, before going back to the punch bowl to fill his cup.

“The hell is that?” You nodded towards the bowl, curious about what sort of Halloween-themed drink was made.

“Some garbage Jolly mixed up.” Nick looked into the cup, shrugging before taking another sip. His eyebrows furrowed in disgust, squeezing his eyes shut.

A laugh escaped your lips, “Let me try.”

Nick walked towards you, your legs parting slightly as he stood between you, careful not to get too close, reaching the cup out for you to grab.

Instead of grabbing the cup you leaned forward, placing your lips against the plastic, prompting Nick to feed you the liquid. He tilted the cup, eyes watching your lips intensely as you followed his stare. You took a big sip, coughing after you pulled away. The alcohol flowed down your throat, burning at its strength.

“Jesus, that’s fucking gross,” you covered your mouth briefly before taking a chaser of your drink. You chugged the rest, letting your legs swing as they dangled off the counter, Nick still standing close to you, the heat radiating off of him.

You leaned to the side, tossing the can into the recycling as Noah turned the corner, his eyes brightening into a drunken smile as he swayed towards you, open arms.

“Y/N!” He yelled, the bass of the music pumping in the background.

“Noah!” You immediately jumped off of the counter, being engulfed in his embrace. Noah’s hands trailed down your back, dangerously close to the bottom of your skirt. “Happy birthday you nerd!”

Nick watched as you two hugged, his chest tightening as Noah’s hand rubbed up and down your body.

The two of you swayed, Noah, leaning all of his weight into you in a drunken state. You smiled into Noah’s hug, squeezing him. As you pulled away, you readjusted his Leaf Village headband, a sly smile playing on your lips.

“You’re such a dweeb,” you pushed Noah’s shoulder, and he smiled staring down at you, “and you’re so drunk already.”

“Nahh ” Noah wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you against him, “you’re just not drunk enough. Time for some shots!”

You laughed, agreeing as Noah reached into a cupboard for a bottle of tequila- something he knew was your favourite. Noah filled two shot glasses, before you wrapped your elbows around each other, taking two shots of alcohol together in a ritualistic fashion.

Nick averted his eyes as his breath hitched, refusing to watch as Noah held you to his side after the two glasses rested back on the counter.

Your head rested on Noah’s shoulder as you hiccuped from the alcohol, eyes looking up at him. Noah began to sway back and forth to the music, pulling you along with him, before swinging you around. You laughed with Noah, smiles beaming against each other. You followed Noah’s body but watched Nick the entire time.

Nick didn’t look at you, eyes fixated on his cup that he took another drink from, swallowing every drop of liquid. You sighed, shrugging Noah off of you before walking up to Nick, and wrapping your arms around him. He stiffened at your touch but put his arms around you.

“Aw Nicky, are you jealous?” You teased, reaching up to run your fingers through his long dark hair. Your chest rested against his own, and you could feel his heart vibrate against yours. You tried pulling his body to dance with the music, but he remained put, placing his arms across your back, hand holding you against his chest.

“Thanks for the drink No-wah,” you smiled cheekily at him.

Noah grabbed a beer from the counter, “anything for my baby girl.”

Nick was jealous. He was jealous at how easy you and Noah got along, and how you were ready to be in Noah’s arms at any second, but he didn’t know that you knew this got under his skin.

You knew flirting with Noah made Nick jealous, and you loved how possessive Nick always got once you went crawling back to him. You wanted Nick to be jealous, and you wanted him to want you.

Both of you desired each other, but neither was brave enough to make a move.

“C'mon,” you grabbed another cooler from the fridge for you and Nick, bending over slightly in his direction so your ass was barely exposed to him.

Standing up you sauntered towards him, hanging him the can before grabbing his hand. Feeling the warm feeling of the alcohol start to pulse through your veins, you tugged him along the house, walking past the crowd of people before you walked into the living room.

You wrapped your fingers in Nick’s inked ones, holding him close to you.

The living room was packed with people, the only spot available being on the couch; for one person.

You motioned for Nick to sit before inviting yourself to sit on his lap. Nick’s breath caught in his throat in surprise.

You wiggled to get comfortable, and Nick placed his arms across your torso, holding you still against him.

You knew he wouldn’t be able to contain his excitement if you kept moving.

Folio and Jolly’s cup pong game was going on in front of you, and as you brought the can of alcohol to your lips you couldn't help but let a sly smile play at your lips as you thought about teasing the man beneath you.

You pushed into his lap, wriggling your hips along to the music.

“Sorry Nicky, trying to get comfortable,” you said playfully, chugging the can of alcohol before placing it on the coffee table.

Nick’s fingers dug into your hips, attempting to hold you still against him; but he hardened beneath you, a quiet groan heaving from his throat as you shifted along his lap.

“Y/N,” Nick warned, letting a hand go as he grabbed his can, drinking the entire thing to give him the liquid courage.

Both of you felt the buzz of inebriation, allowing the warmth to consume you. Pretending to be invested in the game ahead you leaned back, placing your back against Nick’s chest, letting his hands roam the top of your thighs.

“What are you doing,” Nick asked through gritted teeth, but his heart raced in anticipation at your actions.

You dug your hips into him, feeling the music. No one would be paying attention to the two of you, everyone, including yourselves, would be too drunk to notice.

Sitting up you spun your body so you were straddling his waist, legs parted on either side of him. Your skirt was so short it rode up, exposing the underwear you wore beneath; but only for him to see.

Nick swallowed harshly, eyes glazing over in infatuation as he watched you, your lip finding its way between your teeth. Placing your arms around his neck you eyed every expression, glazing over every detail of his face as Nick flushed. As your body swung back and forth gently, you gained the courage to lean forward, placing a gentle kiss on Nick’s lips.

Nick stared at you, almost in shock. He wasn’t sure if this was a prank, or if he was already so far gone that he was lucid dreaming.

Nick's hands glided along your thighs as they gripped you from behind, squeezing gently. You had kissed him, and his entire body was on fire.

“Kiss me,” you said in a hoard whisper, almost desperate, waiting for Nick to respond to your first move.

Nick was hesitant and nervous as he pulled himself closer to your lips, brushing over them gently, before closing the gap between you.

You sighed into his mouth, relieved as Nick reciprocated feelings, allowing yourself to relax into his touch, body heating as his hands roamed behind you, squeezing gently at the skin.

You deepened the kiss, pushing your lips firmly into his, closed-mouth kisses opening with each wave, allowing your hands to roam into his hair, tugging softly on the strands.

Nicks's body convulsed below you, and he pulled away, staring up at you with awe.

“Want to go upstairs?” You asked, and he nodded eagerly as you crawled off of him. Nick grabbed your hand hastily as he pulled you behind him, the journey up the stairs feeling like it dragged on forever.

The music pumped below you as Nick closed his bedroom door, the sound dampening ever so slightly, the floor shaking with the bass.

Nick immediately shoved you into the wall, lips all over yours in desperation, devouring you, years of pent-up need coming out full throttle.

His hand roamed up your body underneath your torn long sleeve, granting himself access to all the curves he’d dreamed of touching. The number of times he touched himself, fantasizing about your taste, left his knees weak as he let his mouth explore yours, finally.

You moaned against Nick's lips as he fondled your chest, his hands searching very crevasse of your being through years of missed opportunity. You moulded into his touch, feeling excited as your abdomen vibrated in complete want for the man holding you against the wall.

Nick's fingers lingered underneath your skirt before pulling it up gently, grazing between your panties before roaming back up.

You moaned against the subtle tease, eyebrows furrowing as you pulled away from his kiss.

“Nick, please, don’t tease me,” you whined, pressing your forehead against his own.

Silver eyes bore into you as his lips tugged up into a sly smile, “if you don’t like my teasing, why are you moaning?”

Nick’s fingers roamed between your legs again, gently pressing where you needed him most and a feral sound escaped your lips, leaving you embarrassed. Nick stared at you with lust, almost in shock by how you were reacting to him. Nick allowed his fingers to glide between your body and underwear, feeling between your folds. His already hard body pulsing even deeper as he felt how soaked you were; all for him.

“Please,” you said as he touched you.

“Please don’t stop Nicky,” you whispered as his hand dipped between your layers. Nick planned to make her soar, but first, he loved hearing you beg for him, and only him.

“What do you want,” Nick's lips brushed across yours, this unknown confidence sending his hormones to the moon. The woman of his dreams was wriggling beneath him, desperate for anything he had to offer.

“I need you,” you said, pulling his face into yours again, allowing your tongue to explore his mouth, tasting all of him. “I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t even walk.”

Nick almost melted at your words, his heart beating so fast in disbelief. You want him to pleasure you.

He nodded eagerly, pulling you towards his bed, and tossing the Star Wars bed sheets aside. Nick pushed you into the bed, on top of you with all of his weight, allowing himself to dominate over your body.

Kissing down your neck your hands roamed across his back, and finally, he stared you down.

“Are you sure you want to do this Y/N? Because there is no way we are just fucking friends after this. You’re mine.”

You shuddered at Nick's possession, nodding, “I’ve always wanted to do a little more than kiss.”

Nick blushed, kissing you again before letting his lips trail down your neck, sucking on the delicate skin that lay between your neck and collarbone.

“You’re mine.” He said, marking what was his property before turning your body so you were above him.

“Ride me until your legs start shaking from the pleasure. Let me fuck you so deep you can’t even think about anybody else ever again; then I’ll flip you over and drill you to finish it off.” Nick growled, and your eyes widened at this needy side of Nick you’ve never seen before, but you were ready to give him anything he wanted.

Nick pulled off his robes, leaving his body exposed for you, you pulled off your sweater, showing off your chest and Nick's eyes devoured you, absorbing everything you showed him. He’d dreamed of this moment and what you looked like many times: but even his mind couldn’t come up with anything as beautiful as the real thing.

“Fuck you’re gorgeous,” he worshipped you allowing his hands to follow your curves once again. He pulled up your skirt, exposing your lower body as he moved your underwear to the side, positioning himself below you.

“I can’t believe you wore a skirt this small with no fucking shorts,” Nick mumbled, preparing himself.

“I wore it just for you,” you smiled, before closing the gap and pushing down onto Nick’s body, your arousal gliding you smoothly along him. Both of you groaned in disbelief, Nick relishing in how good you felt wrapped around him, his body finally reaching every part of you.

Your mouth opened widely as Nick filled you, a squeak of shock tugging at your throat as Nick squeezed your sides, pulling you up and down to get you to move.

You slid up and down his body with ease, hands on his chest for support as you road him, rolling and grinding deeper into his body, Nick hitting every point possible. Nick wrapped his arms around your back, pulling you into his chest as he began pounding into you from below, putting all of his effort into fucking you.

“Moan for me Y/N,” Nick begged, “show everyone who’s fucking mine.”

Nick's hands gripped the back of your head, fingers tangled in his hair. Every ounce of his body vibrated as he fucked you, his hips slapping against your thighs as you straddled his lap, taking everything he offered. He gave you his everything, never fucking anyone as hard as you, wanting to make you feel good.

Nick couldn’t believe how fucking beautiful you were as you cried out his name, the syllabus rolling off your tongue in complete satisfaction; and Nick knew that he would cum at any moment. He slowed his pace, wanting this to last forever.

Your nails dug into Nick’s shoulders as you clung to him, taking him well. Nick hoped you were loud enough against the music so Noah would hear; he wanted him to know that you finally got what was rightfully his.

You moaned Nick’s name as your stomach churned, nearing your release; Nick repeatedly hitting your spot over and over. You closed your eyes in ecstasy, your body turning limp as you screamed, shaking and convulsing against Nick through your orgasm.

Nick pushed into you, and you swear if he fucked any harder he’d be able to split you in half with how deep he penetrated.

“Where can I come?” Nick asked, on the brink of his climax. Y/N’s skin stuck against Nick’s chest.

“Fuck, inside of me,” you cried, pushing yourself against Nick’s hips, the only sounds filling the room were the sound of fast slaps and a string of moans fighting against the bass of the music below.

“Oh my god Y/N I’m going to I’m going-“ Nick’s fingers dug into your back, tearing your skin as he shook below you, twitching inside through his orgasm. You kissed him deeply, moaning against his lips in complete satisfaction as his release filled you, taking over your body.

“Fuck,” your head swung back, a wide smile parting your lips before you looked down at him, still sitting on top of his body.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you moan,” Nick smiled, satisfied as he rolled you over, pulling him into his chest, “it was fucking music to my ears.”

You chuckled, nuzzling against his chest, “So, friends off?”

Nick joined you, his throat vibrating as he laughed, “Oh yea, I’m ready to move to the stage where we can fuck whenever we want. Oh, and I can take you to dinner and we can hold hands.”

You smiled, holding yourself closer to him, “Deal, but only if I can suck you off next time.”

———

Who’s next, folio or jolly? ;)

#i’m going to hell #pls enjoy this I’m a mess #bad omens #bad omens band #bad omens cult #bad omens smut #nick ruffilo fluff #nick ruffilo #nicholas ruffilo #nick ruffilo smut #nicholas ruffilo smut #smut #Halloween #Noah Sebastian

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