#i'm sure someone's already said this but i'm thinking about it again

[the-oblivious-writer]

Let the Light In |9|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter Nine: Struck by Cupid's Knife

Summary: After working up the courage, Tara asks you to spend Cupid’s birthday with her, but neither of you could have predicted the results.

Warning(s): Swearing (I think), arguing, Tara wearing The Skirt™️, innuendos, miscommunication/shit communication and mentions of masochism.

Notes: Reader’s a thirsty son of a bitch.

Masterlist|Previous Part|Next Part

You're sprawled on Tara's couch, one hand absently scratching behind Dookie's ears while the other reaches for your water. The cat purrs contentedly in your lap, a rare sight according to literally everyone who's ever met the notoriously selective feline. On screen, Leatherface is doing what Leatherface does best – terrorizing unsuspecting teenagers with questionable decision-making skills.

"You know," you muse, "for someone who claims to hate slashers, you sure own a lot of them."

Tara throws chips at your head. It misses spectacularly and lands on Dookie, who gives her the most withering look a cat can muster. "I never said I hate slashers. I said modern slashers lack the psychological complexity of—"

"—of 'Prom Night,' yes, we've all heard the dissertation," you interrupt, earning yourself another chip projectile. This one actually hits its mark. "Which, by the way, is absolutely not better than 'Sleepaway Camp.'"

"Oh my god, are you seriously starting this again?" Tara pauses the movie, turning to face you fully. "Angela Baker is iconic, sure, but—"

"But nothing! The psychological implications alone—"

"The psychological implications of a movie that ends with—"

You both start talking over each other, your voices rising with practiced familiarity of an argument you've had dozens of times before. Dookie lifts his head to watch the verbal tennis match, tail twitching with mild interest.

"Okay, okay," Tara finally concedes, though her tone suggests this is far from over. "We can agree to disagree. For now. But only because I'm starving and we still haven't decided on dinner."

"Indian?" you suggest innocently, already knowing the response you'll get.

Her eyes narrow. "You know damn well what happened last time."

"You mean when you insisted you could handle the spice level and then spent three hours complaining about heartburn?"

"I did not complain for three hours."

"You literally texted me at 3 AM to tell me your esophagus was staging a coup."

She throws her hands up in exasperation. "Fine! What's your brilliant suggestion then?"

You pretend to think about it, even though you both know exactly where this is heading. "Well, there's this place I know. Makes great burgers, killer onion rings, milkshakes that'll change your life…"

"You mean the same place we always go?"

"If it ain't broke, princess."

The nickname slips out before you can catch it, an old habit you can't seem to shake. Tara's expression does something complicated – a mix of annoyance, fondness, and something else you're not quite ready to analyze.

"Speaking of things that aren't broken," she starts, then stops, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. "There's this Valentine's party next week…"

You focus very intently on Dookie's fur, suddenly finding the pattern fascinating. "Oh yeah? Sounds fun."

"Yeah, it's at Chad's place. You could… I mean, if you wanted…" She trails off, then quickly adds, "But you probably have plans."

"Actually," you say, still not looking up, "I was just gonna stay in. The new season of 'Yellowjackets' dropped and—"

"Oh." There's something in her voice that makes you finally look up. "That… that sounds good too."

A moment passes, filled only by the sound of Dookie's purring and the paused image of Leatherface on the TV.

"You could join," you offer, the words tumbling out before you can overthink them. "If you wanted. Instead of the party."

Tara's face brightens for a split second before she schools it into careful neutrality. "What happened to your sacred solo binge-watching ritual?"

"Well, Dookie's already broken that rule," you gesture to the cat who's now fully asleep in your lap. "Besides, someone needs to be there to judge my commentary."

"Your commentary definitely needs supervision," she agrees, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "But what about Chad's party? You sure you don't want to…" she waves her hand vaguely.

You raise an eyebrow. "Want to what?"

"Nothing," she says quickly. "Just… you know. Meet people. Or whatever."

"Careful, Carpenter. That almost sounded like jealousy."

"You wish," she scoffs, but there's a faint blush creeping up her neck. "I just don't want you blaming me when you miss out on finding your soulmate at a frat party."

"Right, because nothing says true love like keg stands and questionable punch."

She throws more chips at you, but she's smiling now. "Shut up and watch the movie, dork."

You press play, and Leatherface resumes his rampage. But you can't help noticing how Tara seems more relaxed now, how she's shifted slightly closer on the couch. Dookie stretches in your lap, completely unbothered by the chainsaw sounds from the TV, and you think maybe this is exactly where you're supposed to be.

Even if Tara is completely wrong about "Prom Night.

—

Valentine's Day arrives with all the subtlety of a horror movie jump scare. You're pacing your apartment, pretending you haven't spent the last hour deciding what to wear for what's supposedly just another movie night. Dookie, who somehow managed to sneak into your place during Tara's last visit and never left, watches you with judgmental eyes from his perch on your bookshelf.

"Don't give me that look," you mutter, adjusting your shirt for the hundredth time. "This is completely normal behavior."

Dookie blinks slowly, unconvinced.

Your phone buzzes with a text, and you definitely don't lunge for it like a teenager waiting for their crush to call.

Tara (6:45 PM): omw Tara (6:45 PM): with snacks Tara (6:46 PM): and NO you cannot veto my candy choices this time

You smile despite yourself, typing back a quick response.

Dork (6:46 PM): If you brought those weird swedish fish again, we're going to have words

When the knock finally comes, you open the door to find Tara wearing a skirt that makes your brain short-circuit. It's not even particularly revealing – just a simple black pleated number that hits just above her knees – but something about the way it moves when she walks past you makes your mouth go dry.

"Earth to Y/N," Tara waves a hand in front of your face. "You gonna let me in or just stand there having a stroke?"

You snap out of it, closing the door perhaps a bit too quickly. "Sorry, just… wondering if I should be concerned about what's in that suspiciously large grocery bag."

"Liar," she smirks, dropping said bag on your coffee table. "But I'll let it slide because I'm feeling generous."

Meanwhile, in a group chat you're blissfully unaware of:

CORE 4 & CO.

Mindy: TARA CARPENTER Mindy: YOU DID NOT JUST LEAVE THE HOUSE IN THAT SKIRT Mindy: TO GO WATCH TV Mindy: WITH YOUR “NEMESIS”

Sammy: Let her live, Mindy

Chad: anyone else find it sus that they're both skipping the party? 👀

Mindy: "skipping the party to watch yellowjackets" sure jan

Tara: i can see these messages you know

Mindy: EXACTLY Mindy: WE KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING

Chad: yeah wearing The Skirt™️

Tara: it's just a skirt omg Tara: and don't you all have better things to do??

Mindy: than watch you attempt to seduce your nemesis? Mindy: absolutely not

Sammy: I'm turning off notifications Sammy: have fun sis Sammy: and remember to text me if you end up staying the night

Tara: SAM

Back in your apartment, you're trying very hard to focus on setting up the TV and not on how Tara's legs look when she's curled up on your couch. It's just a skirt. You've seen skirts before. This should not be affecting you like this.

"You know," Tara's voice breaks through your internal crisis, "for someone who was so excited about this show, you're spending a lot of time staring at everything but the screen."

"I'm not—" you start to protest, but she cuts you off with a knowing look.

"The remote's upside down."

You look down. The remote is, indeed, upside down in your hands. "I'm trying a new technique," you deadpan, refusing to acknowledge the heat creeping up your neck.

"Uh-huh." She shifts on the couch, the movement causing her skirt to—nope, you're not looking. You're absolutely not looking. "You know, we could still go to Chad's party if you're having second thoughts."

There's something in her tone – a careful casualness that doesn't quite mask the uncertainty underneath. You finally look at her properly, taking in the way she's trying to appear nonchalant while picking at a loose thread on your couch cushion.

"And miss the chance to prove how superior 'Sleepaway Camp' is to your precious 'Prom Night'? Not a chance, Carpenter."

The relief that flashes across her face is brief but unmistakable. "Oh my god, you're still on that? You know what, just for that, I'm eating all the good candy."

"Bold of you to assume any of your candy choices qualify as 'good.'"

She throws a Swedish Fish at your head. You catch it with your mouth, surprising both of you.

"…Okay, that was actually impressive," she admits.

"I have hidden depths," you say solemnly, finally settling onto the couch beside her. "Now shut up and watch the show. I have theories about Lottie that will blow your mind."

As the opening credits roll, you're hyper-aware of every inch of space between you, of how her skirt brushes against your leg when she reaches for the snacks, of how this feels simultaneously like nothing and everything has changed.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket – probably Henry asking how your "not-date" is going – but you ignore it. Right now, all that matters is this moment: Tara's commentary about the show's color grading, the way she unconsciously leans into you during the tenser scenes, and how maybe, just maybe, this is exactly where you both want to be.

The thing about watching TV with Tara Carpenter is that she can't sit still to save her life. She's constantly shifting, readjusting, finding new ways to accidentally-but-maybe-not-accidentally end up closer to you. It's maddening in the best possible way.

"That's not how decomposition works," she critiques, reaching across you for the popcorn. Her skirt rides up slightly with the movement, and you suddenly find the ceiling fascinating. "The timeline is completely unrealistic."

"Sorry, I didn't realize I was sitting next to a forensics expert," you quip, trying to ignore how she hasn't fully moved back to her original position. "Please, enlighten us with your extensive knowledge of body disposal."

She turns to face you, and you immediately regret your life choices because now she's even closer, her eyes sparkling with that dangerous mix of challenge and amusement that always spells trouble.

"Well, considering the ambient temperature and soil composition—"

"Is this the part where I should be concerned about your search history?"

"Please," she scoffs, but there's a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Like yours is any better, Miss 'I-need-to-research-medieval-torture-devices-for-academic-purposes.'"

"That was one time!"

"The FBI agent watching your browser history probably needs therapy."

You're about to retort when she shifts again, and suddenly her leg is pressed against yours. All coherent thoughts evacuate your brain without so much as a goodbye note.

"You okay there?" she asks, and there's something in her tone that suggests she knows exactly what she's doing. "You seem a little… distracted."

Two can play at this game.

"Just thinking about proper body disposal techniques," you say innocently, stretching your arm across the back of the couch. Not quite around her shoulders, but the implication is there. "You know, for academic purposes."

She raises an eyebrow. "Is that your way of threatening to murder me? Because I've got to say, your technique needs work."

"If I was going to murder you, Carpenter, you'd never see it coming."

"Promises, promises."

The air between you crackles with something that definitely isn't just friendly banter anymore. On screen, someone is probably being dramatically eviscerated, but you couldn't care less because Tara is looking at you with that half-smile that makes your stomach do Olympic-level gymnastics.

Your phone buzzes again, breaking the moment. This time, it's a series of texts from Henry:

Henry (8:15 PM): so how's the not-date going?? Henry (8:15 PM): has anyone been murdered yet Henry (8:16 PM): either literally or metaphorically Henry (8:16 PM): also tony says hi and wants to know if you've kissed her yet

"Something important?" Tara asks, and you quickly lock your phone before she can see the messages.

"Just Henry being Henry," you say, silently plotting your best friend's demise. "Probably asking if we've murdered each other yet."

"Night's still young," she shrugs, but she's still got that look in her eyes that makes you want to either kiss her or start an argument about horror movie tropes. Possibly both.

"Speaking of murder," you say instead, because you're a master of deflection, "want to hear my theory about why 'Sleepaway Camp' is actually a groundbreaking commentary on—"

She groans, throwing her head back dramatically. "Oh my god, you're actually the worst."

"That's not what you said when I brought you soup when you caught the flu."

"That was before I knew you'd use it as ammunition in your endless crusade against good taste in movies."

"Bold words from someone wearing a skirt that's clearly meant to be a distraction from your terrible opinions."

The words are out before your brain can stop them. Tara goes very still, and for a moment you think you've miscalculated spectacularly. But then she looks at you with an expression that's somewhere between amusement and challenge.

"Is it working?"

Your mouth goes dry. "What?"

"The distraction," she says, and you swear she moves even closer. "Is it working?"

You're saved from having to answer by Dookie, who chooses this exact moment to jump between you, apparently deciding he's been ignored for far too long. The cat gives you both a look that clearly says "I've had enough of your nonsense."

"Traitor," you mutter to the cat, who responds by making himself comfortable across both your laps, effectively creating a furry barrier between you and Tara.

Tara laughs, scratching behind Dookie's ears. "My hero," she coos to the cat. "Saving me from another lecture about Angela Baker's psychological complexity."

"You're both against me," you declare dramatically. "I'm being ganged up on in my own home."

"Cry about it," she suggests sweetly, but she's leaning against your shoulder now, and Dookie is purring, and maybe being ganged up on isn't the worst thing in the world.

—

"I cannot believe you're still defending this," you say, watching in horror as Tara drowns her mac and cheese in a truly concerning amount of hot sauce. "This is actually painful to witness."

"You're being dramatic," she retorts, adding what appears to be her entire body weight in ketchup to the already crime-scene-worthy pasta. "Some of us actually like flavor."

"Flavor? That's—" you're interrupted by the doorbell, which is probably for the best because you were about to launch into a dissertation about the difference between flavor and masochism.

"I'll get it," Tara says, but you're already standing up.

"Absolutely not. I've seen enough horror movies to know the cute girl who answers the door always dies first."

The word 'cute' slips out before you can catch it, and you practically sprint to the door to avoid seeing her reaction. This proves to be a tactical error when you open it to find possibly the most conventionally attractive pizza delivery guy you've ever seen, complete with the kind of jawline that belongs on a CW show.

"Hey," he says, then looks past you to where Tara has appeared behind your shoulder. His entire demeanor shifts, voice dropping an octave. "Hey."

You resist the urge to close the door in his face.

"That'll be twenty-four fifty," he says to Tara, completely ignoring your existence. "Though I could make it free if you'd let me take you out sometime."

Something hot and uncomfortable coils in your stomach. You reach for your wallet, but Tara beats you to it, pulling out cash from her pocket.

"Here's thirty," she says, a slight flush creeping up her neck. "Keep the change."

"You sure I can't convince you?" He flashes a smile that probably works wonders at frat parties. "I make a mean pasta. No ketchup required."

Your head snaps up at that. He must have overheard your earlier conversation, which means he's been standing here long enough to eavesdrop, which means—

"She likes her pasta exactly how she likes it," you say, perhaps a bit sharper than necessary, taking the pizza from his hands. "Thanks for the delivery."

You close the door before he can respond, turning to find Tara looking at you with an expression that makes your heart do something complicated in your chest. The flush on her neck has spread to her cheeks.

"So," she says, voice carefully neutral but eyes dancing with something that looks suspiciously like amusement. "No ketchup required, huh?"

"Don't start," you mutter, carrying the pizza to the kitchen. "And don't even think about putting hot sauce on this. I saw you wincing earlier from your mac and cheese."

"My tongue is fine," she protests, following you. "Besides, maybe I like the burn."

"Your masochistic tendencies are concerning, Carpenter."

She hops up onto your counter, legs swinging slightly in that stupid perfect skirt. "Says the person who just went full guard dog on the pizza guy."

"I did not—" you start, then catch the look on her face. "I was just… concerned about food temperature maintenance."

"Uh-huh." She's full-on grinning now, cheeks still tinged pink. "And I suppose the death glare was just about proper pizza handling protocols?"

"You know what?" You grab a slice, pointedly avoiding her gaze. "I preferred it when you were defending your crimes against pasta."

"Speaking of which…" She reaches for the bottle of hot sauce she apparently manifested from thin air.

"Absolutely not." You snatch it away, holding it above your head. "I'm not listening to you complain about tongue burn all night again."

"Bold of you to assume I need your permission," she says, sliding off the counter and stepping closer. Much closer. Close enough that you can see the flecks of gold in her eyes, can feel the warmth radiating from her skin.

Your breath catches. She reaches up, ostensibly for the hot sauce, but her hand lands on your wrist instead. Neither of you moves.

"Tara," you say, voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah?"

"Your mac and cheese is getting cold."

She laughs, the sound soft and close, and you think maybe this is better than any Valentine's party could ever be. Even if she is completely wrong about pasta condiments.

"You're impossible," she says, but she's smiling, and she hasn't moved away, and maybe—

Dookie chooses this exact moment to knock over the entire box of pizza.

"Traitor," you both say in unison, then look at each other and burst out laughing.

The moment breaks, but something else settles in its place – something warm and comfortable and maybe a little bit inevitable. Like the way Tara's hand is still on your wrist, or how she's looking at you with that half-smile that makes your heart skip beats.

Your phone buzzes on the counter, screen lighting up with a notification. Tara glances at it reflexively, and something in her expression shifts – subtle enough that someone who doesn't know her as well as you do might miss it, but you've spent months cataloging her micro-expressions during horror movie marathons.

"Charlotte?" she says, and there's something in her voice that makes your stomach drop. "Didn't realize you two were still talking."

You reach for your phone, but Tara's already turning away, suddenly very interested in reorganizing the scattered pizza toppings on her plate. "It's not—"

"No, it's fine," she cuts you off, but her shoulders are tense in that way they get when she's trying too hard to seem casual. "I mean, obviously you can talk to whoever you want."

"Tara."

"I just thought after what happened at New Year's—"

"Nothing happened at New Year's," you say, perhaps a bit too quickly. "We just talked."

She lets out a laugh that doesn't sound like a laugh at all. "Right. Because that's totally why you disappeared for an hour and came back looking like—"

"Like what?" There's an edge to your voice now, the playful atmosphere from earlier evaporating like morning dew. "Come on, Carpenter. Say what you really mean."

She finally looks at you, and there's something raw in her expression that makes your chest ache. "Like you'd rather be anywhere else. With anyone else."

"That's not—" you start, but she's on a roll now.

"You know what? It doesn't matter. I shouldn't have…" she trails off, pushing her plate away. "This was stupid. I should go."

"Are you seriously doing this right now?" You follow her as she starts gathering her things. "Over a text message you didn't even read?"

"This isn't about the text," she says, but she won't meet your eyes. "This is about you always having one foot out the door."

"Me?" You can't help the incredulous laugh that escapes. "That's rich coming from someone who can't even admit why she really skipped Chad's party tonight."

She freezes, one hand on her bag. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what it means." Your heart is pounding, words spilling out before you can stop them. "You're not the only one who's allowed to be scared, Tara."

The silence that follows is deafening. Even Dookie seems to be holding his breath, watching from his perch on the bookshelf with unblinking eyes.

"I'm not scared," she says finally, but her voice wavers slightly.

"No?" You step closer, close enough to see the pulse jumping in her throat. "Then why are you running?"

She looks up at you then, and there's something in her eyes that makes your breath catch – a mix of vulnerability and defiance that's so uniquely Tara it makes your heart hurt.

"Because you let her kiss you," she whispers, and the words hang in the air between you like smoke. "At New Year's. You let her kiss you, and then you came back and acted like nothing happened, and I—"

"She didn't kiss me," you interrupt softly. "I stopped her."

Tara blinks. "What?"

"She tried, yeah. But I stopped her." You run a hand through your hair, frustrated. "Because apparently I'm pathetically gone for someone who puts ketchup in her mac and cheese and thinks 'Prom Night' is better than 'Sleepaway Camp.'"

A beat passes. Then another. Tara's still holding her bag, but her grip has loosened.

"Pathetically?" she repeats, and there's a hint of something in her voice that might be hope.

"Absolutely tragic levels," you confirm, taking another step closer. "It's embarrassing, really. I can't even enjoy pizza delivery without getting jealous."

A small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "That was pretty embarrassing."

"Says the person who wore The Skirt™️ to watch Yellowjackets."

She flushes, but she's not running anymore. "You noticed that, huh?"

"Tara," you say softly, "I notice everything about you. It's kind of the problem."

She looks at you for a long moment, then slowly sets her bag down. "You really stopped her?"

"Of course I did." You reach out, tentatively tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Some of us don't have terrible taste in everything."

She laughs, the sound watery but real. "Just in movies, right?"

"And pasta condiments," you agree, and when she smiles, it feels like coming home.

The moment stretches between you like taffy, sweet and fragile. Tara's looking at you with those eyes that always make you forget how to breathe properly, and you're close enough to count her freckles, to see the way her pulse flutters in her throat. Her hand finds yours, fingers intertwining with a certainty that makes your heart stutter.

You could kiss her. You should kiss her. Everything in you is screaming to close that final distance.

Instead, you step back.

The hurt that flashes across her face is gone so quickly you almost convince yourself you imagined it. Almost.

"I can't," you whisper, and the words taste like ash in your mouth. "Not like this."

"Like what?" Her voice is carefully neutral, but you can see her walls going up, brick by careful brick. "With me?"

"That's not—" You run a hand through your hair, frustrated. "You're upset about Charlotte, and the pizza guy, and—"

"Don't." She pulls her hand away, and the loss of contact feels like a physical ache. "Don't you dare try to explain away what just happened."

"I'm trying to protect—"

"Me?" She laughs, but it's a hollow sound that doesn't reach her eyes. "From what, exactly? From making my own decisions? From wanting something that apparently terrifies you?"

"That's not fair."

"No?" She takes a step back, and somehow that small distance feels like miles. "Then what is this, really? Because from where I'm standing, it looks a lot like you're the one with one foot out the door."

The words hit like a slap, echoing your earlier accusation back at you. "Tara—"

"You know what the worst part is?" She's gathering her things again, movements sharp and jerky. "For a second there, I actually thought… God, I'm such an idiot."

"You're not—"

"Save it." She's not looking at you anymore, focused intently on collecting her scattered belongings. "I get it, okay? You're not ready, or you're scared, or whatever excuse you want to use. But don't pretend this is about protecting me."

You want to stop her. Want to explain that you're terrified of ruining this, of losing her, of what happens when the Valentine's Day magic wears off and she realizes you're not worth all this trouble. Want to tell her that you've never been good at keeping the things you love.

Instead, you watch her shrug on her jacket, that stupid perfect skirt swishing with the movement.

"Tara, please—"

"I should go," she says, and her voice is steady even though her hands are shaking slightly. "Before I say something we'll both regret."

Dookie watches from his perch as she heads for the door, tail twitching like he's judging your life choices. You don't blame him.

She pauses at the threshold, one hand on the doorknob. For a moment, you think she might turn around, might give you another chance to fix this. But then her shoulders straighten, and you know what's coming before she says it.

"For the record?" Her voice is quiet but clear. "You're wrong. About everything"

The door closes behind her with a soft click that somehow sounds louder than a slam would have. You stand there in the silence, surrounded by half-eaten pizza and the lingering scent of her perfume, thinking about all the ways hearts break in horror movies versus real life.

-------

A/N: I feel like a cartoon villain. It's nice.

[organic-bloodbath]

Can you do a part three for Teach Ddakji to me plz

Teach Ddakji to me - Part 3

The Salesman x American!Reader

Summary: A stranger leads you towards unfolding the secrets of the man you've fallen in love with.

A/N: My people has been begging and i shall serve. Once again, i do not know what the hell i'm writing so i'm just vibing.

Part 1 - Part 2

♡♡

"I can explain," he said, putting the glasses and bottle on a side table. You kept holding the gun with your fingers.

"Yes?"

"It's only for protection, i promise," he insisted. "And it's not loaded."

You were silent, not sure exactly what to do or say.

He sighed. "When my dad was shot, i sort of got a gun to feel safer. He was killed in his own home, so getting a gun meant i could defend myself if anyone came here and tried to harm me as well."

You looked at him suspiciously, narrowing your eyes.

"I haven't used it, i swear," he promised, taking a step closer to you. You let out a sigh.

"Okay," you mumbled and shook your head. "Well, okay, i suppose."

He slowly put his hand on yours, grabbing the gun from your hold. You eventually let go of it and let him have it back.

"I can take it elsewhere if you're more comfortable then," he offered, afraid this was going to scare you away. You nodded and he went to take it to another room where you wouldn't have any business walking into.

You had never been a fan of guns. You knew people in the U.S. who had a gun at their homes but your family had never been one of those, as far as you were aware of.

You did feel bad and had sympathy for him the longer you thought about it. You couldn't imagine how bad trauma you would have if your own father was murdered, you didn't think you would be able to live anymore. You couldn't blame him for having sleepless nights and afraid for his own safety after that.

To be honest, if that happened to you, you would have gotten some sort of weapon into your home too, just in case someone would come after you too.

Soon he came back, a nervous look on his face now when he approached you slowly.

"Hopefully that didn't ruin the night?" he asked carefully and stepped in front of you.

"Do you have others in your house?" you asked. "Or like, anywhere?"

"That's the only one," he immediately swore.

He put his hand on your cheek and pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. His warm touch always managed to relax and calm you down, forget all the worries in the world for a moment. He looked at you with all his love and kindness in his eyes, and you knew you could trust him.

"Let's grab the wine, hm?"

"Okay."

♡♡

He was meant to keep his work a secret from you. You couldn't find out about what he really did, no. You would instantly leave him, that was for sure, and he didn't want to think about that possibility. He only had to come up with more and more lies - but for how long? How long could he really keep up this facade around you? He had turned his back away from you for only one moment at his house and you already managed to find one of his guns.

Or would you leave him? Would you be okay with it after all? It would be so much easier to be able to explain everything to you. But he also knew he had to keep the games secret from any outsiders who wouldn't take a part in the game.

The look on your face haunted his mind the next day as well. You had looked at him in a way like you didn't know who you were dating after all.

And for the most parts, you didn't.

The look on your face had told him loud enough that he couldn't tell you about his true self – not now or in a long time.

Along with that, he had felt someone watching him outside. He wasn't sure who it could be, but he was certain that he was being followed by someone and he didn't like that feeling at all.

He had to find out who was trying to shadow him.

♡♡

The three of you were supposed to go for a dinner together soon, but your brother had to cancel last minute and changed the plans for tomorrow, making you frustrated.

"I'm so sorry, something came up," he had texted. "Let's meet up tomorrow, okay?"

There was always something that 'came up' when you tried to make plans with him. You tried to question what he meant but he wouldn't tell you, preferring to stay all secretive to his sister.

As you were driving home in the car your friend had borrowed you to use for a week, you were falling into your thoughts a little too hard, not paying as much attention to your surroundings as a good and responsible driver should have. Sooner than you realised, you were stopped by a traffic cop and had to pull over.

You saw a man look at you through the window, motioning you to roll your window down.

He said something in Korean to you which you couldn't really understand. He switched to English as he figured you were a foreigner.

"License, please?"

You grabbed it from your purse and handed it to the man.

"You were speeding a little," he stated.

"I know, i'm really sorry, i wasn't thinking."

"I'll have to write you a ticket, miss," he said seriously.

"I know," you sighed and closed your eyes, laying your forehead against your hand. "I really am sorry, i didn't mean to."

"Are you feeling alright?" the cop asked, a hint of worry in his voice – but only a little bit.

"Yeah, yeah, no problem."

Truth to be told, you weren't entirely fine. You had slept only couple of hours and had drank almost an entire a bottle of wine last night. You weren't really hangover right now, just suffered from a bad headache, for which a painkiller hadn't helped.

"Are you sure you're able to drive further?" he tried to confirm, unsure if he should just let you go with the ticket without questioning you further.

"I'm sure," you said but didn't sound believable even to your own ears.

"Could you step out of the car, please?"

You let out a deep breath and opened the door, stepping outside. He stood right in front of you, trapping you between himself and the car. He pulled a small flashlight from his pocket.

"Follow the light with your eyes."

You did as you were told, trying to act as cool as possible. You had been only once before pulled over on the road by a cop and that had been in America. You hadn't been sure if the protocols in Korea would be the same.

He turned the flashlight off and put it back into his pocket.

"Alright, you can go now," he nodded. Thank god he didn't actually believe you had been drunk driving.

Looking at his face closer, you could see that he was young and very handsome. If you weren't in a relationship and would have met him somewhere more... relaxed environment, you could imagine yourself starting a nice chat with him.

"Thank you, officer," you said politely in Korean before stepping back into the driver's seat, slipping the ticket into your purse. You tried to make atleast a little better impression with your poor Korean skills but weren't sure how correct the pronunciation really was.

"Have a good day, miss. And do pay your ticket on time."

♡♡

"Had a fun and eventful night with your man, i hope?" your roommate asked, one eyebrow up and teeth biting her lip to hide her smirk, failing on the simple task.

"Sure did," you answered and managed to make yourself smile. You wouldn't mention the gun part of the night to her, trying to brush the entire thing off your mind. "How about you? Found a hot guy at the club?"

"Oh, i definitely did," she answered. "He's some sort of a rapper, i think, though i had never heard of him. He gave me his phone number if we should catch up again some other day."

"Mhm, he gonna take you on a date?"

"Oh god no, all i want is to get into a bed with him again. He knows what he's doing," she stated seriously. "Besides, romantically i'm into more mature men, like that your hottie. Unfortunately you can't really find those men at the clubs where people our age go to."

Your roommate had met him a few times, but rather quickly, they hadn't had the chance to actually get to know each other since you didn't really bring him inside your apartment longer than a few minutes when he would come pick you up or bring you back home. But when he had met your roommate, he had acted as the most charming version of himself, like a man would act around a girl's parents when he'd meet them for the first time.

♡♡

"Okay, darling, i need to go to work for a few hours now to settle a few things," he said later that day as you were walking on the street together, his hand holding yours. He leaned down to kiss you on your lips.

"Come pick me up afterwards?" you asked with a smile.

"Of course, see you then," he smiled, pressing one more kiss on your lips, and turned his back to you, disappearing behind the next corner.

You took your phone from your pocket and was browsing a song on Spotify to listen to, until a man stopped you, stepping in front of you.

"Excuse me," the man said, making you turn around to face him. "You were with a man just a moment ago, dressed in a suit, right?"

"Um," you started, brows furrowed in confusion. "What's this about?"

"You were with a man in a suit?"

"Yes, but i-"

"Listen, i really need to find him. He's uh... a colleague of mine," he explained. "And i need to see him as soon as possible."

"Why do you need to see him?"

"We have some business to do. Work related," he quickly answered.

"Don't you have his phone number? Work phone or something?"

"I got a new phone and lost it."

"Just call to your workplace, maybe they can-"

"I don't have the time right now," he said, startling you with the tone of his voice. He noticed it and lowered his voice a little, not meaning to freak you out. "Could you just point the way, please?"

"Well, he didn't really say where he was going. Only that he had to go to work. Can't you meet him there?"

You narrowed your eyes, you could tell he acted very suspiciously. Did this man really know him? He had sounded so hesitant when telling how he knew him. Usually you weren't able to tell very easily when someone was lying to you, but right now even you could tell his behavior and reactions were too odd.

Besides, this guy was complete opposite than the man you knew, by the looks of him atleast. If they worked together and were on their way to work, you'd imagine this stranger would wear a suit too or something similar and cleaner.

♡♡

Gi-hun could tell that you were completely oblivious about the Recruiter or otherwise you were just a good actress to hide his secrets, refusing to tell his location. But you had looked completely lost with Gi-hun's approach to you and the talk about the man's work.

To be fair, he did probably look like a crazy person so he couldn't exactly blame you for not giving the information he so desperately needed.

Gi-hun hadn't thought about the Recruiter's private life, of course not, so it was strange to see a woman kiss him and hold his hand. He always seemed like only a pawn in this sick game to other people, since Gi-hun didn't even know his name either. The Recruiter always wore that same suit too, he felt like some sort of a default character in a game who had no proper development.

Which he basically was.

Gi-hun had lost his contact to the men he had hired to track down this man, until finally, his phone rang again.

♡♡

Of course you had grown too curious and suspicious about this stranger that you had to follow him wherever he was going.

Was it a good idea? Probably not, but you were still going to do it. It slowly started to rain, and of course you didn't carry an umbrella with you.

The man got a phone call, but you couldn't fully understand what he was saying since he spoke in Korean. You had studied Korean the best you could during the months you had been here and a little before you left America, but you couldn't translate complete conversations in your mind in just a few seconds. But you could hear some familiar words in the man's speech here and there. You could have probably understood more if he talked more slowly.

Where?

What?

Hotel?

Four?

The tone of his voice sounded panicked and rushed too, even more making you curious.

After a while he finished the call and put his phone back into his pocket. He started walking fast around the corner, soon starting to move faster and faster.

You quickly ran after him. You tried to make sure that he wouldn't see you if he happened to glance back over his shoulder, but you also couldn't lose the sight of him. You weren't exactly the fastest runner and would be out of breath soon, but luckily the distance to the destination wasn't too large.

Eventually, you ended up by a building, a hotel or hostel of some sorts. He went to the back of the building through a side alley, not entering through the front doors, which seemed to be locked by chains.

When you entered the hotel inside, you had lost the man, but you knew for sure that he had arrived here as well, right before you, so he couldn't be very far.

There was nobody else around, the place was totally empty, most of the lights were out and there were no sounds around you, forcing you to tiptoe even quieter not to make yourself known to anyone else possibly here. You didn't want a guard to find you trespassing, if there was one.

You started walking up the stairs, slowly and as quietly as possible, heart racing so fast you were afraid someone could hear it if they stood too close to you. You unintentionally held your breath as well out of this thick suspense what was going on.

Maybe this was completely unrelated to the man you loved. Maybe something else had come up with him and you were following a stranger somewhere private like a creep. Would this end up being a trap of some sorts?

Then, you heard speech somewhere in the fourth floor and walked towards the noise with even slower steps.

You were approaching one of the rooms where you heard two men talking to each other now much more clearly – the walls of this building seemed to be as thin as paper, since you had heard them already further away.

But then you noticed that the door wasn't closed, so you could easily open it without a sound and peek inside the room.

Two men were sitting at a table on the opposite sides, facing each other. It was that same man who had stopped you on the street. Your eyes widened on what you were witnessing right now.

He had a gun in his hand. It wasn't the same revolver which you had seen in his house.

"I used to work at the game too," he explained to the man with a calm voice. "Clearing and burning countless of bodies of people like you. I remember thinking: 'These things aren't human. They're just trash, they have no purpose in this world.' That's what i kept telling myself for a few years. One day they gave me a gun. I liked the way it felt. It was like someone had finally acknowledged my existence." He leaned back in his chair. "I don't know what year it was, but there was a man who lost, and i went over to shoot him. I recognised his face. Guess who it was?" He now leaned towards the man opposite him, his voice turning into a mere whisper, and you weren't sure if you heard it correctly or just imagined it. "My dad." You noticed a small smile lingering on his lips. "I was pointing the weapon at my very own father. And he begged me, tears in his eyes, to spare his life. You know what i did?" In under a second he lifted the gun and pointed it right towards the other man's face, who didn't even flinch. "I shot him right in the middle of his forehead and i realised: 'Huh, i guess i really am good at this'."

Your blood ran cold and all you wanted to do was to run away, but your legs refused to move at all. They shared a few more words but you couldn't concentrate on their conversation anymore. You felt like you weren't able to breathe. The ground beneath your feet was slowly failing you.

The next time you looked towards them, he pressed the gun on the man's forehead again, now actually pulling the trigger, making you slightly jump from the noise.

You were frozen on your place. What the hell were you supposed to do in this situation? Run away, confront them or call someone for help?

But as he moved the gun towards himself, inserting the gun deep inside his mouth, a playful smirk on his face, you had to act.

You tried to say something as you stepped towards the table from the shadows, finally able to make yourself move before he would be able to pull the trigger, but you couldn't get a word out of your mouth.

He let the gun slowly fall out of his mouth and his entire face turned pale like a ghost as he realised who had joined their little game. When his eyes met yours, you noticed something red on his cheek, and you instantly thought of it being someone else's blood, the same red splattered on the collar of his white shirt.

"Y/N? What are you doing here?"

This was the man who you had fallen in love with. A man who took you on sweet dates, took you into his warm embrace as you slept with him in the same bed, kissed you both softly and with passion... a man who opened up to you about his father's death and how someone had murdered him coldblood.

The murderer had been him all along. How could you be so naive and dumb? Had there been red flags which you had just missed?

Other than the damn gun at his house.

But now there sat only a man just couple of metres away from you who had just confessed on shooting his own father with his own gun. Pulling the trigger himself. And he had told it with a smile on his face.

He had lied to you this entire time. You wanted to shout and yell at him, then run away, but you couldn't move your body. Until he stood up.

Instantly, without hesitation you took a step back as he took one towards you, which made his heart break.

♡♡

A/N: I'm not sorry about the ending 🙂‍↔️ the last scene is obviously not 100% accurate to the show. Next part will take a while too so be patient with me 🫶🏻 if you want to be added or stay on the taglist, lmk.

Tags:

@k1ra-park3r

@aftersnrise

@sakurayashiro

@zmbiefiend

@preppyfella

[flowery-mess]

heaven

Pairing: frat boy Noah x female reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! / talking shit about reader / punching / mentions of alcohol / oral (both receiving) / protected sex / hand around readers throat / overstimulation and edging kind of?? / lmk if anything else

Words: 3,1k

frat boy Noah masterlist

Author's note: I heard the song 'Heaven' from 50 shades yesterday and that kinda inspired me, I'm still new to writing smut so of it sucks I'm sorry lol, but I appreciate any advice how to get better at it! Let me know how you like it!♥️

“What the fuck is your problem?” you yelled at Noah through the closed car doors, that he shut behind you in a not very gentlemanly way after your ass hit the passenger seat. You watched him run around the front of his stupid car and get behind the driver’s wheel. “I asked you a question?” you tried again, wanting to know the reason why he dragged you out of the frat house the minute you walked in.

“What?” Noah finally replied, like he wasn’t the one behind all of this.

“Don’t come at me with this attitude. Why the hell did you drag me out of that house? I just arrived?” you were angry and confused.

Noah started the car and backed out of the parking place, still not giving you any answer, but you didn’t miss the long sigh that left his mouth.

“Trevor.” Noah said and gripped the driving wheel just a bit tighter.

“What about him?”

“Got drunk and didn’t know when to shut his mouth.”

— Later before you arrived at the party —

“Hey Sebastian, what’s the deal between you and Ella?” obviously drunk Trevor approached Noah in the kitchen that was separated from the already crowded living room, giving them a bit of privacy.

“What do you mean?” Noah scrunched his nose at Trevor’s state. The party had just begun, but it looks like Trevor had pre-drinks with his mates, a lot of them.

“Man, she’s hot and smart, you two are just fuck buddies huh? I think she wants more and I also think I could give her that.” Trevor didn’t realize it in his state, but right now he stepped on very thin ice with this topic.

“I’m not talking about her with you.” was Noah’s short answer and then he tried to leave the room, not in the mood for this conversation.

But before he managed to slip through the door, Trevor’s hand gripped his bicep. “Don’t get angry man, I came to talk to you before I make a move on her. You know, give you a warning so you’re not surprised.”

Noah didn’t know if it was the hand on his bicep, the way Trevor kept calling him ‘man’ or the way he was talking about making a move on you that made him angry, but before he could think he pushed Trevor off of him, making Trevor stumble few steps back until his back hit the counter. “Hey man, chill.”

“Stop calling me man, I’m not your buddy. I’m not interested in your plans, because they’re not gonna happen. Not tonight, not ever. You’re right, she’s smart, but that’s exactly why she’s out of your league.”

“And what makes you think she’s not out of your league? She already talked to me before, I know I can make her get in my bed. You can find someone else just by looking at them, you could help a friend out.” Trevor literally asked for a black eye, not in those exact words, but that’s what Noah heard. His hand flew to Trevor’s left eye before he could stop himself.

“God Sebastian that hurt.” Trevor cried and held his hand over his freshly hurt eye.

“Listen to me, you fucker, I thought you were a decent guy, genuinely interested in her, but your drunk mouth just took away any chance you had with her and I’m gonna make sure of that.” Noah was holding Trevor by his stupid collar on his navy t-shirt.

Looks like one punch wasn’t enough and Trevor continued, making it worse for him. “I just wanted to fuck her, that ass looks amazing with clothes on, bet it’s even better from behind, huh?”

At this point Noah saw red and used the same hand to punch Trevor in his nose. When his drunk and hurt body collapsed on the floor, Noah had to stop himself and leave the kitchen. When he stepped inside the living room, you entered the main door with Molly and Clara by your side.

Noah made his way to you, taking your hand in his and lead you to his car.

“Nice to see you too Noah!” was the last thing you heard from Molly before Noah sat you in his car and closed the door behind you.

— back in Noah’s car —

“What could he possibly say to make you this angry? And why the hell you let it out on me?” you were starting to get really frustrated with the way he wasn’t communicating what his problem was.

“He talked shit about you, okay? So I punched him, then you arrived and I wanted to leave and didn’t want to leave you there in case he wouldn’t get the message and tried talking to you.” Noah stopped at the red lights and after giving you finally some answer, he looked at you with look that was mixture of anger and sadness.

“You did what?”

“Was that the only thing you heard?”

“God Noah you can’t just punch a drunk guy because he says shit.”

“He said shit about you.”

“That doesn’t make it difference, what if he calls the cops?”

“I don’t care.”

“Of course you don’t.” you turned your body to face the window, silence taking over the car.

You appreciated when Noah stood up for you, especially when you were not there to do it for yourself, but Noah had a short temper and it almost every time ended in him getting physical and you didn’t want that happening because of you.

“What did he say?” you mumbled quietly, but enough for Noah to hear you.

“I’m not telling you Ella, he was drunk as fuck and I bet he’s not gonna remember it tomorrow. He’s not worth your time, okay?”

“Noah I want to-”

“I’m not telling you, not right now or I’m gonna turn around and punch him again.” Noah unintentionally raised his voice, but you got the message.

Silence took over the space of Noah’s car again and you watched the buildings on your side, thinking about what Trevor could say about you, because he was always nice to you.

“Don’t think about it, Ell.” Noah could practically hear your thoughts, so he lowered his voice even though he was still full of anger and put his right hand on your thigh to comfort you.

“Thanks for standing up for me, again. And thanks for not telling me what he said, I think I don’t want to know.” you replied, quieter this time.

Seeing you sad made Noah angry again and he didn’t even realize he was squeezing your thigh until you spoke up again “Noah that hurts.” as you pushed his hand away.

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

“I’s okay.” it was your turn to look at him. His face was focused on the road, you could see his jaw was clenched from the anger, but the street lights that were dancing on his face made his features look softer.

You never needed the alcohol to find Noah attractive, but you almost always had at least one drink before you two left together. This time was different, because you were both fully sober and the atmosphere was tense.

Anger left your body few minutes into the drive, but Noah’s body still looked tense.

You reach over the console to put your hand on his thigh this time, not sure of your actions.

Noah’s eyes left the road for a second as he glanced down to his lap where your hand was caressing his thigh over the material of his jeans.

“What are you doing?” he asked, eyes back on the road.

“I don’t know, you still look angry.” you kept your eyes on his face as your hand made its way closer to Noah’s groin.

“Ella.” he said through gritted teeth.

“Yes?” you asked innocently.

“Stop it. I’m driving.”

“Stop what?” you honestly didn’t know what took over you, but seeing Noah angry made you clench your thighs together so you acted before you could think.

You leaned from your seat and kissed the skin next to Noah’s ear and then whispered “Angry sex is good I heard.” and then your hand gently stroked his dick.

“Ella.” he repeated, but this time less firm and more in a “continue” way.

You didn’t say anything and continued with your gentle touches and kissing his cheek.

When Noah pulled into his parking spot in the garage, he was out of the car quickly and was grabbing your hand before you could even realise it. He closed your door and gently pushed you against it and connected your lips.

His kisses were angry, quick and messy. His right hand was placed next to your head and his left was holding your neck, meanwhile you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself and slipped one in the front of his jeans.

“God what’s gotten into you.” he leaned his forehead against yours when he felt your hand grab him over his underwear. His mouth remained open, his eyes closed.

“Let’s go upstairs.” you said suddenly and took your hand out of his jeans.

Noah couldn’t wait until the elevator brought you to his floor and pinned your body with his. This time he went for your neck, helping himself to more space with his hand on your jaw leaning it sideways.

Once you made it to Noah’s apartment you were satisfied to see his anger finally transforming into his actions. He didn’t bother stopping to take off your jackets or shoes, he just walked you backwards towards his bedroom.

Before he had a chance to push down on his bed, you whispered “I believe I owe you a thank you.” against his lips and kneeled in front of him.

You unzipped his jeans, leaving them to fall to his ankles and then slid down his underwear.

He was already hard, since the minute you touched him in his car.

You didn’t waste any time, grabbing him in both of your hands and starting the steady rhythm of your movements. You stroked him a few times and then finally took him into your mouth. Noah’s head fell backwards in bliss, “Yeah, that feels good.” he managed to slip out of his mouth.

You managed to take off your jacket with one of your hands while the other one continued touching Noah. Your mouth was focused on his tip, already swollen and leaking pre cum, your tongue teasing him. He let you push your mouth to his base a few times before saying “Come back up.” and helping you stand up.

His lips immediately found yours and your hands went for his jacket.

Slowly you stripped each other and were left with nothing on.

Noah’s body hovered over yours, he was holding his weight on his elbows when you mase it to his bed. You couldn’t hide the needines for his touch and lifted your hips from the mattress to find some kind of fraction.

“I should get angry more often huh?” you felt Noah’s lips turn into a smirk, having the time of his life seeing you so needy.

He turned your bodies over so he was laying under you, making you frown because you thought he’s going to give you a head too.

“What’s with that face huh?” he grabbed your cheek and laid you on his chest, his mouth connecting with yours quickly.

You couldn’t help yourself again and rolled your hips, feeling Noah’s dick between your thighs, his tip touching your clit for just a second. Your mouth fell open with a silent moan from that quick touch.

Noah’s hands grabbed your ass, squeezing your skin for a moment before he said “Sit on my face.” and gently pushed on your ass, signaling for you to climb his body to a position where he wanted you.

“What?” your eyes full of lust and excitement for something new were staring into Noah’s.

“Come on, get up here.” you kissed his lips a few more times before doing what he asked.

You carefully put your thighs next to his head, making sure you’re not straddling his hair or hurting him in any way, but when you felt his hands on your waist pulling you down and his mouth connecting with your clit, you didn’t care anymore.

First you didn’t know what to do with yourself, getting comfortable in this new position. Finally you settled for one hand on the headboard and the other one was gripping Noah’s hair.

His hands were holding you down, because you had tendencies to move away if it felt too good or if you didn’t want to make Noah uncomfortable.

“Stop moving.” you heard him say and the grip on your thighs became stronger.

His tongue kept dancing around your swollen clit, then licking through your lips and then entering you which made you roll your eyes to the back of your head.

“Jesus Noah!” his name from your mouth felt like heaven for him. When he felt you finally stop moving and relax into his touch, he reached for your nipple with his hand, playing with it while licking your sensitive clit.

It wasn’t just the movements of Noah’s mouth, it was also the sounds that he was doing. He felt every part of you from this angle, your thighs giving him a place of comfort. Every time he let out a goran, you heard and felt it. When you felt the familiar feeling taking over your body, you couldn’t help yourself and grind against Noah’s face. He flattened out his tongue and let you ride his face until orgasm took over your body and he kept slowly licking you through it.

You collapsed on his chest, giving him a view of yourself. He used his fingers to touch you, to feel the mess his tongue made.

When you sat back up you were not prepared for the sight of Noah’s lips and chin covered in you, glistening in the dim light that was covering his bedroom. He had a small smile on his face and his eyes were screaming “sex drunk”.

“That was hot.” he said while making eye contact with you.

“That was fucking hot.” you agreed and moved to lay next to him.

Noah gave you another smile before grabbing your chin and kissing you, making you taste yourself on his lips.

He turned on his side, his lips never leaving yours while he reached for a condom. He moved you to the center of his bed and kneeled in front of your legs. He took his time teasing you with his cock, collecting the wetness before slowly entering you.

He didn’t lean down to kiss you immediately, he liked watching you react to his body. He held one of your legs close to his chest, kissing your ankle here and there. He watched your head fall back into the pillow that was under you, your mouth open and your hands grabbing the sheets.

If you hadn't made grabby hands towards him, he would probably stay like that to watch you the whole time. But you wanted him close, you wanted to feel his skin.

He went for your neck, kissing and biting your sensitive skin while your hand slid in his hair, pulling them when his movements felt particularly good.

He was enjoying himself tonight, he wanted to make it last as long as possible.

Without a warning he slipped out of you, the sudden emptiness had you moaning his name. He started kissing your neck, then moved to your chest and stayed there for a while. He continued kissing your body until he was once again between your thighs, sucking on your clit. Your legs started to shake from the overstimulation, but he didn’t care. He stayed there until he heard your breath quicken and your legs squeeze him more and more. He pulled away just before you could reach your high.

“Fuck you.” you let slip out of your mouth before glaring at him.

“Turn around baby.” baby, he said it again. But in this state you were in, you couldn’t care less.

You turned your body so you were laying on your front this time and looked over your shoulder to see how Noah wants you. He gently lifted your hips a bit and didn’t waste any time sliding into you again.

You both let out almost animalistic sounds, pausing for a few seconds to enjoy your bodies just being connected.

Noah started slowly moving in and out, making you feel like you’re not going to be able to last long anymore. By the way his thrusts became quicker and irregular you knew he won’t last much longer either.

His hand slid around your throat, pulling you up and against his chest. His hand stayed there, adding just a bit of pressure to make you feel good. He started whispering soft words into your ear, feeling you clench around him as a reaction.

“I’ve got yout, no one is gonna talk about you like that.” or “You’re too fucking hot for that looser.”

Your head fell back to Noah’s shoulder, your hand slid down your body to play with yourself to get to your high quicker. You felt Noah’s hand put more pressure on your throat and that was it for you, orgasm took over your body and you grabbed Noah’s forearm to stabilize yourself. You were moaning mess, squeezing Noah while he fucked you through the orgasm until you felt him finish too. His grip on your body tightened and you felt him bite the skin on your shoulder. You stayed like that for a minute, both catching your breath.

Noah slowly laid you back down, slipping out of you and collapsing right next to you. You turned your head so you could look at him. He was laying on his back, his eyes still closed and his breath still quick. You reached down for his blanket and put it over your bodies, enjoying this moment after.

“I meant it Ella, no one is going to talk about you like that.” Noah’s eyes were still closed, but you noticed his brows frown a little. You knew he was being serious, but after what he just did to you, you couldn’t help yourself with a little joke.

“I won’t mind it if it ends up like this every time.”

“Shut up, I’m serious.” he finally opened his eyes and turned his head to look at you.

“I know Noah, I was just joking. Thank you.” you pressed a small kiss to his shoulder and he looked satisfied with that reaction. “Well, unless-” you didn’t get to finish that sentence because you felt a pillow on your face, causing you to laugh at Noah’s reaction at your attempt for another joke.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

This story is a work of fiction, with the plot and characters entirely made up. The appearance and name of the main male character are inspired by Noah Sebastian Davis, but the storyline bears no connection to the real person.

Tag list: @lacy1986 @concretejunglefm @super-btstrash-posts @amelia-acero @chey-h @xmads-omensx @blade-dressed-in-red @respectfulrebel @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @mrscevans @blvckmvgicwoman @punkprincess1999 @fear-its-beauty @bloody-spades

If you want to be on my tag list click here

[vanillebunny]

hellooo!! can u pls write for steve harrington?? i'm thinking where he got with reader as a rebound for nancy but then he realizes its much more than that but by the time he does you already realized and left like an angsty thing

warnings: i think none? but please tell me if there are.

you've always known steve harrington, ever since you were a kid. steve 'the hair' harrington, king of hawkins, ladies man--as everyone thought. to you though, he was just steve, the neighbor next door.

being neighbors with steve wasn't always easy, or quiet even. from the constant parties to the endless nights with every woman in hawkins. you'd be a lucky if you got a good nights sleep for once. your mom didn't really hear it much, not like she was ever home to.

if there was one thing you had in common with steve, it was the lack of life in your house. only for steve, he was always replacing it with having someone over whenever he possibly can, while you just stayed home alone.

not like you were never invited, it was kind of a given since you'd know about it anyway, might as well be invited. but you never came. not like it mattered. but after some time, the parties...stopped. everything became calm, and steve was like...not a douchebag anymore. everyone said it was cause of nancy wheeler, the princess. she was perfect. not a single flaw to her

you'd always see her come around, she was pretty. you couldn't lie. but damn did something about her rub you the wrong way. it was always like this, up until you knew about the big breakup

you were home as usual, and had taken your walkman to go walk at night like you usually did, but when you left your house, you saw steve on your porch, sitting silently. it didn't even seem like he was coming to talk or something, he just sat there for no reason.

"i think you got it mixed up" you spoke up, going down a few steps to where he was sitting, "your house is next door, not here" you say with furrowed eyebrows. but he didn't even look at you, he was just sat there.

"you probably already heard." he says and just keeps looking ahead, "nancy left me"

you in fact did not hear. "oh." was all that came out of you, you sigh and just sit beside him, placing the walkman beside you. "thats...weird. why? i thought you two were happy" you say and he just scoffs

"bullshit, apparently. all of it. should've known...im an idiot. girl like her, as if that would last" he mutters, more to himself than you

"hey, what?" you say, shaking your head quickly, "that's so wrong, steve. like--very wrong. you're a great guy, steve. i mean like...now--you became a great guy. and if she didn't see that and thought it's all bullshit then she's not worth it" you say, and he--finally looks at you.

"you really think so?" he asks, and you hesitate for a moment, before nodding.

"yeah, of course steve" you say, it was quiet for a while, the two of you just looking around, up until you got up and went back inside. he sighs to himself, thinking you left, until you came back with a pair of headphones. you sat back down beside him and grabbed the walkman again, plugging in a second pair of headphones, you hand him it.

he looks at you, hesitating for a moment before taking it, the two of you sat there quietly just listening to music. it was the very first time you two had even had a proper conversation--or even interaction together ever since you were kids.

ever since then, you two were always stopping by each others houses--even driving home or to school since you were both heading the same way. you got close quickly, and as much as you didnt expect it, you genuinely really liked it

you knew he changed, but you thought it was just a look. but he actually did, he was funny, really considerate and nice. you found yourself...actually feeling things for him. you always brushed it off, but to your luck, steve was a very expressive person, so he made sure to let you know he liked you back

it was all great, you didn't feel so lonely anymore. and you two were just...such a good pair. some would say even better than nancy. and you liked to think so too, until one day, you were heading to the basketball court to go see your boyfriend as usual. until you overheard tommy h and a few other guys talking to themselves, steve must've been in the locker room or something.

"how the hell are harrington and that girl together, i mean i don't get it--he and miss perfect break up, and he's already with the next girl? i don't buy it." tommy says, and one of them chimes in

"my girl says they love each other, it's total bull. we all know the real reason harrington's with her, she's a rebound. i mean--how do you get over a girl like nancy? you got a have at least a few replacements before finally moving on"

what? replacements? no--that's not right. you're sure steve likes you, genuinely likes you...right? it's not true, he's not that kind of guy. he wouldn't be using you like that, right?

you shake your head and quickly storm off, tears brewing in your eyes. you've been alone for so long, maybe you just didn't notice how he was using you? maybe you just jumped at the first chance to be with someone, so desperate?

that same day, steve was knocking and knocking on your door, when you didn't answer, he sighed and sat on the porch. for hours. waiting and waiting.

"baby i know something's wrong...please talk to me. don't...don't do this." he says as he knocks on your door one more time. he hears footsteps coming from the road, he quickly steps down the porch and rushes to the footsteps, hoping it was you.

he slows down as he sees nancy there. he furrows his eyebrows. what the hell was she doing here?

"what do you want?" he says and she just looks at him

"steve let's talk..." she says and he quickly shakes his head

"no...no absolutely not. i don't wanna have anything to do with you, don't you understand that nancy?" he says, while he's talking, you were opening the front door since you thought it's been too long.

to his luck, you were just behind him when he was talking to nancy.

"fine, fine you're right okay? i did get with her as a rebound...to--to forget you. is that what you wanted to hear?" he says and everything else quiets down in your head, they were right. they were all right. he doesn't like you, love you. he never did. how could he? you slowly walk away, your eyes distant and your face paling. how could you be so stupid to think something could ever work out for you?

but while you were lost in your own head, steve was still talking to nancy.

"but it's not like that anymore. don't you get that? i don't love you anymore, i don't even want to see your face. i wake up in the morning and the first thing i want to do is see her, she's so much better than you could ever be. i don't need you anymore, alright? you have to go nancy" he says and shakes his head, walking back to your front door, completely ignoring nancy's pleading for him to hear her out

"baby? you in there? please come out and talk to me" he sighs as he knocks on your door, but you were already gone. you had gone through the backdoor, he was gonna use you to forget some girl? you'll do worse. you were already on your way to the trailer park, tears in your eyes. you wanted to hurt him just like he hurt you, and what other way to do that other than be with the guy he hates more than anything?

a/n: hey guys i think this mightve been my worst work yet but ummm im posting it anyway, also i wanted to make it more sad but then it kind of turned into a revenge thing so idk, hope u enjoy thoo! <333

[mandoriana]

One day, Obi-Wan and Anakin take Ahsoka and the clones to Dex's Diner, and one of the clones starts crying while drinking.

Obi-Wan: Five, what's the matter, friend?

Five: My boyfriend left me, General 😭

Anakin: Oh, buddy, don't cry, sometimes bad things happen for a good reason. Did this happen recently? Is that why you're crying?

Five: No, General.

Anakin: Wow, but if it was a long time ago, why are you still crying? Good grief, how long has it been?

Five: It was in March, sir. 😢

Anakin: Damn, he must have been really good for you to be suffering this much until now!

*Obi-Wan nudges Anakin to make him shut up*: And were you guys seriously dating?

Five: Yes, General.

*Anakin serves two mugs of drink for Five, Obi-Wan, and himself*

Obi-Wan: Wow, how long?

Five: We were together for about 2 years.

Anakin: 2 years! And you haven't dated anyone else since he broke up with you?

Five: No.

Anakin: And didn't even want to try again?

Five: No. 🥺

Anakin: Come on, Five, he didn't deserve you.

Obi-Wan: Why did this happen? Did he give you a good reason, at least?

Five *shakes his head*: He said I was overweight.

*The other clones fall silent, indignant*

Cody: That jerk called you fat, brother!?

Anakin *also indignant*: That son of a bitch! And you're sad about him!?

*Obi-Wan tries to pull Anakin to sit down and calm down*

Obi-Wan: Dear, sit down...

Anakin: Seriously, screw that guy, Five, you should be happy you got rid of that trash! *turns to Ahsoka and the clones* Right, boys?

Ahsoka and Clones: Yesssss!

Anakin: See? The boys are on your side, Five!

Ahsoka *laughing*: You guys just came to drink, Master, and now you're doing couples therapy 😂

Anakin: Take notes, Ahsoka, soon you'll learn that gossip connects you with your men. After all, what is a general without a special connection with his friends and soldiers, right boys?

Clones: YESSSS!

Anakin: See? 🤣

*Obi-Wan rolls his eyes affectionately at Anakin and turns back to Five*

Obi-Wan: So, Five, doesn't your ex-boyfriend have any friends? You know, for you to get with one of them and make him jealous?

*Anakin turns to Obi-Wan, shocked, and Ahsoka gets excited to speak too*

Ahsoka: Yes! You need to forget this guy. I mean, you've been upset for... *doing mental math* 25 months already!

*Anakin and Obi-Wan look disbelievingly at Ahsoka for getting the math wrong*

Anakin: 25 months, Snips? 🤔

Ahsoka *ignores her master*: Do you still see him?

Five: Yes.

Ahsoka: Great.

Five: He is my neighbor.

Obi-Wan: Even better! Are you neighbors?

Five: Yes, General, we live in the temple, he is one of the Jedi.

*Obi-Wan nods wisely*

Anakin: Wow, Five, you need to get with someone and moan loudly as soon as possible. Right, boys? 😏

Clones: Yessssss!

Ahsoka: And you, Cody, I know you're Five's friend. Why don't you help him out?

Cody: I tried, Commander.

Anakin: Do you know his ex-boyfriend?

Cody: Yes.

Obi-Wan: Was he a jerk?

Cody: Very much.

Obi-Wan: Was the way he treated Five a surprise to you or not?

Cody: Not at all, General.

Anakin: Of course, everyone expected it, except you, right, Five?

*Five drinks his drink and dramatically bangs his head on the counter*

Five: Not everyone can have the perfect relationship like you and Obi-Wan, General 🥺

*Anakin and Obi-Wan stare at each other, surprised*

Anakin: Are we in a relationship?

Obi-Wan: Maybe, but I'm not sure. I think I just found out.

Clones and Ahsoka: 🤣🤣🤣

[numberonetacostan]

Me and my friends joke about this all the time, like, if the II contestants aren't immortal anymore, there are a few people on the list who need constant care to not die. First, obviously, Balloon. He can so easily be popped. It seems like most people have gotten over his season 1 attitude, so I don't think anyone would do it on purpose. But all it takes is someone to be a little too forgetful or careless, and he's gone forever. Two, OJ. He can shatter from stress. And he's glass, so I imagine he's pretty fragile. Three, taco. Oh, she's dead so fast, I fear. She's one anxiety attack away. I feel like now that she knows she can die from stress, she'd be a lot more willing to go and look for help if she feels stressed or scared, against her pride. Four, Test Tube. I think it's more likely that she has some sort of reinforced glass, though, considering she holds literal acid. And oh my god lightbulb. She shatters SO MANY times. All it takes is for someone to not look where they're throwing things for her glass to shatter. As a more minor one, Box seems very accident-prone. She keeps getting caught in water and falling down high places; I seriously doubt it won't happen again.

(this is assuming what ever the Prime Shimmers gave them ISN'T a recovery center. I know that's a pretty popular theory)

Hi Moldy!!^^ Welcome back, and thank you for sending in an ask!! :]

Yeah some of the contestants are kind of fucked? Like when Suitcase was telling Balloon that they weren't helpless, I was sitting in the cinema like "I love your girlboss attitude and confidence but he is a balloon" and then I cried some more but that's not relevant to this ask.

But speaking of Balloon!!! He can never go outside again. I have a Balloon that's months old, but that is because it has been in a closet for months. Balloon will have to go back in the closet to survive :( </3. But yeah!!! He's so very vulnerable to literally everything.

I'm putting OJ and Taco in the same spot here, because I'd (in a biased manner, of course) argue that they're the two in some of the most danger because they don't really need anything external to die!! If they spiral too hard, it's over for those gay bitches!! Balloon could at least stay nice and safe in a closet, but at literally any moment OJ or Taco could just fucking snap. At least OJ has his boyfriend, Mepad just fucking died. Taco has earned a couple crash outs after all the bullshit she's been through, I just hope they're not fatal for her.

Testy, I think will be okay, since whatever she's made up is strong enough to hold whatever wacky science liquid is in her, like you said. And she can probably invent something to keep her glass from cracking. Maybe OJ could even get in on that action too!!

Lightbulb... oh dear sweet lightbulb... yeah she's definitely at risk too. Though Painty would certainly be keeping a very close eye on her after having watched her die and all that. Lightbulb is well protected!! And since she's made of glass, Testy could help reinforce her too :)

We have already seen Box eat shit time and time again both alive and as a corpse. She is so accident prone and must avoid all bodies of water and steep hills at all costs. Though, with all that's happened I'm sure she'll be very careful.

(As for what the Shimmers gave them!! Yeah, it could be a recovery center, but as for my thoughts at least, that seems a bit... boring? Obvious, maybe? The crew has mentioned that they're probably not gonna bring Mepad back because it would take away from the emotion and depth of his original sacrifice, and it feels like it would be a similar case for the Shimmer machine. Yeah, it could be a recovery center, and it's not as though I'll be disappointed if it is, but it would negate some of the depth of the sacrifice Mephone4 and the contestants made, yeah?)

[butt3rmilkbunny]

My current thoughts that have been rattling around in my noggin about Papá Perpetua are so incoherent and I’m posting them here because I think my dad’s tired of listening to me ramble while he plays guitar lol, and I like posting my random thoughts lol.

They are as follows (in no particular order and in no way super detailed or well thought out, very jumbled and stream of consciousness lol):

- Obviously 7 is part of the imagery in all the promo stuff we’ve seen and is significant in some way. We are also technically in era 7 (Nihil, Primo, Secondo, Terzo, Copia, Papa IV, Frater/papa V makes 7). The number 7 can mean sacrifice, purification, consecration, forgiveness, and reward; though I’ve also seen it mean completeness. (I saw a post about the whole 7 imagery a few months back and cannot for the life of me find it now lol.)

So I could definitely see Papa V sticking around for a while.

- I’ve seen an interview clip where Tobias Forge has said he’s developed slight claustrophobia from the mask, and I’ve read that that type of mask makes it harder to sing, but I’ve also seen interviews where it’s said he wouldn’t go completely without the mask. I like to envision a half mask of some sort like the phantom of the opera!

Though I also do believe in the theory that Papá V is Copia’s twin (cause of seestor’s memories in RHRN) (also because who has the most employee of the month awards of Copia has the second most), so maybe we’ll still get a full head mask because they would logically have to look similar enough.

Also also, I’m curious, if Perpetua is indeed Copia’s twin, how Tobias will go about Copia knowing about his twin. Like, will it be a long lost brother situation, surely not if Perpetua’s already within the ministry; but who’s to say. I want more family soap opera!

Phantom of the opera Papá would be fun tho because I LOVE phantom of the opera dearly, and I feel like Ghost would do wonders with the theatrics POTO theming allows for. (Papa of the opera, if you will lol)

- I love that Seestor named her boys ‘abundance/plenty’ and ‘eternal/everlasting’.

On that note, Papa V’s name def makes me think this will be the Papa we have for quite some time. I’ve seen people say that this will be the last Papá we get unless Tobias’s kids take over (I saw so many people adamant that his kids would take over) so who knows. Only time will tell. I’m just excited to see the new lore and also the COSTUMES!

The Papa’s have been getting progressing more sparkly in the costumes so I’m expecting Papa V to have maximum sparkles. Bedazzled to the fullest. (I saw one tweet that was like ‘Tobias Forge is taking so long because he has to bedazzle all of the costumes’ lol)

- My dream for the ghoul costumes for some reason (which I will implement into my own reimagining of the ministry I work on for funsies) is for the costumes to have little bat wings on the back. Idk why I’m so obsessed with the idea but yeah lol. I’m so excited to see the ghoul costumes if they change for Papa V. - I've seen people think it's Terzo, and I've seen some really good points made as to why. A few included the fact that the silhouette in the doorway is the same, that Terzo's foot twitched n the morgue and that there are scratch marks on his coffin, there was something to do with a certain song that maybe hinted at Papa Perpetua débuting when Terzo was Papa, as well as some other ones. While I do enjoy this theory, I'm more of a Copia's Twin theory believer. (Though I did see someone one time theorize that Terzo is Copia's twin lol).

I also saw a theory on tiktok that I cannot find again that talked about how Copia and Perpetua switched when Copia became Papa. I liked the idea though I kind of struggled to grasp it when first reading it lol. The idea is cool though! - I also saw someone on Tiktok point out that all of the songs on the V IS COMING Loma Vista playlist, the first letters spell out SATANIZED. I assume it's the name of a new song, maybe whatever was teased in the fiasco chapter, or maybe the album name.

[bloggingboutburgers]

Tbh I feel like going to the US while the Nazis are in power is suicidal. So of course I don't understand your choice of going instead of your SO coming to Europe. But while I don't understand, I wish and pray for you to be safe. Whatever you choose, I hope you guys will be okay

You might be right. I have no idea what the future has in store or if I'll come to regret it. But I've already stated my reasons. As it stands, with the year-long process we've already started and that we can't just flip on a dime overnight, my partner can't come and stay in Europe legally just like that. Legal immigration is not that easy in one way or the other. Also... Yeah, I've stated that before, but one shouldn't underestimate how shitty things have been getting in Europe for the past few years as well, and how the influence of the US (which is huge) is likely to make things worse. So again I'm not 100% sure whether that'd have been better anyway.

Also also... Ima be real, I've shared that before, but the time where I was separated from my partner due to the travel ban was the only time in my life where I had actual suicidal ideation. I don't want this to happen again. That's why I'm making moves so it doesn't, first and foremost.

[seaofreverie]

GUUUYYUYSSSD !!!!!

‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

KIMONO MY HOUSE VINYL!!!!!!

Also funny story which is that when my brother took these to the cashier he said something like "oh... Sparks... they were here one year ago"

[cobra-creampuff]

another contrast between ed singing to the crew vs izzy singing to the crew: izzy starts out visibly nervous or unsure of his reception. he wants to do this, so he's going to do it, but he's not sure if it's going to work out for him. vs ed doing it and just expecting the crew to be receptive, to give him their attention, and to laud him. and you can see the truth of these things in the crew as well, frenchie confused at izzy's direction but staying with him rather than looking around for another cue from someone else like he did with ed. the crew all doing their own thing when izzy comes out and then encouraging him, versus the crew having clearly been sat down to listen to ed. etc.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

has happened plenty around iconis goings on but what an all-timer

[gu6chan]

Not to be dramatic and point fingers but why is it that the worst people with no respect towards art or anything that doesn't involve mindless consumption for "the lore" always have to be drakengard 3 and nier fans. like i don't even try to look and search for things to complain about regarding them but somehow every stupid fucking thing in this fanbase comes back to them

[front-facing-pokemon]

[youremyonlyhope]

why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up

[faggotry-enjoyer]

oh i'm definitely gonna lose some friends for this one huh

[musical-chick-13]

.