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caesium-55 · 9 months ago

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—seven days. [ vi.iii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: updating bc i love yall. lol jk i dont want to study for my engineering management long quiz yet. sum1 yell at me to start studying or smth.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1 @evie-119 @spideylovin @harianaswhore @formulaal

masterlist.

The Abu Dhabi Grand Prix 2021 is a little dramatic in Max’s opinion. Some would say controversial. A lot of restarts. The issue with the safety car. Hamilton and Verstappen goes neck to neck. 369.5 points to 369.5. In the end, Verstappen overtakes Hamilton and wins the 2021 World Drivers' Championship.

The team celebrates with him after winning and in the sea of Red Bull employees, Max searches for you.

He won! Max Verstappen won! He’s a WDC now! He finally made truth of the world he told you in 2019.

Kelly appears and kisses him square on the lips. Max sees you in his peripheral vision, pulling your ball cap lower on your face before turning around and leaving. He wants to call you but Kelly keeps him in place.

Max visits your hotel room later, all happy and he holds the canned bottle of beer to you when you open the door.

“I’m not the sour loser anymore.”

You smile at him and Max feels like he’s on top of the podium again.

“Told ya you’ll be champion one day. Congrats, champ. Very happy for you.”

Champ.

Max decides that he likes Champ over every name you call him.

2022

you: go to fucking sleep u degenerate gamer

you: its 3 in the morning you have a race at 8

max: youre not my mother

you: i am ur manager u ass

you: and i have ur mom’s cell no

you: i will fucking call her if ur stream doesn't turn offline in ten seconds

you: 10…

max: you wouldnt dare

you: 9…

He moves into a penthouse at the beginning of the year and purchases a jet, Dassault Falcon 900EX, to make the traveling easier. Flying commercial absolutely sucks, even first class.

When he mentions the money he spent; the penthouse rental cost, the price of the jet plus maintenance of the private plane service, you have stood up and went to the balcony to stare at the Monaco scenery to gather your thoughts. Max laughs as he watches your brain overheat. He tells security that you’re to be given an immediate pass into the building and his penthouse without the need of going through the strict security checks. He gives you a keycard that you barely use because you knock on the door every single time you come by. A month later, Kelly and Penelope move in and this is the beginning of the little family charade.

“What are you doing?”

“Is it not obvious?” you gesture to the iPad in your hand. “Readin’ a Lestappen fic in AO3.”

Max’s brows furrow.

“Lestappen?”

“The ship name between you and Charles. Lestappen. Leclerc, Verstappen, Lestappen,” you say as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world and he’s stupid for even asking, waving your hand in a complicated flourish. “It’s good. Top-tier literature. Want me to send you the link?”

Max’s nose scrunches, “So there are people who ship me and Charles?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Romantically?”

You nod, “Want the link?”

“Absolutely not.”

You shrug your shoulders.

“Your loss.”

Max wins P1 (as things should be) in Austin, Hamilton P2, and Leclerc P3. The team holds a private drinking party in the hotel bar. Max sits with Leclerc, whom he has invited, and Lando, who came with Daniel, and Daniel because he’s Daniel and he still gets a free pass in Red Bull parties even though he’s in McLaren now.

Daniel passes him a bottle of Heineken and Max searches for the bottle opener on the table but it's nowhere. He reaches for you, who sits on the neighboring table with the PR team. Max grabs the hem of your polo shirt sleeve and tugs slightly to get your attention. He opens his mouth to ask if you’ve seen the bottle opener but you got to moving, not even giving Max the chance to speak.

Without even interrupting your conversation with the PR people or even breaking eye contact with the person who is talking animatedly, you take the beer bottle from Max’s hand, toss a hand towel on top of it, then you use your teeth to remove the cap. It opens with a loud click. You wipe the rim of the bottle, pocketing the bottle cap, before returning the Heineken to Max.

Max looks at the Heineken bottle in his hand.

You know, Sophie, Max’s mother, always say that there's a certain type of intimacy existing when two people are able to communicate without the use of words. People associate intimacy with bare skins and basking in the fragility and vulnerability of a person, but intimacy goes deeper than mere nakedness and showing all the bare parts of you to the other person. Intimacy comes hand in hand with truth. When you admit your truth to the other person, that's intimacy. Her knowing his truth, his needs, without him telling her. That's another kind. If that's not the purest form of love then he does not know what is.

Charles pats his shoulder to pull him to reality.

At that moment, Max decides he’s an asshole because he just realized that he likes his manager after she opens his beer bottle and he has a fucking girlfriend now.

Max wins WDC for the second year in a row. Leclerc is at second and Perez at third. He’s on the top of the fucking world. Everything feels right now that he’s standing at the top.

His eyes search for you in the crowd but he doesn't find you. Only Kelly. He kisses Kelly, celebrates with the team, and visits you in your hotel room later with a cold can of beer in hand. It's a little past midnight, his watch tells him. You open the door seconds after Max knocks.

“Have you talked to Horner?” you ask, accepting the beer and opening it. The loud click when you open it feels satisfying in his ears.

You’ve changed out of the Red Bull polo now and instead, you wear a black shirt.

“No,” Max shakes his head.

“When will you?”

“Soon.”

That's the only truth he can offer. Because the bigger truth is this: Max doesn't want you going anywhere, not even the engineering team who works closely with him. He only wants you here, beside him, behind him, at all times.

One more year. One more year and he's going to tell Christian to move you to the engineering team. One more year to have you and he’ll let you go.

(That's what he told himself last year, too.)

“Okay,” you nod and it relieves Max that you’re not arguing with him about it. “Congrats, Champ.”

You don't fly with him to Monaco. You don't fly with the team either. Instead, you fly to Texas immediately straight from Abu Dhabi. Max calls you once in the middle of break to greet you happy holidays and you mail him his gift—a clay keychain figure of him. He adds it to his keys, sitting right next to the beaded keychain you gave him back in 2020 and a bottle opener keychain in 2021.

2023

“Should I break up with Kelly?”

Your head snaps up at a speed that should be considered a hazard, stunned. You give Max a look that can be translated as: Did the g-force finally catch up to your brain?

“What prompted this?” you question, slowly setting Max’s laptop aside. You’re working on fixing his laptop’s wifi connection while he’s getting his makeup done for the Heineken ad filming. Once the makeup artist deemed him done and left the room, he immediately took the chance to ask the question.

“Nothing,” he lies.

“I’ll throw away your laptop if you don't tell me the truth,” you threaten.

“It's just—” Max pauses. His mouth feels dry. He licks his lips before continuing, “It’s just… I don't know how to explain it. It feels like I don't love Kelly anymore.”

I think I love you, [Name].

“Aight,” you grab a monoblock chair and drag it until it's right beside Max’s chair and plop your ass down. You sigh deeply before your face schools into complete seriousness. “Can't believe I’m the one givin’ you this talk. Uh, Max, you see, in a relationship, you typically experience this period called the honeymoon phase.”

Max nods slowly. He doesn't know where you're trying to get at but he clings on each word that leaves your mouth.

“The honeymoon phase can last anywhere from months to years and when it's done, the strong feelings and infatuation you have for Kelly decreases and that's natural. This is the stage where your bond with Kelly is strengthened,” you explain. “It's not all sunshine and rainbows. It can get boring. But the love is still there. It's just…well, less intense than before.”

He wants to ask if this happened to you and Leo as well, but he bites his tongue and says a different thing instead, “You give advice like a relationship guru.”

“Baby, I have a long list of ex-lovers. Kelly’s your first girlfriend. You don't have a say.”

Your birthday is near. Daniel shares to Max that he’s buying you a new ball cap this year, signed by your favorite professional billiard player. Max needs to give you something better.

He thinks about the things you like. He makes a list. It's a short one.

Beer

A spot in the engineering team.

Your family

He cannot give number three. He cannot give what you already have. He can give you number two but he doesn't want to. He doesn't want you to be anything other than his manager. He can give you number one but it'll be very lame of him if he gives you beer for your birthday. What is better than Daniel’s gift? What would you like more than a ballcap?

Max calls his sister that evening.

“Shoes,” she says. “Oh wait, that's a little hard. You might get her shoe size wrong.”

“She’s size 7. In Euro, 37,” Max states a little too quickly and a little too sure.

“How did you know her shoe size?” Victoria wonders.

“I don't know. I just watch her feet?”

“So, you estimated her shoe size by watching her feet like a creep?”

“I watch her feet a normal amount, Victoria,” Max insists.

“Max, I can't even tell my husband’s shoe size even if I stare at his feet for hours.”

“Maybe you just suck at estimating measurements.”

Max ends up getting the shoes with Victoria’s help. Victoria gets too irritated with him midway because he is too indecisive. He thinks all the shoes that’s displayed do not suit you.

It's not even this difficult when he’s picking shoes to give Kelly. Normally, he just asks the saleswoman to show him the most expensive or the latest in their stock and he buys it, instructs the storespeople to wrap it up and make sure the brand shows because Kelly likes it when the brand is big and bright and attention-grabbing.

“If you think nothing’s pretty enough then go get a custom made shoe,” she advises and then sighs in exasperation. Victoria shakes her head at him. It's not supposed to be a serious suggestion but Max takes it to heart.

Instead of black, Max goes for white. You rarely go in white clothing but when you do, you become so beautiful that Max has to stop himself from kneeling down in front of you and risking everything.

It has pearls and diamonds and satin. All beautiful things that reminded Max of you. Max wants, no, needs to see you put them on. He’s the one who puts it in a box. White-colored with peach stickers and a peach-colored ribbon.

Max plans to give them to you after he wins the Miami Grand Prix. But your family arrives just as he’s about to retrieve it from his driver’s room.

Max meets your family. A family that consists of happy parents and three brothers. You are your family’s unica hija.

Julio [Last Name], your father, is a big man and his accent is thicker than yours and he doesn't call you by your name, only the most affectionate-sounding mija. He reminds Max of a giant teddy bear. A giant teddy bear who crushes rocks for a living.

Your mother, on the other hand, is a stern-looking woman. Sally, her name was. She’s short, compared to you and her sons and her husband.

You have three brothers. One older—you call him Damiano. Two younger—Rafael and Dominic. You are more your mother than your father, Max notices. Appearance-wise anyway. Damiano, too. Sharp-looking, both of you. Your sharpness makes you look charming whereas your Damiano’s sharpness makes him look intimidating. Your two younger brothers are carbon copies of your father, a little round and with kinder looking features.

“Papa, Mama, Bro one, two, and three, this is Max,” you introduce him, smiling widely and you're doing that smile where you’re showing too much gums and your eyes are shaped like crescents. Happiness looks good on you.

He lets out an oof sound when your father engulfs him in a hug. Max hears you exclaim: “Papa!”

Max laughs and waves his hand to tell you that the hug is fine and is very much welcomed.

“Congratulations, Maxwell!” Julio claps Max’s shoulders.

“Papa, please,” you shake your head at your father’s antics. “It's just Max.”

“Ya want to join us for [Name]’s birthday?” Julio invites. Max catches your eyes. You mouth a no but Max shrugs and says, “Sure.”

Max joins the family dinner. It's held in a Mexican restaurant somewhere downtown. Originally, your family reserved a table for ten. But Max has gone ahead and reserved the entire restaurant by paying upfront. You slap Max’s hand but Max laughs and says, “Happy Birthday [Name].”

Over dinner, Maxs learns that Rafael, Dominic, and Damiano are the biggest motosport fans so they all talk about Formula One and occasionally MotoGP. He finds out that they're a big fan of Marc Marquéz. Max tells them that he knows Marc personally and shares his experiences with the man. He promises to send them the man’s signatures. You tell him that he doesn't have to. He tells you that it's his pleasure.

Max listens in attentively as Julio narrates his amazing tales about his work experience. You laugh at the surprised Pikachu face Max makes when Julio is telling the entire table about the creepy call he responded to just the other month. You and your mother occasionally join in on the conversation but are more comfortable with listening to the boys.

Later, you stand up to excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. Max stands from the table five minutes after you leave. He’s drunk too much soda so now he needs to take a piss.

“Are you okay?” Max asks as he catches you reapplying a layer of lipstick—a shade of nude rose—on the sink in front of the washroom.

You hold the lipstick in one hand but the other is holding your right arm, palm covering the word MANAGER printed on the sleeve of your Red Bull polo shirt like it's something to be ashamed about.

“Yeah.” A lie.

The rest of the night goes the way Max wants it. He almost wishes it won't end.

Kelly waits for him in his hotel room. She gives him a gift for winning P1. The shoe box in Max’s backpack remains untouched.

He’s got every country except Singapore, Saudi, and Azerbaijan under his belt. His third WDC is secure even if he loses Abu Dhabi, but Max is selfish. He still wants a P1 in Abu Dhabi so he fights and fights until no one can catch up because of how fast he was.

Kelly comes with him this time to watch him race and support him because it's the final race of the season and she also knows that Max is going to win WDC this year. P is over at her father right now so it's just the two of them.

“Babe!” Max looks up from his laptop. Kelly comes running in and Max’s eyes widened, horrified, when she sees that Kelly is holding it.

The white shoes.

Max stands abruptly. The laptop in his lap falls to the floor and shatters. He curses and crouches down to pick it up and save what he can save. When he looks up, Kelly is sitting on the bed now and is trying the shoes on. Max shoves the damaged laptop aside and strides towards her. He’ll deal with the laptop later.

“That's not—”

“Oh?” Kelly’s face morphs in confusion. “It doesn't fit.”

Kelly chuckles yet it sounds empty and dread pools in Max’s stomach.

“You bought me shoes many times already. There’s no way you’ll get my shoe size wrong.”

Max takes the shoes from her hand quickly and he puts them back carefully in the box.

“That's not for me,” Kelly states.

“It’s not for you,” Max echoes.

“Then who’s it for, Babe?”

Max doesn't answer. Instead, he avoids her gaze.

“Max Emilian Verstappen, who’s the shoes for?” Kelly is seething now.

For the first time in their two nearly three year long relationship, Max and Kelly get into a screaming argument. They get into arguments as all couples do, but never ones with screaming and crying and too much anger in one room.

“I can't go on like this anymore,” Kelly cries. “I can't. I let it go when you made me wait because you celebrated her birthday with her family. I let it go when you made her that crochet bag. I let it go when you bought a billiard table and brought it into our home because she likes playing billiards—”

“I tried breaking up with you!” Max roars and he sees Kelly flinch. “And you told me not to. You used Penelope so I wouldn't break up with you—”

“Do not even say my daughter's name—”

“It's true!” Max throws his hands in the air like a man gone mad. “I told you in fucking July that I think I’m losing feelings for you! You told me to not break up with you because Penelope already thinks of me as her father and it’ll break her heart if I kick you out of my house! I am NOT her father, Kel, her father’s Daniil! You only want me because I can give you everything you want! Money, pride, and a fucking father figure for your child!”

Kelly strikes his cheek. Sharp, fast, and strong. Max remains still in shock and stares ahead.

Kelly has officially become the second person in this world who has raised a hand at Max.

“I hate you,” Kelly utters it with so much intensity. “I hate you. We’re done.”

She leaves quickly.

Max’s phone buzzes.

you: hey champ. race is on in an hour n a half. u good to go?

max: yeah

max: i’ll be there soon

you: i’ll wait for u

max: you always do

Max races with the guilt that he's a cheating asshole. His mother will not be proud of it once she learns that her son has dated a girl and idiotically realized that he’s in love with his manager halfway through the relationship.

Despite the emotional turmoil that swirling inside him, Max takes P1 and becomes a third-time WDC. He celebrates with the team. You excuse yourself, saying you have something important to do, and Max doesn't bother asking you to stay because he knows he’ll visit you in your hotel room later with a cold can of beer. It’s become your ritual now.

He drinks with Daniel, Yuki, and Checo. Five bottles in, he spills everything. He pukes. It tastes disgusting. His world turns into a hazy blur. You came to his rescue because that's what you always do.

Max is so dumb for taking so long in realizing that he's in love with you. It's always been you. You and your dumb considerate attitude and your snarky personality and your crude mouth. He never realized how horrifyingly enormous his desire for you is until its right there in front of him with its mouth wide open, ready to swallow him whole.

you: landed

you: thanks for the jet

you: talk soon gotta get to papa 1st

max: ok

max: stay safe

max: your dad will be alright dont worry

you: i hope so

It has been seven days since the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, three days since you left Monaco, two days since your last conversation in Instagram, and a day before Max flies to Belgium to celebrate the holidays with his mother and sister and his sister’s family.

max: are you okay?

max: just landed in belgium

max: mum and vic says hi

max: hey it's been a week now

max: is your dad okay?

max: im worried

max: call me soon please

max: happy holidays

max: or merry christmas

max: whatever you celebrate there in america

max: yeah i greeted a little too early

max: you didn't answer my call

max: im friends with logan now by the way

max: we talk at times

max: im trying to get him into sim racing

max: maybe it'll help him improve

max: happy holidays

max: i called your cell

max: you know christian just told me something funny

max: he sent an email this morning with a list of candidates for my 2024 manager

max: he said you resigned

max: very funny

max: please tell me you didn't

#max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #f1 imagines #manager!reader #mv33 x reader #mv1 #mv1 x reader #mv33

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ut-museum-guide · 10 months ago

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Comfort Fics to Soothe the Soul

_In no particular order

4 fics contain dark themes

5 fics contain smut (3 of 5 eventual)

12 fics are reader fics

5 fics are Sans x Sans

1. Skeleton Games

By poetax (279k words)

Characters: Muffet, Red, Edge, Reader

Tags: Feuding neighbors, vampire reader

Note: None

2. Doom and Gloom All Up in Your Room

by TrashCollector (95k)

Reader (room owner), Dust, Horror

Domestic harem

3. A Sea of Hope

By Aylish91 (26k)

Reader (runaway skeleton), Axe (Horror)

Piratetale, Y/N x Axe

Note: abuse recovery

4. Poor Little Meow Meow

By Mystique, TallDumbass (58k)

Reader (vet), Killer

Fluff and Angst, domestic, ship

Note: eventual occasional smut

5. A Lovely House of Bones

By Green_Heart88 (37k)

@/greenheartart

Reader (host), Sans, Paps, Blue, Stretch, Edge, Red

Domestic living + recovery

6. Six Skeletons, One Store Clerk

By mccloudydayz (249k)

Reader, Sans, Paps, Red, Edge, Stretch, Blue +

Harem, Domestic, multiverse shennanigans

7. Aggre(g/v)ation

By Llama_Goddess (180k)

Reader, Sans, Red, Skull, later Mobfell Sans

Domestic, lots o’ shippin’

Note: Mobfell’s house onwards is intense

8. On the Top of the Bone Pile

By Lyrjok (422k)

Reader (in band), Red, Edge, Blue, Stretch, Gaster Sans

Harem,

Note: eventual smut

9. Dirty Laundry

By popatochisp (162k)

Swapfell Sans, Swapfell Papyrus, Reader

Domestic, romance

10. Stowaway Bitty

By Historically Dragon (301k)

Bittybones (Brassberry), Reader (broke and making do)

Slice of life

11. A Trio of Misfits

By Sabinarius (56k)

Bittybones (Baby Blue, Lil Bro), Reader

Slice of life, money troubles

12. Smoke in the Mirror

By Catsitta (76k)

Mobfell Ensemble, Red, Sans

Sans x Sans

13. The Killing Kind (Comic)

By @/thegrinningkitten

Geno-Error x Reaper, Sans x Sans

14. Papyrus Dates a Bird

By WhatteauYouDoing (70k)

Reader (bird), Papyrus, Sans

Slice of life, magi

15. That Danger that Lurks Underwater

By AKA_Indulgence (67k)

Sans (meroctopus), Red (mermaid), Edge (mermaid), Reader (human)

Toxic romance, Sans x Reader

Note: dark themes

16. Saving Three Ex-cell-ent Skeletons

By RecklesslyCaffeinated (90k)

Reader, Sans, Red, Horror

Nurse x prison inmates, harem

17. Who Done It?

By Catsitta (15k) complete

Mafia Sans, Mafia Red, Mafia Edge, Reader (barista)

Mafia!Kustard, mystery, Sans x Sans

18. Cave Bear

By Llama_Goddess (35k)

Reader, Horrorfell Sans, Horrorfell Papyrus

Fall into underground, daily grind

Note: dark themes

Related one shot

19. Just Buisness

Catsitta (37k)

Sans, Red

Single parent struggle, sugar daddy red

Sans x Sans (debatable)

Note: dark themes

20. Burn Me Down

By Gypsum Lilac (22k)

Edge, Reader

Fast food domestic, mental health

21. Storm

By Nilchance

Horror, Sticks (Farmtale Sans)

Hurt/comfort, Sans x Sans

Note: smut

22. The Soldier and the Carnal Skeletons

By Writers_War_Zone (113k)

Sans, Horror, Blue, Reader (ex soldier)

Animal instincts, harem, kink

Note: smut

23. Little Red

By Spectroscope (53k)

@/spectascopes

Human!SwapPaps, Human!SwapSans, OC bittybones

Bittybones, trauma recovery

24. Firsts and Seconds

by Skerb (103k)

Sticks (Farmtale Sans), Bitey/Buddy (Horrortale Sans)

Injury recovery, strangers to lovers, Sans x Sans

25. Starry Eyed

By nilchance (90k)

Sans, Red, Edge, Stretch, Gaster (AI)

Prison recovery, soulmates, pirates, outer space, Sans x Sans, Stretch x Edge, Red x Edge

Note: dark themes, occasional smut

26. AVA

By Inyahs (356k)

Anomaly OC, bittybones oc, UTMV ensemble

~ Wise crack hermit goes on adventure with grumpy insomniac bitty~

From @undertale-museum

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forlix · 1 year ago

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‧ ❆ ˚ 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬

— eight winter-themed fics for each member of stray kids written by myself (@forlix) and my sahar (@astraystayyh)! alternatively titled dead dick december lmfaooo

— important notes :

6/8 completed; last updated 3/19/24

no specific holidays are mentioned by name

gendered pronouns used only in chan's, minho's, and han's fics

minors & ageless blogs please dni w/ han's fic as it is nsfw

fics will be posted between dec. 2023 and mar. 2024

. . . also, we will be opening a taglist for this series! send me or sahar an ask or reply to either of our masterlists if you'd like to be added ♡ (minors and ageless blogs will not be tagged in han's)

pieces of you・bang chan・@astraystayyh・8.7k ⤷ single dad!chan, neighbors!au, fluff, angst, slow burn. posted 2/12/24.

in which you and chan are each other's missing pieces. alternatively, chan and his daughter come knocking at your apartment asking for flour, and he's suddenly no longer embarrassed when you open the door.

something has melted・lee minho・@forlix ⤷ spy x family!au, fake dating!au, fluff

your obnoxious coworkers never get off your ass about how single you are, and your temporary husband is too happy to make them eat their words.

burning in the winter wind・seo changbin・@astraystayyh・4.4k ⤷ (fake) enemies to lovers, college!au, hurt/comfort. posted 2/26/24.

sustaining an ankle injury during a ski retreat isn't fun. especially when seo changbin volunteers to stay back to tend to you—the one man you can never get a read on.

the snow falls, we fall apart・hwang hyunjin・@astraystayyh ⤷ roommates!au, friends to lovers, slow burn, hurt/comfort. posted 3/19/24.

when heartbreak looms on your life, and winter becomes a time you loathe, hyunjin helps you rewrite your memories with the season, and with it, everything you once believed about love.

(18+) empty my mind・han jisung・@forlix・6.4k ⤷ friends with benefits to lovers, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort. posted 1/6/24.

stars flare brightest in the absence of light, and you see his clearer than day.

everything has changed (besides myself)・lee felix・@forlix・5.4k ⤷ babysitter!au, exes to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff. posted 12/9/23.

you spend three years loving him, six months losing him, and four hours waiting for him to get the hell out of your house. but the human heart is more stubborn than you know.

warm winter・kim seungmin・@forlix ⤷ established relationship, hurt/comfort, fluff

"i don't deserve you," he breathes, "but god, i want to."

please fall before i fall・yang jeongin・@astraystayyh・2.8k ⤷ childhood best friends to lovers, fluff, hint of unrequited love (they're idiots). posted 1/18/24.

three times you saved jeongin's ass and the one time he saved yours (and ended up confessing along the way).

#thank you to the best songwriter of our generation (aka han jisung) for these titles #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz fluff #skz imagines #skz scenarios #bang chan x reader #lee know x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #han jisung x reader #lee felix x reader #seungmin x reader #jeongin x reader #*writing #SO EXCITED FOR THIS :")

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whispereons · 1 year ago

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Masterlist!

I'm Whispereons and I mainly write yandere Genshin Impact fics. The SAGAU is my long time obsession if it wasn't obvious.

For ease of convenience I will have this masterlist pinned with my works, taglist, and tags used on my blog.

Currently I don't have any rules to abide by. I enjoyed all the comments, reblogs, asks and submissions I received thus far!

Just a warning for anyone new, I advise you to make sure your blog has some form of personalization. Like a profile pic, a sentence saying hello in your bio or even just a single post saying you're human will do. It's to prevent you from getting the report and block combo when I do my spam/porn bot purges.

SAGAU works

Oracle!Reader - with my current editor @serpent-benediction (hopefully) fixing up the older chapters.

Followers Special: 1K

Inazuma:

City - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 Sea - Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Liyue:

City - Part 9, Part 10, Wilderness - Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18 City V2 - Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25

(Don't judge my old works too harshly, I really was new at writing!)

Self-aware Genshin Impact Series (incomplete): Warmth, Screen, Team Player, Over This Shit

Oneshots - Another Drink, It's tough to be a God

Normal Yandere Genshin Impact:

Venti/Barbatoes x EOS!Reader: Planned, Protection or Possession?, Control

General Yandere Posts:

Male yandere x fem reader: Insecurity

Tags to use to navigate my posts!

#whisp's amateur work - all of my writing

#sagau oracle au - everything related to my oracle!reader (was implemented late so the first tag is more reliable)

#a whispered response - me answering asks/submissions

#whisp's collection - my personal collection of my fav authors, artists, and anything else. My mindless reblogs aren't tagged with anything to avoid cluttering the tag system.

#peering into the whisp - if I get personal asks, this is the tag I would use

If you regularly sends asks with some way to identify you then I usually give you a tag too.

My taglist for my Oracle!Reader:

If you are in italics, that means I couldn't tag you! That could be due to you being shadow banned or having your settings set to hide you from being searched. I will keep this master list updated with each new user, I truly don't mind tagging you all. It's honestly a nice feeling.

@vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma, @kwqsla, @undecidingfate, @ehjane, @game-savvy, @akiramirae, @liansh3ng, @fluffy-koalala, @formacoon, @sxftiebee, @khxii-i, @ursinaw, @chuuya-brainrot, @sweetbills, @kazuchaos, @snowfoxnix, @bluebelony, @shellofthewell, @pencil-of-ashes, @ghostlyintervention, @taiformaifoe, @goaudduck, @carminerin, @maddysflowers, @zenith-of-all-zenith, @crazydreamcat, @leafanonsforest, @grimreapersscythe, @leylanx, @sapphireknown, @help-whatdoimakemyusername

@zhonglisfruityass, @mer0n37, @victoria1676, @mochinessss, @sinnful-darling, @emilymikado, @pix-stuff, @esthelily, @luxie963, @emmbny, @starsofabundance, @kbar1013, @xxblackroses623xx, @chxrlxtteee, @aludicpoet, @yandematic, @atrcclovsxoxo, @0lshadyl0, @esthelily, @t-rex-red, @ck123, @steadybreadbluebird, @118gremlin, @stratonia, @time-shardz, @farelady-fate, @valeriele3, @francisnyx, @byakuren100, @waveto-earth, @flyingpansaurus, @silverstarred, @iamapotatoe, @ghosthii, @beloveddroplet, @uchihaeirin, @ibelieveinsleep, @idk098, @thefirstonetoeverlikemeback, @toramune, @haaaaaades, @horologiumwise, @melovaaaa, @alittletiredcry, @aphxdea, @atsukawolfcat, @desirabletravel, @pinkpainc, @eccedentesiast-sapphic, @yuyuzi-ling, @hyperfixationwhore

@juuuuuj101010, @avalordream, @kurayamioterasu, @tottybear, @koiikuno, @lynx-of-skies, @quacking-simp, @synthe4u, @kascar-chronicle, @hug4helios, @hug4helios, @silverstarred, @koiikuno, @ithoughtthinks, @remiivx, @lemonade7255, @melpomenelurks, @average-yandere-enjoyer, @mnhao, @fuji-sen, @altumsomnum, @hehothrowawayfae, @unofficialabortive, @magnum0pus2231, @xxnessinessiellexx, @multiliker, @intpessimistic, @kitsunelivesyet, @extremelytoastybread, @mercy-not-merci, @silvermoon617, @evaline-ethan, @fallintothechasm, @imgonnaeatthatglitter, @bunniotomia, @3noa3, @astro-stars, @beary-kalkus, @yourfavepookiebear, @original-person, @alexx197197, @dxprived4-starboys, @bunniotomia, @smokycoffe, @hydroarchon-furinaa, @armystaysatnct, @solunamare

#whisp's amateur work #a whispered response #sagau cult au #whisp's collection #peering into the whisp #official masterlist #For those wondering #The cat covering my blog is my dear Obsidian <3 #if he dies #I may actually drop Tumblr #but that's not going to happen as he's young and a housecat #he's living all 18 years estimated #and WOW I didn't expect to have so many liyue chapters #There's just so many people in Liyue that it makes it long #How do ya'll read my stuff??? lol

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irenadel · 5 months ago

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And if the devil… 10/10

Aemond Targaryen X Maid!Reader TW: For the aftermath of DV Thank you to @barbieaemond for letting me use her beautiful gifs to make this lovely fic banner. As promised am tagging @prettyduckling22

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

It is raining heavily when the queen finds you. The lantern she holds aloft barely lets her and her father see you and they dare not come any closer. Her son’s dragon is wide awake, making a dreadful rumbling sound somewhere deep in her gullet. There is a soft, hazy glow all along the beast’s underbelly, like dying embers, like a fire you make the mistake of considering dead.

Alicent feels like her entire body has been turned to lead, soft and infinitely heavy. She hears her father hold his breath and knows, at least, she is not alone in her terror.

He does not leave her. He holds her shoulders steady and Alicent is grateful for that.

“Aemond…”

When Vhagar picks her head from the ground, moves it like Alicent imagines avalanches must move, she is still making that wrathful, rumbling sound. The ground shakes with it. Her legs feel like they will not carry her weight and she wants to weep, like a child, when the dragon opens her mouth to breathe hot and humid and carrion-like upon her.

She wonders if this was the last thing her son saw with both eyes, before that terrible night where it had all begun to go wrong.

“Try again,” her father whispers in her ear. Always try again. Never a moment’s rest.

“Aemond please,” she croaks out, the feeble light of her lantern trembling in the wind. “I’ll be quick.”

The dragon makes another noise and Alicent finds it to be the most awful of all, for she feels it, to the bottom of her belly, a heavy, nauseous weight, a near human moan of pain. When Vhagar cocks her massive head to better look at her, Alicent nearly cries in fear until she sees those eyes. Always they had seemed beady and lizard-like to her, predatory and unknowable, but now they just seem miserably tired.

For a moment she feels ashamed.

I trusted you with him, the ancient, watery eyes of the dragon Vhagar seem to say to her. I trusted you with him and always you have failed me. First the eye and now this…

She breathes the words between near-clenched teeth and it is a wonder to her that the dragon seems to understand as she turns from her and to her father behind her. She advances without him, without even looking back at him, unable to explain the price of going under the great dragon Vhagar’s wings to him.

He would not have paid it anyway. He has never paid it for her.

When she finds you and her son laying against the wall of stinking, warm scales she almost pays it again. She covers her mouth and traps the words behind her fingers.

I’m sorry, she wants to repeat, but finds she cannot. Not when confronted with her son’s bloodied face years ago, not now that he doesn’t look at her, you in his arms, wrapped in his green cloak, kept warm by dragonfire, dry by one leathery wing held close to the dragon’s body. She barely recognizes you in the gloom under Vhagar’s shadow. Ugly, scrawny thing that you had been. Remarkable only for your strange coloring and the princess’s favor. You had made Helaena happy and thus the queen had tolerated your ill manners. You had been smart and obedient and made yourself scarce when you had become a problem and Alicent had been grateful for the discretion if for nothing else.

Now she feels ill looking at the blood upon your dress. She cannot tell much else with her single lantern’s light and she almost doesn’t dare whisper it: “Is she alive?”

Aemond’s hand stops, halfway through caressing your short, matted hair. There’s dried blood all over one side of your face, your temple and cheek having already swollen black and blue. Your eyes are closed, your hand holding onto the prince’s neck is swollen too, white-knuckled and clenched.

He still does not look at her.

“You can leave now,” he answers and Alicent does not know his voice in that moment. Wants to shake some sense into him as she has done to his brother so many times. A man’s voice, with a petulant boy’s demand.

“She needs a maester, Aemond,” she tries again, not even knowing if it would not just be wiser to let this all die down. Let things take their natural course and help her son mourn, later, once the danger is over.

Aemond is speaking to you, low and gentle, in a soft, kind tone Alicent hasn’t heard from him since he had both eyes. Some of it must be High Valyrian, the rest Alicent cannot recognize. There is a cadence to it, like music. Through it, she hears Vhagar howl again, sees the pebbles on the floor jump with the monstrous vibration of it all and knows she cannot.

Who knows what would be left of her boy if she lets him lose one more thing?

“I’ll bring the maester here,” she capitulates, kneeling down besides the two of you, just to get a better look at you. A fever, she feels when she dares put her hand on your ruined cheek. But you breathe at least. When she gets up to leave, she feels the tug of her son’s hand on her wrist, terrifyingly strong and uncaring, but is glad that he should at least look at her now.

“It was a lost babe,” he says, his voice that of a man, she realizes now, because all emotion is gone from it. Alicent’s heart turns to ice. “A beating and a punch to the gut.”

She had not fled Vhagar when the hoary old thing had turned to her, but she flees her son now. You and her son.

Things have a price, the septons had said sometimes, when she was young and naughty and free. She thinks of Aemma Arryn and her own four living children. She thinks of her daughter, white-faced and grim in spite of the healthy, beautiful babe she had borne. When she ignores her father’s imprecations, when she drags a young and discrete maester to the seaside cliff where Vhagar nests, when together they try to pry you from Prince Aemond’s arms and succeed only in getting him to carry you gently, ever so gently, back to the Red Keep, she thinks of the price of things.

An apology she will never speak to her child but only to his dragon.

A girl’s life. A boy’s soul.

She is done letting her son pay the price and she tells her father as much. He can handle the gossip and the angry lords. It matters little. If he cannot, then perhaps her son’s dragon will.

The prince waits.

He watches a young, redhead maester unstick the clothes off your body and sponge the blood off your skin. Grand Maester Mellos is too important to bother with you.

He listens and seethes. His mother behind him, eyes moist, looking to him though he cannot answer them.

The young maester tells you the blows to the head are the most worrisome. That and your coming cold. He does not use the word babe when he says there should be no lasting damage, it was an early pregnancy. He gives you willow bark tea for the pain and makes you sweat out the rest of your fever. Rest and food should put you to rights, he says to you. He speaks only to you, firm but gentle, not to the prince standing besides your bed, sword-straight and impassive. He is too cautious and well-mannered to let more than pursed-lips betray his anger at whatever royal mistreatment has befallen you. He has no qualms in telling you to call him if you were to have need of moontea, even with the queen and prince balefully looming over him and his patient. Aemond almost likes him.

The queen tries once to suggest moving you out of the prince’s quarters. She does not try again.

The prince waits.

He will allow no servants to tend to you, no one but the queen and maester. When necessary, he will change the linens on his bed himself while you sleep, the way you had taught him to do with his own royal father. It frightens him, how deep your slumber is.

The prince sleeps as close to you as he dares, curled up like a dog at the foot of his own bed. He crawls in it when you are asleep, unwilling to give you the chance to chase him away, soaking up your lingering warmth, too ashamed to ask for it, too desperate to forgo it entirely. He almost thinks he need not bother.

Because the prince waits and still you will not speak.

Your face has gone from black to green to a sickly yellow. You sit in a prince’s bed. You eat the bread he gives you and drink the stew he spoons into your mouth. Sip the warm tea he brings you while you stare at the sheets and say nothing.

Aemond is too miserably aware of how low he is willing to stoop for your voice to attempt speaking to you himself. He has considered it all. Shaking it out of you, with a shout and a curse. Dragging his brother to this room and killing him for you, for himself. Bringing his sister here. Her children. Taking you in his arms again and taking you to Vhagar, flying across the sea, to anywhere that will make you speak again… smile again…

You are slipping from his hands, as far away as you were during those first few days when he would skulk outside closed doors and steal away snippets of your voice, low and husky, singing foreign nonsense to his niece and nephew.

But he is too tired now to summon the outrage he used to feel, at you owning comfort he could not reach.

So the prince waits… until he can wait no more.

“Please,” he says to you, as you sit and stare. “Please…”

You still say nothing. But you do look at him. You reach for his hand and he lets you have it, for as many hours as you need it, even as it grows numb in your grasp. You hold its warmth to your belly, as if the blood of the dragon could thaw the cold residing in there now.

He looks at your glassy eyes, your white-knuckled hand and his own on your belly and he knows what he must do. He should have done it long ago, the first time he had ever seen the blood on your split lip, the bruises on your pale skin. He should have known better than to let himself be distracted by the beauty they revealed to him. He kisses your forehead before he does, trying not to tremble at the brief taste of your skin. He is a man starving, with hunger’s implacable ruthlessness.

When he returns, he drops your cousin’s severed hand upon your lap. The hand that took a prince’s son from him. Prince Aemond One-Eye himself, a bruise of his own on his face, hair wild, eyepatch and dignity forgotten. What he will never forget again is the sound a man makes when Valyrian steel cuts through his flesh and bone.

You do not understand. For a moment you are so stunned and angry it knocks the numbness right out of your lungs. You look at your prince, watch him fall to his knees, lay his head on your lap, besides your flesh and blood, and almost forget to make sense of the words when they come out of him. Westerosi is only your second tongue after all.

“I would have you sing again,” he says with the hoarse rawness of a man who has just discovered all his cruelty to be bravado. “I would have you laugh again.”

And it is awful, to think Aemond would not know that there is no blood that could buy back your soul. Awful but not surprising, that he should not know pain and sorrow could only beget more of themselves. You had known this of him, the first time you had ever seen a sapphire hiding pain. You try not to think of Angus, still a boy, still as much a boy as Prince Aemond himself. You try not to think of what a hand means to a working man and not to a prince. You try not to think of the bridges he has burnt or the ties he has severed for you forever more, when he severed tendon and marrow.

Because if you start thinking of it, you will find yourself fiercely glad that he did.

You will find within your breast a cry of vicious triumph, that sounds to your mind like a Dothraki screamer. Nothing that could ever bring you comfort. Nothing that could ever pay for the death of your dreams, or your hopes, or your love for a boy who had been your boy until he wasn’t.

Nothing that would help.

But still, Aemond had done it for you. Useless, the mother you had barely known had called it in the far reaches of your memory, when men beat their breasts and swear death to you.

Useless perhaps, but he had done it for you.

He lets out a sob when your hand runs through his hair.

“You have no coin,” you say to him and he near cries in relief at the sound of your voice. “To buy back my joy. There is no joy left for me in the world. I have nothing.”

You’ve taken it all from me, you do not say. With black steel and my kinsman’s blood. No hope now, to go back home.

Good.

You think of getting up and not looking back. You think of sailing the poison water and finding your way back to the land of your father, to endless grass and sun-baked earth. You see life unfurling before you, empty and safe. A man maybe. A strong rider who would give you strong children instead of moontea and grief. Small, boring children that do not eat your insides with fangs and claws and fire.

Aemond burrows his face into your lap and crushes your borrowed shift and sheets in his bloodied hands.

You know you cannot. You have no home left but him.

“You’ve nothing I want, Aemond One-Eye. Nothing to pay me with but one thing.”

You see him whip his head off the bed to look at you, the nightmares and dread written clearly on a face too young and beautiful to bear them, warring now with desperate hope. You take this face into your hands, this face you have cherished and cursed, and hold it close to yours, grip tight enough to keep your hands from shaking.

“You,” you breathe and he reaches back for you, hands flying to your neck and gripping you as close as you grip him, choking back a cry of savage joy. “You are the only thing I will ever want again. The only coin I will take. I have nothing but you, nothing. So you will pay me with your life. Swear to me… swear you’ll live forever.”

Easy promise for a king’s son, you think. Easy to think you would go first, of toil or hunger or sorrow. As long as he lived it would be alright.

“I swear,” he answers as he lets you taste the tears off his lips. “Forever.”

I almost cannot grasp I am done with this. It's been consuming my life for the last couple of months. I've been virtually possessed by the idea and I am just glad I was able to surf the wave until I could finish it. Extra chapter and all. I think I've got a couple more Aemond porn one-shots in me that I've started and will probably try to finish. Some Helaemond X Reader and some Aegond X Reader if anyone wants to hear a little bit more of this verse... or at least the shoddy AU I have to conjure to get the pretty Targaryen people to fuck without killing each other. Thank you so much to everyone who commented and left likes. ...not that I will ever admit to obsessively refreshing AO3 and tumblr for likes but yeah... You guys are the best T_T thank you

#aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fic #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #asoiaf fanart #asoaif #a song of ice and fire #maid reader #dothraki reader #my writing #and if the devil...#tw: blood

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bamsara · 9 months ago

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A03 Questions Tag Game

I got tagged by: @kagedbird I tag: @onethirdofimpossible, @coffincrows, (first two that come to mind) and anyone else who wants to do the game

1 – How many works do you have on AO3?

At the time of writing this post, currently 30 fics. (Not including any fics or written works that are not posted to AO3)

2 – What's your total AO3 word count?

1,066,633

3 – What fandoms do you write for?

Formerly: Don't Starve, FNAF, Dragons Dogma, Invader Zim

Currently: Cult of the Lamb

4 – What are your top five fics by kudos?

Solar Lunacy, Celestial Omens, Bytes of Lunacy, The Rehabilitation of Death, Saturday Insomnia

5 – Do you respond to comments?

I try to but I also get very nervous responding because I often don't know what to say back and I feel like it's almost rude or disrespectful to respond to a comment, esp the very nice ones that are long and in-deph with just a keysmash or a bunch of emojis, but I do read every single one since I have email notifications on for them

I'd like to sit down and respond to many but I really don't want to make it awkward so pls dear god readers forgive me

6 – What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't like unhappy endings. I enjoy angsty stories but I like when it's at least ending happy to me

7 – What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Not posted? Solar Lunacy

Ongoing? TROD

8 – Do you get hate on fics?

Not really? Most adults (in my experience) know the 'don't like don't read' rule and know basic online etiquette. I've gotten some for discontinuing a fic or switching fandoms though

9 – Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I don't write or draw NSFW! I like to make some suggestive themes sometimes, but I'm a very ace person, it's not something I do often. (I do have a current running goal that if my friend reaches their donation goal for their medical bills that I would give NSFW a shot, but again its not really my cup of tea)

10 – Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Nah I haven't written any cross overs, but I do draw them sometimes. Recently I've been spinning a Alice in Wonderland x COTL crossover in my head.

11 – Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yep. I've had people copy and paste my work, go in with a thesaurus to change a few words (like changing 'angry' to mad, 'upset' to 'sad', and so forth) to try and avoid detection and re-posted my written work under a different title name. AO3 staff took them down for violating their policy against plagiarism though

12 – Have you ever had a fic translated?

No. I wouldn't mind it so as long as I'm asked before hand, though not on anon so I can actually work with the person to prevent any mistranslations or mishandling, and that I don't want my work posted to other websites

13 – Have you ever co-written a fic?

I think I did when I was a teen but I cannot remember now

14 – What's your all-time favorite ship?

Eh I don't have any favorites, just ones I really focus on for a long while

15 – What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Pass.

16 – What are your writing strengths?

I can sit down for hours or several days and work on a writing wip completely in the zone. I cant do it on command but its at least something I can do

17 – What are your writing weaknesses?

Spelling and grammar, and sometimes long running sentences. I just kinda write, theres not really a goal for it to be perfect though so as long as the story gist and vibe is right, im fine with it

18 – Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I've done it before but only minor, had a friend help me with it (one or two lines of dialogue) Aside from that, I'm not comfortably fluent enough in anything to do it again without assistance

19 – First fandom you wrote for?

Soul Eater, when I was wayyy too young to be posting anything on the internet. My fanfics I wrote are still on fanfic.net to this day

20 – Favorite fic you've written?

It's inbetween TROD and EE&E right now

#sara shush

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118dailydrabble · 1 month ago

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Welcome to 118 Daily Drabble

118 Prompts; 118 Words; 100 Days

Starting November 27th, around 1:00pm EST, a one word prompt will be posted to this blog for 100 consecutive days ending on March 6th. Anyone who wants to can use the word to write a 9-1-1 drabble that equals exactly 118 words. This is a real drabble challenge.

General Rules:

Drabbles must be 118 words exactly. (Since different word counters sometimes give different results, we are using AO3 as a standard.)

The word of the day must be included in your drabble. However, the words themselves do not need to be exact. For example, if the word is zip, it could be used as zip, zipping, zipper, zipped, and unzip. The words may also have double meanings and can be used either way. For example, complex can mean both difficult or can mean a group of similar buildings. Both would be accepted.

There are 18 words that can be used as replacement words throughout. For example, say the word of the day is goal but you can’t think of anything, you can use one of the 18 replacement words instead.

If you aren’t a writer or are inspired to create something for a prompt that isn’t writing, please feel free! As long as the creation incorporates the prompt, it is allowed. (Other creations could be art, poetry, podfic, etc.)

Content Rules:

Drabbles must use characters from 9-1-1 on ABC. (You can write for 911LS if you’d like, but only drabbles from 9-1-1 on ABC will be reblogged and/or accepted as part of the collection.)

There are no content restrictions. As long as your fic is tagged appropriately, you can write whatever you want. (This includes ratings, warnings, ships, etc. We are not here to police writing, only to encourage it.)

Crossovers and original characters are accepted as long as the main focus is on 9-1-1 on ABC.

Drabbles can be posted to the 118 Daily Drabble AO3 Collection here or using the tag #118dailydrabble.

FAQ:

Do the drabbles have to be 118 words?

Yes! That’s the fun and challenge of the event. (To be honest, I will not be checking every single word count for the drabbles… but I trust everyone not to lie to me. Please don’t lie to me, I’m fragile.)

Do I have to write every single day if I choose to participate?

Absolutely not! You can choose to write as little as 1 prompt or all 118, that’s totally up to you!

Do I have to post my drabbles on AO3?

Nope! There will be a collection for them, but you can also just post to Tumblr/X/Bluesky/Internet-Place if you prefer. This event will only have a Tumblr in terms of reblogging content but feel free to use the tag #118dailydrabble on other platforms.

Can I make a chaptered fic on AO3 for this event?

Absolutely. If you choose to do a chaptered fic, each drabble must be its own chapter, though.

What are the extra 18 words?

1. Dosed 2. Broken 3. Rage 4. Malfunction 5. Fallout 6. Fools 7. Powerless 8. Jinx 9. Survivors 10. Panic 11. Cursed 12. Recovery 13. Capsized 14. Buzzkill 15. Masks 16. Confessions 17. Hotshots 18. Wannabes

Have more questions? Feel free to send an ask here!

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kyleoreillylover · 2 months ago

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Fashionably Late

Sami Zayn (platonic) x Fem!Black!Reader x Kevin Owens (platonic)

Summary: Torn between too many outfit choices, indecisive girlfriends and desperate to avoid any crazy fans discovering where you're staying, you call your best friends Sami and Kevin for a ride. The only problem? Your segment starts in 20 minutes, and includes both men, one of which (Kevin) now wants your head on a platter. Will you make it to the arena in time?

tagged: @southerngirl41@venusesworld @jeysbae @reci1996@tbones450 @steakwithasideofmashngravy @selena-tyler-564@saintaquarius@whatdoeseverybodywant@raya-hunter01@hope4more

a/n: this is a total crack fic. I needed something to lighten up my life, and I hope this does the same for yours. Enjoy!

Time: 7:45 PM

Liv and Naomi’s voices rang through the room like alarms.

“No, the red dress!” Liv screamed, holding her phone up to her face, her expression as intense as if lives were at stake.

“But the silver set has that effect,” Naomi countered, looking equally convinced, throwing her hands up on screen. “You have a segment, you’ve got to kill it, girl!”

The pile of outfits on the bed was growing with every suggestion, clothes scattered around like some chaotic fashion explosion. The red dress, the silver set, heels that probably made a three-story building jealous — all of it a blur. It wasn’t even the outfits. It was the fact that neither Liv nor Naomi could pick a single option.

“They’re both stunning, you know you’ll look amazing,” Liv insisted.

“Ugh! I can’t— okay, last one. We need another outfit check,” Naomi added, still flipping through options with wild enthusiasm.

A glance at the clock on the bedside table stopped everything.

8:50 PM — Realization and Panic Mode

Silence.

SmackDown segment…9:30 PM. Location? An arena across town. You’re still at the hotel.

“OH MY GOD, IT’S ALMOST NINE!”

You let out a scream, cutting off Liv and Naomi, who are both shrieking with laughter and yelling at you to HURRY. The Facetime screen goes black as you hang up, frantically dialing Sami’s number, hoping to God he picks up.

8:50 PM

Kevin Owens is done. Beyond done. He and Sami are in the locker room, scripts laid out, getting ready to run through the segment.

They both know it’s going to be fire — this whole “Honorary Uce” angle with Sami is gold, and they’re practically buzzing with ideas. But there’s one problem: you aren't here.

You're never late. The woman shows up early for everything. You're also an absolute perfectionist about your wardrobe. So naturally, Kevin’s mind starts running wild, thinking you had some disaster or something.

Sami sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Kev, maybe she’s just...stuck somewhere?”

And then, the phone rings. FaceTime.

Kevin picks it up, and there you are, hair done, makeup on, looking good — but very frazzled. Behind you, it’s pure chaos. Outfits are everywhere, like a tornado went through her hotel room.

“Oh my god, you guys, you guys! Help!”

Kevin felt a headache forming just from the sound of your panicked voice.

Okay, so you weren't in an emergency that required EMTs, but at this rate, Kevin was about ready to call someone for himself.

Sami’s face softened, but even he looked a bit on edge. “Wait...are you not on your way?” he asked, his voice calm but with a very real hint of panic.

“I—I was! I mean, I was about to leave, but then Liv and Naomi... and then they couldn’t decide, and I couldn’t decide, and now I don’t know what to wear!” you rambled, looking as close to the verge of tears as Kevin had ever seen.

Kevin pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath. “So you’re telling us...you’ve been ready, but just can’t decide what to wear?”

Sami tried to be encouraging. “Okay, breathe, it’s not the end of the world. Just pick something, alright?”

“But I can’t just pick! I need an opinion!” You said the last word with all the desperation in the world, staring at them both through the screen like they held the answer to all your problems.

Kevin glanced at Sami. “Here’s an opinion: Get. to. A. Car.”

“But Kevin—”

“Nope,” Kevin interrupted, sternly. “No more buts. You’re getting to the arena right now. Do you understand?”

You swallowed, nodding but still looking around at the tornado of options surrounding you.

"Fine. But—could you guys maybe come and get me? Because if I take an Uber, some crazy fan might see me and figure out the hotel…remember last time! And I can’t walk there, and—and—”

“Fine, fine! We’re on our way,” Kevin said, already grabbing his keys as he shoved the phone into his pocket, muttering the entire time. “This woman, I swear...”

Sami gave him a reassuring smile as they headed out the door. “Look, she’d do the same for us, right?”

Kevin shot him a look. “She’d think about it. And then get sidetracked picking out shoes.”

9:05 PM — Hotel Room Tornado

Kevin’s jaw drops when they finally arrive. You're spraying herself with perfume, the air so thick with it that it nearly chokes him. Your room looks like it exploded: dresses, shoes, accessories strewn everywhere.

“Uh… so… what happened here?” Sami asks gently, trying to mask his shock.

You whirled around, eyes wide, clutching a pair of heels. “I don’t know! It just… spiraled! And I still don’t know what to wear. Can one of you reach up there and hand me that other perfume bottle?”

Sami hesitantly reaches for the perfume. You snatched it, spraying yourself and the room like it’s some kind of ritual.

Kevin finally steps in, grabbing the perfume bottle from you. “Alright, that’s enough! You already smell like a department store!”

You paused, looking genuinely surprised. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Kevin deadpans, barely hiding his amusement. “Now can we please pick something?”

Your eyes flicker between Kevin and Sami, desperate for some guidance. “Please, I’m begging. I need an opinion.”

“Listen,” Kevin said, voice stern, “here’s an opinion: we need to get out the door now. No more perfume. No more earrings. You look fine!”

“But which outfit?” you begged, eyes wide and pleading, grabbing at another rhinestone-covered top from your pile.

Kevin rolls his eyes. He had his “stern dad” face you usually saw him have with his kids. “Here’s another opinion: Get. To. The. Car. Now. So grab something, anything, because we’re not missing this segment. Or I'll drag u out like this...”

“Okay! Okay.” You frantically nodded, grabbing a bag of clothes in a rush. But you’re still panicking, hopping on one foot as you try to fasten your heels. “Wait, wait! Do I go with the red dress, or the black one with the rhinestones, or—”

You were still struggling to get your heels on, and they are so tall that, for a moment, you almost fall over, your hands flailing as you try to balance.

Kevin let out a long-suffering sigh, walked over, and, with remarkable gentleness, scooped you up and tossed you over his shoulder.

“Kevin!” you yelped, laughing but still scrambling for your heels. "I have a skirt on!"

“Too bad. You should have thought about that before making us late. Put those heels on in the car. We don’t have time for this, were going now!” Kevin ordered as he carried you down the hall, Sami grabbing the bags and following behind.

9:15 PM — En Route to the Arena

In the backseat, you’re still panicking, practically rummaging through one of your bags as you start asking questions they barely understand.

“Which highlighter should I go for? Does this lip color look too bold? Should I touch up my eyeshadow? Sami, I need an opinion — it’s got to look fierce but not, you know, too fierce.”

Sami, bless him, actually humors you. “Uh, I’d say… go for whatever makes you look the most… fierce but not too fierce?” He shrugs, glancing at Kevin, who just rolls his eyes.

Kevin finally snaps, “How about whatever lets us get out of this car on time?”

9:25 PM — Arena Locker Room They dragged you straight to their locker room, not giving you a chance to second-guess.

Kevin stood by the door, hands on his hips. “Alright, pick one. Now.”

You fumbled through the options, but everything seemed like it could work. “I just need your guys' opinion!” You begged, glancing between them.

Kevin gave you a look that was 50% done and 50% concerned.

He crossed his arms, sighing deeply. “My opinion is..."

You gave him a hopeful look that almost made him feel bad.

"...Is one that gets us out of here and into the parking lot now."

Your face dropped as Kevin continued. "Triple H will have our heads if we’re late, and then no more budget for your endless outfits.”

That actually seems to scare you into focus, and after a dramatic sigh, you look at Sami, eyes begging him to make the choice for you.

Sami, patience worn thin but still kind, grabs the first outfit he sees tossed onto the bench: a sleek black crop top with rhinestones and matching tight leather pants. “This one. It’s simple, it’s hot, and it doesn’t take a hundred hours to get into.”

You hesitate for a second, looking at it, then at him, like you’re about to argue. Kevin doesn’t even give you the chance.

“Bathroom. Change. Now.” His expression is pure dad-mode, like there’s zero room for debate. He even points at the door for extra emphasis.

You huff, grabbing the outfit, muttering something about “fashion police” as you dart into the bathroom. Kevin and Sami exchange a look, relief mixed with exasperation.

Finally, after what feels like forever (and more muffled muttering from you), you step out, fully dressed in the chosen outfit. Kevin gives you an approving nod, arms crossed. “There. Perfect. See how easy that was?”

"No." You pouted, going to get some perfume, but Kevin takes it from your hand once again, looking at you in disbelief. "No more perfume. You already smell like a whole store, now let's GO!"

You jumped at his tone, getting up and racing out the door. “Fine, dad.”

Sami gave Kevin a exasperated look before he followed you, mostly to steady you in your heels (you can barely ever run in them, so why you wore them Kevin will never understand)

Kevin watched you run both ahead, muttering to himself, “If she pulls this again, I’m going to…” He trailed off, clearly unable to hold back a fond smile despite the chaos.

9:29 PM — Parking Lot Set for the Segment

They make it just in time, practically skidding into the parking lot where their segment is set to go live. Kevin and you go stand next to the car as Sami goes near the wall, waiting for his cue to walk up to the two of you.

You're still catching your breath, adjusting your top, as Kevin gives you a long, unimpressed look.

“If you ever pull this again…”

You didn't pull a stunt like that again for another five months, which for Kevin, was something he was actually proud of you for.

43 notes · View notes

streamafterlaughter · 26 days ago

Text

Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter VII: Choose Love or Sympathy

masterlist | playlist | pinboard | prev. | diaries coming soon

songs for this chapter: xo by fall out boy, lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off, king for a day by pierce the veil

a/n: hear me when i say these two are absolutely in for it it. I'm also a huge fan of italics apparently

chapter tags: angst, hurt/comfort but then... hurt/no comfort (SORRY!), reader is a sensitive baby we love her, mean!Eddie, but also very sweet Eddie. swearing, smoking, drinking, reader struggles with self image / mental health (vague for now) | fic tags: angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU

DISCLAIMER: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites. Unless otherwise stated, this is the only account that features and contains this work, and any replication was done without my consent. Please let me know if you see my work elsewhere. Reblog/comment/like to support the author! Join the tag list!

taglist: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotine @xplrnowornever @taccobelle @micheledawn1975 @mewchiili @dreamerjj @losingmygrasponreality |

The weekend comes barreling towards you sooner than you’d have liked. You wake up Friday morning with a sense of dread, Robin’s words on a broken loop in your head: what you ‘know’ isn’t the whole goddamn story. Everyone keeps fucking saying that, but no one has actually told you what you “don’t know.”. Chris hasn’t given you a goddamn leg to stand on, speaking in riddles and never once confirming or denying a thing. You’re an adult, and you wish these fuckers would start treating you like one.

On your nightstand, your phone buzzes repeatedly, a string of incoming text messages:

bobbins: so,, ive smoked some weed bobbins: im cool now bobbins: i still think there’s a lot we don’t know,, bobbins: but I’m sorry for insinuating you should forgive him. bobbins: i cant imagine how you felt that day. bobbins: i love u bb

You scramble to respond before she can get another five messages in,

it’s ok bob, i love u 2

The subject changes swiftly as she tosses questions about tonight at you one after the other. You send her pictures of your outfit choices, hairstyle ideas, personal protection list before finally asking her the question gnawing on your brain.

What if he doesn’t like me?

Robin responds by calling you.

“Hi?”

“Don’t be stupid.” She starts, not letting you explain. “He asked you out, why wouldn’t he like you?!”

“I dunno! Maybe he’s just looking for a hookup. Maybe he thought I’d be easy?” The suggestion sounds silly coming out of your mouth, and you hear Robin scoff at you.

“Look, if things start to stink, call me. Steve’s closing tonight, so he’ll be right down the street.”

You sigh into the receiver. “Okay, okay. You’re right, I’m probably worried for nothing.”

“Atta girl! Now go on, go headbang or whatever it is you people do.”

You snort as you say your goodbyes, and hang up the phone. Without Robin to distract you, you turn to the outfits you’ve spread out on your bed. Emo Nite is casual, sure, but you still want to look good. You decide on a pair of Tripp pants, adorned with metal hooks and chains, pairing it with an old Paramore shirt you cropped with kitchen scissors in high school. With your outfit out of the way, you sit at your vanity to do your makeup, extending your winged eyeliner a little further than you would on a normal day. When you’re done, your alarm clock reads 8:30, and you make your way to your car.

–

9:15.

The lights of the city seem to dance across the sky. Everything is louder here, bustling with nightlife you could only dream of seeing in Hawkins. You’re standing outside the club alone, nursing the end of your last cigarette. Maybe he’s running late? You don’t have a single unread text from Scotty. You type several different messages of your own, deleting each one before settling on “You on your way?” But its delivery is never confirmed. It’s grown cold outside, and you wrap your flannel tighter around you to keep the wind out. You should have brought a jacket, but you weren’t expecting to be outside for this long. You can hear the first notes of an old favorite song, followed by a bunch of 20 somethings cheering. Patrons are dressed in black, clad in leather and fishnets, their combat booted feet stomping into the venue. Emo Nite is a nostalgia cash grab, you know that, but you’re envious of everyone setting foot inside, surrounded by their friends and peers, leaving you abandoned at the door.

–

9:30.

The time taunts you from your phone screen. You’re waiting outside the club, the air brisk on your face. Every so often, the door swings open as someone enters or exits, and you turn to see if it’s someone for you. So far, none of them have been, and you’re debating whether or not to walk to the record store and ask Steve to hitch a ride back to his place to mope.

“Hey, Bee!” The voice calling you isn’t the one you’re hoping to hear, but it’s just as familiar. You find its source across the street, Macy waving at you eagerly as her bandmates and fucking Eddie follow behind. Oh, right. Like being stood up isn’t humiliating enough, now Eddie gets to tease you about it.

“What’re you doing out here, girl? It’s freezing!” Macy is sweet, holding your icy cheeks between her warm hands. You can tell she’s already had a few drinks.

“I’m, hm,” You clear your throat, “I’m waiting for someone.”

“A date? Eek! Hear that, Eds? Our girl has a date!” Her words send static through your veins. Since when are you anyone’s girl, let alone Munson and Macy’s?

“Mhm, okay, honey. Let’s go get you situated, yeah?” Eddie ushers her inside, handing her off to Fiona before returning to where you’re standing. Without a word, he lights a cigarette and offers it to you, and you take it without acknowledgement while he lights his own. After what seems like hours, the two of you choose to speak at the same time,

“How late is–” “Why did you–” “What?” “What?”

“You first,” Eddie gestures to you before pulling from his cigarette.

“Why did you tell Scotty to ask me out?”

“What in the world makes you think I told him to ask you out?”

“Look, she’s gonna kill me for telling you this, but Robin overheard you in the bathroom talking to Scotty at the bar. She walked in by accident, and you two had come in before she could leave. Anyway, you know she can’t keep secrets for shit, so she told me what you said to him. Why?” You cross your arms, attempting to hold in as much body heat as possible,but to no avail. Eddie notices, and immediately sheds his jacket, not giving you a chance to refuse it as he drapes the leather over your shoulders.

“I thought he was a cool dude. Thought you guys would hit it off.” His answer does nothing to satiate the hunger for every detail of every single thought that went through his brain up until this very moment. He is driving you fucking insane. “Hey, I bet I could get Macy to put you on the guestlist, so at least tonight won’t be a total waste?” Yet another peace offering from Eddie Munson. Hell must have frozen over.

He doesn’t wait for your approval before reaching into his inner jacket pocket of the coat that you have since put fully on to shield yourself from the wind, to grab his phone. After eagerly punching a few buttons, he holds the device up to his ear, plugging the other with his finger. “Hey, babe. I’m outside with Bee, Scott stood her up.” You can’t hear what Macy’s response is, but Eddie replies with, “You read my mind, honey. We’ll be in in a sec.” He ends the call and turns his attention back to you, his big brown eyes attempting, it seems, to read your mind. “You pissed?”

You shake your head, inhaling another drag of your cigarette. “Not really. Disappointed, I guess.” You pick at your cuticles, refusing to hold eye contact with Eddie, but that doesn’t stop him from boring his own into the top of your head; you can feel them penetrating your skull. “Could’a used the distraction.”

“Fancy me a distractor? Macy’s gonna be busy, I’m practically all by myself tonight.” You look up, and Eddie’s jutting his bottom lip out to pout at you.

“You don’t mind being seen with me?” You tease, flicking ash onto the concrete. You can’t imagine Eddie actually wants you to agree to this offer.

“Why would I? When have I ever cared what people think of me? Especially these posers.” He gestures to you, and you fake offense.

“Posers?! I’ll have you know I have met some of the most authentic punks at places like this, you dweeb!” You toss your cigarette butt on the ground, stomping out the embers with your boot.

“Sorry, sorry! I’m used to going to shows where people leave bloody. Not used to this side of the alternative Venn Diagram, I guess.” He flicks his own cigarette, mirroring your movements. “Shall we go inside?” You nod begrudgingly, and he opens the door to the club for you, stopping to give the bouncer your names.

–

The club is dark, expectedly. The lights flash shades of pink, purple, and blue as people dance and attempt to chat over the noise; and the whole scene is set to the music of your childhood and teen years. As Eddie leads you across the floor, you can feel your chest tighten, watching couples surrounding you, dancing or sloppily making out against the back wall. You let it sink in that you've been stood up. The first time in three years you’d even attempted to go on a date, and the guy didn’t even show up. You hum along to the song playing, a desperate plea for distraction from the situation in front of you. Meanwhile, Eddie leads you to a table away from the speakers, and shouts that he’ll be right back. You can only guess he’s off to wish his girlfriend luck.

While you wait, you observe the crowd around you, and it’s full of kids you knew in high school that used to bully you for liking this kind of music, dressed as caricatures with arm warmers and cheap chains dangling off their black skinny jeans. Conventionally attractive girls wear their eyeliner in heavy wings, their lips painted shades of dark red, dancing with boys in all black with long hair. You try not to think about what Scotty would have worn. You wonder if he even likes this kind of thing. Maybe it was a test, and you'd failed.

Just as you’re about to spiral into misery again, Eddie returns with two drinks in his hands. “You like shirleys, right? I wasn’t totally sure. I can go grab you something else if you want?” If you didn’t know any better, you would think Eddie was nervous.

“No, this is good. Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem!” He has to yell over the music.

“And, uh, thanks for hanging out with me. I know it’s like, the last thing you wanna be doing right now.”

Eddie takes a swig of his beer before responding, “Nah, definitely not the last thing. This is way better than listening to Steve talk about his latest conquest.” You picture the scenario, Eddie slamming his head against a wall while Steve goes on and on about Tracy, or Nicole, or whoever it is this week. The mental image makes you giggle, and Eddie’s smile seems to widen. It makes you uncomfortable, being so close to him. Luckily, though, you don’t get to think about it too long.

“Alright, alright! Thank you guys for comin’ out to hang with us! We have a guest for you tonight, please welcome Macy Miller, frontwoman of Statuesque Dolls!” The crowd cheers politely, these things never have people worth freaking out over. Macy takes the stage, clad in a silky black dress that hugs her form perfectly. Next to you, Eddie is whooping and hollering, “That’s my girl!” It makes your stomach churn. You’re reminded again that you’re supposed to be here on a date. You’re supposed to be someone’s girl.

“Alright, I got a couple of songs for you guys, but I need all of you up and shaking some emo ass with me, got it?!” You can’t deny Macy knows how to work a crowd. She gets people to migrate to the dance floor, and Eddie offers his hand out. “Can I have this dance?”

“Um,” You hesitate to take his outstretched palm. “What about Macy?” You point lamely to where Macy is killing her cover of Fall Out Boy’s XO.

“What about her? It’s a dance, Bee. I’m not, like, asking you to sleep with me or some shit.” Eddie frowns at you, like you’ve offended him.

He does have a point, though. One dance won’t kill you. You accept his gesture, taking his own massive hand in yours, and hope to god he can’t tell that yours is sweating. He leads you to the dance floor, waving to Macy from the crowd as he does. There’s a burn in your stomach when she blows him a kiss, and he pretends to catch it in his mouth. You’re close to bailing when Eddie turns his attention back to you, clearing his throat.

You stare back at him, eyes wide with fear that he’s going to bail, and you prepare to tuck your tail between your legs and call Robin. Instead, Eddie takes your hand again, and yanks you into his embrace. You bump into his chest, but he recovers the fumble by holding you there, free arm resting hesitantly on your waist. You’re frozen, having no clue where to put your hands, so Eddie takes the lead. He drops the hand he’s holding on his shoulder, and moves your other to meet it on the other side. He then rests both his hands on your hips, giving you enough space between his body and yours to breathe, but barely.

The song continues, melodramatic and overtly horny. That, combined with the warmth of the drink in your veins, plus the closeness of Eddie, makes you feel almost good. It’s difficult not to overthink, though, having him in your personal space, your bodies pressed together on a very hot, crowded dance floor, moving in ways you definitely wouldn't have done three hours ago.

“So,” Eddie muses, looking anywhere but at you as he speaks, but still able to move in sync with you. “How’s your day goin’?”

You snicker at his poor attempt at conversation. “Well, I got stood up, and now I’m dancing with who I would have bet this morning wanted absolutely nothing to do with me. All things considered, I think it’s going pretty horribly!”

The ice seems to crack as you speak, Eddie visibly relaxing as you sway to the music. “Okay, that’s fair. Are you pleasantly surprised?”

You look up at him, but his eyes are locked over your head, staring where Macy stands onstage, swaying with a few friends in front of the DJ booth. You shrug. “Jury’s still out.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes at you. After what feels like an eternity, the song ends and Macy queues another rock anthem to get the crowd moving again. You’re unmoving as Eddie unwraps himself from you. “We should do this again sometime.” He states, unreadable.

“What, dance?”

“Sure, or just, y'know, hang out. Be civil for once. It’s been awhile.”

You roll your eyes. “You know this can’t be, like, a normal thing. It bruises our reputation as sworn enemies.” A feeble attempt to make it a joke, though you know in your heart you can’t be friends with Eddie. The earth would cave in on itself.

Eddie chuckles. “Whatever you say, Bee. See ya ‘round.” And he leaves you alone, disappearing into the crowd.

–

It’s 11:30 when your phone buzzes. You’re four drinks deep, stirring another dirty shirley at the bar, observing the people around you having fun.

Scotty A: Hey! Totally meant to text you. Got stuck at work.

An avalanche of thoughts rumbles through you, most of them not safe for work. You don’t even know how to respond. There’s no apology, no groveling for your forgiveness, not a hint of actual, real regret. Like you don’t matter. It exhausts you to even think of what that date would’ve been like had he shown up. You type your response between gulps of liquid courage.

“Are you fucking serious?”

The "..." bubble appears, but quickly vanishes. You gape at your phone, wishing you were home so you could let out the blood curdling scream building in your chest. The anger vibrating through you needs an escape, so you lurch from your seat at the bar, rushing quickly out of the club. Eddie whips his head around as you pass him. You think you hear him call your name, but your eyes have started stinging and he’s the last person you want to see you cry.

The night air hits you hard, bringing separate tears to your eyes. Following your therapist’s advice, you start a box breathing exercise. Breathe in, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four. Breathe out, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four.

“Hey,” The voice startles you into a hiccup. “You okay?” Eddie has made his way outside after you, leaning against the wall. “Saw you dash outta there like something caught fire. Got worried.” He says it nonchalantly, and it takes you aback. Instead of responding, you flip your phone screen towards him. His eyes scan the page before they focus back on you, shaking his head. “That is so fucked up.”

Your voice breaks with your next question. “Did you know this was gonna happen? Scotty’s your friend.”

Eddie’s face drops into a grimace. “How would I have known? Why would I have told him to hit you up if I knew this was gonna happen?”

It frustrates you how reasonable he’s being. You want someone to yell at, someone to blame, and Eddie just so happens to be the closest target. “I don’t know! Maybe you did it as revenge, or something equally as immature. Maybe you wanted me to feel the same way you did when–”

He interrupts, shaking his head feverishly. “I wouldn’t wish that feeling on anyone. Even you.” The words are a knife to your chest. You don’t like remembering what you did to Eddie that night, but it’s your fault for bringing it up. “I told Scotty to ask you out because he said he liked you. Crazy concept, I know, but i suggest you stop thinking everyone’s out to get you. I thought it would be fun, hanging out with you and him. I’m sorry it didn’t go how you planned, but blaming me isn’t fucking fair, Bee.”

He’s right, but you can’t bring yourself to back down. “It’s not fair to take someone’s brother away for six years, but you had no problem doing that.”

“Fuck you, Bee. Seriously.” He spits the words before turning on his heel, and heading inside. You are once again left alone, outside, in the cold.

–

#st #fics #munson #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson x y/n #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x oc!reader #hurt/comfort #hurt/no comfort #slow burn #angst #enemies to friends to lovers #modern au #reader is not an elder emo per se... she's 23-24ish #stranger things

52 notes · View notes

greg-montgomery · 2 years ago

Text

Ivy - Part 13

gif by @themoontaxi <3

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader (Sean Hotchner x Fem!Reader)

Series summary: Your relationship with your boyfriend, Sean, is going great. Well, that is until you meet his older brother, Aaron.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Warnings: this chapter is nsfw - 18+

Minors DNI

Chapter summary: the last one 🥹

okay not to get too deep about it but i started writing this fic during an awful time of my life and it genuinely distracted me in a good way. you all showed me so much love about ivy and it means the world to me 🥺🩷 i finally finished it and i hope you like the ending <3 i love you!!!

also i’m sorry if the tags didn’t work tumblr was acting weird about it :|

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

The sight of your bite marks on Aaron’s shoulder made you smile as you used your hand on his chest to push yourself off his body, just enough to look at his face. You were met with a smile as big as yours, his fingers squeezing your thighs that were straddling his.

His smile looked pretty innocent considering his dick was buried inside you as deep as it could go. And even though you loved staring at that smile, you still leaned forward, wrapping your arms around him and hiding your face in the crook of his neck. The need to feel him closer never seemed to be satisfied even when you were as close as two people could be.

You rocked your hips against his slowly, savoring every move and every feeling. Aaron’s arms hugged your body too, making sure that your chests were pressed against each other without an inch of space in between.

“Does my baby feel good?” he asked, breathless.

“Mhm…”

It was incredible how Aaron truly became your whole world when you were having sex. He was all you could think of, all you could feel, and all you cared about. The feeling of him inside you, his hands reaching every part of you, his scent – a mix of his cologne and pure pheromones -, his lips on you and yours on him; how could anything else possibly matter at that moment?

You rolled your hips forward, clinging onto him even tighter and biting your bottom lip so you wouldn’t moan too loud.

“Fuck,” you whined.

“Keep moving like that,” he moaned.

There was no need of him to ask you, it felt so good you would keep moving like that for the rest of your life if you could.

Still, the praise that came with your obedience gave you butterflies. “Good,” he said.

Completely surrendering to the feeling you closed your eyes, until Aaron’s voice made you open them again.

“Touch your pussy,” he ordered. “Let me watch.”

With that you pulled your body back once again, brining your hand down to your clit, rubbing yourself as you rode his cock. His hand went to your breasts, his thumb brushing against your right nipple.

“My gorgeous girl,” he said.

You kept moving, both your hand and his on your body driving you to the edge, as you let go and finally came around his cock.

“Fuck…” you breathed against his chest.

Aaron could tell by the way you were breathing that you were on the verge of falling asleep. The ghost of a sweet smile was still on your lips, and it made his heart flutter, as his hand started playing with your ear, touching your hair, tracing patterns on your soft cheek…doing all the things he knew you loved and made you sleepy.

He pressed his lips against your forehead, his hand still cupping the side of your face gently.

An angel that had fallen from the sky right into his arms, that was what you were. Who would have thought that there was a person absolutely perfect for him? It was all new to him: how he could love someone this deeply, how he wanted to get to know every single corner of someone else’s soul.

“I love you,” he whispered, not expecting an answer back – but getting it anyway.

“I love you too,” you murmured.

“You’re not asleep?”

“Almost,” you said, but your words were muffled because of a big yawn that just made you even more adorable.

“You’re so cute,” he laughed.

You opened your eyes just to glare at him raising an eyebrow, before closing them again. “Go to sleep, old man.”

Opening the kitchen counter you spotted Jack’s favorite mug; it was green with a funny looking dinosaur on it. He liked it so much that Aaron had gone to that store again to buy a purple one and a blue one so all three of you would match.

As you were pouring some milk into the mug, you felt Aaron’s arms around your waist as he rested his chin on your right shoulder.

“Hi,” he said softly.

“Hi,” you grinned, and he kissed your neck.

He stood there watching you mixing the milk with a couple of spoons of cocoa powder for his son.

“You know, I forgot to tell you last night,” he broke the silence. “Derek wants the whole team to go out tonight to this new bar after work. He’s been talking about it all week.”

He sounded almost nervous and it made you giggle. “Baby, I’ll be fine, you can go. I’ll have a movie marathon with Jack until our stomach hurts from eating too much popcorn.”

“No,” he said. “Um…I mean I want you to come with me…as my date.”

“Oh…”

“Y/N, I know that look,” he sighed. “But it’s time to make it official to other people too, don’t you think? Yes our relationship didn’t start ethically, but we’re together now and hopefully for the rest of our lives. I’m done hiding. You’re my partner.”

His team meant a lot to Aaron. And Aaron meant a lot to you. You didn’t want to say no to something that was clearly important to him. But you were scared; scared that they would gossip about you, scared of being slutshamed, scared of being judged.

But if it made Aaron happy, you would endure it.

“Okay,” you said sweetly. “I’ll go with you.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

He left a gentle kiss on your cheek, and you pulled away just enough to call Jack. “Jack! Breakfast’s ready.”

“I’m coming!”

In no other event had you overthought your outfit as much as you had for that team outing. It was silly, but you didn’t want to wear anything too revealing. Maybe that would make them think you seduced your boyfriend’s brother with the way that you dressed. But then again you didn’t want to dress very modesty, it would seem like you were trying too hard. It was a headache.

Once you had finally made your decision, you put your outfit on fast before you had the chance to change your mind again.

Arriving at the bar, Aaron’s hand in yours was the only thing calming your heart down. Your only wish was that the night would not be awkward.

Derek raised his hand when he spotted you, following with a loud “Hey!” so he could be heard over the music. He was the one whose face you could recognize along with Emily’s and Penelope’s. The other two left were David and Spencer who you hadn’t seen before, but you knew everything about from Aaron.

“Hey,” Aaron greeted them back, and introduced you officially to them.

“Hi!” you waved at them shyly, and you were hit by a wave of ‘nice to meet you’s’ and ‘hello’s’.

“Well, Morgan and I have seen you before, but it wasn’t under ideal conditions,” Emily said, as you sat down.

“So have I,” Penelope added. “Also under less than ideal conditions.”

You winced at the memory of your Aaron in the hospital and you quickly pushed the thought away.

“Yeah, we’re not really good at this, are we?” you joked.

“That’s why tonight is a nice chance for a fresh start, hm?” Aaron said and placed his hand over yours.

You nodded, understanding the meaning behind of his words.

Penelope had noticed for a while now that her boss had started smiling much more than he ever did, but what her eyes were witnessing that night was something else. The way he took any chance he could to touch you, the way he kept leaning into your ear to whisper something and making you laugh, the way he stared at you with pure adoration in his eyes…that was something entirely new. He was enchanted by you.

She remembered a night like that one, a few years ago where Haley was the one in your place. She could still recall his dance with her, his bright smile; the other side of her boss, the happy one. Penelope hadn’t seen that in a while…well until you came along. And maybe, his smile was just a bit brighter with you.

“I’m going to the restroom,” she announced. “Who’s coming with me?”

Before anyone had the chance to reply, she reached out for your hand. “Y/N?”

The look of your surprised face that you were the one she chose almost broke her heart.

“Of course,” you answered with a kind smile.

You walked towards the bathroom hand in hand, and when you were finally alone she didn’t drop yours.

“You don’t have to be nervous around us,” she told you. “No one’s judging you here.”

She could tell that she had stunned you into silence so she spoke again. “I might not be a profiler like them, but I can feel how uncomfortable you are.”

Her words made you lower your gaze and stare at your shoes. You were sweet, she thought.

“Listen. I’ve heard Sean’s side of the story, and he has every right to be angry at you,” she said. “But I’ve also seen your side. That day Hotch was in the hospital…I remember how your life had drained out of you until you saw him again. I can tell you didn’t just give in to physical attraction, but to something bigger than you. I think that you just found love in the wrong place and time.”

The emotions were clear in your eyes, and only confirmed that her thoughts were correct.

“You’re so sweet,” you told her with a smile.

“Hotch is like a father to us,” she answered, squeezing your hand. “He’s important to us. And believe me I’ve seen him at his worse. I’ve seen him lose everything in one day. I’ve seen him broken. You glued all these pieces back together. How could any of us hate you when you make someone we so love this happy?”

“Thank you. I…I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything. I’m just happy you’re here. Ever since Hotch had gotten his divorce he would always show up to these things alone. Seeing him tonight with his girl by his side, flirting and laughing…it makes my heart happy.”

“You’re an angel, I hope you know that,” you said.

“Oh I do,” she grinned. “Come on, let’s go back. I didn’t actually wanna pee.”

This made you laugh, and you followed her back to the table just a second before calling her name and making her stop.

“Penny?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you and Sean…?”

She placed her index finger over her lips. “Shh…I don’t kiss and tell.”

Honestly, she wasn’t mad at you for another reason too. You had contributed into Sean being single again.

“Tonight was fun!” you giggled, dragging Aaron to his car even though you were the one in heels.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, honey.”

“And Spencer is a genius. Like an actual genius. You don’t really believe it unless you see it live,” you joked.

“Told you,” he smirked.

“And Emily and Derek are so funny. I want them to be my friends.”

You were a bit lightheaded from the wine, but mostly from the relief that you and Aaron’s friends got along just fine.

The text you had been waiting for from Sean came almost a month after that team outing. If you were honest with yourself, that was the final puzzle piece into finally getting some closure and walking into the new chapter of your life with Aaron.

You were glad Sean had suggested you met in a café instead of his home.

He was already there when you arrived, sipping on his iced coffee. As soon as you caught his eye, he stood up to greet you by extending his arm. It was a gesture that made you feel as if you were in a business meeting but you would in no way complain about it. You were grateful simply for him wanting to see you.

Sitting down, you ordered a cup of coffee too, and tried to gather in your head all the things you wanted to say to him.

“You’ve been good?” he asked, probably referring to your incident.

“Yes.”

“That’s good to hear.”

There was an awkward pause, but you needed the closure. That conversation was waiting to happen and you would not avoid it.

“Can I start?” you asked.

“Sure.”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, before speaking. “The day you found us out, I didn’t give you an apology. I thought it wouldn’t mean anything to you. And I still realize that it won’t fix anything, but I also get that you deserve to hear it. I’m sorry.”

Sean nodded, with an unreadable expression. So you continued.

“I want you to know that what I did to you will never be something that I forget. Aaron and I will always live with this weight on our shoulders; of how we based our relationship on betraying someone so dear to us. And you were right when you said that we won’t know what to say when people ask us how we met. We will always be reminded of what we did to you. You never did anything wrong, and when you move on with your life you’ll be free, but for us, this will always be a thorn in our hearts. And I hope you believe that this is punishment enough.”

Sean stayed silent so you added quietly, “That’s all I had to say.”

He nodded his head again, bringing his hand to his face to rub his beard. “I’m not angry at you anymore. When you were kidnapped and I didn’t know if you were going to be okay or not, it made me realize that no matter what you’ve done to me I would never want you to suffer. A part of me will always care for you. And that doesn’t mean I forgive you for what you did, but what I mean is…I don’t want you to live the rest of your life punishing yourself for what you did.”

“That means the world to me, Sean.”

“When Aaron called me to tell me you were okay, we had a talk. He told me he’ll always be here when I need him even if we don’t have any type of relationship anymore. So I want you to know it’s the same for me and you. I’m obviously not going to tell you we should stay friends, but…if you – you or my brother – ever come to me for help I won’t close my door in your face.”

“Thank you. Really, Sean. You have a wonderful heart.”

And to those words, he smiled.

~ 1 year later ~

“Mom?”

You furrowed your brows, trying to understand where that voice was coming from, unable to open your eyes yet and nuzzling your face in the crook of Aaron’s neck.

“Mom?” the voice persisted, this time with a little tap on your shoulder.

Jack.

“Angel?” you said, with a raspy voice, feeling Aaron next to you shifting awake.

“I had a bad dream,” he whined.

“Oh sweetie…”

“Can I sleep with you?”

“Of course. Come here,” you whispered, making room between you and Aaron.

“Buddy?” it was his turn to ask what was happening now, finally awake.

“Nightmare,” you told him.

“Oh.”

Jack nodded with a pout, and you smiled at how adorable he was.

“Well, you’re all safe now, between mom and dad, yeah?” Aaron told him, making sure that the blanket covered all three of you.

“Of course he is,” you added. “No monster can reach him here.”

You tickled his tummy, and once you heard him giggle, you realized that the bad dream was already forgotten.

Your head hit the pillow again, and you closed your eyes, feeling Aaron wrapping his arm around both of you protectively.

“Good night, my loves,” you said.

“Good night,” they answered in unison.

It is his and Penelope’s anniversary tomorrow and he wants to make it special. A new dress and a pair of cute lingerie for their date night, sounds perfect to him.

As far as the dinner is concerned, he is more than confident in his skill as a chef.

Walking towards the lingerie store though, he suddenly stops and takes a few steps back recognizing the pair of people that are sitting outside and staring at the same window that caught his eye.

Aaron’s arm is around your waist and your head is resting on his shoulder. He says something that apparently makes you laugh and he kisses the top of your head with affection.

Your own hand is placed on his lower back and Sean doesn’t miss the ring around your finger. You’re marrying him.

“I’m gonna make her Mrs. Hotchner one day,” he had joked to his best friend after your first date.

Future Mrs. Hotchner indeed.

The End 🤍

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