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chewnotchoke · 26 days ago

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like no one else can

ೃ࿐ boynextdoor as your situationship

this was fun to write,,i was wondering if i should make individual fics abt this...what do yall think? ^__^ feedbacks and comments are appreciated ! and also my ask is always open if u wnna chitty chat <3

warnings: fluff, intense pining, light angst, signs of red flags

wc per member: ~250-400

sungho

“i’m trying to understand what am i to you?”

𓍯 situationship with sungho would be filled with a lot of "almosts" that keep you guessing, excitement, and unexpected outcomes. he would have this easygoing, carefree attitude as if he truly enjoyed your time together, but he’s also hard to pin down. he would bring you as his ‘plus one’ to parties or events and he has once invited you to a family outing “as a friend”

𓍯 sungho likes to do actions that you couldn’t help but assign meanings to these little things. he would give you a bite of his food in between laughter and throw tiny comments such as “i thought about you the other day.” the way he laughs at your jokes, recalls small details you mention, and checks up on you in between classes makes you question if he does the same with other people. if you didn't witness him opening doors for people, helping classmates with their homework, and giving the same endearing smile to anyone in need, it would be quite easy to convince yourself that the things he did to you meant something.

𓍯 when you mention being cold, he casually throws his hoodie over your shoulders and says, "just give it back whenever." yet it stays with you for days and he doesn't bring it up either, as if sharing his hoodie has become a relationship between you two. but when you decide to give it back, your heart aches to see another girl wearing his hoodie.

𓍯 the combination of highs and unanswered questions would be thrilling, and his charm would entice you to return for more. but the question “what am i to you” hangs in the open air because then, if you really meant something to him, he wouldn’t have treated others the same way he did to you.

𓍯 was it mutual at some point? maybe, or maybe not.

riwoo

“i know it’s casual but i look for you in a room full of people”

𓍯 likes having alone time with you. plans a hang out with your friends to watch a movie but the truth is he didn't invite anyone else just so he could watch the movie and spend time alone together. at the end of the movie, you'd just be wiping off your lips because you spent the whole time making out.

𓍯 situationship with riwoo is almost like a secret. he knows how to pull you towards him, and the relationship has you on chokehold. most of the time, he makes moves that make you question the very foundation of your relationship. he acts like he likes you. but does he actually do?

𓍯 during a chill drinking celebration at your friends' house, both of you always find a reason to text each other even if you're literally in the same room. that one time when you were seated a little too far from him, he pulls out his phone, typing under the table making sure no one gets a peak of his message, he would send you, "you're too far from me :(" it seems as though the thread that binds you is stronger than everything else, and every communication feels like a secret that only the two of you know. you'd look up from your phone to give him a glance and he gives you a subtle look—the look that even when you try to look away, you could feel his eyes settled on you.

𓍯 his red flag would probably be saying things like, "would you be jealous if i went out with someone else?" or talking about his ex. but right when he gives you enough reasons that he's not good for you, he pulls the "what would it take for us to stop pretending this isn’t more than casual?" card.

jaehyun

“you say we’re just friends but why do you look at me like that when no one’s around?”

𓍯 when you clearly don’t look like you’re just friends but it’s becoming a running joke now–jaehyun responds without skipping a beat whenever someone arches an eyebrow and asks if there is more going on between you and him. he casually replies, “we’re just friends.” and each time you force a smile that falls short of your eyes, you nod along.

𓍯 jaehyun has this habit of leaning towards you whenever he laughs, sometimes his head falls on your shoulder for a moment which kinda makes you flinch during the first few times but now that you’re used to it, you let your heads touch each other when you laugh together.

𓍯 when he spots you alone leaning outside the glass door at a party, you feel his presence slowly approaching you and then he simply stands there in comforting silence, staring at you in that familiar way, without saying anything at first. when you told him that you get more comfortable attending parties because he’s around, he’d flash a smirk, and his eyes return to the expression he always gives you when no one else is there. jaehyun looks intensely at your face as if he’s searching for something–searching for a sign.

𓍯 you can’t resist yourself to ask him a question if he’s sure about it. “sure about what?” his tone is gentle, and the corner of his mouth twitches as if he clearly understands what you are saying. “sure that we’re just friends…” you replied. jaehyun pauses before responding. he just looks at you, his eyes darting to your lips and back to your eyes, a spark there that he tries to conceal but can't quite get rid of. he lets out a tense and nervous laugh. “yeah, we’re just friends.” but his words were laced with hesitation and uncertainty. and there you thought, maybe the look he gives you is enough, for now.

taesan

“you treat me like this because you know you're my weakness.”

𓍯 taesan knows how flustered you get when he touches you. during lunchtime with your other friends, you tried to ignore how he sat closer to you than usual. when your friends make a joke and others laugh along, you try so hard to focus but you just can’t seem to grasp the fact that his knees and yours were touching. then, his fingertips lightly touched your leg, so gentle at first that you nearly questioned whether it was an accident. however, taesan’s hand becomes steady and warm, and you can only sense his calm presence. you attempt to maintain a neutral appearance on the outside as your heart twitches and your mind attempts to process the unexpected sensation. his smile is as laid-back as ever, and he continues to laugh with the group as if this is nothing unusual.

𓍯 situationship with taesan can be a little frustrating. he likes to give you mixed signals. he’s mostly all about you most of the time and he holds eye contact like you’re the only person he could see. but then the next day, he barely acknowledges your presence. he’s quiet and doesn’t speak to you. but you know what’s bad for you? the fact that you'd fold immediately bcs he really just knows how to give you butterflies right when you think he’s not interested. taesan would come up behind you, whispering to your ear saying, “i missed you today.” and you would quickly fold like you didn't just question everything about him.

𓍯 at some point, the feelings were mutual. but you got tired of going around in circles waiting for nothing to happen, so you just decided to move on and bury your feelings just to keep the friendship.

leehan

“teach me how to not care about these feelings that keep me up at night for nothing.”

𓍯 you don’t talk everyday but that’s what makes everything thrilling. and when you do talk, texting usually lasts until 3am. although you can feel the weight of your eyelids by this time, you try to stay awake just to converse with him. conversations with leehan are almost raw, something about each message is intimate—one you probably wouldn’t hear in the daylight. the thought that he actually also stays up with you makes you wonder how much he’s also feeling.

𓍯 leehan has the subtlest way of making you laugh. he’s nonchalant but he’s the type to make you intrigued without fully committing. with that being said, he knows when to pull back when he thinks you’re getting a little too attached over a situationship even if he's the one responsible for making you feel that way

𓍯 after dates, goodbyes often linger in the air. both of you enjoyed too much to actually walk away and go back home. when he stands close enough to hug you, you could feel his hand linger on your back like he’s in no rush to go back home. both of you stood there quiet, glancing at each other, enough to decipher by the look of your eyes that there are still unsaid words. “i’ll text you when i get back home.” he holds both of your hands as they slightly brush away from yours whenever he takes a step back. you know yourself you want something more from this situationship which causes your heart to ache.

𓍯 leehan is still not letting go of your hand even at the point where your fingertips are only touching each other. “let’s do that next time.” he says and adds, “sleep over.”

𓍯 and when he actually gets back home, you don't receive a text from him at all, and talked again the following days like nothing happened.

woonhak

"why does it feel like we’re both waiting for the other to make the first move?"

𓍯 it’s painfully obvious that both of you like each other. neither of you just couldn’t bring yourself up to confess. there’s always this tension that hangs heavy in the air when you’re with him. you're lounging on his couch while watching a film. with his shoulder almost touching yours, he is closer than friends should be. the couch's modest size is a flimsy excuse, but you both know there's more to it. woonhak’s arm occasionally moves, grazing yours and giving you a shiver, but he doesn't pull away. both of you are dancing around that invisible line, on the brink. his hand is getting closer and closer till your fingers would touch if you both moved even a little.

𓍯 every time you're together, you experience this torturous pulling, waiting for the other to finally release the tension that has been building for weeks. his hand moves next to yours, his fingers flexing as though he wants to grab you but isn't quite brave enough. and you can't help but wonder whether you're both simply waiting for a sign, anything that would eventually allow one of you to cross that line.

𓍯 woonhak constantly teases you, looking for excuses to rub your hair or bump into your shoulder, and he enjoys seeing how you respond to his pranks. he says something, though, that takes you entirely by surprise just when you think it's all a friendly act.

𓍯 “i feel like we’re both good at being complicated.” he chuckles. you can sense that you're both still holding back and skirting the truth because you're afraid of altering something that feels so near-perfect. but when you meet his eyes, you can see that this isn't the end of it because of the little warmth that remains in his smile.

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lvcky-g1rl-syndr0me · 6 months ago

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⋆୨♡୧⋆l-l-love🤢⋆୨♡୧⋆

as y/n walked to the hybe cafe, she immediately spotted riki, a head above the rest. so tall she could point him out in a crowd anywhere. she took a deep breath and took a moment to compose herself before eventually walking over to him. she tapped him on his shoulder as he was facing away from her. "oh! hey!" there it is that smile. to say she loved his smile would be an understatement. she thought it was the prettiest thing she'd ever seen and she nearly felt as if she was going to die at the sight of it. she couldn't help but smile back at him. "hey! how are you?" what he wanted to say was "so much better now that i'm with you", but what came out instead was "good. yeah, i'm good, what about you?" his eyebrow raised, it was single handedly the cutest thing y/n had ever seen. "i'm pretty good. doing a lot of schedules for debut, you know, usual stuff" could she be anymore awkward? clearly yes. first "thanks you too" and now "usual stuff" she felt like she wanted to disappear right then and there, but riki absolutely loved it. this whole time he thought she was so cool and calm, but really she's cute and awkward, which he secretly liked more than if she would have been chill. he finds himself staring at her for a moment before quickly catching himself "oh um- did you want food? I didn't get any cause i wasn't sure if you'd want anything." she smiled at his thoughtfulness and said "no thanks, i'm not super hungry right now. thank you though." he thought back to their conversation yesterday, the whole reason why they're here now. "so, you wanted some tips about mcing?" he asked. "oh! yeah. im kind of nervous, i have no idea what i'm doing and you've ben an mc before, so i was hoping you could give me some advice?" she was hoping this didn't come off as pathetic or anything. i mean, who needs advice on how to talk into a mic? y/n apparently. "well," he starts "for me, i find its best to interact with the fans while waiting for our speaking parts. it calms my nerves before speaking because i'm talking to people that support me. often times it's mostly your own fans watching you in person. that’s at least what sunghoon told me. and if you're worried about messing up lines or something, I'll be there to cover for you, reading from a prompter is hard, so if you mess up its okay. don't worry too much about it." she nodded along to his words, taking mental notes on his advice. "thank you, i really appreciate it. i don't know why im so nervous. its just talking into a mic to a camera." she sighs. "I mean, I understand. it's nerve wracking when it's your first time. I felt like that too when I mc'ed for MAMA one year. it can be scary talking in front of a bunch of people and trying not to mess up. that's why you have a co-host, me! if you do mess up, I can cover you so it doesn't look too much like an accident." her heart fluttered at that. over something so small? she knew it was corny, but she couldn't help it. she felt so strongly for him. she always thought that if she actually talked to him, this whole little crush would go away. but to her surprise, it only got stronger. "you know, since we're going to be working together, we should get each others numbers." her heart stopped, and so did his. hers in shock, and his in fear. what if she said no? what if she thought he was weird? did he really just ask her for her number? there's no way. she froze for a moment, but realized she really should probably respond to him "yeah! yeah of course!" riki was never more relieved in his life. he handed her his phone "here, put your number in." she took it from him and put in her number, texting herself. "there. i can send you a picture for my contact photo later" his heart raced, he had just gotten his crushes number, and she's going to send him a picture of herself later. could his life get any better then this? "okay, sure, yeah, that sounds good" he stammers. is he really flustered right now? oh my god she thought. as the two talked and laughed together, they figured out they're more similar then they thought they were.

the pair quickly growing closer in just mere hours, both feeing significantly strong for each other than when they first said hello earlier. as the time drew later, the two decided to end their night, quickly realizing the ghost town that the hype cafe had become. "oh- well, its late, and my members are blowing up my phone asking where I am" she laughed as she scrolled through the countless messages left by yunjin and hanni. 'yeah, I should probably go too. I told jay I'd help make dinner tonight" he sighed, wishing he didn't promise jay anything and he could hang out with y/n for longer. she laughed lightly "ill let you go then. text me though, okay?" what had come over her? did she really just say that? (y/ns version of flirting was a bit different then others, that being because she didn't know how to flirt) riki nodded and smiled "yeah, I'll text you. see you later!" he waved to her and started to walk away. she waved back and watched him go. she sat back down and sighed once he was out of her sight. she was so fucked. she was completely and utterly melted by him, and they had only just official met yesterday. maybe there was something wrong with her. but frankly, she didn't care. maybe she was being delusional like usual, but she was pretty sure she could see something there with riki.

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luckys note!: guys i’m so good at writing😎😎

(📍) PERM TAGLIST IS OPEN!

(🩷) MIDNIGHT FICTION TAGLIST! @nctislifue @akuspic @pkjay @siya-bean @eun-chaez @wavetosunoo @gweoriz @luminouskalopsia @soobiary @ivyannemarie @rikikiynikilcykiki @emma2black @enh4ht @wooziswife @jjunie-0 @yumilovesloona @wth121 @riksaes @isaxshin @allforhee @rikisgeef @sunghoonsarmpit @autumn583 @tzuyusluv @lukesboo @anormieee @rockyhedgehog @thomawifey @lovrqis @akashisthighs @just-a-girl-with-hyper-fixations

(dm me/comment under the midnight fiction masterlist to be added!)

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thefiery-phoenix · 8 months ago

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Yo I'm actually obsessed with your writing😭 I'm going crazy send help. Anyways can you please do a yandere Dg with like a broken reader? I just love the thought of him pampering us🥹 Thank you and feel free the decline 🫶

Hello and thank you for liking my work, I really appreciate it :) And sure

RIGHT WHERE YOU BELONG(YANDERE DG X BROKEN READER)

You didn't know when your life went all wrong and took the wrong tangential turn, you were supposed to get good grades, make your parents proud, make a good name for yourself in society and follow your passion and dream of becoming a writer someday. Yet there were days when you felt like you were a burden to people, not withstanding the fact that even your own parents kept yelling that at you whenever you didn't get good grades and didn't live up to their expectation of being the perfect golden child for them. No matter how many accomplishments you had, you felt empty inside. You feel like you've forgotten how to live the essence of life itself, you forgot how to feel happiness since a long time. You felt like there was an empty void in your heart and you just...stopped feeling one day and became completely indifferent to everything around you

You thought you'd die alone and there were times when you felt like you were better off gone when a certain pink haired idol ended up kidnapping you and made you live with him. You regretted the day you met DG at the PTJ company and you mentally cursed yourself for falling for his tricks and manipulations that led you here in the first place. When you woke up on his bed confused and bewildered of what happened, he kept rambling something about how much he was going to love you and how he'd take care of you from now on and you laughed at him when he said those words. "Don't bother...please... I don't deserve it...'' you said as he frowned. "Now why would you say that?" he asked you, as his eyes narrowed but spoke in a gentle tone. He had to know what exactly made you feel like this, why were you so...indifferent and what made you develop a sense of apathy towards your surroundings

He wasn't considered a 'genius' for nothing. He could tell you were bothered by something, you were silent most of the time but your eyes spoke tales of sadness, which frankly hurt him. It hurt him to see your beautiful lotus like eyes carry the burden of sadness. "When are you going to kill me?" you asked him one day during dinner as the two of you were at the dining table. "What?" he asked you slowly as his voice was laced with concern and his heart pounded at your words. Why on earth would you say something like that? Your words sent a chill down his spine, he despised and hated the thought of being away from you for even a second and here you were asking him to kill you?

"Why would you say that? Tell me...talk to me'' he said as he set down his chopsticks and held your hands in his and rubbed gentle comforting circles on the back of your hand. You opened your mouth but no words came out, as usual. It was like they were stuck at the back of your throat as you tried to swallow the lump forming in your throat but your trembling lips and eyes conveyed another story. "Because I'm useless....'' you mumbled as you looked at the table and avoided his gaze. DG looked at you with his soul piercing gaze but his eyes softened and he could tell your life before you met him was harsh. You didn't hear his move as he pulled you to the couch with him and he wrapped his arms around your waist. "You're NOT useless. You hear me? I adore everything about you. I'll tell you this as many number of times as I have to, I love you'' he said as he caressed your cheek lovingly

"But why me? I'm no one...I'm...I'm nothing special'' you mumbled as he gently placed a finger on your lips and shushed you. "Shhh....sweetheart. No more self doubt. It pains me to see you so critical of yourself. I adore your beautiful mesmerizing eyes, every time I look into them, I feel like I get lost in them. I love your lips, they're so soft like the petals of a rose..'' he trailed off as he gently placed a kiss on your lips which made you squirm and you looked at him with a vulnerable expression for the first time. Deep down, he was glad he was getting closer to breaking down your walls of self doubt and self hatred. "Your mind is the one playing tricks on you sweetheart, just listen to me and only me...nothing else matters. No one else matters. I love you...and I'll never leave you. As for why I chose you, it's simple really. You managed to enter my heart and when I want something, I take it. As simple as that'' he said with a soft amused chuckle

The both of you just sat there for a while on the couch together as the dim lights and the jazz music playing in the background made you feel slightly at ease. Your bubbling self hatred didn't exactly disappear but it decreased slightly at his words. "Come on my love, it's time for you to sleep'' he said as he carried you bridal style to your room and held you close as you drifted off to sleep. You might have entered the land of your dreams but he was still wide awake, thinking about the words you've said and how your words sent a cold chill down his spine. The thought of losing you made him...enraged in such a way that not even words or numbers could do justice for

He slowly got down from the bed and caressed your cheek lovingly before he headed out into the living room and started doing his research of what exactly led you to such a state in the first place. He found out about how your parents always demanded you be the perfect golden child for them, how everyone always expected you to help them and yet when you needed help the most there was no one for you to depend on, how you always shouldered your own burdens and how people around you looked down on you just because you had the passion and dream of becoming a writer, calling your passion 'useless' because they were too narrow minded. He could feel red hot anger coursing through his veins as he thought of the number of times you could have cried to yourself alone, with no one to help you as his heart stung from the mere thought of imagining your cries for help getting ignored by the vast sea of people who just used you for their own personal gains

You were burned out. You needed a break. You needed someone to tell you that they were proud of you for once and that was just what he was going to do for you. He immediately developed a strong sense of hatred against those who ridiculed you so much to bring you to such a state, judging you for every single little thing. Who the HELL were they to judge HIS sweetheart like this? His mind flashed back to the number of times you looked at yourself in the mirror, your eyes filled with insecurities. He was going to get rid of every single insecurity of yourself you've ever had. He was going to spoil you with his love and you were just going to have to accept it. He thought of paying a little visit to those hypocritical pests later at some point in the future, to make them pay for every single time they made you cry or feel bad about yourself. It's not like such scumbags would be missed in society anyway so don't feel too bad when they land on the news the next day showing that they were brutally tortured before they were killed

He was going to make sure to spend more time with you, you really needed someone to keep an eye on you since he had the paranoia of you doing something drastic at some point which he couldn't allow to happen. He mentally reminded himself to get rid of the knives and switch off the gas in the kitchen so you wouldn't be able to hurt yourself. He'd encourage your passion for writing, you could have all the books you heart could ever desire and he'd love to read every word you've written. His intention was to never shoot down your dreams but for him to create a future for the two of you together. He was used to superficial people being with him only for the sake of his status or influence but he admired the way you were genuine at whatever you said and did. You could deny it all you wanted but despite your broken personality, he could see you had a heart of gold. A beautiful gentle heart and a soft soul that plenty of scumbags took advantage of that just made him mad to the core

DG sighed as he placed his file containing information regarding you back in his drawer and locked it, something you didn't need to find out just yet as he made his way back towards you and got on the bed as he held you in his arms and stroked your hair and placed a gentle and soft kiss on your cheek before he drifted off to sleep, you being by his side, right where you belonged...

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goldenbuckyyy · 2 years ago

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IT’LL BE OKAY

Summary: After your Halloween hookup with Eddie Munson, it never really ended from there. Now it’s Valentine’s Day.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Word count: 6.3kish

Warnings: SMUT (!!), oral (f!&m! receiving), vaginal fingering, raw sex, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, cream pie, making out, dry humping, some angst, crying.. anything else?! Let me know!!

A/N: I had been wanting to write some Eddie for a while now and a lot of people loved part 1! So, decided to write another part to it! I had originally wanted to post it on Feb. 14, but as always.. life and work happens!! So, hopefully you all enjoy. 🥹 I’m tagging whoever asked to be tagging in the first part! Song title inspo: “It’ll be okay” by Shawn Mendes.

All mistakes are my own. Please do not repost or translate my fics on any other side nor this one.

I appreciate any likes, reblogs, messages, and interactions. Please message me your thoughts! Love reading them. 🫶🏻

Part 1 | Main Masterlist

Eddie usually hated Valentine’s Day.

He hated the whole pink and red hearts vibes, the way the word “love” was splattered on every open surface, and the way he would see couples left and right.

He had never celebrated Valentine’s Day with someone. Not in his eighteen years of life.

He doesn’t think he’s ever even had sex on Valentine’s Day either.

Maybe that’s why he hates it so much.

But, man… you love Valentine’s Day.

You never specifically said it out loud, but he knew you loved it.

You loved pink hearts and your clothing sure showed it. You had cardigans with hearts all over them, you had a bag in a heart shape, you’d draw hearts all over him and his tattoos when you guys would lay down naked in bed, and he loved the way you looked lately as you walked down the decorated halls of Hawkins High School.

He loved seeing your wide smile as you admired all the decorations, the way you’d reach out to touch them with your fingertips with your bright red painted nails, and he especially loved the way he noticed your cheeks blush when someone would ask you who you were going to spend your Valentine’s Day with.

You’d blow off the question with a laugh and a shrug knowing damn well you had already said no to over a million of guys who had asked you out.

And when your friends weren’t looking, your eyes would slowly travel to where Eddie was. Where he always was. Leaning against his lockers that were across from you, he was surrounded by his friends, and your eyes would lock with his.

You’d blush every single time you noticed that he was already looking at you. You’d get flustered and proceed to look away with a shy smile on your lips.

Eddie wondered how you were the same girl he fucked recklessly in that bathroom at Kassidy Norway’s house that Halloween night.

That night lived in Eddie’s thoughts for ages. Shit, it still does most nights.

Nowadays, Eddie had wayyyy more images than he ever thought he’d ever get a chance to see. He was a lucky, very lucky, man.

He’s seen every inch of you. He knows every inch of you.

He’s also seen you bent down against a wall in the back of the old movie theater. An image of your skirt bundle up over your ass and your panties shoved to the side flash in his thoughts.

He’s seen you down on your knees, peebles scraping the skin around them, because you couldn’t wait to get into the car to get him in your mouth. The way you moaned as he fucked your mouth with his cock and the way you shoved your fingers inside your panties to touch yourself.

He’s seen you spread out in the back of his van, naked as the day you were born, and completely blissful. The way you’d lay out after he’d fuck you would send him chills. He’d fuck you anyway you liked it. Anything you asked of him, he’d do.

He’s seen you bouncing on his thighs, sitting on his face, riding his fingers, legs behind your head, back arched with your ass up, and Eddie’s pretty sure he’s sporting a semi right now as he thinks about all of this.

Eddie smiles once you wave bye to your friends and that’s his cue to do the same. He tells the guys he’ll see them later and he strolls towards you.

You spot him walking towards you and you smile lazily.

The same smile you wore last night when he dropped you off at your house after some mind blowing sex and some deep talk at his trailer. And maybe a little dancing in your underwear on his bed as he played his guitar.

He always had fun when he was with you.

“Hi,” you say with a hip tilt and batting your eyelashes. Your fingertips reach toward his face to push his curls behind his ears.

“You don’t gotta do all that for me, sweetheart. You already got me wrapped around this,” he grips your hand in his and bites your index finger with a smirk, “little finger.”

You roll your eyes as he reaches for your bag and proceeds to hold your stuff while he walks you to class.

Eddie indulges you on whatever topic of the day, giving his input when needed, and then you’re outside of your home room.

You smile as Eddie hands you your bag and you both look at each other sheepishly.

It’s always like this between you guys. Shy smiles and teasing grins at school, but completely different in private. Eddie loved it. He loved seeing you squirm in school because of his attention on you and then seeing the complete vixen that you truly are.

“See you in the last block?” You question curiously, letting your fingers intertwine with his, not really caring who sees. You always said it wasn’t anybody’s damn business.

Eddie kisses your cheek delicately, “I’m skipping.”

“Eddie,” you scold as your eyes widen, but Eddie’s already jogging away from you with a smile on his face.

“You won’t be scolding me tomorrow!” He yells at you and he doesn’t miss the way you break out into a big smile. His favorite smile.

At 7:30 am the next morning, right as you're walking out your front door to walk to school, you are standing on your porch when you see Eddie standing there with a big grin on his face.

Your face immediately breaks out into a grin, “Eddie? What are you doing here?” Your eyes darting all over his body to simultaneously check him out and wondering why he has his hands behind his back.

He’s grinning so hard that his dimples are showing and he looks so handsome. He’s in his regular attire, but you love it. He’s wearing his black jeans with his dangling chains, white chucks, his DnD long sleeve underneath his jean jacket, and his curly hair is messy. Curls framing his adorable face with his cut bangs covering his forehead. You want to run your hands through them.

You walk up to him and place a quick kiss to his cheek.

“I got you something,” Eddie says with a whisper and slight hint of mischief behind his tone. You raise an eyebrow, following his arms as he untucks them from behind himself, and you gasp when he pulls out what he’s hiding.

Eddie watches you as your eyes swell up with adornment and you sigh so lovely that it’s almost sickening the way his heart flutters at your expression.

He holds onto the fluffy pink teddy bear he had gotten you that has a big heart in the center of it with the words, “Kiss me” splattered in the center.

He holds it out for you as your expression goes from surprised to amusement to completely grateful in the span of fifteen seconds. You reach for it and squeeze it into your chest.

“You shouldn’t have,” you quickly say with a breathless smile and Eddie swears he sees tears in your eyes.

Eddie pulls you into his arms, wrapping his around your torso as the bear gets squished between you guys, and he leans down to kiss your sweet tasting lips.

He kisses you easily and softly. Almost like it’s second nature to him already. His warm hands grip the sides of your cheeks as your lips move against his in a rhythm that feels natural.

It’s almost unfair how soft and sweet your lips feel against Eddie’s. Eddie almost wants to come undone right here on your front steps.

Your free arm, the one not holding your brand new and favorite teddy bear, wraps around Eddie’s shoulders with ease and you pull against his back to move closer into you.

He chuckles into your mouth and you can feel him smiling which causes you to smile and to slowly pull away, but before you do you give him a million pecks on his lips as you both giggle childishly.

“You’re sweet on me,” you whisper into his lips as you slowly shove away some of his loose curls that tickle your cheeks.

“Always am, sugar.”

In your last class, which surprisingly was the only class you had with Eddie, you were already anxiously waiting for the school day to end. You had already been wanting to give Eddie his gift and you were in your headspace about it when you heard multiple people calling out your name.

You snap out of your thoughts and immediately sit up straight when Mrs. Johnson is walking over to you with a big bundle of red roses in a glass vase.

Your mouth parts open in shock as she hands you the vase and you set it down on your desk. You can feel yourself blushing as the girls around you are giggling and asking who sent you the roses.

“They’re beautiful, honey. You are a lucky lady,” Mrs. Johnson says with her sweet smile and honey voice. You whisper a quick thank you as you easily look over your shoulder at Eddie who’s sitting in the back row.

He’s staring right at you with a smirk on his face which causes you to break out into a cheeky smile.

You inhale the sweet scent of the beautiful roses in front of you and sigh in contentment. How did you get this lucky? And who would have thought that Eddie Munson was a secret romantic?

“Thank you for my roses,” you pant out above Eddie as your arms wrap around his shoulders and your hands go into his curls. Eddie moans as he starts kissing your neck, running his hands up your naked thighs and underneath your pink skirt, and when he reaches your core, he groans with his head tilting back to meet your eyes.

You smile as you pull his lips to yours once more, “I forgot to put them back.” You whisper teasingly into his mouth.

Eddie almost cums at your words as he moves his fingers to your pussy, which is already soaked, and he loves that you do stuff like this. Always doing something that shocks him. He fucking loves you.

Wait..

Does he love you?

Yeah, he’s pretty sure he’s in love with you.

He thinks he wants to tell you that tonight. Maybe make whatever this is between you two official.

He slips one of his fingers into your warm heat and you whimper as you feel your walls tightening around his digit. Your nails dig into the skin behind his neck and you start grinding your hips against his own. You feel how hard he is underneath his jeans and you can almost feel him throbbing.

Eddie grips your neck with his free hand, kissing you roughly as he slips in another finger, curling both of them in you to hit your spot, and the feeling of him stretching you out makes shives run down your back.

Eddie moves his thumb to your clit and starts moving his fingers together, trying to get you to your peak, “Fuck me, sweetheart. You’re absolutely dripping.”

You lick his lips to taste him, “All for you.”

After a heated almost sex almost orgasm make out sesh in Eddie’s van, you had told him to come back around nine pm once you knew your parents were asleep in bed and thankfully they were both deep sleepers.

You told him to go through the window and now here you are.

Waiting for him in only your babydoll pink outfit.

It shouldn’t even be considered an outfit by how it was basically mesh and didn’t leave anything to the imagination.

But you knew Eddie was going to go feral over it. He’s seen you naked plenty of times, but never in anything like this.

The lingerie was baby pink in color with matching underwear. The little dress fanned out on your waist which you loved. And you looked at yourself in the mirror once more.. just to admire the cute outfit before Eddie ripped it off of you.

You hear a soft knock on your window which causes your heart to race immediately and you rush to open it. The cold Indiana air rushing over your skin and making goosebumps arise all over you.

You stand back as Eddie makes his way into your room. You quickly settle into the bed, crossing your legs, and leaning back to make your body look appetizing and wanting for him. You adjust your hair to fall over your shoulders and you hope you look as good as you feel right now.

Eddie is adjusting his jacket over your empty chair and ruffling his hair as he looks over at you for the first time and he stops in his tracks.

His lips part open, baby brown eyes going wide, and he puts his hand on his chest dramatically. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack, baby?”

You giggle, “Maybe.” You hook your toe into one of his belt loops and pull him into you as best as you can. His cold hands touch your burning thighs and it feels amazing.

“You look breathtaking,” your lover says as he cups your face in his hands and leans down to kiss your lips.

Eddie crushes his own lips against yours, moaning at the taste of your sweet chapstick, and how you always seem to reciprocate to him in the best way.

He loves the way your arms automatically wrap around his shoulders and the way you lean back to spread your legs wide open for his own hips to mold into yours.

Eddie pulls away slowly, your arms unlinking from behind his neck, and falling down to your sides as you watch him watching you.

His eyes take in your flushed cheeks, to your already swollen lips, the straps of your lingerie are falling down your shoulders, and it makes Eddie want to groan.

He looks at your perky breasts covered in the mesh and your pretty nipples are pointy. He rubs his thumbs on both of them over the lingerie and you gasp as the sudden contact. Your thighs rub together as he thumbs your nipples in between his fingers.

“You’re a fucking dream,” Eddie whispers as he licks his lips while he moves his hands down your full breasts and to the opening of the lingerie. He lets his hands go under the opening and holds onto the curve of your waist.

“A fucking dream,” he mutters again as he moves his hands down to your matching mesh underwear and he slips his hands underneath the sides.

Then, Eddie slips down to his knees and he’s pulling your underwear down with him.

You feel the cold air hit your already soaked area and you whimper as Eddie removes your underwear from your legs. He starts kissing you from your ankles to your inner thighs and that’s where he starts leaving small bites of kisses all over you.

You adjust yourself onto the edge of your bed, soft goosebumps covering your body as you wait in anticipation for Eddie to touch you, to do anything to you, and you close your eyes when you feel his warm breath against your pussy.

You feel his fingers slowly start to spread you open and you feel his tongue flick your opening slightly.

You gasp in pleasure, your belly tightening in want, and your breathing is rising as Eddie licks a strip from your aching hole to your pulsating clit.

And Eddie feels obsessed with you. He’s obsessed with your pretty legs, your pretty thighs, and your fucking pretty pussy.

He’s obsessed with the way your body responds to his touches. The way he can spend hours kissing and marking your thighs. And how he loves the way you respond to the way he eats you out.

He buries his face into your pussy as he starts eating you out as a starved man. He licks your folds, his fingers moving to open you up, and then proceeds to lick your aching hole once again.

A tingling sensation runs through your spine which causes your back to curve upwards into the air, a pleasurable moan escaping from the back of your throat, and one of Eddie’s strong hands holds you down by your hip.

He moves his lips towards your clip, sucking and licking it, and simultaneously inserts one of his fingers into your hole. You gasp as you grind your hips into him.

Eddie moans into your pussy, sending vibrations into your core, and he starts to move his finger into you. Slowly opening you up. “Fuck, almost so fucking tight for me. All for me, right baby?” Eddie rushes out as he lays his tongue flat against your pussy, letting your juices coat his mouth and his chin, and when you look down to meet his eyes… he smiles so hard, his dimples show.

“You’re a dream, baby.”

Eddie continues to maintain eye contact with you as he sucks in all your juices. He pulls away, licking his lips messily, and watching your pussy clenching down his finger. He inserts another, your soaking walls clenching down again as you feel his other finger inside of you, and you grip onto the sheets underneath your body.

Eddie starts panting a little as he watches you squirming underneath him, spread out in all your glory for him. Just for him.

He watches the way you grind your hips into his fingers, the way your pussy soaks his fingers, and the way you confidently touch your body with your hands. Twisting your nipples in between your fingers and biting your bottom lip in want.

The knot in the bottom of your belly is getting tighter as pleasure is seeping out of your pores.

“E-Eddie,” you moan out as you reach down to wrap your hands into his curls and before he can say anything, you shove his head back down to your aching pussy. Needing him to finish you off.

You hear Eddie chuckle as you shove him down and then he continues to eat you out, just the way you like it. His free hand moving underneath your hips and squeezing your ass in his hold.

Eddie continues to pump his fingers inside of you, curling them in your walls, and sucking on your clit which makes your toes curl in anticipation. Your hands tighten around his curls, tugging generously, and he never stops.

“Oh,” you moan out, back arching a little bit to move your center to the perfect angle that will help you achieve your orgasm, and Eddie only goes faster and harder. The knot in your belly starts to tighten and you feel almost over the edge.

“Eddie, Eddie, E-Eddie,” you continue to moan out his name as you clench your eyes shut as you feel your orgasm take over your entire body. His fingers pump inside of you, his lips wrapped around your pulsating clit, and you bite onto your forearm to try and conceal your screams.

Your toes curl against your bed as your orgasm washes completely over you as Eddie licks up all your juices until you're shaking and laying down limp on your bed. He removes his fingers from your sore pussy and you look down at him with a lazy smile, he sucks his fingers into his mouth with a moan.

“You taste so sweet,” he whispers as he leans over to you and kisses you, open mouthed, and lazily with tongue. You taste yourself as you kiss him, both moaning together, and you bite his bottom lip.

You moan as you wrap your arms around him, “I need you.”

Eddie whimpers at your words and pulls away from you. He quickly starts to strip out of his clothes as you giggle. You sit on your calves as you both watch each other. He stumbles out of his boots, trying not to fall, and shoves off his jeans.

You slowly pull off your babydoll outfit and toss it to the floor, watching Eddie as he yanks off his shirt, and you lean back on your elbows.

Eddie slows down as he watches you spread out for him and he bites his bottom lip. He shoves down his boxers and his red-tipping, almost aching thick cock bounces up and down. He palms himself as he watches you, “Ready for me?”

“Always am,” you whisper into the quiet room as you do grabby hands for him as his big, lean body towers over you.

He slips his hand behind your back and one behind your head as your lips move messily against his own. He moves his hips against yours which causes his pulsating cock to move in between your folds and he allows himself to rub against your swollen clit. It sends bolts of electricity all over your body as you had just orgasmed.

You both moan into each other’s mouth at the sensation, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer into you, and you spread your legs wider to allow him easier access. He pulls away from your mouth, kissing your neck with small licks, and sucks a little bit near your collarbone.

“You want me?” He whispers into your ear as he sucks on your earlobe. Chills run down your spine as a memory fills your brain when he asked you the same thing a couple months ago on Halloween night.

You follow the same movements you did that night, pulling his face towards you as you cup his chin, eyes locking together, and you nod as you reach down to grip onto his length. Eddie lets out a shaky breath as he feels your warm hand wrap around him and you can feel him twitching in your hold.

You thumb the tip of his cock, coating it with his pre-cum, and you rub him in between your folds. Eddie feels the same way he felt that night when he first had you underneath him. He’s aching for you, like he always does. He still feels like he’s going to explode just by being above you.

You rub his throbbing cock along your soaking pussy and center him with your opening, “Take me.”

Eddie almost cums at your words as he kisses you again. He feels your opening against his cock and he pushes into your tight, warm, fucking delicious pussy.

You both whimper together as he pushes into your tight hole, bottoming out, and feeling you stretching around him. It burns slightly, but it feels blissful. Never truly accommodating to his size and it always feels just as amazing. The stretch you feel when he enters you almost feels unexplainable. Every. Single. Time.

Your limbs mesh together in sync, legs intertwined together, and hands touching everywhere they possibly can. You’re kissing each other with open mouths, tongue playing against each other, and then Eddie starts to move. His hands gripping your breasts roughly, twisting your nipples in between his fingers, and moving his mouth to suck bruises into each one of them.

His thrust are slow and tender as he slowly moves in and out of you. His rhythm going easy and taking his time as he fully feels you around his cock, your pussy clenching around him, and your nails raking down his back.

“Always so wet for me, huh princess?”

“Always,” you whimper out as he starts to increase his speed above you. Your lover's hands move down to caress your belly and then he settles them onto your waist, holding down tightly as he tilts his own hips higher as he thrusts inside of you.

You moan out loudly when you feel him hit the area that sends you the most pleasure, your mouth hanging open with your whines, and Eddie moves one of your legs up to your chest which causes his cock to enter into you at a different angle.

You grip onto Eddie’s arms as he starts thrusting into you at a rapid, almost animalistic, speed. The wet sounds of his cock entering you fill your bedroom sweetly and you lean down to kiss his collarbone. The sweet smell of sex slowly filling your bedroom and you look up to admire Eddie’s.

Eddie’s skin is flushed from his cheeks to his chest, tinted pink and beautiful, and you run your tongue on his neck as you reach his soft spot. You let yourself kiss and suck for a second, making sure you linger enough to mark him up. Just the way he likes it.

“Fuckk,” Eddie whimpers out, “You always feel like fucking heaven. Tightest pussy I’ve ever had. M-Made just for me.”

You twist your hips a little bit as you move your leg from your chest to rest above Eddie’s shoulder, tugging him by his arms lower into you, and you both gasp as you feel him fall deeper inside of you. Your pussy clenching around his cock trying to suction him in more.

Eddie chokes on a moan as you squeeze your walls to grip onto his cock, knowing he loves when you do that, and he moves his hand in between your bodies.

His fingers ghost over your pussy and he kisses your lips, open mouth kisses with his tongue tasting you, “Fuck, baby. I’m not even touching you yet and my fingers can feel your hot pussy aching for me.”

You whimper as you tilt forward to catch his lips again while he moves his finger over your swollen clit and you cry out from the instant pleasure you feel.

“Fuck,” he gasps out, clenching his eyes shut for a second, and he laughs. “I’m trying not to cum so hard right now.”

“I’m close,” you whisper as you feel the aching feeling starting up at the pit of your belly once more and Eddie breaks out into a smile.

“Thank fuck ��cause I don’t know how much longer I can hold it,” Eddie says as he kisses your lips while he continues to move his finger against your clit. You feel the familiar sensation start to creep up in your toes, you wrap your arms around Eddie’s shoulders, and you start moving your hips against his to cause greater friction between you two.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Are you ready to cum with me?”

You nod frantically as your fingernails start to dig into Eddie’s shoulder blades as his free hand grips onto the plush of your hip.

“Eddie,” you cry, “Fuck! Right there! Don’t stop! I’m about to—“

“Cum for me,” Eddie cuts you off with a demand.

You gasp out at his demand and you quickly grab his face with both of your hands, your fingers caress his cheeks and his lips, and you both stare into each other in a breathless mess.

“Together,” you whisper as you both keep moving together in sync.

And then it happens.

You choke on your moans as you feel your body explode with pleasure as your stomach tightens and your toes curl into your mattress. Your ears start ringing in white noise as you clench your walls around Eddie’s cock.

Eddie swears he’s fucking a goddess right now because there’s no other explanation for the absolute dream that’s underneath him right now.

Eddie watches you come undone under him and it completely triggers his own orgasm. Your tight walls clench around his throbbing cock and he lets himself release into your heavenly pussy.

Eddie starts to thrust into you harder and faster as his cum fills your walls. You pull on his cheeks to make your lips meet his in the middle and you both are trying to find your breath through the kiss.

Eddie rests his forehead against yours, softly pulling his lips away from yours, and he admires you as you smile blissfully up at him. Your cheeks are flushed, eyes glossy, hair a mess, and Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone more beautiful.

But he’s always felt that way about you.

He holds your ankle on his shoulder as he slowly pulls out of your cum filled pussy and you both hiss at the emptiness.

Eddie reaches over to your bedside table and gets a couple tissues. He spends the next couple of minutes cleaning you up, slowly to not hurt your sore pussy, and it almost makes you ache for him all over again.

Once he’s done cleaning you and himself, he relaxes next you and you pull the covers over your bodies.

You smile sweetly at him, your heart rate finally slowing down, and you stretch for a second to twist and look at him.

You admire him from his long, curly hair to his long dark eyelashes that coat his beautiful chocolate brown eyes to his pouty red, kissed out lips and when he catches you starting, he breaks out into a smile.

You reach out to put your index finger in his dimple and he blushes under your touch. Eddie turns his body to also face you

“So, babydoll.. who was your first?” Eddie asks nonchalantly as he twirls his fingers through your hair.

Your eyes immediately go wide with shock at his question and you burst out into fits of giggles. You tug your covers over your naked chest, twisting to look at him, and you settle on your side.

You can’t stop giggling as he joins in with you.

“You can’t ask me that, Eddie!”

“‘Course I can, baby. I’m in your bed naked after we just had mind blowing sex. I think I can ask you anything I want,” he teases with a sly smile that shows his white teeth.

“You can’t get mad, okay?”

Eddie’s eyes light up with interest as he proceeds to push himself up on his elbows, “I’m listening.”

He watches you as you bite your bottom lip, your flushed out face and neck is calming down, and your hair is laid out messily all over you.

But Eddie still thinks you're the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

That’s why when you say the name of the lucky bastard that you gave your virginity to.. Eddie lets out a choked gasp intertwined with a barking laugh.

His eyes go wide as he watches you, “Did you just say Steve fucking Harrington?!”

You cover your face with your hands as you smile widely behind them and Eddie can’t help but laugh so loudly that he’s clutching his belly.

“Don’t laugh at me!! It was back in freshman year when we were dating, but it was very short lived and we moved past it.”

You giggle with Eddie as you both clumsily sit down on the bed, facing each other, and then you suddenly see a look come across Eddie’s face that halts your laughter.

His laughing dies down, his eyes downcast, and he’s frowning for a second. He quickly shakes his head from his thoughts and ruffles his hair to distract himself.

“Hey, Eddie. What’s wrong?” You ask as you reach for his hand to hold in your own, your eyebrows furr down in confusion at his sudden change of mood.

Eddie bites his bottom lip in thought before he moves his beautiful big puppy brown eyes to meet yours.

“It’s just.. I’m not mad that you lost your virginity to Steve Harrington. I’m sure he was a good fuck or what-shit, ignore that! It’s just—fuck,” he blubbers rapidly and you squeeze his hand for him to continue as he sighs loudly, “it’s just.. Steve Harrington.. is Steve Harrington. He’s the popular guy. The handsome guy with the nice hair and cool car.”

You tilt your head when Eddie watches you with expecting eyes as if you’re supposed to understand what he means, but you don’t get it. What’s so good about Steve?

Not that there’s anything wrong with him. But you’re confused.

“I don’t get it?” You say with confusion and a slight pout.

Eddie looks down, rubbing his thumb on your hand, he says, “Steve is Steve and I’m.. well… I’m just me?”

His voice sounds small and suddenly you feel your heart tighten in your chest.

“Oh,” you let out a shocked little sigh as you see a side of Eddie that he’s never shown you before.

A side where he feels inferior to Steve Harrington and he’s showing how he’s insecure about it.

“It’s just.. I’m just Eddie the weirdo that lives in a beat up trailer park with his uncle and I sell drugs for a living.”

“Eddie,” you whisper as you try to reach for his face, but he pulls away. He’s suddenly shut himself down completely.

He almost looks upset.

“I’m nothing, god… I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to realize this.”

Eddie is suddenly shaking his head and jumping out of your bed. You sit up in the bed, holding your sheets to your body, and Eddie is tugging on his clothes.

“Jesus Christ,” he says with an exacerbated laugh and another shake of his head.

“Eddie, please stop. I’m so confused, what’s going on?” You try to beg him as he simultaneously shoves on his boots and you shove off the sheets.

You stand up, naked and without a care, and you stand in front of him as he adjusts his jean jacket over his shoulders. You put your hands on his shoulders to stop him and he curls into himself almost as he’s ashamed.

He tries to avoid your eyes as you look up to him in confusion, your heart is racing, and you don’t know what’s happening.

He finally looks down at you, his sad eyes taking in every inch of you, and he looks suddenly miserable.

His fingertips slowly touch the curve of your waist and he quickly pulls his hands away as if your skin burned him.

He slowly reaches down to your lips and kisses you slowly. You try to kiss him back, but he pulls away swiftly.

“I’m nothing,” he says again with shame.

“Eddie, you’re not—“

“I am,” he cuts you off. “And you’re.. god, you’re everything. You’re smart, funny, so fucking caring, and beautiful. You’re so gorgeous that it's honestly insane,” he chuckles as he meets your worried eyes, “You’re everything and you deserve better than me.”

“Eddie, stop. You don’t—“

“I do,” he cuts you off again. “This was never going to work. We aren’t even really together. We’ve just been messing around for months, but we all know where this is going. You’re going to New York or LA to follow your dreams and I’m staying here. You’re going to become someone and I’ll always be a nobody. You don’t need me dragging you down.”

Tears instantly fill your waterline, “Eddie, what are you talking about?” You beg him as your voice shakes and your lips quiver.

He shuts his eyes for a moment as if the mere sight of you hurts him.

“Don’t waste your tears on me, doll. I’m not worth it. You’re leaving in a couple months, so might as well end this before we get too into our heads.”

He gets the blanket off your bed and quickly covers your body with it before he walks over to your window.

You watch him, not knowing what to say, and you’re frowning deeply with tears staining your cheeks. What the hell is going on?

He looks at you as he raises the window up, letting in the wind, “It’s easier like this, doll. Trust me.” He tries to smile, but his lips waver.

You rush to him, gripping onto his hand that’s holding him steady as he eases himself out the window and onto the roof, “Don’t do this to me, Eddie Munson. Why are you doing this? Please.”

He almost hesitates, but then he only tugs his hand away from your hold and you let out a whimper.

“Sorry, doll. Guess you were just into this more than me.”

He quickly rushes out the window, slamming it shut, and leaves you there with a shocked open mouth and a gasping breath.

You cover your face as you scramble to sit on your bed. You hold the blanket over your naked body as you cry over what he said to you.

Had you been more into this than him?

Did he never really feel the same way you did? Why was it so easy for him to just end whatever this was?

You grip onto the blanket as you quick step towards your window, looking at the overview you have of the street, and right under the tall street lamp is Eddie.

Standing underneath the light, smoking a cigarette, kicking his feet on the ground, and then proceeds to get into his van.

You watch every movement that he does, begging that he looks up at you, but he doesn’t. He just drives away.

You wonder if he can hear your heart breaking.

Eddie drives away in his van and his stereo is off.

Eddie’s stereo is never off. It’s always the first thing he does when he gets in his van. He always turns it on and shuffles through millions of cassette tapes he has and goes through them until he picks the perfect one.

But right now, he doesn’t want to hear anything. He wants to be alone with his thoughts.

His stupid fucking thoughts. His stupid insecurities. The stupid ones that made him fuck off from you and ruin everything he had with you.

Eddie slams the steering wheel with his palm as he rubs his eyes with his free one. He’s beyond frustrated with himself and is cursing at everything he sees.

He’s such a fucking idiot.

But he knows he’s right about one thing.

You’re everything and he’s nothing.

How could something like that possibly work?

He scoffs as he feels a small tear run down his cheek, he grips the steering wheel even harder, and yells loudly. Trying to silence the thoughts in his brain.

He knows it will never work.

Now he just has to stay away from you and once school is over, he’ll never see you again.

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

Text

CAKE FOR A DEAD MAN (I)

NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER II

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 4.6k

WARNINGS: Angst, problems with food & image, mentions of stalking, unwanted gifts, death, violence, gore, blood, etc. (Series 18+)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Color, as most would say, is one of the best aspects of sight. It allows such a myriad of emotions to be expressed—even felt. Red reminds us of passion; navy for elegance and a certain mystique. Not only seen but processed on such a deeper level. Refractions of light that explode into the retina, rod and cone cells that send signals to the brain to help detect that phenomenon like a gift of evolution.

But when you can’t see any of that—color—who’s to explain what the red of the roses actually looks like above a deep shade of gray? That navy blue looks even darker, too. Closer to black. Light purple becomes the same hue as the curtains your mother hangs on the windows, but you can’t tell if that’s really purple or not. How can it be anything other than slate? People tell you it is…at least, those who’ve already met their partners. Their soulmates.

But there’s little hope for you on that front, really.

You wave to the photographer, calling out a broken Russian goodbye as he smiles warmly at you, nodding his head in your direction before watching you walk out of the studio room’s doors. A large gaggle of other finely-clad women surrounds you on the way to the changing rooms.

Even with three-and-a-half years of living in this northern country, your mastery of the native language starts and ends with simple pleasantries.

The modeling agency was packed today and you still had so much to do. You stuff down your internal list of scheduled fittings, meetings, and more booked photoshoots that extend into the chilled evening of Yekaterinburg, Russia. There was just so little time.

Gray hallways and white overhead lights meet your eyes between blinks, potted plants boring and drab. If you could see the shades in between the leaves you’d know you would find them beautiful, but like this…well, they’re just sad.

You shake your head and shuffle to the back of the group, throwing tiny smiles to the kind, and stunning, women who you’ve had little real conversation with. One kisses you on the cheek and pats your shoulder, and you laugh brightly before pulling to the rear, face heating.

“The bastard is finally dead!” The familiar voice causes you to freeze with one heeled foot in the air—fingers picking at the strap of your silk dress absentmindedly before it, too, stills. They were always forcing you into silk with feathered accent pieces of intricate detail. Like a bird, or, Seraph, more precisely.

Blinking in surprise, you turn around just in time to lock onto the drained shades that make up Alyona Arkadyevna Solovyova before she grips your shoulders harshly.

Her collarbone-length hair swishes heavily, but it’s not as violent as the smile on her sharp face.

“Finally, little Солнышко! This is perfect news. The bastard is dead!” Alyona’s English is very good, and of course, it would be—when she was younger she dreamed of being an English teacher. That was before she realized she was just about the most attractive woman of her generation. The harsh Russian accent still bleeds through.

You laugh and grip her long, pale, arms; seeing her in a blouse and pencil skirt as you tilt your head, asking, “Christ, Alyona, give me a warning next time. If I rip anything I’m in deep shit.”

“Gah,” Your friend waves a hand and releases you, tiny eyes creasing, “forget about that—did you not hear me the first time? My father, Seraph, listen to me! He is finally dead! It happened just this morning but I only got word ten minutes ago.” She laughs, throwing her hands up, and you hide your amused exasperation, limbs tired but it won’t stop you from appreciating your friend’s enthusiasm. Alyona squeals, “A train hit him!”

You cringe internally, face pulling taunt. “Oh,” your chest sputters as you clear your throat, “that’s, uh, that’s…great?”

“Of course it is!” Hands capture your cheeks, squishing as you worry about the state of your makeup. Alyona speaks brightly, “We need to celebrate, Солнышко. Come.”

Before you can protest she’s dragging you away from the other women and the direction of the changing rooms, all had stopped and were listening intently from behind; nosey. Everyone in the Allurement Modeling Agency building, AMA for short, just had that way about them—your business was their business and vice versa.

And Alyona had no problem airing out her grievances with her estranged father to the choir. She lived for drama.

“Aly,” You huff a soft breath at her and her bobbing hair. She said it was blonde and you had no other option but to believe her. Not yellow-blonde, she had specified. Ice-blonde. “I can’t go out in company property. Plus, I have a photoshoot for Chanel in under an hour. The photographer needs me to be ready.”

But it seems your concerns fall on deaf ears and you can’t help but chuckle and grin at your friend's lack of care about work. She herself was a model, but the entire company halted when she said it should.

You were truly surprised they hadn’t fired her yet.

“And I’m sure Chanel has an absolutely hideous dress for you, my Seraph.” Ashen eyes turn back to stare at you, and once she realizes you wouldn’t fight her, her grip releases. “Some Медовик will do you good before the vultures close in, yes? Let us hope they don’t shackle you to those damning lace lingerie sets over cake.”

Your head tilts with a short sigh, and you walk beside the woman in your clacking heels. The sound of the authentic honey cake seemed to itself to coat your insides with a lust for it—dripping layers of plush gray sponge with pale cream. Your mouth waters.

“I’m only eating half a piece.” You settle slowly, though you hate your own words as your stomach rolls with hunger. Some time outside will do you good, anyway. Perhaps you’ll learn to photosynthesize like a plant. “I still have to be able to fit into those fabric contraptions, you know.”

Alyona squeals and loops her arm in yours easily, bright teeth in a grin like a cat. Ever one to run into objects and lacking a general ability to walk in a straight line, the support from Alyona was much appreciated. Her help with lending an arm went far, especially for you.

Your heart warms with soft care.

“I’ll take it! We can split one.” When you both make it to the front of the building, having grabbed your jackets and purses on the way there, you come to three familiar faces while chatting with Alyona about both of your upcoming bookings.

“I was under the impression you had the day filled,” Petya speaks, heavy accent like stone. The clean-shaven man in his late thirties was built and wearing a dark suit, the tallest out of the other two—Aleksandr and Yefim—who both wear similar outfits. They were resting in the front seating area of AMA as they’d been doing for weeks already, waiting for you to come and go like escorts.

Well, bodyguards, to be more precise. Yours.

You smile politely to them while Yefim sends one back with his boyish charm and dimples. “On break. We’re off to get some Medovik down the street. I can pay for you if you’d want a piece.”

“Of course, the three will have to tag along, hm?” Alyona huffs, staring blandly as you both slow to a stop near the large white entrance, colored as if it was Heaven’s gates. Your friend had said coloring around this building was rare. Whites and grays. Green chairs, apparently. “I’m just ecstatic.”

Petya didn’t like you, and, you assumed, Aleksandr didn’t either. With the ladder, his sharp face was always too blank to tell; body tight and unwelcoming with weasel-like eyes. Petya was simpler, blatantly more outward with his distaste.

“Not a smart idea. This isn’t a game to play, девушка.” Alyona’s face tightens, and you swiftly placate her with a squeeze to her bicep. You level Petya with a tilt of your head and a calm look.

“What harm could a bite to eat do? It won’t cost you your life.” You chuckle smoothly. “Let me get you all something—it’s nearly noon, I’m sure you’re all hungry.”

“I could eat,” Yefim eases in, hands resting in his pockets as he stares at you. His accent was calmer than the others, and his face softer. Out of all of them, you liked him best.

Your eyes rest on Yefim with a thankful expression. He smirks and nods. Aleksandr, as always, says nothing beyond a small scoff and a look around the room with shifting feet.

When the tallest of the group does nothing to push back his sneer and heavy glare, you hum under your breath as you expect the words before they rush from his sharp mouth.

“I will have to speak to your mother about this.” The accent makes him sound so stiff—like a statue. A man built up of gravel and snow; concrete in his veins instead of blood.

“Oh, yes,” Alyona mutters, “the Consul herself.”

Your nose moves in a sigh, but you ease the situation with a simple, “Do whatever you need to, Petya. I know it’s your job and I’m thankful regardless, but we’ll be back in less than an hour. It’s no big deal.” You pause, plastering on an innocent look. “We’re hungry.”

For whatever reason you always envisioned Petya with dark eyes—blacks more deep than the clothes they put Alyona in to off-set your given whites when you two are fitted together. But the man’s eyes were so painfully light it made you not want to stare into them.

Petya grunts and continues to glare, working his jaw. After a moment he lets off a large huff and shakes his head in disapproval.

“Half-an-hour. No more.”

Alyona manhandles you out the door quickly, growling, “I do not know how you can stand this, Seraph. Bullshit, all of it.”

“It’s only until everything goes back to normal,” you reason, hearing three sets of footsteps behind you as the guards follow into the chilled air of Yekaterinburg. There was no reason to take a car, everything was within walking distance of one another in this dense city populated by over one million people. “My mother’s worried is all. I’m not going to make their lives harder while they’re only doing what they’re told to do.”

Light eyes dart to your face, your friend’s hand guiding you along the concrete with a dim concern. “I do not like all of this, Солнышко. It’s been months…Are the gifts still coming?”

Your expression tightens, lips going stiff. Alyona notices and changes the subject for now.

“Ah, but what am I doing—I’m ruining the celebration! Come, come, we will talk about my engagement to Nikifor while we eat.”

Nikifor, her soulmate. The one who brought her color and music with his performance at a nightclub two years ago; the only thing standing in the way of their marriage was Alyona’s strict father. Something about the man wanting someone with higher standing than a musician for his famous daughter.

“How is he?” You ask, blinking away the thought of finally being able to see color for the first time and how that must feel. A piece of you would always be envious of that.

Alyona must have blushed because she always tilts her nose lower when she does. You smile and chuckle under your breath.

“Wonderful,” is all she offers, but the giddy grin on her lips is knowledge enough.

You both make it to the small bakery at the end of the long street, heels clicking and cheeks chilled. People had turned to look at you, gaping at the two models still in their expensive clothes and attempting to take pictures on their phones. All were strong-armed by the three men close behind you who bark things in Russian.

Alyona opens the door of the bakery for you and you accidentally knock your shoulder into the frame, giving a sheepish smile before carefully walking to your regular corner table. Your tall friend goes to order while you take your seat with a sigh, Petya, Aleksandr, and Yefim all shuffling in and sending glances to you; looking over the interior with sharp and calculating eyes.

It’s like they think the sky’s going to fall, you surmise, twitching your lips their way. They’ve been here before with me, do they still not trust it?

Back when things had been less serious they’d allowed you to go where you wished with them—parks, for walks, stores—now it was only work and home. As if you didn’t already feel so trapped.

“You boys can pick what you want,” you call to them softly. “My treat.”

“On the job,” is all Petya grunts before he takes his normal seat at the table closest to the door; everything in his bright sight. Your hand lightly tightens on the table, but you keep your expression placid.

You’d tried to get him to lighten up, Aleksandr too, but the two weren’t as open to you as Yefim. There was a blatant distrust of Westerners here, even if you had given up your citizenship to move where your mother works in the Consulate building of this very city.

While she was still employed by the American government, that didn’t stand in any sense with you. But on top of you being a famous model, your mother was well-known, regardless, and that ultimately fell back on you.

Yefim’s gray eyes flickered to a case of Bird Milk Cake with a hidden longing as he grasped the back of his chair and slid into it—floorboards creaking loudly. You notice and chuckle under your breath, cheeks heating at the sight as the man’s gaze moves to you and blinks in surprise. He quickly averts his gaze and clears his throat, fixing the collar of his dress shirt.

You’d buy him a piece before you left; maybe kiss his cheek just to see him go all blurry-eyed. He certainly was adorable.

“The baker’s boy is staring again,” Alyona’s voice snaps into your head, and you peer at your friend’s face, startled.

“What?” You ask as a plate is set in the middle of the table holding a single piece of Medovik. Your mouth fills with saliva, fingers immediately moving like a starved dog to grab a fork and cut into the layers; you shovel it into your mouth before you hiss to pace yourself.

You chew slowly, swallow, and give Alyona a confused look.

She slides you an unimpressed frown. “The boy. At the front.”

“He’s probably gaping at you,” you take another bite, rubbing at your cheek with your free hand as people walking by the front window peek in with wide eyes; your men glare and move their chairs as the ground squeaks again.

Your friend scoffs and mutters in Russian, shaking her head. Her hand waves quickly, barking, “Look!”

Rolling your eyes with a small smile, you look over and dab your face with a napkin before you get locked into a staring match with the dark eyes of the man up-front.

He wears an apron, head a mess of curls, and his upper arms stained with flour. You blink and pause, wondering if…perhaps…A pause, a sickly hope in your chest…but nothing happens and the contact is broken when he ducks his head before looking at the counter.

Gritting your teeth, you focus back on your cake and shove aside the sinking feeling in your chest.

Idiot, you criticize yourself. Now why would you think that would work?

“Nothing, then?” Alyona clicks her tongue and takes up her own fork. “Do not fret, we will find him eventually, Seraph.”

“It’s not like I would know.” The air goes a temperature warmer—bodies stilling.

While soulmate colorblindness was simply the reality of life, diagnosed colorblindness was still a curse that couldn’t be solved. If you ever saw your soulmate…you wouldn’t even know it.

All because of that stupid accident.

You act unbothered by the shift in the conversation and sigh. “You said you wanted to talk about your engagement,” your words remind the woman and she sets off into a tangent about the dress and the location after a moment of quiet concern. A church, she explained, the big one down the road where they’ll be a few days after the civil ceremony and the outer city venue.

Alyona is only twenty, but you know that it’s incredibly common here to get married this early. Listening, you offer input here and there, but as it always does, the topic falls back to you as you eat the slice of cake dedicated to a dead man.

Your knife-driven problem.

The gifts.

Already, you begin feeling uncomfortable.

“Aly,” you try to grumble, resisting the urge to eat the entire piece of Медовик as you put your utensil down. Your hand jerks over the table and you glare down at it in annoyance, ignoring the tensed nerves. “It’s not important—”

“How many more pieces of jewelry has he sent, hm? Letters?” The woman shivers and rubs at her arms. “It is horrendous behavior. Total fuck-up. And the fact that no one has caught him? Gah!”

Your spine straightens itself, eyes sliding to the people gawking outside the window and seeing the multiple faces, shuffling bodies that pile next to each other like sardines in a can.

“I just don’t want to think about it, okay?” You shake your head, turning away as a pit forms in your gut; realizing the fragility of your psyche when you think about the fact that anyone outside could be the source of your problem. The stalker. “If it’s just the gifts I can deal with them—the letters I never even read. If I ignore it they’ll stop eventually. All of this can be one big bad dream.”

Your hand continues to shake on the table, not exactly in your realm of control just as the inability to walk in a straight line is. It was no wonder why they never let you do runway shows, you think sarcastically. You’d be stuck in a photographer’s room for the rest of your career.

Alyona pushes a strand of her hair out of her face.

“Seraph…you know it does not work like that.” Of course you did, but asking for help was never your strong suit. And your mother had already given you three well-trained bodyguards to escort you to and from work—that was more than enough protection.

When you think of the expensive parcels that had been dropped at AMA’s front desk you had to restrain the honey cake coming back up your gullet. All of them had been expensive; pieces you could afford on a model's pension but still wildly elegant to even touch much less own in multitude. Gold bracelets inlay with black opal and sapphire, necklaces with Tanzanite, and rings of ruby, your mother had told you this when you had brought them to her off of only seeing washed-out tones on your part.

You never showed anyone the letters; they lived in a lockbox under the bed in your apartment. Concerningly, lately the ‘presents’ had been losing the plot. Random bits of glass and shiny items—a slow deterioration but somehow even more scary.

Even the older women at the front desk were softening the usual sneers they wore when you walked in every day, no longer chiding you in Russian they know you can’t understand. The way they seemed pitiful rubbed you the wrong way.

You pull your jacket closer to you and rub a hand slowly along your thigh in a soothing gesture. Aly pulls her brows in.

“I want to help you, little Солнышко, but I don’t think this is something I can fix with my womanly charms.” Your lips release a snort, tiny chuckles hitting the air.

Alyona joins you before silence once again lapses.

“...Do you feel alright?” Your friend asks honestly. Worry was plain on her face.

You smile, but your lungs tighten in your chest while your heart acts like a dancer and lightly skips beats. “By next month,” your hand shakes over your thigh, “all of this will be in the past. No one could keep this up forever. I just have to…wait it out. It’s only the gifts, I can live with that—jewelry isn’t hurting anybody except his wallet.”

The woman narrows her eyes at you and frowns, but it’s not long before she goes back to her half of the Медовик and takes a bite with a moan of enjoyment. You rarely lied, so you supposed she had no trouble believing you.

If only you could fraud yourself like that.

“Quite a wealthy bastard, though, no?” Alyona slyly pokes fun and you blink quickly.

“Aly!”

“I am just saying!”

You press your hand to your lips to hide your loud laugh, Yefim looking over with a certain airiness to his expression before Aleksandr jerks his shoulder to face him back forward. The two glare at each other as Petya stares violently at the front door—daring those outside to try and come in and ask for a picture.

While you hadn’t come back to this bakery in a while, the three men always seemed to pick the exact same table; the one with the perfect view of everything going on near the door. While it was a small distance away, it allowed for quick action in any direction.

You blink away as the wooden boards under the bodyguards’ table creak again, loud enough to cause Alyona to frown in that direction. Petya sends an annoyed look down and scowls.

“How do you know he’s not just stealing them,” you bring back the conversation, smirking. “You know? Maybe he’s a,” your voice lowers an octave in fake secrecy and Aly’s eyes roll, amused, “jewel thief.”

“God above,” the woman huffs. “That would be the twist.”

The both of you joked and picked fun, but that half an hour went past quickly, and soon it was time to get back to the agency so you could change again. The photographer couldn’t take pictures of air and play it off as you with a smile and a nervous stutter.

As you stand you stare long at the cases of baked goods, licking the remnants of cream off your lips

“We can buy another, Seraph,” Aly suggests, fixing her coat. You shake your head immediately.

“No, no, I’ve already had enough sugar. I had two muffins for breakfast. Chocolate.” Your face pulls into a cringe at the words. “Cheat day.”

Alyona’s lips go tighter, but she says nothing as her hair is puffed out of her face. She out of everyone knows how demanding modeling can be—your entire life is dictated by two things: calories, and appointments.

You turn to Yefim with his wavy hair and his soft, dimpled, smile; casual eyes. Not your soulmate, based on his lack of reaction the first time you had met, but in that time you’d grown a tiny crush on the man, admittingly. He was kind and treated you with respect. Capable and reliable—how could you ask for more than that?

“Yefim?” Your voice calls out, a smile on your lips. The man looks over and blinks in surprise. He clears his throat, stuttering as he shifts in his seat. The wood tilts slightly under him and he steadies himself on the edge of the table.

“Да, Ma’am?”

Restraining a giggle, you cock your head as Alyona snorts.

“Do you want a slice of Bird Milk Cake?” Petya slides you a blank look and Aleksandr taps his fingers to the table. You poke fun, “For when you’re on break, of course.”

Yefim’s eyes sparkle in their colorless state, a handsome smile taking his lips back along his face. He makes a move to stand up, floorboards squealing loudly as weight is lessened.

“I would be in your debt—”

The world explodes into a slate-gray blaze of heat and hellfire.

Your body is thrown back before you can even begin to understand that you’re in danger, panic completely bypassed for a total blank sensation of confusion. Spine slapping into the glass of the window, your form is hurled by a vast boom out of the bakery entirely before it slams to the concrete multiple feet away.

You slide, rolling in a mess of limbs and ripped silk. For a good moment, you have no idea what just transpired, confusedly lifting your head from the ground and blinking below you as everything rings. Your hand grips the side of your head, the thick liquid seeping in between your fingers as you peel it back and look with shaky vision.

Blackened blood is coated along your palm, slipping along your wrist as you tilt your hand up in horrified uncertainty.

Everything comes back in a millisecond of screaming and running feet; like a switch being flipped. You snap your head back to what remains of the bakery as blood slides down your temple.

“A-Alyona?!” Heels sliding, you stand but stumble back down just as quickly, hands slapping against the ground as you raggedly cough more, chest burning from the force at which you’d been thrown.

What the hell had just happened? An explosion?

There was little left of the bakery beside the front door, smoke billowing out of the broken windows as gray flames spark with the familiar sound of burning material—a sharp burn is taken into your nostrils.

Dragging an arm forward, you grasp something warm and wet in an attempt to get up again. You look to the side and immediately scream at what you see.

Yefim’s upper body was completely fine besides the burns and the lack of his hair, the peeling flesh…it was the absence of the entire lower body that struck you with waves of horror. You slam a hand to your lips and wail, slipping back on kicking legs as tears well in your tear ducts.

Guts were leaking over the concrete, and the dark, gaping, wound spread a fast puddle out around the sputtering that made his chest look like it was moving. Eyes flutter, lashes flapping quickly.

He looked confused, and that was perhaps the worst part of it.

Yefim died only half a man, his entrails pooling out of his ribcage, only twenty seconds after you’d asked him if he wanted a piece of cake. Your fingers hide the loud sobs as you stare into this blank expression, hand shaking so bad that it hits your nose.

“I…I,” you stutter, shapes and flashes rushing back and forth at the sides of your vision. Pressure holds at your left shoulder.

“Seraph!” The sentence falls off into feminine Russian cursing and screaming, a grip shaking you back and forth, urging you to listen.

There are wails and the roar of cars, but you don’t have to be given a speech to know the truth about the toll as the fire burns hotter and the blood runs faster. Petya, Aleksandr, and Yefim are dead. They had been sitting on top of something that had triggered when Yefim had released weight from it.

The creaky floorboards.

“Seraph!” Alyona tries again, grabbing you under the shoulders and dragging you away from the corpse as bystanders’ phones flash with pictures being taken. There’s just so much screaming. “Seraph, please, we need to move! The fire is spreading!”

They had been sitting right on top of it. But…but they always sat there…they…they were always…

In the corner of your eye, a dark phantom looms across the street as the first sirens of the police cars race down the road; a burning silhouette of black mist and ashen smoke.

As the bakery burns and the corpse of Yefim grows cold, it slips away into the forming crowd.

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fan-fantasies · 1 year ago

Text

Reward

A/N: can be read as a part two of Whisper Sweet Nothings or probably read as a stand alone. I hope you enjoy; it’s pure filth!

Pairing: Rhea Ripley x Reader

Warnings: semi public smut, oral f receiving, choking, use of a strap on

Part One

“And new…WWE Woman’s Tag Team Champions…”

All of the sound drowned out and all you could focus on was Rhea and that fact that you were both now champions. You had won your match at Summer Slam and adrenaline was coursing through your veins.

Rhea scooped you up in her arms and carried you up the ramp, almost more excited to get you back stage than the win itself.

Everyone backstage began to congratulate you and while you were grateful, you only had one thing on your mind- her.

You practically dragged her into the locker room where you threw yourself at her. The kiss was full of passion and heat, still riding high from the match.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I love it,” she chuckled as you kissed down her neck.

“Baby, I need you,” you whined, pulling at her gear.

“And you’ll have me, love. Do you remember what I told you your reward would be if we won?” She asked.

“Of course,” you chuckled. She went over to her bag and grabbed something out of it. She hid it behind her back and looked at you with a devilish smirk.

“You brought it?” Anticipation began to gnaw away at you, more than excited for what was to come.

“Did you really think I was going to wait until we got back to the hotel to absolutely ravage you?” She asked, stalking toward you slowly. “We better find some place private, sweetheart. Don’t want just anyone walking in while I ruin you, now do we?”

“Let’s go then,” you smirked. She stuck her strap back in her bag and took it along, following you through the corridors back stage. A few people stopped you to tell you how amazing the match was and while you appreciated all of the attention, the only person’s attention that mattered was Rhea’s.

You finally found an empty room, seemingly used for storage. There was a single chair in the corner and the rest of the room was filled with props and outfits. You quickly locked the door behind you making Rhea laugh.

“Desperate tonight, hm? Can’t wait for me to split that pussy open I bet,” she said. “Strip for me.”

She didn’t have to tell you twice. Perhaps you were overeager, but you didn’t care. She could tease you about it later, you just needed her hands on you now.

“Your turn,” you said, pulling off your last article of clothing.

“What? You don’t want me to fuck you in my gear? I know how much you like it.” She ran a finger down your face and the length of your neck. Her touch send a chill down your spine making you shiver.

“As hot as you look in it, can’t exactly do what I want to with it on,” you told her.

“And what is it you want to do?” She asked.

“I wanna taste you. Please? I’ve been craving it all night,” you begged.

“This is supposed to be about you, love,” she argued.

“I don’t care. Right now I just need you.”

As much as you loved when Rhea would throw you around and be in control, you also loved worshipping her and her amazing body. She’d never admit it, but she had never had someone make her feel as amazing as you and she loved having you between her thighs.

“Such a naughty girl, needing my pussy in that slutty little mouth of yours.”

She quickly herself of her gear and beckoned you over.

“On your knees.”

You quickly obeyed and knelt in front of her. She tossed a leg over your shoulder and grabbed onto a spare rack to balance herself.

You wasted no time in teasing your tongue through her folds. She let out a content sigh and let her eyes close so she could focus on your ministrations between her legs.

You found her clit and begin to circle it with your tongue. You had spent plenty of time going down on Rhea in the last few days that you knew what would make her tick.

You suck on her clit lightly before moving down and teasing her entrance. You switched to licking thick strips up and down her pussy and the moans quickly began to fall from her lips.

Her free hand wrapped itself in your hair as she began to guide your movements; she still needed some level of control after all. Your hands reached around, grabbing her ass and giving it a squeeze.

“You’re a cheeky little thing tonight,” she chuckled. “You’re making me feel so good.”

You quickened your pace between her legs and you swore she even began to tremble above you. Before you knew it, her grip on your hair was tightening and she was fucking your face through her orgasm.

“Fuck, baby; you’re amazing,” she moaned, finally releasing you from her grip. “Stay right there.”

She grabbed her strap from her bag and slid it on. She came back over and stood in front of you again.

“Suck it.”

“Excuse me?” You asked.

“You heard me. Suck it and get it all wet and ready for your pussy,” she said. You opened your mouth and took it in inch by inch. You bobbed your head slowly at first, getting used to the feeling. Once you got more into it, you increased your speed. Rhea was staring down at you mesmerized. You got a bit too enthusiastic with it and ended up gagging a bit.

“Shit, baby, I think we’re good,” she said, pulling away from you. “Lay down for me. I wanna watch as I ravage you.”

You did as she said, your back hitting the cold floor beneath you. She slid the strap through your folds a few times before lining up with your entrance.

“So wet for me baby; is that all just from eating me out?” She asked with a smirk, already knowing the answer.

“Of cour- oh fuck!” Rhea cut you off by sinking into your pussy until she was flush against you.

She pulled out slowly before sinking back in at the same speed. She watched as your pussy took her inch by inch. Once she was satisfied that you were completely full, she set a brutal pace. It nearly knocked the air from your lungs but you managed to praise her nonetheless.

“Look at you, pretty girl- taking my cock so well. This pussy is all mine, yeah?”

You were too far gone to answer, but her hand wrapping around your throat brought you back to reality.

“Yes, all yours!”

“That’s my girl,” she chuckled. She didn’t let her rhythm falter as she began to circle your clit with her thumb.

“I’m so close, don’t stop!” You begged.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” she said, using all her remaining strength to fuck into you relentlessly. The coil inside you snapped, sending you over the edge. You swore your vision blacked out for a moment before coming back down to earth. She slowed to a stop once your orgasm had slowed to a stop. She pulled out of you and frowned as you winced.

“Was I too rough, sweetheart?” She asked, placing a soft hand on your cheek.

“Not at all! That was completely mind-blowing if I’m being honest,” you reassured her. She gave you a warm smile as she took off the strap and grabbed your clothes. She helped you off the floor and steadied you, your legs feeling like jello beneath you.

“Easy there,” she chuckled. She helped you get dressed before redressing herself.

“I’ll give twice as much effort if that’s my reward for every match we win,” you told her playfully.

“I promise I’ll reward you as much as you want,” she said, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“You ready to get out there, champ?” You asked with a beaming smile.

“As long as you’re by my side, I’m ready for anything.”

—————————

Please comment and reblog!

#rhea ripley smut #rhea ripley #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley x reader smut #rhea x reader #wwe rhea ripley

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timidpumpkin · 1 year ago

Note

Can I get a reaction when reader want to go to carnival or other fun places and then they got lost and ended up at their own home

Is the reader going to escape or go back to their daddies TYSM🤗

Hiiii🥰🥰🥰💜💜💜. I loved this idea sooo much and it really helped get me out of the writer's block funk I was in! It’s a litttle bit different from what you asked so I hope that’s okay and you still like it!! Thank you so so much, I loved writing this!!~~~~~💖💖💖💖💖

(pictures are not my own)

Helpless (Stucky x reader)

Pairing: Dark!Stucky x f!reader

Warnings/tags: Dark!Stucky, Daddy!Stucky, Female reader, stockholm syndrome, forced age regression, mention of previous kidnapping, reader gets lost, mild injury to reader, Implied reader has small hands in comparison because Stucky is gigantic (fact), Angst, Fluff, Comfort. Reader baby-talks as well, Lots o' cute nicknames (as usual).

Word count: 4.1k

Tagging a few of the absolutely lovely people who have supported me this whole time. I love you and appreciate you all more than i can express. @haleyhunwritess @ppatricia34me @hoplessfussybambi @canyonmooncreations @sapphyslittlenook

P.S. i'm gonna start a tag list so lemme know if you wanna be added <3

It was getting a bit cooler now.

The previously bright day had been overtaken by navy shadows that bring nippy wisps of air that catch on your exposed arms, sending chills throughout you.

“I told you we should have used the long-sleeved one,” Steve remarks to Bucky as he watches you make a tiny shiver.

Bucky rolls his eyes at him, knowing you were the one who insisted on this specific onesie when he dressed you this afternoon. With an eager look on your face, you held it up to him, proudly showing him how it would match perfectly with some leg warmers you found in your drawer. He couldn’t argue with that, not when your giddy smile and sweet eyes looked at him while holding it up as high as you could for him.

“Come here babydoll,” Bucky says, squatting down a bit to get closer to your level.

You don't hear him for a second. Not even your numbed fingertips could distract you from the bright lights that reflect off your eyes. You’ve been watching the multicolored Ferris wheel since you got here. You wanted to go on it so bad.

Thus far, you’ve only been allowed to play the ground games. Though, you can’t complain too much now that you’ve collected quite a load of new stuffies to bring home. You’d like to think yourself pretty talented at these games–maybe too talented.

You’ve all but completely missed the harsh glares Bucky gives the poor workers when they tell you “awh too bad” when you miss the target, but then proceed to hand you whichever stuffed animal or toy you’d been wanting anyway. You’d turn around to your daddies, excitingly showing them your prize and proudly exclaiming “I won! I won!” and Bucky would always tell you how good of a job you did every time.

“Babydoll?” Bucky calls again, bringing you back to reality, his voice sweet, as if he’s teasing you a bit, knowing how much you've enjoyed this outing.

It was a tough call. Bringing you here. They knew how much you wanted to go. Ever since Peter babbled on and on about his trip to the carnival at his birthday party a few months ago, you’ve been begging them ever since. It’s not that they didn't want to take you. It could never be that. They just weren’t sure if it would be safe…

“There’s all kinds of creeps at those things!” Steve argues to Bucky, turning around as if that’s the last word and final say about it.

“I know. I know. But…she really wants to go. Plus…it’s not like we’ll ever let her out of our sight.” Bucky tries to reason, knowing it was something they would enjoy too. He has several fond memories of dragging Steve along with him through the bustling crowds of people just so he could play–and win–all the games he could, always asking Steve which prize he wanted before promising him he’d win it on the first try. Long before he knew of what true cruelties lived beyond their hometown, Bucky had already mastered the art of staring down unfair showmen who would poke fun at Steve’s then narrower figure.

Bucky just couldn’t help the almost giddy feeling he got just at the idea of holding you up high while you throw one of those balls with all your might to win some oversized stuffed animal that you’d undoubtedly insist on carrying on your own despite it being twice your height.

“We could even get one of those leash things,” he suggests, the idea popping into his mind like it’s the most brilliant thing, remembering how he showed the leashed froggy backpack he saw a while ago to Steve.

“It’s not just that,” Steve admits, brows furrowed as he sits on the edge of the bed, a sad and worried look overtaking his features that makes Bucky want to cave to anything he’d ask. “what if…” he trails off, not meeting Bucky’s gaze, “what if…she tries to run off?” he says quietly as if the fear itself would be brought to life if he spoke it too loudly.

It had been a long while since you tried to run away. All things considered, you seemed to be fully adjusted now. Every so often you would act up, but only in the way that all little girls would every now and then. They would always punish you appropriately, the way all good daddies would, reminding you that your life with them is your life, and that the horrid life you had before you was one never meant for a sweet innocent little girl like you.

They saved you. Steve routinely reminded you as such, but he didn’t have to. Bucky could tell you knew it was true now just by the way your bright eyes greeted them every morning. You knew that you were only good and safe with them to take care of you. His little girl couldn't even function without them now. It was exactly how it was supposed to be.

Bucky thinks for a moment, walking closer to Steve and kneeling on the floor in front of him. He pushes his way into him, maneuvering himself between Steve’s legs, and scoops his distressed hands into his, kissing them both before looking back up to Steve.

“She won’t.” he says, thick air questioning if it's true.

But his words say more than just that. The meaningful look in Bucky’s eyes tell Steve that no matter what, they’ll always have you. And that there was no way you could get away from them. Bucky knew it wasn't just the fear of physically losing you, but the fear of hurt that they would feel if you even tried.

Steve smiles a bit, his hands pulling Bucky up so that he’s now standing between his legs. He takes his hands, sliding them down from Bucky’s sides to his hips where they rest for the moment.

“Alright,” Steve sighs, looking up to Bucky, and pulling him a bit closer by his belt loops, “but any sign of trouble, we leave” Steve states, seriousness in his tone, the same kind of voice he uses when they’re on missions together.

“As if it would be any other way.” Bucky remarks, a smirk teasing his face as he dips his head down a bit to meet his lips with Steve’s. Steve sighs into his kiss, feeling the tension leaving his body just by Bucky’s stable words and secure presence.

“You think too much Rogers” Bucky teases after breaking from the kiss, thinking of all the times Steve would try to worm his way out of Bucky having to go on a mission with him in fear of his partner getting hurt–whether it be mentally or physically–Steve couldn't bare the thought of having to see Bucky like he was when he saw him for the first time in this new world.

“Can’t help it,” he breathes, Bucky never ceasing to take his breath away from his all-encompassing kisses. “I love you two more than anything,” he says earnestly as if it’s the only known fact in the universe.

“I know” Bucky smiles, “I know.”

“Oh-sorry Daddy!” you turn around, not meaning to ignore him. He holds out a sweatshirt and you instinctively hold up your arms so he can help put it on you. “Did you see the Ferris wheel Daddy?” you ask excitingly for the third time that night. Bucky chuckles a bit.

“Yes, I did,” he answers as if it’s the first he’s hearing about it while putting some soft-knitted mittens he had in his pocket on your hands. “M’not sure if Dada heard though,” he whispers to you, “maybe you should go tell him,” he informs you with a wink.

You hurriedly run over to Steve, jumping in place over and over again in front of him.

“Dada! Dada!” you take his hand and drag him a bit closer to where you had the best view of the colorful wheel. “Look!” you point and turn to him with an excited expression. “Can we go? Please? Pretty please? Please please please please-” you babble over and over again while continuing to jump up and down until you’ve all but run out of air in your lungs.

Steve looks at the contraption suspiciously, not trusting of the achy-sounding metal, and certainly not wanting his little girl near anything dangerous. He catches a glimpse of Bucky though, who’s contagiously smiling at you both, and remembers how often Bucky tells him not to worry so much.

“Okay-okay” Steve caves, unable to help but smile at your hyper manner right now. “Just this once, then we can go home and get you all nice and warm” he teasingly pinches at your cold cheeks.

“Yayayay!” you literally scream out, not even caring one bit that he said it was only once or that you had to go home after this. You were more than overjoyed that you got to ride it at all.

You start to make a sprint for it, only getting a few feet when resistance yanks you back, stopping you in your tracks and forcing you to steady yourself from the unexpected halt in momentum. Steve hadn’t even pulled on the backpack at all, it was just your pure running and his not moving an inch that caused you to ricochet back a bit. It’s a wonder you didn't fall flat on your behind.

“Heh-sorry!” you sheepishly laugh it off and wait patiently for them to catch up with you in basically two full steps for them.

As you make the short walk to the diminishing line in the late hour, Steve stops to tie his shoe, occupying both of his hands. You swing your arms aimlessly around waiting for him to finish while looking around.

As you mindlessly scan the area around you, your head does a double take as you recognize something.

No–someone.

You watch the stranger in confusion until the remnants of memory come back to you. It was a friend. But this person wasn’t Peter or Wanda…no. It was a friend from…before.

It disorients you, confusion washing over you and placing a pit in your stomach as your life before now was mostly forgotten and placed in a dusty cardboard box in the back of your mind’s vaults.

You watch as they walk away, towards where you know leads to the parking lot. And as if something takes over you, you start following their footsteps, unhinderedly drifting away from where Steve and Bucky are.

As you mindlessly follow, several feet behind, memories of your past life replay in your mind. They playback in black and white as if you’re watching one of those really old movies Steve likes to show you sometimes.

Then you hazily remember when they first found you…took you. Emotions of how scared and confused you were overtake your mind. You remember how they kept you in the house, never letting you leave.

“Sily girl, Dada can’t kidnap what’s already his,” Steve would tell you every time you’d harshly accuse him of kidnapping you.

“No one can protect you like we can,” Bucky would shush you after one of his punishments when you had pushed too hard. “Daddy only does this ‘cause he loves you.” he’d brush over your already bruising skin before carefully wiping away the tears that he had ignored for hours before.

Some nights you’d wake from nightmares, the specifics of it not mattering when Steve would find you crying into your stuffie. He never hesitated to pick you up and let you weep into his shoulder. Always whispering that you were okay, that you were safe.

“It’s okay angel, Dada’s here. You’re safe with me. I’ll always keep you safe. Always.” he’d repeat to you sincerely, holding onto you so tightly, as if the slightest loosening of his grip meant the very air around him would harm you.

To him though, it was true. Nothing could hurt you as long as you were in his arms. He’d carry you downstairs, where Bucky would tell you that nightmares didn’t matter “‘cause they aren’t real, doll…not like me and Dada.” he’d caress your warm cheeks while Steve fetched you some cold milk. They’d stay up with you as long as you needed, not even daring to shut an eye until you felt safe enough to sleep again.

And truthfully…you did. You did feel safe.

Maybe it was strange…the way you sought their comfort…their touch…their love, when you fought it in the beginning.

And you did fight…hard.

But every retaliation you made only ended in harsh grabs. Every effort to push them away resulted in lacerated reminders. Every moment you spent denying what they told you only yielded unrestrained punishments.

“My sweet girl…you’ll learn soon enough. Fighting us only makes it harder for you.” Steve would stroke your cheek through the bars of your crib. “All you have to do is listen to what we say. We know what’s best for you, angel.” he’d say before leaving you all tied up and alone for hours…sometimes days.

And then, after you’d more than cried yourself dry, throat scratchy from lack of hydration, he’d appear to you, asking if you’d learned your lesson. Your body would somehow discover new tears as you’d plead with him, promising him you’d be a good girl.

It’s then that he’d smile down at you so sweetly, lifting your limp body from its cushiony cage and shower you with endless affection.

He’d drown you with attention, never allowing you to lift a finger. He’d clean you up with your favorite scented soap, and after you were all done, Bucky would present you with a new set of soft clothes they bought just for you for taking your punishment so so well. They’d play your favorite shows and message every sore spot on your tired body after ordering from your favorite type of take out, something you never even told them. There wasn’t a moment where they weren’t touching you in some way, dousing you with sweet words about how much they loved their beautiful helpless little girl.

Helpless.

A word that reminds you exactly how you felt the very first time you bumped into Steve. All alone and scared, in a place that was dark and unfamiliar. You were lost then.

Just like you were right now.

You practically snap back into reality, the one where you’ve found yourself far away from the luminous festival lights and eerily close to where you can’t hear racket of activities anymore. It’s quiet, and you don’t even know where that funnily familiar person you were following went. Dread fills your insides as you realize you’re all alone.

You turn around hastily,

Anxiety fills your stomach as you rashly run in the opposite direction, before tripping on a wire that sends you spiraling down to the ground. You clumsily try to catch yourself, mittened hands harshly hitting the pavement, and asphalt slashes through your leggings, exposing the soft flesh of your knees to razor-sharp pain.

The sudden impact scares you, tears that were already forming from before start rushing out of your eyes.

Instinctually, you cry for Steve. For Dada. But when after too many moments you don’t feel their comfort, you look around and remember they’re not there. Your heart pounds as people rush by seemingly unaffected by your fallen form. You swirl your head around looking for them and are instead met with the haunting image of your green leash’s end, its ghostly emptiness scorning you from where it lays.

You cry harder, guilt and anguish now thumping alongside the throbbing in your chest that radiates to your body’s wounded limbs and you're pretty sure the only words coming out of your mouth are pathetic strings of ‘daddy’ and ‘dada.’

“There she is” Bucky spots you, both of them rushing over to you, distraught as they notice your scraped-up form.

“Dada!” you cry, leaping towards Steve and wrapping your arms around his neck as he picks you up. You helplessly weep, not just from the physical pain but from the emotional strain your misplaced detour took you on. You cry for leaving them. You can't tell if it was on purpose, but you feel awful from even remembering your past life and getting so close to being lost.

“Fuck, angel. What happened?” Steve breathes, taking the scuffed mittens off your hands to examine you closer.

“I-...I-” you try to speak through gasps of crying. They both question you on where you went and why you walked away. You barely manage to tell the story in broken sobs as to what truthfully happened. They listen intensively as you tearfully explain the details of what happened.

“But-but-I-I don’t wanna! Don’t wanna lose daddies! Don’t wanna! Didn’t mean t-to! I-I p-promise-I-I didn’t!” you stagger between breaths, gasping for air as your sob relentlessly in Steve’s arms.

“Shh, hey-hey” Bucky caresses your head, directing your attention to him. “It’s okay, doll. It’s okay. You’re okay.” he consoles. Steve gently wipes your tears at the same time and helps in calming you. You look at them both through blurry vision and continue weeping apologies to which they both remind you that it’s okay.

They were scared to death when they only took their eyes off you for a second and you were gone…but they found you, just like the first time.

They bring you over to sit down on a bench so they can better help console you and check your injuries. Steve rummages through the backpack he was carrying to get a first aid kit, and Bukcy watches through tortured eyes as you miserably cry.

“Doll.” he tenderly tilts your chin up to him. Tearful eyes red from crying look up to him. “Daddy’s proud of you.” he states, earnestly, stern and true. It makes you cry harder though, with confusion written all over your face. Proud? How could he be proud when you almost thought about running away?

“W-why?” you cry “I-I bad. bad!” you weep pitifully as you feel Steve cleaning your knees.

“No angel. You’re not bad.” Steve states, only confusing you more, you were sure both of them would be upset with you…considering they had every reason to.

“You know why?” Bucky asks, stroking your previously cold cheeks that have now been warmed by your tears. You shake your head no as more seemingly endless tears fall. “‘Cause you came back,” he says, wiping them as they come. “You came back to find us. That’s all that matters.” Bucky reassures you.

It hurts, both his and Steve’s worst fear almost coming to life.

But it didn't.

And truthfully, no one understood that more than Bucky. He knew more than anyone what it was like to get confused. To see or hear something otherwise mundane that whips you back to a place where you feel out of control.

The story you recanted to them rings all too familiar to him. It reminds him of shaky hands and paralyzed tongue that attempted to explain to Steve what it was like to not be in control of your own body. Your own actions.

It didn’t matter that you wandered away. It didn’t matter where your thoughts went. All that mattered was that you cried for them. All that mattered was your tiny hands curled around Steve's shirt so hard he’d thought you’d hurt your own fingers. All that mattered was the way you pulled Bucky closer while weeping his name as he comforted you.

All that mattered…was that you needed your Daddies.

They both reassure as such in ways they knew you'd understand. Besides, it only made sense that their little girl would get confused sometimes. That’s what daddies are for. And you came back because you knew they always made the best decisions for you. And even if on the off chance that you hadn't…that really wouldn’t have mattered anyway either. They would always find their little girl because you belong with them. Always and forever.

“Which ones do you want little princess?” Steve asks you, offering a variety of colorful bandages in front of you. Your hysteria and their sweet strong words have all but distracted you from the pain of the scratches lacerating your knees. You point to the ones you like and Steve praises you for making “such a good choice babygirl.”

Bucky holds you close and lets you bury your head in his chest while Steve carefully puts them on. You feel guilt again when you notice that the soft mittens now have little scuffs and holes in them that match your pants. But Steve reassures you that it’s ‘no biggie’ and that they can always get you another pair.

“How about Daddy and I get you some ice cream?” Steve suggests, knowing sweets was at least one way to cheer his sweet girl up.

You sniffle, looking to him at the suggestion.

“Ice cweam?” you say with a small voice “I-I wike ice cweam” you say softly, not meaning to slur your words. But you never did anyway, it always just happened beyond your control.

“I think that sounds perfect, huh doll?” Bucky says lightheartedly and sweetly while picking you up from the bench and placing you in Steve's arms.

“Wif sprinkles toos?” you ask, rubbing your sore eyes.

“All the sprinkles for my sweet little girl” Steve smiles at you while playfully poking at your side making you giggle a bit.

The cold dessert cools your hot throat and brings a smile back to your face. Of course, what really made you happy was knowing your daddies weren’t upset with you, and even more importantly, that you were never going to lose them.

“Hey what’s that on Dada’s face?” Bucky points directly to Steve, making you turn to examine it closely as you're still in his arms. It gives Bucky the opportunity to steal a lick from your ice cream.

“Hey!” you laugh turning back to Bucky’s not-so-secret move when you realize there was nothing amiss on your Dada’s face.

“What?” he puts his hands and shoulders up in a shrug of confusion while looking around and feigning confusion. You giggle more as obvious signs of ice cream are on the tip of his nose.

“Looks like daddy’s the one with something on his face” Steve teases, and you laugh with them while they let you finish your little treat.

“You still wanna go up on the Ferris wheel babygirl?” Steve asks after wiping your hands clean from any sticky residue. You look up to him with awe and shock, not expecting him to still offer it.

“Really?” you question with a hopeful but weary look on your face from not being sure of why you deserve it. Steve nods at you and tells you yes. Maybe he was skeptical before, but nothing was better than seeing his little girl's face light up in a smile.

Plus, Steve knew you were their little girl. More than that, he knew that you knew. In your heart, you came back to them. You needed them. And that’s all Steve could ever want.

You’re squeezed between your two daddies as the wheel makes its way up to the top. They watch as you look in awe of how tiny everything looks from up above. This must be what it's like for your daddies to see all the time. You feel as though you’re at the tippity top of the wheel forever. You don’t mind as it’s beautiful and quiet up there with the only people in the world you wanted to be with. You tiredly lay your head against Steve's arm, signaling to him that you’ll likely sleep the whole drive home.

“I love you,” you say contently, and they know you say it for both of them.

“We love you too angel. So much,” Steve tells you, smiling down at his sleepy little girl, and looking up to see Bucky’s lightened up face too.

He takes it all in, remembering the times when just he and Bucky would go out to these things–or really–when Bukcy would drag him to the carnivals. He knew how much Bucky loved this. He knew how much you loved this. And he loved it too. He loved you both, and that was all he needed.

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ilys00ga · 11 months ago

Note

hellooo, ur blog is such a comfort for me <3 ! can i request yoongi meeting reader who’s quite literally the same person as him. he could’ve met the reader through one of the members trying to hook them up. “you two are so alike it’s scary, i think you’d be a match made in heaven”. so yoongi agrees..eventually. but when he meets the reader, it’s horrible! their similar personalities clash in the worst way possible. it’s pretty funny to everyone, because they totally thought they were in matchmaker mode?? the two constantly talk about how they couldn’t stand each other, so it surprised everyone when yoongi just admitted that he’d and the reader had been dating for a few months after their first meeting. loll

A MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN.

pairing: yoongi x reader.

genre: fluff, i tried to make it funny loool, best friends to lovers, non idol au (?), non idol!yoongi, non idol!jimin, non idol!namjoon, jimin is the dramatic bestie and namjoon is just the very supportive friend that's happy to be there.

warnings: this is pure fiction and English is not my first language.

A/N: okay so, there was also this one ask I got from @parkjennykim that says: "Hiiii ❤️ hope this finds you well. Could you write a fluffy bsf to lovers with yoongi? Theres hardly any of those out there 😭 i need some fluff ive been too deprived and depressed".

I thought these two were similar so I decided to merge them, I hope that's ok for both of u :). thank u sm for sending these reqs, I really appreciate it and I hope u enjoy this read. do not hesitate to send more if u want to !

ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

“I'm sorry, WHAT?!” Jimin, who’d been slouched on the couch with his head leaning against its rolled arm, sat up straight and goggle-eyed as soon as he heard what Yoongi had said.

The latter only rolled his eyes, not surprised one bit at his friend’s dramatic reaction. In fact, he expected it to be so much worse, but he guessed the younger one was just too tired that day for all of that. “don’t be loud.” he hissed and crossed his arms.

“hyung, are you serious?” Namjoon asked from where he was sitting with his chopsticks hanging in the air near his mouth as he too was stunned by the eldest’s statement.

“why the hell would i lie and say that me and __ have been dating for almost two months now?” Yoongi muttered through narrowed his eyes. "TWO MONTHS- woah, this is crazy. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” The youngest of the three covered his face with his hands and heaved a big, disappointed sigh.

“Seriously, why is he so annoying today?”

Namjoon chuckled as the older continued side eyeing their dongsaeng, “hyung, he’s just really happy for you. I too am.”

“I’m very happy, yes, but, hyung, how could you hide such a thing from me? I literally helped you grow the balls to ask her out.” Jimin whined and slouched back down on the couch with a growing pout, “I've been waiting for you two to get together for months.”

It's true, Jimin was a man on a mission ever since he’d noticed the insanely similar character traits when you and your (now) boyfriend met for the very first time. two individual human beings but the exact same patterns and edges. on a large scale, talking to you always felt like talking to Yoongi and vice versa.

It was like a game to him. It made him buzz with excitement, reminding himself every now and then to keep a close eye and count all the similarities you two shared. not that it was hard to notice to begin with: having almso the exact same taste (especially in music), always sitting silently when being around other people and speaking little amounts of words when necessary, getting flustered and smiling shyly when being complimented, being chill and too soft to scold or yell at anyone (most of the time), having that same slow tone in your voices whenever you talk, having random bursts of energy or playful teasing despite the cold facade both of you display, getting so talkative when it comes to topics and things you’re so passionate about, being very honest but never too rude or offensive about it, being the most hardworking people jimin has probably ever met in his entire life—something that nevers fails to admire about the two of you.

You and Yoongi were so similar, even your bad habits and red flags matched. When setting your mind on finishing a task—say a project for example—you’d wear your bodies out for the sake of completing it, even if it meant you’d stay up several hours late during the night. and when mad or during intense clashes and arguments, you would put thick walls between you and the other person, ignoring and shutting them out until you're human enough to confront them. sometimes it’s too hard to even apologize, instead, you’d slowly start approaching them as if nothing had happened at all.

“No wonder you two ended up together, you’re basically a match made in heaven.” Namjoon nodded his head as he munched on his food, as if approving of his own statement.

“i know! and the way you wasted your time pinning on each other was killing me.” being the biggest shipper of your pair, Jimin huffed as he spoke with a very serious tone.

“how did you guys even make it?” namjoon asked.

“We hit it off right after the first date.” Yoongi answered with a shrug, acting as nonchalant as ever.

“you mean the date i had set for you?” it was jimin who asked this time, and when Yoongi nodded in confirmation, the younger groaned and buried his face into the couch, “hyung, you are seriously the worst.”

“hyung, you both are coffee addicts, take her to a new café this time!” Jimin suggested with a huge grin on his face. after finding out that you two secretly liked each other, he spent weeks pressuring Yoongi to confess his feelings for you. He couldn’t believe that his hyung finally obliged after many “no”s and “I don’t like __ that way.”s and “we’re just friends.”s. it was getting really annoying.

YG: “Can we hang out tomorrow? as two people wanting to know each other.”

ME: “Are you asking me on a date?”

YG: “yeah?”

ME: “okay :)”

that was the conversation you had with him the day before he took you on a cute café date. The place was impressively good, but the date was the complete opposite of that. Nothing bad happened, yet sitting down with someone you’ve known for a good period of time and have shared good amounts of vulnerability with in that intimate context was too unpleasant. Both of you struggled to find comfort and normality in the heavy awkward silence that fell on the table. and everytime he would try to play it off and throw some joke or normal piece of conversation that he found appropriate for a date, you two ended up laughing int your sweaty palms because of how ridiculous the whole situation was.

“stop laughing!” Yoongi exclaimed while his shoulders shook, giggling.

“I'm sorry, I'm trying!” you wiped at the corners of your eyes.

"Just act like this is a normal hangout.." he had said after a short moment.

"We're literally on a date." you reminded him.

“right..”

The “date” didn’t last long, and the two of you ended up at his house. eating popcorn on his couch and watching your favorite series of movies together.

Later that night, he asked, “so, what are we?”

“whatever you want us to be.” you answered with flushed cheeks.

“I like you..” he whispered, eyes never leaving the TV screen acroos the couch, "more than friends should like one another."

“Great, ‘cause I'd be sad if you didn’t like me back.” you whispered back, never daring to glance his way even for a split of a second.

“Wait, does that mean I won the bet?” Namjoon suddenly spoke, making Jimin kick him lightly on the shoulder from where he was still lying with a sour frown, and toss a few dollars he had grabbed from his wallet at the smiling man's extended palm.

“Did you two seriously make a bet on my relationship?” came a sharp question from Yoongi.

#yoongi #yoongi scenarios #bts #yoongi drabble #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fic #bts army #bts yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi fic #friends to lovers

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maaarshieee · 2 years ago

Note

wanderer and 10 lvl bond voicelines!!!! thank your

✩‧₊˚ LVL 10 BOND VOICELINES ✧.*

𓆩✧𓆪 Kunikuzushi/Scaramouche/Wanderer x Gn!Reader ࿐

𓆩✧𓆪 Event post | Event Masterlist ࿐

message from the stars ☆༉

hi!! so much wanderer love rn <333 good luck for people pulling for wanderer!! may you all be blessed <3 i hope you like this one hehe, have a good day/night!! ty for sending one in ! this isn't as much as i usually write but!! its voicelines LMAO

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ cw: voicelines where they can't speak out loud abt you bc of divine forces + voicelines where they talk to you (knowing that you're controlling traveler LOL)

〖 Chat - Wind 〗

▷ ❝ The wind is a bit... chilly as usual. Hm? You don't think so? Did I ask you? ... Kidding, but for some reason, it's always been like this ever since I met you at Mondstadt. I don't really know why, but it's a good type of chill. Oddly enough, it's always accompanied by faint chimes of bells and whispers. ❞

〖 Something to Share - Loyalty 〗

▷ ❝ What do you want? Oh? These wisps? I dunno, they just started following me one day, even when I was at the— you know... They're not bothersome, unlike some traveling companions I know. What? I'm totally not talking about you! Anyways, these 'wisps' have always carried this sense of warmth around them and... I appreciate them for sticking around for so long... If only everyone is as loyal as them. ❞

〖 About the Wanderer - Betrayals 〗

▷ ❝ Those... were all in the past. And yet when this voice murmurs in my ears, the wounds get more bearable, healing little by little... It always feels like a gentle caress against my skin and I get this feeling you'd never abandon me— huh? Who am I talking to? ... You heard nothing, Traveler. I was merely... agh! Whatever. Let's just go. ❞

〖 When It Rains 〗

▷ ❝ Even through this barrier you call a 'screen', I just know you're wondering if I would let you take cover under my hat. I can feel you staring, you know? Well, my answer is no. Get your own umbrella... But if you insisted, then FINE. I guess I'll just have to lend it to you. ❞

〖 About you??? 〗

▷ ❝ ... Are you for real? You're asking me what I think about you? Ugh, fine. I think you're annoying, like a fly that doesn't know when to leave. You spoil me like a little kid even if I don't need all the things you give me and— wait, you think I'm serious? No no, wait— Please don't cry! ❞

〖 About the Wanderer - Goals 〗

▷ ❝ I know you've waited for my timely debut as a... 'playable character' was it? In this 'game', as you've said. How long was it? ... Two years huh? ... Thank you for your patience and devotion... One day, I will be by your side, to hold you... and perhaps feel your lips against mine... You didn't hear what I said? Ah... W-well, it's your fault for having a bad sense of hearing! Hmph. ❞

If you want to be tagged for future updates on this event, please fill out this form! Remember that usernames are only lowercase and have no spaces!

Taglist: @louise-rosita-leroux, @swivy123, @iyagato

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛❛ If you like this a lot, consider reblogging! I'll appreciate it very very much! Don't repost and/or translate my work anywhere. ❜❜ ┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

#yaepublishinghouse #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #wanderer x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin sagau #:;marshie.writes #:;requested #:;event.writing #:;kunikuzushi.scaramouche.wanderer #:;marshie's.events:sagau.event

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elumish · 3 months ago

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dude...no need to be an asshole to that last anon, wtf? I can absolutely see how they read your post like that. just because you run a writing blog doesn't make up incapable of being unclear.

your shitty response was way out of line and uncalled for. maybe try chilling the fuck out and not attacking people because they read your post differently than you intended, jfc. shit like this makes me feel like I can never engage with your posts because you might fly off the handle and act like an asshole to me for not reading your post exactly they way you intended. which is pretty fucking shitty behavior on your part.

that anon made really good points, and I think they were a valid response to what you said. not their problem (or any reader's) that you don't like that that's how some of us read you post. good posts provoke conversations and discussions about nuanced topics - instead you decided to shut that down and be an asshole. grow up, and maybe take your own advice and chill the fuck out. nobody called you a racist or some shit, but you're acting like you got attacked when the only person attacking anyone here is you.

Here are my choices when people send me asks that misunderstand or misrepresent posts that I made:

I ignore them. I do this sometimes. I can and will keep doing it.

I entertain their argument and get sucked into a conversation I have no interest in having.

I tell them that they misrepresented my post and that I'm not going to engage with it.

In this case, I picked option three. Was I a bit harsh? Yeah, maybe. I'm sorry if my tone came across as more aggressive than I intended.

But I am sick of the standard reaction to me talking about things like being cognizant of what we write and trying to avoid doing harm being people telling me that it's censorship or that it's somehow infringing on their ability to write what they want, or that I'm implying that they can't ever bring up a bad or hurtful topic at all.

Because that is probably the most common type of ask that I get whenever I make posts like this. This are not even the only conflating glorifying with talking about at all and then arguing with me based on that misunderstanding reaction I have gotten in the last 48 hours.

But, and I mean this genuinely, I would like to know what I am saying that is implying that. I have read through the posts I made and tried to see where that implication might be coming across, and I can't find it. And so please, I would truly appreciate you or anyone else telling me what in my phrasing or word choice is leading to that conclusion.

Because I want to avoid saying that. That's not the argument I'm trying to make and it's never the argument I've been trying to make. And so if I am accidentally implying that somehow in what I'm saying, I want to know that and change it.

But it's not my job to engage every time someone starts arguing with a point I didn't even make.

#elumish answers #ethical writing #i am tired of people's reactions to “try to avoid doing harm” being “but what if this is actually censorship”#and so yeah i'm reacting like someone who is tired of hearing that same response over and over

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itslottiehere · 1 year ago

Text

mors tua, vita mea — h.s

hello beautiful people 🤍 welcome back! i know, i know, it’s been a while, but i truly hope this story makes up for the lack of writing! i’ve had so much fun while writing this, and i hope you’ll like it as much as i do <3 please, let me know what you think! you can do so in your reblog, in your tags, or in my asks! if you enjoy the story, please consider reblogging! it really helps me and also make me want to keep going!! without further ado, happy reading! <3

— inspired by “getaway car” by taylor swift.

cw: angst, a bit of kissing, some swear words

word count: 6.5k

gif by @londonharry

masterlist | leave your feedback or requests here

—

the backstreet was dark, a few spots of light showing her the way to the car she hid before the heist took place. before chris could know that there was only one way that night could have ended, and that was with him locked up.

she had been planning this for months now: their biggest heist, her biggest betrayal.

she wasn’t sentimental about it at all, it was just pure business: she knew the cops were closing in on them, so she had to leave before shit hit the fan. simple as that.

also, chris was becoming way too attached to her as it was, so it was really a two birds with one stone deal for her: she had always made it clear that their “relationship” was nothing more than work, but sometimes the nights in the safe house got boring and lonely, and the company was appreciated.

still, a few nights of sex didn’t mean there were feelings involved or anything of that sort, and no matter how much chris said that he “got it”, she noticed the changes in his attitude, how protective of her he became, how his touch would linger for a second longer, how he would double and triple check with her if she got wounded, how he would always make sure she was safe before worrying about his own safety.

how he made it so easy for her to manipulate him.

the poor thing never saw it coming. the pink lenses of infatuation making him painfully oblivious to the fact that he was never gonna see her again.

both her and the outside world, from her calculations: the cops would find plenty of evidence on him, in the safe house, that would tie him up with a pretty little bow and send him off to prison for god’s know how long, all the while making him the perfect scapegoat for her.

she couldn’t know if chris would rat her out, — although she thought it not likely, given the lovesick puppy look he had ever since they slept together, — but even if he tried to, she made sure not to leave any trace of her identity in any document, in anything that had to do with any illegal activity.

and even if she did, they wouldn’t have found her: the identity she used wasn’t hers, and she was gonna stop being the person chris knew as soon as she drove away, her new id card safely stored in the pocket of her jacket, the old one burnt to a crisp.

the soles of her shoes were scraping against the gravel, the ground wet from the light november rain, while she jogged to what would bring her into a new life, a new start. she had to get out of there, immediately.

what she wasn’t expecting was a dark silhouette appearing on the other side of the alley, seemingly jogging towards her.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

she was so sure she had locked the exit door on the back, so how did chris manage to get out? he would have had to figure out she was planning on framing him.

if that was the case, this wasn’t gonna end well.

she opened up the door to her car, ready to bolt, when the unknown figure spoke slowly: “wait.”

that was not chris. the voice was deep, rough, and the way he pronounced just one single word made chills run through her body.

or maybe that was just the adrenaline of it all, the fear of getting caught betraying her partner by said partner.

“wait.” the figure spoke once more, getting closer to the car. “i need a lift.”

what the actual fuck? did he take her for an uber driver or something?

she scoffed and got in the car, keys inside the ignition, ready to drive off.

which couldn’t be done since the tall figure decided to stand in the middle of the alley.

she couldn’t really honk, not when the alarms inside the building were about to go off and the place was about to be stormed by cops. she had to leave, and if she had to run over him, then so be it.

she put her foot on the gas, put in the first gear and was very much convinced that the man would decide to move out of the way.

but she had no such luck.

his hands hit the hood of her car, hard, while she pressed on the breaks with all her strength in order to not make him flat on the ground.

so much for survival instincts, she thought.

“were you really about to run me over?” the man spoke — his figure now becoming clearer since he was nearer than before. a lazy smirk cut his face. “mmh. i like you.”

and just like that he was opening the passenger’s door, seating down and buckling his seatbelt.

she was utterly shocked, what the hell was going on, why was he- “who the fuck are you? and what the actual fuck do you think you’re doing in my car?”

the man chuckled lowly, casting two deep indents in his cheeks. “oh wow, they didn’t tell me the owl had such a filthy mouth.”

the name made her eyes go wide: the owl. working in the darkest hours of the night was her distinctive trait, hence the nickname she chose for herself while doing business.

“‘m harry, by the way. don’t have a cool nickname like yours yet, but perhaps i should find one. what about the puma? what do you think?”

she scoffed, looking straight and finally driving away. “well, harry or the puma or whatever you wanna be called-”

“harry is just fine.”

“alright, harry, would you mind telling me why the fuck are you here?” her patience was wearing thin and she really didn’t want to lose any more time on this.

“oh right, sort of forgot to tell you, didn’t i? okay, well, my dear owl- hold up, don’t i get to know your name? i told you mine.” he turned his body to face her.

judging by the deep frown of her eyebrows and how set her eyes were on the road in front of them, he assumed he wouldn’t get it that easily.

“well, doesn’t matter for now. so, back to where i was: i have been checking you out for a while, saw your latest works and was very impressed. i’m in need of a partner, and from what i saw tonight, so do you.” he spoke, and in the far distance they could hear the police sirens and spot the blue and red lights: everything was about to go down.

harry coming to bother her on that particular night was really somewhat karmic, wasn’t it? she screwed over her partner, so fate had to bring an annoying man in her plans, once again. she cleared her throat, her tone dry.

“how did you know what i would do?”

harry turned once again towards the road. “i knew the police was closing in on you, so i thought that if you played your cards right you may have the chance to get away, and the better escape plan would have been to ditch your partner.” the man in her passenger seat stretched his legs, his arms raised up, his voice coming out a bit strained. “word on the street was that tonight something was going down, i thought to check it out to see if it was actually gonna be you. my lucky night, i’d say.”

harry had heard plenty about the owl’s operations and was extremely intrigued by her. the plans were intricate, but incredibly well thought out, and often went down without a hitch, and the chosen artworks to be stolen being invaluable masterpieces made it all the more admirable. he knew as soon as he saw one of her biggest heists go down so smoothly that he desperately wanted to be in business with her, so he began keeping tabs on her, which brought him in that alley, that precise night.

he didn’t expect to be so entranced to her.

sure, he was in awe of her plans and the way she carried on her business, but he was struck by her. even more than her looks, it was the confidence she radiated from her stance, her set gaze, her clenched jaw, that was what drew him in immediately.

he knew she was trouble, especially given her line of work. but it seemed like he couldn’t help himself to fall under her spell, and that was saying something, since she tried to run him over not even 20 minutes prior.

oh, poor harry didn’t know what he was getting into.

she wasn’t dumb, nor blind: harry was a treat for the eyes, and obviously way more prepared than chris ever was. still to that day she couldn’t believe he didn’t see it coming, it was all so clear to her. she was sneaky, of course, but he must’ve had some clue, right? or well, she guessed that what people say is true: love makes you dumb.

harry was another league, though. he kept track of her, which must’ve not been easy since she always took so many precautions to keep everything on the down low; he discovered her plan and also understood that the better route for her was to ditch her partner.

he definitely had more experience than chris, and that could be an advantage: for once, she could have someone to bounce ideas off of, and since harry managed to find out her ironclad plans, it means that something wasn’t as hidden as she would’ve liked, and having him could help with that.

when she started her business, she swore that she had to be the one calling all the shots: being the perfectionist she is, she couldn’t relegate the responsibility of something so important like a heist to someone who wasn’t herself. she decided to get a partner — enter, chris — just because sometimes it was physically impossible to do it all on her own. that didn’t change the fact that he was merely a mean to an end, he had no voice whatsoever in planning anything, and not once had he complained about it, nor he had any reason to: the money was good, and once he even got to win her affection — or well, what he thought could’ve turned into something more — he was good with doing whatever she wanted.

she had the feeling it wasn’t gonna be like this with harry.

or well, at least not that easy.

“that was impressive, not going to lie. it mustn’t have been easy to keep track of my movements. so, bravo.” she spoke, her eyes quickly glancing towards him.

a smirk took place on harry’s face, the praise of such a pro stroking his ego. “it was, but very much worth it.”

his voice was smooth like silk, and even the dumbest person walking on earth could’ve felt the flirty undertones of his words from miles away.

she quickly thought about it, a new plan. a new, better plan.

“okay, pretty boy. if you can keep up, i can think about being partners. that is, if you prove worthy of my time.”

“deal.” he smiled, and again the dimples on his cheeks made an appearance. “pretty boy, huh? should that be my badass nickname?”

“still better than the puma.”

that night marked the beginning of a new era, four years of the most lucrative, crazy, exciting heists the both of them could have ever imagined.

and over the course of those years, the inevitable and not so unexpected happened: they fell for each other, and they fell hard.

endless night of planning, scheming, and building trust with each other turned them into real life bonnie and clyde, absolutely drunk on adrenaline and love.

it was definitely not something she had planned, not something she had wanted either, but there was no denying chemistry: sometimes, things just happen, and you have no choice but to let them run their course.

harry was just as smitten: he was hooked from the beginning, and fought hard to win her over from day one.

it started as a ‘business partners with benefits’ kind of deal, a way to ‘pass the time’, — at least for her, harry was already harboring feelings for the woman — but it bloomed into something more, somewhat organically.

he still teased her that she became soft for him when he got injured during an escape: the rope attached to the top of the building didn’t hold up harry, who suffered a bad fall. his shoulder was dislocated, and she had to be the one who had to put it back in place, since hospitals weren’t really an option, and harry couldn’t ignore the look she held in her eyes, as if even just the thought of hurting him was physically hurting her.

he didn’t expect it, definitely not from someone like the infamous owl: she showed no remorse for her actions, no feelings for the first six months of them working together, and he made peace with the fact that that was just the way it was gonna be, but was pleasantly surprised when that revealed not to be the case.

the world knew her as a scheming, logical woman, but harry had the privilege of being her soft spot.

he was always a pretty open guy, not scared of having big feelings or of falling in love. he had already felt it in the past, he just wasn’t prepared to experience how powerful it could feel with the right person: what he felt for her was something out of a novel, a perfect mixture of infatuation, almost obsession, adrenaline and maybe insanity, and it was so incredibly addicting.

the last heist was a perfect success, their biggest bag as a matter of fact. the artwork they managed to steal had taken months upon months of planning, but it all went down incredibly smoothly: 7 minutes, in and out, exactly like they had wanted. they were already far when the police arrived, harry behind the wheel, driving their getaway car.

with chris, she had never let him drive, ever: she had to be in control of everything, of every little aspect, probably because she never fully trusted him. but she did trust harry, wholeheartedly so.

the drive to the dingy motel wasn’t too long, the night chill enveloping them thanks to the lack of a roof on their car. the adrenaline was running high still, and she couldn’t stop herself from leaning in and leaving a kiss on harry’s smiling lips, their grins quite too big to properly kiss each other. but it didn’t matter, the feeling was all the same, the rush quite impossible to describe to someone who never felt it.

harry disconnected their lips, not before leaving a quick peck once again, and looked back to the barely lit country road ahead of them.

“very risky to distract me like that right now, sweetheart.”

“couldn’t help it, pretty boy. you’re just too damn good-looking.” she smiled at the nickname, and harry did too: it stuck ever since that first night, and harry definitely never complained.

“c’mon, we’re almost at the motel.” harry’s hand took its rightful place on her left thigh, softly squeezing the flesh, awakening a storm of butterflies and inviting them to bat their wings in her stomach. she rested her hand on top of his, gently toying with his rings.

the motel neon sign was missing a few letters, its occupants nothing less than unsavory, but she didn’t care: she wasn’t one to be scared in the first place, much less with harry by her side.

once they got to their room, she locked the door and quickly found her back pressed into it, harry’s lips straight on hers. she knew what was coming, it happened every single time after a hit: the euphoria of a successful heist was a very powerful aphrodisiac.

harry’s lips pressed slowly against her own, he was in no hurry now. after he felt her body relaxing in his hold, he moved onto her neck, and smiled against her skin when he heard a shaky breath falling from her lips after he sucked lightly on the spot he knew would drive her crazy.

her hand went immediately into his hair, tugging on the curls she loved to play with at every chance she got, while the other travelled down his torso, heading towards his belt.

knowing where she was going, harry detached his lips from her neck and looked at her: flushed cheeks, her eyes — his favorite feature of hers — slightly glazed over, her lips full and a raspberry colour. he smiled at the sight.

“sweetheart,” he murmured. “sweetheart, hey.”

“mmh?” she hummed, her hands roaming under his shirt, feeling the expanse of his tummy and chest, pressing her lips in the dip of his throat.

harry hated to have to tear himself away from her and her touch, but a shower was in order, and also making her wait made the whole situation way more intriguing, her getting antsy waiting for him really did a number on him.

her forehead rested on his chest, a small whine falling from her lips when he felt him trying to move away from her, which made harry chuckle. he softly pressed a kiss to the top of her head, slowly walking backwards towards the restroom, but her arms refused to leave his body, so she was stumbling along with him, her cheek still smushed against his chest.

harry reached behind his back to untangle her arms from his waist, not without her protesting. he leaned in and planted a wet kiss on her cheek, murmuring a low “be right back”, before leaving the room.

she felt drunk, as she usually did whenever harry was in near proximity, but there was nothing she could do about it.

she laid down on the dingy bed, eagerly waiting for her lover to be back and, to kill the time, she decided to turn on the tv.

what she saw sobered her up real quick.

the news were reporting a robbery at a famous gallery, two figures with their dark hoodies up filmed from a camera at the end of the alley.

a camera both she and harry failed to notice.

they were lucky the camera was at the opposite end of the dark and unlit alley, and caught just a glimpse of their backs, but this wasn’t good. this was not supposed to happen.

never, in all her years of planning, had she forgot to notice a camera, and the fact that this happened with their biggest heist made the blood drain from her face.

she tried her hardest to lower her heart rate and to focus on what the newscaster was saying: two suspects, no faces identified, probably left by car, all the other cameras in the block were somehow off during the escape — somehow actually being the work of one of harry’s acquaintances — and the police had no leads for the moment.

all things considered, it wasn’t bad at all.

so why couldn’t she seem to catch her breath?

the bathroom door creaked open, a bit of steam filling the room. harry stepped out, a towel hanging on his lower half, his body glistening with little droplets of water, hair matted and still dripping a little.

he had a dopey smile on his lips, which soon fell once he noticed that she wasn’t ogling at him as she usually would when he stepped out of a shower.

“hey,” he called out to her, “something wrong?”

she didn’t even notice that harry had walked back into the room, so she slightly jumped at the sound of his voice. her head quickly turned towards him, as she just as quickly turned the tv off.

“of course, yeah.” she smiled. “missed you.”

“could’ve joined me, you know?” he grinned, “never would refuse a beautiful lady like you.” he got closer to her and pressed his lips softly against hers.

she reciprocated the kiss, disconnecting it quite a bit earlier than harry would’ve liked, and murmured still close to his lips, “can we cuddle for a bit?”

harry’s hands cupped her cheeks, his thumbs slowly stroking the apples, “yeah, of course. want my shirt to sleep in?”

she excitedly nodded, staring at his back while he retrieved a shirt from his luggage.

sleep came quickly to harry, his arm holding her tightly against his chest, comforted by the feeling of having her safe in his arms.

she still couldn’t quite catch her breath.

harry woke up to an empty bed: the creamy rays of sun beamed through the worn blinds, rousing him awake. as he did every morning, he reached for her, looking forward to hooking his arm around her waist and feel her snuggle against his chest. but that day, his hand touched a cold piece of comforter instead of the warm, soft body of his girl.

his eyes opened immediately, trying to adapt to the light, his brows furrowed as he knuckled his eyes, trying to blink away the sleepiness. his slightly startled heart stopped once he saw her seated at the little desk the room provided, typing away on her computer, wrapped in his sweatshirt with her hair still damp from the shower she probably had just taken.

way too focused on adjusting the last details of the meetup with the buyer for that same night, she jumped when she felt two strong arms engulfing her.

“morning, love.” his morning voice was a gift straight from heaven, it never failed to make her feel warm and cozy. “don’t like it when i wake up without you.”

she could hear the pout on his face, and she smiled at the notion that he was so affected by her absence. “good morning, pretty boy. just had to take a shower and finalize the details for the drop off with the buyer tonight.” she turned around and looked at his still half closed eyes. she tilted her head up, puckering her lips a little, “kiss?”

harry didn’t miss a beat and laid his mouth on hers, moaning softly at the contact.

she hadn’t lied per se, she had to do all of what she said, but she also couldn’t stand lying awake in that bed for one more second: she had barely gotten any sleep the previous night, the video of them on the news flashing continuously in her mind.

so she tried to focus on work, to get things right before they could go wrong.

the day went by as usual, the two of them laying low, preparing for the meetup with this anonymous buyer. the sum of money this person was offering was definitely mind blowing, and there was no way they could turn it down.

in the late afternoon, they left the motel to reach the location given to them: it was a rundown warehouse, obviously abandoned, and they were under strict orders to arrive at 8pm on the dot, to leave the car outside the main gate, and proceed by feet till they arrived to the container with the number 258: that was where they’d find an employee of the buyer.

it was all routine, they almost never handled a deal with the buyer directly, and they understood the reason. she and harry never exchanged names as well, for safety reasons, or any other details, just informations about the drop.

at 7:50pm, they were parked outside the warehouse. the chill of the desert air made the hair on her arms stand, a shiver running down her spine.

“cold?” harry asked, after he noticed her shudder. it wasn’t that cold at the moment for him, and it was probably gonna be worse once the sun was set all the way, but nonetheless he put his jacket on her shoulders, his big hands running up and down her upper arms to give her some warmth.

she smiled at the gesture, and tilted her head up, “thank you.”

he reciprocated the smile and took her hand, in the other one holding the bag containing the stolen piece of art. “of course, darling. now let’s go, wanna be back in that motel bed as soon as possible,” he cheekily remarked.

they walked hand in hand till they found the container 258, and knocked three times, as instructed. the shutter was pulled up, a man dressed in a suit, who looked to be in his forties, appearing behind it.

“welcome, you must be the sellers. please, come in.” the unknown man spoke, and she and harry made their way inside.

harry laid the bag carefully on the table, beside a briefcase, previously set down.

“thank you, sir. as per your request by email, the-”

“actually,” harry interrupted, “you didn’t speak with me. she,” he pointed to the girl beside him, who had a stony expression, “is the head of the whole operation, so if you want to explain something to someone, you can do so with her.”

this was also something they were both used to, but that didn’t make it any less annoying. if only they knew they were actually talking to the owl, they’d probably kiss the her shoes.

the deal was over in 5 minutes, the majority of which was spent with the two of them counting the money, making sure every penny was in that briefcase. after confirming so, they barely said goodbye to that sexist prick, and went back to their car.

the drive to the motel was quiet, but not uncomfortably so: harry’s right hand took place on her left thigh as usual, while her arm was stretched behind his headrest, playing mindlessly with his curls, scratching his scalp lightly.

“hey, pretty boy.” she called, a soft smile on her lips.

harry smirked at the nickname, he couldn’t help it, “yes?”

“i really love you,” she softly said, taking her hand away from his hair and moving it to stroke his cheekbone, “you know that?”

harry couldn’t help but feel his tummy warm up at her words, his cheeks getting a bit flushed. “i do know, darling, but thank you for the reminder.” he snickered, “i love you too.” he said, and took his right hand off her leg to grab her hand, planting a soft kiss to her palm, and to every knuckle.

once they finally reached the motel, harry turned off the ignition and turned to face her. his hand took a hold of her jaw, and pressed a kiss against her pouty lips. she sighed into the kiss, a thing that drove harry absolutely crazy.

“what if-” she tried to talk, but was quickly interrupted by harry kissing her again, “we go to the room to-” another kiss, “put down our things and-”, yet another kiss, “then we have a drink at the bar?” she put her hand on harry’s chest to push him a bit further, or else she wouldn’t be able to finish the sentence. “if i’m not mistaken it’s right by the reception. sounds good?”

harry nodded, and to seal his agreement he kissed her once again.

after making their way down from their room into the motel bar, they sat down at the counter, harry’s hand on her back while she climbed on the stool.

the bar was definitely empty, just a couple of old men sat in the corner of the room, a deck of cards between them.

“two old fashioned, please.” harry asked the man behind the counter.

it was a sort of a tradition, getting that drink after a deal: the first time they did a deal together, he was the one suggesting going for a drink, which she — surprisingly to him — did not turn down. once they reached the pub nearby, she ordered an old fashioned, and asked harry what he wanted, to which he answered “the same”, and it became a tradition ever since then.

“oh wait-” she said all of a sudden, which made harry turn his head towards her.

“oh i’m sorry, did you want something else?” he asked, unsure of even his question, since she had never ordered something else.

she quickly shook her head, “no no, don’t worry, i just realized i forgot my phone in our room.” she stood from the stool, “i’m gonna go get it and i’ll be right back, alright?” after she spoke, she left a lingering kiss on his cheek.

harry hummed and with a little smile, he playfully said, “be quick, i’m gonna miss you.”

she returned his smile, and opened the motel bar door, “i’m gonna miss you too, pretty boy.”

harry didn’t think any of it after ten minutes, she probably got caught up on something online, or had to answer to an email right away and couldn’t wait.

he didn’t think any of it after twenty minutes, thinking she may have had a call to make and it was taking a bit longer than usual. he settled on shooting her a message, asking if she was fine. the message was left on delivered.

but after thirty minutes, he needed to check on her. what if she was sick and he was there waiting for her at the bar like an idiot? what if there was a problem and she needed his help, even if she would most likely never admit it?

he left some banknotes on the counter, and rushed his way upstairs.

once he stood in front of the door, his blood run cold: the door was ajar.

something was wrong, very wrong.

carefully, he pushed the door, reaching for his pocket knife; once it was open, his eyes darted around the room, looking for something out of place.

the thing is, it wasn’t that something was out of place, it was that something was missing: her bag, her clothes, her laptop, herself, they were all missing. there was no trace of her, as if she had never been there.

“what-” he rushed in, the door left slightly open behind him. he hastily opened the bathroom door, checking if maybe she was there, but, alas, she was not.

“what the fuck is going on?” harry muttered to himself, so confused that he was sure that his movements weren’t even making sense. his head kept turning from side to side, trying to find something, anything to help him understand what was going on.

he was never one to panic, always been a pretty clearheaded guy in every situation he’s found himself in, but not when his girl was involved, and especially when he was totally in the dark about what had happened.

his eyes finally zeroed in on a piece of paper on the desk.

of course, of course she’d be smart and leave him some sort of trace, so he could find her and get her back.

he stumbled on his steps, his legs wobbling as if made of jelly and with frantic fingers, he opened the piece of paper, which showed just four, short words.

mors tua, vita mea.

“wh-what, no-”, he rambled, shaking his head energetically, choosing not to believe the reality that was downing on him. “no, no, it can’t-” he kept chanting, over and over, but his rambling was cut short.

in his peripherals, he saw the red and blue lights bouncing off the dirty white walls of the motel room, the sound of the police car doors closing and of the steps of the officers coming up the stairs, but the sounds were almost muted, the shock making his ears ring.

the door was pushed open, three officers coming in first, guns blazing, while the others were surely waiting all around the motel, pointing their guns at him through the windows.

“put your hands up! over your head!”

harry robotically obliged, not in control of his body anymore.

“harry styles, you’re under arrest. you have the right to remain silent, anything you say…”.

he didn’t hear the rest of the miranda rights over the sound of the faith he had in her shattering, puncturing his lungs and making it hard to breathe.

—

18 months later.

“styles, you have a visitor.”

harry’s eyes opened at the voice of the guard, the ceiling of his cell staring back at him. those were words he didn’t get to hear often, only two other times, and both times it was always a nosy journalist wanting to write a story about a pretty successful art thief. he laid still, pondering whether to go or stay in his shoe box of a cell for the rest of the day.

“styles, get up. i don’t have all day.”

harry dragged his feet along the corridor, and once he arrived to the designated room, he headed towards the seat the officer pointed. once he sat down, he grabbed the black phone receiver, and didn’t even bother looking at the person standing in front of him, his eyes closed already in annoyance.

“look, if you’re another fucking journalist, i’m not gonna say a word to you, so you wasted your time coming here and i’m asking you to leave.”

the person in front of him hesitated, as he heard a shallow breathe on the other end of the receiver.

“hi, pretty boy.”

harry’s eyes had never opened so fast, and his heart skipped a beat.

no, no, this wasn’t real, this was just his mind playing tricks on him: stupid, fucking horrible and cruel tricks.

the voice didn’t match the exterior: the person in front of him had another haircut, a whole other hair colour, the eyes — the feature he most loved about her — covered by large sunglasses.

but he knew. he knew it was her: the way her lips were set in her natural pout, the shape of her face, the freckle she had at the right corner of her bottom lip.

the way his heart was going out of his chest trying to reach for her.

he was supposed to hate her — and he did, he so did — but the way his nickname fell from her lips lit up something in him, something that no matter how much he wanted it to be dormant, it was still there.

his brain could only manage to ask her the one question that nagged at him ever since that day.

“why.”

he stared at her through the glass, green tired eyes boring into her soul. she knew it was risky, showing up at a prison under yet another false identity, but she knew she couldn’t leave without saying goodbye one last time. one real last time.

so she swallowed harshly, and opened her mouth, keeping her answers short in order not to break down.

“think about the place where you first met me, harry.” she murmured, while his stony expression was staring back at her. “i had no other choice.”

harry chuckled darkly, a grin so deranged that she felt her blood run cold. this answer of hers opened the gate to all the hatred that had been boiling in him for 18 long months.

“that’s such bullshit, and you know it. you had a choice — you fucking did — and you made it. you chose to tip-off the police, you chose to leave your name out of every document, you chose to use a fake identity with me as well, and make it impossible to track you; you chose to pack your bags and steal the car, you chose to leave me behind and letting me take the blame for it.” his voice was laced with venom. “i spent 18 fucking months in this cell, with just one question running through my mind, all day, all night, every day: why did you choose to do this to me.”

“harry, i told you, i had-”

“bullshit!” he screamed, a prominent vein on his neck, while smashing his fist against the plastic glass, over and over again. “you ruined my fucking life, and you have the gall to give me that as the reason why you did it? tell me the truth! tell me the fucking truth! you owe me at least that.”

the volume of his voice and the violence he was hitting the glass with made her stand up and hang up the receiver, scrambling to get away from him before his actions brought too much attention on her as well. three officers had to come in to stop harry from smashing down the glass and jumping on the other side of the window, and had to drag him away whilst he was still fighting with all his strength, his legs kicking and arms flailing trying to be freed, his voice repeatedly shouting just one word, over and over: why.

nine days later, harry found himself moved to a facility of a higher security rank: his violent act during the visit wasn’t an isolated episode, and basically opened the door to a side of harry that he never knew. he never knew such anger in his life.

the guard guiding him stopped in front of the nth same looking cell.

“bradford, your new roomie is here.” the guard sarcastically said, making harry want to punch his face in, but unable to do so because of the cuffs on his wrists.

the man laying in the bunk barely scoffed and glanced at harry while he was walking into his new “home”.

once the guard went away, bradford turned to harry and looked him up and down, then returned to stare at the ceiling. harry could perhaps even manage to put up with the guy, if he always kept this quiet, but he felt like at least an introduction was to be done, to be the least civil. “‘m harry, harry styles. and you are?”

his new cellmate groaned softly while standing up, putting his legs down from the bunk.

“i’m bradford, chris bradford. and i know exactly who you are.”

harry was definitely dumbfounded, “what? how do you-?”

“your case was all over the news, even inmates got to know about it. but most of all, i know you because i’ve been you.”

harry’s confusion must’ve been displayed clearly on his face, because chris just scoffed and kept on talking.

“we’ve been framed by the same person." he murmured, "and we’re gonna take her down together.”

—

the latin phrase mors tua vita mea, of medieval origin, means “your death, my life” (or: “your death (is) my life”).

beyond the dramatic tone of the literal sense, this expression is used when within a competition or in the attempt to reach a goal there can be only one winner: the saying indicates that the failure of one is an indispensable prerequisite for the success of another.

—

taglist: @a-strange-familiar @stilesissaved @harrysonlylover @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @kittenhere @neverstaisfied

–

please, let me know what you think and please, please reblog! thank you so much for being here, it means the world <3 also, just a little fyi, there's no plan for a part 2!

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic rec #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #getaway car #harry styles x you #my writing #harry styles story #harry styles imagine

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sunsetsandsunshine · 7 months ago

Text

An issue I need to address:

TW: Drama, cussing…yk all that jazz. I apologize that this post is what you all are receiving from me today. But I need to talk about this before it get’s worse.

Okay, I just want to clarify that there should be no hate being sent towards @osctwordfan for this. Hate and hurtful comments will not and cannot fix what has been done. But that does not I am not angry about it. I am mad. I am livid. Only two people on this site has been able to make me this genuinely upset and it’s frustrating that making a PUBLIC POST is the only way to get this person’s attention.

4 days ago, May 16th, @osctwordfan started following me. Which, I greatley appreciated because HELLO??? Who wouldn’t, right? A new follower is just an awesome feeling to have. So, I checked their blog to see what they liked and we shared SO many similar interests it was almost scary. And I followed back.

If you know me for a while, you know my whole “Hi new mutual 💝” message I send to my new mutuals. Because 1: I love talking to people and 2: I just want others to feel like they’re welcome. (If you haven’t received one yet it’s either bc you’re a little older than me or idk how to send the message. BUT YOU WILL GET ONE TRUST 💞💓💘💖💝)

And you all know how you can SEE when someone is online? Well, they were online when I texted this. And I got no response. I just assumed it was nervousness or shyness so I didn’t really question it. Until a few minuetes later they reblogged my “You can always ask” fic.

Which, woo-hoo I guess. But my message was still not answered. But I didn’t think it was THAT deep.

The next day, May 17th, I noticed they were online. I sent a quick “Hi” again, awaiting a response. About 5 minutes later I was met with one, except it wasn’t the one I was expecting or hoping for.

It was a request. For a fanfiction. Okay okay cool. Coolio. You…ignore my two messages of me just simply saying a quick “hello” and you don’t answer…instead you ask for a tickle fanfiction of some turtles?

I get people are shy. I get that. I do. But me and one of my best friends were talking about it on Insta and it made no damn sense. Following, reblogging and requesting things from an individual that’s been trying to speak with you for the past few days and you not responding and then ASKING something of them is just…weird.

Me and one of my best friend’s convo:

So, on May 18th I saw they were online again, and so I texted the following:

Which I felt was fine. It was straight to the point. But where my anger really emegred was when I got notifications of my fics being reblogged by the same person. AGAIN. NOT EVEN 3 MINUTES LATER.

And then May 19th they liked another post of mine. Although it was a post that you would have to DIG DEEP FOR. Because I made it a year ago and only 4 people liked it (INCLUDING ME.). So you would have to LOOK LOOK to find it.

Then yesterday, May 20th, was just my breaking point. I was chilling, having a nice evening, talking with my fellow mutuals, writing a fic (AND FINISHING WOO-HOO) until I get a notification. And guess what? It’s just another reblog by the same person.

Did I get any responses of my pervious texts? Nope. Not at ALL.

I am sick and hurt of being treated as if I’m just a computer that makes fanfictions.

I am a PERSON. A human being that for the past week has been trying to talk with you. And you at fucking 16 should understand that.

You are one whole year older than me and you think you have the right to treat me this way. Who the absolute hell do you think you are?

Because let me get this through your head: I live in an African and Jamaican household, and one thing that we let each other know day in and day out is to never ever let someone make you feel like you’re less.

So when you see this @osctwordfan I am hoping you have a good explanation regarding to last week.

@ ing mutual’s in this because this is INSANE and I am LIVID rn:

@itzsana-kiddingmenow @veryblushyswitch

@skyloladoodles @saturnzskyzz @backy-san

@creativecutie @savemeafruitjuice

@mythica0 @leosmasktails @someone1348 @vxlepop

@anxious-lee @charismakat

@sunny-117 @odder-outlet @jamiesgotchu @ziipzeepzop-eez

@danineedshelp @pocky-dragon

@my-l0v3r-v3rse @rice-cake-teen10

#Didn’t add everyone bc that would be SM people #Mostly everyone though #Look #At the end of the day I’m sorry it came down to me making a post about you #But you seriously left me no choice #LIKE ACTUALLY #But srsly idfk what could be the explanation towards all of this #You sent me an ask and you would be able to see the notifications of me messaging you #If you had messages off I wouldn’t be able to in the first place/Tumblr would tell me #Also mutual’s you don’t have to respond if you don’t want to 💞💞💞#I’m just trying to figure out if I have a right to be upset abt this…#Sfw tickle community #Sfw tickle blog #Blog drama #Follower drama #Dude I don’t even want an apology I just want you to EXPLAIN #I hate drama #But I needed to post this #I’m not trying to be mean rn #I’m just trying to understand

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asteroidzzzn · 1 year ago

Text

stargirl | part 4

pairing: leadsinger!ellie x bassist!reader

warnings: cursing, smoking, drinking, eventual sexual themes, ellies still closed off, reader is ridiculously delulu for a while, kinda angst im so sorry

songs in this chapter: do i wanna know - arctic monkeys

word count: 2.1k

a/n: i put my whole asterussy into this. also changed the pairing thing bc reader made a bit of a career change

summary: now that you're officially a the fireflies bassist, you're going on tour, where trouble will be looking for you.

it all arrived sooner than you thought it would. sooner than you were prepared for. you were told you were given twenty five to thirty minutes to get up on stage, sing some songs, and leave. you had good songs prepared, and you would practice all night in the hotel room before you performed.

seemed simple enough, right?

it was only a stadium nearly sold out by ten thousand people, maybe even more. and worst of all, you would have to sing. you had wished there was a contract you signed after joining the band, saying there was no way in hell you would sing in front of an audience, let alone a song you wrote.

but your mouth failed you when ellie asked you to be the one to sing the duet with her. yes was the only answer you could manage. for some reason, you felt a bit more at ease when you noticed the flash of a smile on her face your words caused.

you were getting used to ellie. you knew nothing about her past, but to be fair, she knew nothing about yours. it was surface level for the most part, except for...

you couldn't stop thinking about the journal. her songs. the trust she must have had in you. the lyrics. it made your head spin when you lingered on the memory. her masked grins, the blush hidden under her freckled cheeks, the way she sounded when she laughed gently, and how you had thought about bottling it up and selfishly keeping it just to yourself.

the way you had learned so much in that one night, yet so little. there were embarrassing instances where you would upset ellie by doing something so ordinary, such as complimenting her tattoo, and asking who did it. dina would pull you aside, muttering that "it's not about you, she's just having a bad day."

she never brought up the night when you shared your songs with each other. by the next morning, it was back to the tolerating sort of distance that was safe enough and never changing.

she treated you like a coworker.

༊*·˚

you were in the car, headphones in your ears playing a calming melody while you were half asleep. jesse rested with one hand on the wheel as dina curled up in the passenger seat, trying to get some sleep as well. ellie tapped a rhythm on her thighs and whistled a soft tune.

you yawned quietly and shifted around, pulling your blanket higher up to your neck. you made sure to keep distance between you and ellie. back in june, you found out the hard way that ellie didn't quite appreciate physical touch as much as the average person.

she mumbled something you didn't understand with your headphones in. apparently, the blanket had shifted off her lap when you tugged it towards yourself on the other side of the car.

her hand ghosted over your neck, leading up to your ear, sending harsh chills down your spine. your gaze shot to hers when she pulled one of the buds out of your year, and leaned closer to your face to whisper.

"don't steal the blanket, it's freezing."

you scoffed and paused your music. "is that really what you woke me up to say?"

"well, yeah. do you want me to die of hypothermia?"

"you'll live. and i'm not stealing it, because it's mine," you said, turning your head away to face the car door.

"oh, that's my bad. i thought it was your little sisters or something. cause, y'know," she said under her breath, but you caught it.

"i'll have you know, people of any age can own a disney blanket."

"whatever you say, princess."

your eyes widened against the blanket. you attempted to level your voice.

"saying shit like that will have you dying of hypothermia," you teased back over your shoulder.

"wait, no, actually. i'm really cold," she huffed out air in amusement, and promptly shivered.

you let out a heavy sigh. "okay, fine," you adjusted to sit in the middle seat, avoiding looking at her entirely as your thighs pressed together, but she didn't seem phased.

your head fell back against the headrest. you watched the stars fly by through the sunroof until sleep found you once more.

about an hour later, the car hit a bump. immediately after, jesse hissed, throwing a hushed, "sorry, guys!" towards the backseat.

your heads flew forward. you winced at the harsh awakening and glanced to your right. ellie had twisted to have her torso leaning on yours, as her head rested on your shoulder.

your breath hitched. she woke up quickly and pressed her hands on the seat to sit up, distancing herself from you.

you opened your mouth. an apology, maybe? your mouth closed. your gaze remained on ellie's. her expression was unreadable, but you could tell she was exhausted.

her voice was smaller than you had ever heard it when she finally spoke up.

"...just...for..."

you barely registered her breaths as words. her touch was light. she settled back into the position with her head on your shoulder.

you didn't dare say a word.

༊*·˚

you checked into the hotel at four in the morning, the next day. you were barely conscious of what you were doing, where you were going. dina handled the logistics, as she was the only one who had gotten enough sleep to be functioning at the early hour.

you trudged into the room. it was beautiful and spacious. two large beds were lined up on the left wall, a sliding glass door that led to a balcony with chairs and plants, a coffee table, a television, two closets, and a bathroom, with a shower and a bathtub.

while hauling your belongings onto the first bed you saw, dina explained that she and jesse would leave the door between the neighboring rooms unlocked in case you or ellie needed anything.

if it weren't four in the morning, you would have come up with a quick excuse to switch rooms. to not be stuck with ellie for a week straight, sleeping just a few feet apart.

unfortunatly for you, you nodded and let her slip away. the door clicked shut.

sheets rustling behind you and crickets chirping were the only two noises to be heard. you saw ellie had slung her suitcase on the bed and begun unpacking her clothing to fold them into her bedside drawer.

if it weren't four in the morning, you would have made a quip at her, something along the lines of, "you don't look like someone that folds their clothes so neatly."

there were a lot of things you would have done differently if it weren't four in the morning.

you stole a glance at her, that lasted a moment too long. she caught your eyes, and stared back. you said nothing. a silent agreement, that the events of this night, as well, would be left to be forgotten. never mentioned again. a secret. your secret.

it was a sudden, uncharacteristically timid habit you and ellie found yourselves doing.

glimpses hidden. the pointless acts of kindness, because one of you happened to remember a small detail. just by chance. nervous hands stilled by another pair. and there was nothing more. it meant nothing, you would tell yourself. there were just two hands searching for warmth, finding each other under tables, out of view.

there weren't jokes between the two of you. teases that could be interpreted in a way that meant things were real.

maybe this was just an act of convenience. maybe she did this with anderson, too. maybe you weren't all that special, or all that different.

but you couldn't deny the way she made you feel. so special, and so noticed.

on friday night, the four of you were huddled on the floor.

"you good, man?" jesse nudged you with his bottle, and took a swig. he passed it back to you.

you nodded with your eyes screwed shut due to the taste of the alcohol. you swallowed.

"i'm nervous. i haven't sung in so long, and i've never been in front of an audience this big. i'm terrified, actually," you said, your head beginning to buzz. your hand raised for you to take a large sip, but ellie caught your arm.

"hey, easy up on that. can't be hungover on stage."

"don't act like you care that much," you said, a pent-up hint of rage in your voice. you were angry at her. you were angry at her for being able to be so kind sometimes, yet so distant and strange, and everything else without a single explanation. but you needed to stop. before the alcohol urged you to say things that were meant to be unsaid. ellie's tongue poked her cheek as her eyebrows furrowed.

she ignored your comment. "we should practice the bridge of do i wanna know."

"i just need to get some sleep," you mumbled, pushing against the floor to stand up, but she dragged you right back down by your shirt. her tone became stern.

"we're practising. i won't let you get up there and embarrass me tomorrow. you said you were ready for this, so act like it," she emphasized her words with points directly at your chest.

"fine," you spat, digging into the pile of sheets scattered around for the song. ellie plugged in her guitar, and flipped a few switches.

"what are you doing?"

"i said we're practicing, so i'm making sure the guitar actually makes noise. for the song. songs kind of need music, if you didn't know. fuck else would i be doing, smartass? you always this insufferable when you're drunk?"

"i'm not drunk." you had to bite back a meaner response. in your peripheral, dina and jesse shared confused looks.

dina patted jesse's leg. "hey, we're pretty tired, and i think we've done enough preparing for tonight. see you guys in the morning," she gestured for jesse to stand up as well, who said a quick goodbye.

and shut the door.

"ready?" ellie glanced at you through her eyebrows.

you nodded, and she tapped her guitar, muttering five, six, seven, eight.

she was nearly whispering the lyrics. you inaudibly cleared your throat, and began to sing. you echoed along in a breathy, light tone when the song called for it, although most of the song flowed as a conversation between you and ellie.

it ended as quickly as it started, with one final strum, followed by silence. ellie set the guitar on the floor, and set her hands in the now empty space in her lap. her mouth opened hesitantly.

"that wasn't bad—"

"i'm heading to bed—"

the two of you spoke simultaneously. you stood up in a rush. you stared at her for a moment, then turned into the bathroom. you cleaned up and changed into your pyjamas.

you stared at the ceiling. your eyes found ellie, who was settling into bed herself. her body was turned away from you.

"...i'm sorry," you whispered.

ellie's head turned over her shoulder.

"why?"

"for being a bitch."

she snickered at that, and shifted so you both lay on your sides, facing each other from opposite sides of the room. she remained quiet, which urged you to go on.

"i'm terrified, ellie. i shouldn't have taken my fear out on you. you're right. i did say i was ready for this. but it's still...difficult. i don't want to disappoint you guys," you whispered as low as possible, with a sliver of a tremble in your voice.

her gaze softened. a minute passed. your ears rang from the silence. since you didn't have anything more to tell her, and she seemed to have no response, you flipped to face the dark wall, and shut your eyes. a tear slipped through your eyelashes. you made no attempt to rub it from your cheek. or the rest of the tears that began dropping, for that matter.

"goodnight," you said.

the opposite bed creaked. the wood under your own creaked. you felt her body beside you. she wouldn't touch you, she only laid there. maybe she waited for you to say it was okay. you moved to rest on your back, with your face near hers.

your eyes fell on each feature on her face. studying her. searching for something.

"goodnight," she whispered, inching dangerously closer to you.

you held your breath. you felt her own on your nose.

"tell me to leave, and i will."

"no," you shook your head weakly.

you grabbed her hand and flipped to face away from her. you placed her arm around your waist, and settled into her hold. her face nestled into your neck.

you took a deep breath, and fell asleep.

in the morning, you woke up not beside ellie, but an imprint on the mattress.

a/n: bleeeeh :p xD ☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆ i promise this does have a happy ending it will get there eventually i just needed some angst 🙏

taglist: @ximtiredx @gold-dustwomxn @elliesinterlude

also ill just tag some people that have commented on any of the earlier parts, so comment if u guys wanna be on the permanent taglist! :3

tags: @cassharass @lunarpretty @emluvselandabs @inf3ct3dd

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams angst #ellie williams fluff #tlou game #the last of us #tlou 2 #wlw #band au #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fanfic #rockstar!ellie

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gerec · 5 months ago

Note

At this point I'm embarrassed to ask how the search fics on your blog (I'm not very good with tumblr) this question probably already exists, but I wanted to read fics about Erik in prison or prison fics.

No worries Anon; I appreciate you wanting to do so before sending me an ask. These lists are fun to do but do take time, so I always encourage people to check if their ask has already been addressed before submitting one :D

As for how to search - if you go to my blog at gerec.tumblr.com you can click on the 'gerec's fic rec' tag on my left nav menu and it'll bring up all the lists I've posted over the years. There are a lot of great fics to explore! To find something more specific, go to the search bar and enter 'gerec's fic rec', a comma, and then whatever particular prompt you're looking for - in your case 'prison au'.

Tumblr's search is a little funky so it doesn't always work but there you go lol. In any case, to answer your question, I've NOT put a list of Erik in prison or prison aus before so here's one for you!!!

(Remember to read the tags!)

Jail Bait by Villain

Charles is the new psychiatrist at a high profile correctional facility for rogue mutants, and Erik is the notorious criminal who takes a liking to him.

The stars incline us, they do not bind us by ikeracity, Pangea

Intergalactic Federation pilot Lieutenant Charles Xavier is assigned last-minute to a high profile mission: transporting over two thousand prison inmates from an old and overfilled prison complex to a newer, higher-capacity prison stronghold located on the outer reaches of the galaxy. Just as he's settling down for a long and uneventful ride, things take a turn for the worse after the inmates riot and stage a hostile takeover of the ship, leaving Charles to find himself at the complete mercy of cold-blooded killers and facing the chilling prospect that he might not ever make it back home alive.

The Force of Reality by valancysnaith

Charles almost misses him because Erik’s mind feels different. Muted, somehow, like all those sharp edges and shimmering metallic bright spots are wrapped in cotton. Erik’s thoughts were never this foggy, even asleep; his is the prickliest, most carefully compartmentalized mind Charles has ever touched. Now it feels wrong.

Submission by FuryRed

Charles didn’t belong in prison- literally, he really didn’t. Accused of a crime he didn’t commit, Charles unfortunately found himself held captive in the world’s most formidable mutant prison- a place where even his telepathy wouldn’t be able to save him.

The situation would be bad enough, but to make matters worse it turned out that the man who essentially ran the prison- an experienced criminal by the name of Erik Lehnsherr- had a habit of doing whatever was necessary to get what he wanted, and it just so happened that the thing he decided he wanted most… was Charles.

plastics by phalangine

Erik has been convicted and locked away for years, but Charles still comes to visit.

Lies We Tell by Gerec

Dr. Charles Xavier thinks he knows everything there is to know about Erik Lehnsherr - renowned terrorist, fellow mutant, and his patient of the past six months. Their relationship blossoms into something intimate and wholly unexpected, and Charles finds himself fantasizing about a life at Erik's side.

When it happens, it's nothing at all like he imagined.

Rotten Rules by ellenchain

On Erik's first day, he can already tell that prison is indeed not a pony farm. Still, he can't help sticking his nose into dark machinations going on in the depths of the prison. He quickly learns that there is only one rule: eat or be eaten. In addition to all the rumors about dangerous inmates and a corrupt director, a charismatic man from block C in particular does not let him get a good night's sleep. But he too seems to have more secrets than he makes Erik believe ...

Heartaches Disguised as Homelands by InsertSthMeaningful

After Kennedy's assassination, Charles pays Erik exactly one visit in prison.

Containment by feathershollyandgolly

Guilt swirls within as Charles watches the concrete door slide open. As he enters a hollow prison, both modest and intimidating. He is well aware that what he is about to do is a terrible thing.

White by still_lycoris

Erik finds different ways to cope in his prison.

The Last Love Song & Testament of Charles F. Xavier by midrashic

When Erik is accused of domestic terrorism, Charles has no choice but to marry him to keep him out of jail.

Liability by citrinesunset

A few guards in the Pentagon decide to give Erik some harsh treatment.

Conjugal Visits by ikeracity, Pangea (part of a series)

How Erik and Charles finally get married does not exactly go the way anyone involved ever imagined.

In The Dark by Gerec

Late one night, someone visits Erik in his cell beneath the Pentagon.

Quid Pro Quo by Gerec

Written for the prompt: While he's imprisoned in the Pentagon, some of the guards decide to punish/have "fun" with Erik.

#gerec rambles #fic rec #cherik #gerec's fic rec #erik lehnsherr #magneto #prison au

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blametheeditor · 3 months ago

Note

Mike is the best giant to have guarding you, even if he would totally forget about you if he put you in a pant pocket! 10/10 would let hold me

mcfries123, I couldn't agree more.

There needs to be more Mike appreciation in this household! Because he is by far the best of giants. Especially when he forgets about you in a pocket.

Content Warnings: Cursing. Mentions of accidental death and injury. Mentions of experimenting on others. Addressing someone 'it'. Mentions of food poisoning.

Exhibit A

___________________________

“Hypothetically...”

Scott jolts at the sound of Vincent’s voice, turning to see the purple man materializing out of the shadows, looking uncharacteristically somber as their eyes meet.

This can’t be good. “What the hell is he up to?”

Vincent’s eyebrows raise at the want to get straight to the point. And even though Scott wants to do nothing more than berate the purple man for continuously trying to give him a heart attack, hypotheticals are rarely used between them. Because there’s no such thing as a ‘hypothetical’ in their lives, simply warnings of what’s to come.

“Hypothetically,” Vincent repeats as he slowly walks closer. Sends the hair on the back of Scott’s neck standing straight. Not because it feels like he’s being hunted down despite being completely alone in a dark hallway at Fazbear’s Pizzeria with an admittedly dangerous man. No, it’s the slumped posture with hands in pockets and amber eyes watching him like he might disappear at any second that terrifies him. “Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

There is no stopping Scott sending a scathing glare at the taller. It falters when there’s not even a hint of a smirk, but there better be a damn good reason for asking such a ridiculous question like their lives depend on it. “Seriously, Vince?”

“Seriously,” the purple man murmurs gravely. Steps so close he’s almost staring directly down at Scott, making him feel much smaller than he really is despite only being two inches shorter.

Why is he surprised? Being told about his horrific death to come in the most convoluted way possible is just a normal Tuesday to him. “I wouldn’t step on you, but I can’t promise I wouldn’t make sure no one else did.”

Vincent hums. “I’m a little hurt, Scotty.”

“Like you wouldn’t immediately turn me into fish bait,” Scott scowls.

The smallest of smiles lifts the corner of Vincent’s mouth, disappearing so quickly it’s almost like it never happened. “Clearly our friendship means nothing to you. But, hypothetically, what if you turned into a worm.”

...no, that’s impossible. He can't just turn people into a worm. “Is this purely hypothetical?”

“The worm part, yes. The size part, though...”

He’s given a significant look that sends a chill down his spine. “I'm sorry, he’s just going to shrink me?”

“Randomly,” Vincent confirms without any trace of mirth in his voice. “And not just you. Wouldn’t want to perform his first field test on someone much more useful when they’re taller than five feet only to realize it can’t be reversed.”

Scott searches Vincent’s face for any sign that this is just to scare him, a test to make him reveal just how attached he has become to certain night guards, to see if he’ll go against the company just to save himself. There’s nothing except for a single sliver of fear in Vincent’s normally vacant eyes. Meaning this is real. As if the countless other experiments and the laundry list of responsibilities weren’t enough.

“Are you on the list?”

“Not at the moment.” The purple man raises an eyebrow. “Would you be willing to at least put me on a table if I promise not to use you as bait.”

And suddenly, Scott’s faced with the realization there is a very real threat of his best friend being able to accidentally crush him under his shoe without even realizing. For Scott to kill Vincent if he were to never notice his minuscule form on the floor, or mistaken him for an irate gnat. For someone to mistake him as an annoying insect because they wouldn’t know something like someone shrinking could be possible.

“What do you mean by random?” Scott breathes.

“As in,” Vincent begins solemnly. “Who would you trust even if they had absolutely no clue you were smaller than three inches tall.”

Mike watches something peer out from underneath a game cabinet.

He originally thought it was a bug when he first saw it. The skittish movements when it first thought about running away from the table didn’t help its case, especially as it kept ducking back under the tablecloth before he could get a good look at it.

But once it finally darted out into the open, he could see it wasn’t a bug. He’s dealt with too many different types to assume he just hadn’t managed to run into something that walks on two legs until now. And right before it disappeared from sight again, it had gotten close enough for him to make out hair and two arms moving in time with the desperate sprint.

Definitely not a bug. This was his first time encountering an action figure that can move on its own, though.

He was a bit curious. Not enough to leave his post by the restaurant doors, because the moment he does is the moment David cuts his shift covering for yet another absent day guard short and send him home after banning him from Fazbear Entertainment Center for a week. So instead he watched the shadows under the game cabinet every so often after checking to make sure no one who shouldn’t be in the building slipped by him.

Was rewarded with the tiny figure carefully leaning out of the shadows as it attempts to wave him down.

Mike is more than happy to give it attention considering all the hard work it put in to grab it. Even more so when he recognizes the flame of red hair, smirking with pride at how well Fritz managed to avoid having a parent scream or accidentally entice a hell spawn to grab him off the ground. Who knew the kid had it in him.

Oh shit, wait a minute. Irish Jigs aren’t supposed to be living action figures.

At the realization one of the assholes he’s in charge of either fucked with shit they weren’t supposed to, or something was fucking shit up with them, the need to help overrides making David happy. Besides, the animatronics at this restaurant can actually grab anyone causing a fuss. They’ll survive if he takes a small break.

With a glance around the room filled with screaming children, Mike makes his way over to the game cabinet being used for cover. Keeps a close eye on the miniscule form, a reassurance he sees the kid and is on the way to help. He also watches to see if the kid gets spooked and races off either further into the shadows or toward him.

Fritz doesn’t move a muscle. And when the guard is so close he needs to look almost directly down, there’s the telltale sign of blinding terror. But that’s what Mike’s for, to get the frozen figure somewhere safe until he can kick whoever’s ass needs to be kicked.

Any other circumstance, being so scared your limbs refuse to move would be a bad thing, because there’s nothing worse than being unable to anything, even if running away seems cowardly. Today, they luck out on this being the one time it won’t get them into more trouble than fleeing, because a frozen Fritz is easier to grab than any other one. Doesn’t move a single inch as he kneels down on the floor, not even as he reaches a hand up to get the kid off the ground.

The moment his fingers curl around the kid to scoop him up is the one instincts finally kick in and tiny limbs attempt to punch and kick their way to freedom. It’s too late to do any good though. He doesn’t know how it feels being small enough to loose a fight to a single finger, but he does know what it’s like to be the person with a substantial upper hand. And that is that Fritz is fragile.

Mike is careful, he went for a full grab instead of pinching the kid between his fingers for a reason, but there’s no missing the painful look no matter how small it is.

His eyes narrow as he pins Fritz before lifting his hand up. Raises an eyebrow when the desperate fighting decreases at the same time the miniscule heartbeat increases. Stares for a moment before deciding now will be a bad time to check for injuries. Not when a random kid or asshole of an animatronic can interrupt him.

Fuck, the animatronics. If they see him with a tiny Irish Jig, they’ll demand a turn claiming they’d be better at caring for one.

Like hell they would. And Mike was the one asked for help, not them. But how to hide it to avoid an argument.

He glances down at his uniform, smirking when he spots the chest pocket big enough to fit a card inside, meaning it’s perfect to hide a Fritz not even as tall as his finger. And to test it, he holds it open with his free hand as his occupied one gently rolls the kid until he’s lying in his curled fingers. From there it’s a careful drop into the pocket.

He hears a soft shriek, but as he looks down to check on his cargo, there’s no sign of pain, only a bit of terror. That’s a win in his book.

Offering a smirk, Mike gently pats his pocket to say the kid just needs to wait a little longer. To put words into action, he pushes himself off the floor before turning toward the hallway that leads to David’s office, keeping to the walls so a running hell spawn doesn’t barrel into him and give Fritz a jumpscare.

He makes it to an all too familiar door without incident, giving a knock as he opens it to reveal a suited man hunched over his desk.

“Hey, Douche Bag.”

That earns him a glare over the shoulder. “This is why I regret taking your offer on covering shifts as a day guard. Why are you bothering me?”

And that’s why Mike isn’t going to let David have his very own Pocket Fritz. It’s a privilege, not a right, and clearly their resident douche bag doesn’t deserve the honor.

“Irish Jig feels like shit,” he begins. “I’m taking his ass home.”

The business man hesitates before turning his chair to properly scold the dumbass trying to leave him two employees less than he was an hour ago. That’s Mike, he’s the dumbass. “What the hell did he do?”

Mike shrugs. “Don’t know, some hell spawn might’ve had something. Or someone fucked up the pizza and poisoned his ass.”

“Food poison. Say it properly so I don’t get another wonderful visit from a concerned parent’s lawyer,” David growls. “And I’m not dismissing either of you. As idiotic as it was for Scott to hire a doctor, he might as well be useful for once.”

Mike hums in thought at letting James help care for the tiny Fritz. The guard agrees on the doctor not being a necessity, but his help is appreciated every time it’s offered.

He glances down at his pocket for input. Meets wide green eyes before the miniscule head shakes vigorously. The kid has spoken, and that’s all he needs to shake his own head at David. “There’s no stitches for Snitches to sew. I’ll take him home so the poor bastard can die in goddamn peace.”

The business man goes silent for a moment, most likely deciding whether or not the fight would be worth it. Finally sighs long and hard as he waves a hand. “Why Scott hasn’t fired you I will never know. But fine, go. You just earned yourself a ban from my restaurant until further notice, and Fritz coming into work two hours early tomorrow unpaid.”

Mike gives a lazy sault to say he heard loud and clear. He then closes David’s door and makes his way to the front doors, glad to get off work a few hours earlier than expected. He doesn’t mind doing favors for the others, but damn do those day shifts love cutting into his sleeping hours, especially after particularly long nights. Thank fuck it’s Friday. After tonight’s shift he’ll have a full 24 hours to do shit all but sleep.

As tired as he is, though, he won’t be crashing until he and Fritz come up with a plan to make sure David doesn’t call James on them if the kid doesn’t show up for his shift tomorrow.

At the reminder of why he risked getting banned, he gently pokes the shivering ball huddled in his pocket. “You okay, asshole?”

The kid looks so damn adorable as tiny limbs flail in the attempt to stand up. It only gets better when Fritz finally manages to, only to stand too short to see over the lip. “I’m-m okay. Thanks Mike.”

“Anytime,” he smirks. “So did you fuck with shit, or did someone fuck with you?”

“I think the second one?” Fritz murmurs, almost too soft for him to hear. “I don’t really no what happened. I-I was going to the kitchen to run an order out, and then the ground exploded and I fell under a table tiny.”

Someone’s definitely fucking shit up with them. If he wanted to make a bet, he’d say it’s most likely William. Who else would shrink the poor kid without giving them a heads up. The son of a bitch is lucky Mike was able to find their Irish Jig before anyone else got their hands on him or else there would be hell to pay.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m tired as hell. We’ll head to my place, see if this shit has a timer, and if not I’ll teach you how to be a badass night guard. Sound good?”

Fritz nods his head. “Sounds good.”

Mike has a feeling the kid’s just glad to have someone around to protect him. That’s why the guard’s here, to keep him safe while he does whatever the hell he wants to. After getting checked over for injuries.

The rest of the walk is quiet. He checks on Fritz from time to time as the tiny figure learns the way of the pocket. He didn’t except it to be too much of a hassle, but apparently it’s a bit of a bitch to conquer. The minuscule flame of hair does finally appear after struggling for a good while to climb up to see the rest of the world. Then Mike ruins all the hard work by giving a poke to send the kid falling back into the pocket with a shriek.

By the time Fritz makes it to the top again, Mike’s unlocking the door to his apartment. Perfect timing to let him scoop the kid up to lift up to his face as he walks to the couch to sit down. Gives a smirk at the startled expression he can now properly see.

Without anymore distractions and no possibility of some asshole snatching Fritz away, he can finally make sure no bruises or broken bones made special appearances on this adventure. As long as the person he’s trying to check over lets him do his job, and Fritz curling into a ball as he shies away is a perfect example of that very problem.

“I-I’m okay, Mike!”

He raises an eyebrow. “When did that shit ever work for Jerber.”

Fritz winces. “Never...but I’m okay, really! Promise!”

“Don’t throw around that shit unless you mean it,” Mike warns as he nudges the kid’s side. Sees the brief look of pain before hands are attempting to bat him away. Despite how adorable it is, it’s not enough to distract him. “I know I’m a pain in the ass, but you’re hurt, and I need to make sure you’re not fucked up.”

Nervousness suddenly turns into fear as Fritz stares up at him. “But, but you’re...”

The quiet voice disappears as shivers start up. It takes a moment but he manages to figure out the terror’s being directed toward him. Mike leans back a bit to give the kid some space, watching the miniscule chest take a stuttering breath as the tense shoulders slump.

“Think I’ll fuck you up more?” he guesses.

“You’re so big,” Fritz admits, and then he’s being hit with puppy eyes as tiny arms gesture. “Your fingers are bigger than me! An-n-nd taller!”

Honestly, he didn’t think it’d be too much of an issue. Fritz is tiny enough to fit in his pocket, but that doesn’t change the fact Mike’s responsible for him. Will haul his ass out of the fire any day and then check to make sure he’s okay even if what his own fault for getting hurt.

Mike hums. “So you think I’d fuck you up more?”

Fritz hesitates. Thinks it over before slowly shaking his head. “N-No.”

Nothing else is said. Then the kid holds out his arm before turning his head away. The guard happily takes the permission to check the limb and delicately pinches it between his thumb and first finger. Feels the miniscule muscles tense as he carefully checks for any injuries.

With a hum declaring it’s clean as he frees it, the opposite arm is immediately given. Then the legs at which Fritz stopped shaking and watched Mike work with fascination.

Until he gets to the chest, the kid growing nervous again when he asks for the shirt to be lifted up. “I, um-m...I think it’s bruised.”

“Let me see.”

The puppy eyes don’t get Fritz anywhere. Finally the shirt’s lifted to reveal a dark bruise covering the kid’s chest. Mike looks it over before slowly placing his thumb over the ribcage, careful not to put any pressure.

“Hurt like hell?” he asks when there’s no flinch.

“Not anymore.”

“How about your back?”

Fritz’s brow crinkles in thought. “I don’t think so, it’s just sore.”

That’s enough for Mike to gingerly pinch Fritz’s entire torso between two fingers. Watch for any grimaces or winces as he checks for broken bones. He finds nothing. Thank fuck.

“Alright asshole, you’re good,” the guard proclaims as he pulls his hand away. “Was I a shit or mediocre Stiches?”

“A good one,” Fritz grins. A grin that Mike takes as confirmation he’s finally allowed to get some sleep.

Yawning as his hand forms a fist around the kid, he ignores the yelps in order to turn and lie completely on the couch. Once he’s settled Fritz is then set down on his chest beside the pocket he hid in earlier, just in case it’s wanted again.

“M-Mike?”

The worried call earns a hair ruffle Mike had been wanting to give ever since finding the shrunken bastard. Smirks unashamedly down at the tiny pout. “I’m going to take a nap. Do whatever the hell you want. Just yell if you need me.”

“Oh! Um, okay.”

With one arm tucked behind his head to act as a pillow, the other puts his security ballcap over his eyes to block out the sunlight before settling on his stomach. Just like that, he’s out like a light.

Fritz doesn’t wake him up once with a yell for help. A few times unintentionally at the feeling of tiny footsteps walking across him, the most prominent one when Fritz decides to join his napping by crawling under his hand to curl up underneath his fingers. The only time he woke up completely to check on the kid was when the barely noticeable figure suddenly became too big to use his hand as shelter to keep out the afternoon light.

As Mike lifts his hat to check on the kid still sleeping the day away despite having grown a full five feet two inches within seconds, he admittedly fells a little disappointed a pocket Fritz wouldn’t be joining him for work. A normal sized one might enjoy night guard training a little more, though. Be able to actually switch the cameras and punch the door button instead of just have to watch.

At least David will be happy Fritz won’t be late to work. But Scott won’t be when Mike tells him about their eventful morning.

That’s for later, though. He’ll tell his mentor tomorrow.

Except he forgets to. Forgets about Fritz shrinking in the middle of his shift completely. Only remembers when he spots something trying to escape from the quicksand that is pop-up poppers behind the glass of the prize counter. A certain mechanic who isn’t supposed to only be worth ten tickets.

Well shit.

#it's nice to see you again mcfries!#thank you for spreading awareness Mike is superior #it is a truth not many know #I hope you enjoy this proof as a token of my appreciation #and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!#will this get another chapter?#most certainly will #I have no regerts #g/t #giant #tiny #FNAF bois #ask #BTE writing #cw #content warning

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