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baileybeez · 2 months

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My Top Ten Favorite Bumbleby Moments (My Opinion Obviously)

10. All Fight Scenes

I know I'm technically cheating on this one but whenever these two fight, I know I'm in for a good time. And all of them have been superb. These two are in sync without even communicating with each other. They know each other's abilities and know how to work together well in combat.

9. We're Protecting Each Other

This was a 'you had to be there' moment. It was insane. Even knowing these two would eventually confront Adam, the way they did it blew my mind. I loved seeing these two stand up together to confront Adam and become each other's strength's. They had each other's backs in this moment and were going to do it together.

8. We Were There For Each Other

This moment lived in my head rent free for months after the episode came out. They held hands before this to comfort each other during stressful times. Like Blake reaching out to apologize to Yang when she lost her arm and Blake reaching out when Yang's hand started to shake because of Adam. But this time, Yang reached for Blake in a moment of peace. After everything that happened, she forgave Blake and accepted her after everything they went through together. And all she wanted to do was just hold her hand again.

7. Volume 8 Reunion

The amount of gushing I and many others did during this moment was crazy. We were starved for Bumbleby interactions in Volume 8, especially after Volume 7 did so many with them both. After 24 hours of craziness, the two are at peace once again. Blake at first is worried since they did separate missions Yang might be mad that they didn't work together. But all Yang did to reassure her was smile and the two touched foreheads and later embraced each other. It was such a sweet moment.

6. Date Night

Volume 7 had so many good little bee moments that were adorable and I'm a sucker for fluff. Blake getting her new hair and Yang struggling to compliment it, the selfie, Blake falling asleep on Yang's lap with Yang holding her etc. But the two going to a club and off handedly mentioning they're gonna ignore Team FNKI just to have their own fun. You two can just call it a date, we won't judge lol. With Yang trying to teach Blake how to dance and Blake struggling to learn while laughing. I love how whenever Yang cracks a joke, she looks at Blake because she wants to make sure she see's Blake laughing. Not to mention Nora's comments later in the episode.

"Blake and Yang are off doing they're own thing again."

"Friends huh? Just friends?"

"Two people who have gone through that much? I think there's more going on."

And I will forever be mad RT didn't show us them at their date.

5. The Burning Candle

Ya'll this was the spark that ignited the ship. Not only is the Burning Candle just a great episode but it's an amazing moment for Blake and Yang. We get to see these two open up and communicate their wants and desires. With Yang telling Blake about her past and trying to help Blake so she doesn't push herself too far. And then of course at the end Yang gives her that wink and says 'I'll save you a dance'. Then we later see the two dancing. It was also the first time we saw Blake laughing and happy and it was all because of Yang. Yang who just asked for a dance in return for helping Blake and opening up about her past. I was sold on this ship when this episode came out.

4. How Disarming ~

The gay in my brain would not stop buzzing at this moment. It's amazing seeing how much Blake was the one openly flirting and initiating playful touch. There's a great post by @wixhing0nastar going over Blake's body language throughout the volumes. How a lot of the times Blake is more closed off in her posture, like how she holds herself. But here, she's leaning into to Yang's space and just playfully nudging her. She's not holding back. Also I swear I could hear Blake purr when she said 'How disarming'. Like my breath got caught in my throat. And then when Weiss said 'About time'. I knew this volume had to be the one where they finally get together.

3. Volume 9 Reunion

This is my favorite reunion of Bumbleby. Especially since we had to wait for so long for these two to be reunited. Blake was distraught last volume as she failed to save Yang and thought Yang died in front of her. Yang who had always been there to help her and fight by her side. And the first thing Blake does when she gets a free chance is to tackle hug Yang and hug her tightly. Softly whispering Yang in both disbelief and joy. And Yang simply holds her to reassure her like she did in Volume 8. Honestly, if Weiss and Ruby weren't there they would have probably stayed like that for hours lol.

2. I'm Not Gonna Break My Promise

This used to be my favorite Bumbleby moment of all time and for good reason. Blake and Yang had killed Adam. The first thing Blake does is weep and fall to her knees. She's gone through so much and much of it had to do with him. Her torment of him is over and the person she once knew was dead. And Yang wordlessly just holds her and lets Blake cry. Blake finally gets out that she won't break her promise and swears it. Earlier Adam had mockingly told Yang that Blake made a promise to him once and that she didn't follow through with it. And even earlier in the volume Blake had promised to be there if they faced him. Yang has seen Blake stood by her words with her actions. And just reassures Blake she knows Blake won't break her promise. No more words are exchanged as the two just hold each other and Blake just cries more.

The Confession and Kiss

Was anyone really surprised? I know I wasn't. I loved the number 2 moment on my list so much. But I knew as soon as we got the confession and kiss scene it would more than likely take my top spot. It was all a matter of how it was executed and it was done spectacularly. There's many essays and write ups on why this scene was so good so I apologize if I don't add much to the conversation.

But Blake and Yang are stuck in a punderstorm and are trying to figure out how to get out. With them eventually figuring out they need to say things about each other they've never said before. At this point the two have only really said cute things to each other and then Blake comes out with.

'I think....you're an extraordinary person.'

Honest to god I was already getting emotional from just that as Blake goes in some more. Talking about how Yang does what she says, she brightens others around her and is always brave even when she's scared. The looks and the song Worthy playing in the background only add to how monumental this moment was for me. With Yang talking about how she liked how Blake wasn't intimidated by her even back when they didn't get along. She also talks about how Blake doesn't give up on people even when other people hurt her and she never gives up because she knows what matters to her. Blake has tried to help others and has sometimes failed but she has tried to push through despite labeling herself as a coward. But Yang see's a person always trying to do what's best for the people she loves.

Then we get this moment.

These are my favorite expressions of the whole scene. It's so wholesome, pure and full of love in every detail. At this point the two know what needs to be said but Yang is at first hesitant and the bridge between them widens. Blake asks if Yang thought of something then didn't say it and Yang is so bashful as she is realizing she needs to say those three words. But Yang is scared, she compares it to a cliff and if she goes through with it she'll fall. I've always headcannoed that Yang's greatest fear is letting those she loves down. And that ties into how she fell at Beacon and fell in Volume 8. It can also tie to her with the aftermath of Mercury and feeling she let her team down. She's scared she won't be good enough and will lose it all. It also similarly ties into her abandonment issues.

But Blake points out, they're already falling. Their emotions aren't going to go away just because they're scared. They're already worried for each other when they're fighting to save the world and two thought they were dead last volume. With Blake thinking Yang died and she failed to save her. So Blake encourages Yang gently by telling her to say it.

And after a heavy sigh, Yang confesses with Blake jumping in before she can finish as the two say I love you. The bridge that separated them is gone and they're together. They look at each other with blushing cheeks with Worthy playing in the background. They pull into each other, Blake slowly smiling as they get closer and kiss each other. White lilies sprout from under them as the while lily symbolizes rebirth and rejuvenation of the soul. The flowers are also used at weddings and can also mean purity. It's such a perfect flower to fit this perfect this scene.

And there you have it, my top ten Bumbleby moments. There were lots of moments to choose from and so many of the ones I love unfortunately didn't make it on this list. So here are some honorable mentions down below.

#bumbleby #rwby #sapphic #rwby bumbleby #rwby volume 9 #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #blake x yang #greenlight volume 10 #THIS IS ALL MY OPINION

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southelroydrive · 11 months

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brand new obsession.

pairing: robin buckley x f!reader summary: you have a slight obsession with your girlfriend's hands. word count: 0.9k title: obsession by sir chloe warnings: sexual themes but no smut a/n: it's my wife's birthday so i have to post something for my favourite character of hers <333 (inspired by the middle photo - it lives in my mind rent free)

“you know they filmed these scenes in real mines? and they could only use certain lighting otherwise the entire thing would of like blown up from a methane explosion. oh, and-”

you hum softly in a half-hearted response as your girlfriend rambles about the movie in front of her. the tv illuminates the darkened space of her living room, playing ‘my bloody valentine’ on the screen. the very movie robin insisted on watching for this week’s movie night after you revealed that the half-dressed woman in the opening scene was the catalyst for your gay awakening in 8th grade.

you're sprawled out on her couch, legs pressed together as you rest against her body, cheek pressed against her shoulder. the blanket once draped across your laps now left abandoned on the floor as the only warmth you need is the embrace of the other. but despite the rapid speed of which random facts and critiques tumble from her lips, your attention is completely elsewhere.

as the other moves emphatically with her words, robin’s hand keeps a firm grip on your bare thigh. the shorts you’re wearing hiking up your legs, allowing her fingers to spread across the expanse of exposed skin. and god, does it send your mind reeling.

now, there are an infinite number of things you loved about your girlfriend. from the dusting of her freckles on her shoulders like twinkling stars among the night sky to the scar on her knee from a playground accident when she was six, all these small things culminated into your unconditional adoration for the girl. but nothing could quite compare to her hands.

the way her slender fingers grasp your thigh, feeling the cool metal of her rings against your burning skin that make goosebumps rise on your leg. you're entranced, fixated on the dips of her knuckles or the way her veins pop as her grip tightens when a particularly important statement leaves her lips. you swallow a lump in your throat as her hand moves, almost kneading the soft flesh as she talks passionately. your surroundings muffle, the tv now a distant murmur, biting your lip as a haziness clouds over your mind. head empty except for the ideas filling your head of ways to put her hands to better use, like when she-

“babe?”

“hm?” your head snaps to look up at her, eyelashes fluttering as you blink slowly. once, twice to regain your train of thought. “sorry, what were you saying?”

“nuh uh.” robin shakes her head, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. the hand that had previously been waving around erratically now reaches over to settle on your cheek, cradling the side of your face. “what's got you so distracted, hm?” i thought you liked this movie?”

“i do…” you murmur, nuzzling your cheek into her hand. your head tilts, your eyes locked on hers as your lips press against her palm.

she hums at the contact, stroking your cheekbone with the pad of her thumb as your lips brush against her warm skin. it almost makes her forget what she was saying until her eyes narrow, focusing on the tinge of embarrassment that flushes your cheeks. she leans in closer, her lips grazing the shell of your ear and hot breath fanning across it as she whispers, “so… what is it?”

a huff of air escapes your lips, your head tilting to the side to look around the room. at anything but her to hide the flush that creeps up your cheeks and tints the tip of your ears a deep red. however, you hear a small noise of protest fall from her lips, close to a whine, before she’s gently guiding your head to look at her once again. In a desperate attempt to avoid direct eye contact, your gaze flickers around before they inevitably fall to the culprit of your preoccupied mind. the hand that still firmly grips your thigh. her inquisitive stare follows, and from the corner of your eye you can see the smirk that curls on her lips. and in that second, you are caught.

“oh.. so that’s it?” her voice lowers, sending a shiver down your spine at the deep rasp of your girlfriend’s voice. you feel her shoulders shake with the chuckle that leaves her lips, your entire face feeling like it’s burning from the embarrassment that fills you. it doesn’t help when she squeezes your thigh experimentally, nails lightly digging into plush flesh. and it especially does not help when it elicits a small whimper from your lips.

you feel her hand pause, and you can practically hear the shit-eating grin that spreads across her lips. your face buries into her shoulder, cheeks almost exuding heat from the pure humiliation.

“shut up.” you grumble into the fabric of her shirt, evoking another chuckle from the girl.

“i haven’t said anything, baby. you’re the one drooling over my hands.” “robin!” you gasp sharply, head shooting up as you smack your hand against her chest. said girl bursts into a fit of laughter, wrapping her arms around your waist to pull you into her embrace. you can’t help yourself when you begin to laugh yourself, head buried in her chest that vibrates with every giggle that leaves her lips.

you both sink into each other’s arms, cheeks aching from the wide grins resting on your lips as your laughter eventually drifts off into a comfortable silence. you let out a soft sigh, heavy with contentment, as robin’s hands drift down your back, inching down to your hips. you feel her lips press against the crown of your head before she leans down further, breath tickling your ear.

“you know… i think my hands would look better somewhere else.”

#robin buckley x reader #robin buckley #robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley x you #robin stranger things #robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley fluff

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chaoticevilspacewitch · 2 months

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RWBY Fanfic Recommendation List

Fics that have really struck me, vaguely organized by ship and/or topic.

Bumbleby (Blake x Yang)

first off, basically anything by pugoata. She's the goddess-empress of the Bees. I'm gonna give particular props to Banshee, as it was the first longer fic and AU that I read, and it really opened up my mind to what fanfic could be.

You're a Mountain, Full of Glory - a ski/snowboard with amazing characterization and a closing scene that will live rent-free in my head forever, in a good way.

They Can't Steal the Love You're Born to Find - childhood soulmates repeatedly torn apart and reconnecting, with courtroom drama. One of the most angst-ridden Bee fics I've ever read.

Fucking In Love - pornstar AU that gets right to the sex and slow burns the romance. Hot as hell while also full of tenderness and pining.

Midnight Menagerie - exotic dancer, kinda-cyberpunk dystopia AU. Edges you forever with the sex, earns all the angst tags, and we are majorly trusting @kaelidascope when she promises an amazing happy ending.

Bite Me Like You Love Me - one of the hottest Bee smutfics I've ever read.

You and Me - Blake discovers she's pregnant the day Yang goes MIA on a mission and struggles through being a single mother teaching their child about her amazing other mom. Short, happy ending, amazingly sweet.

WhiteRose (Ruby x Weiss)

The Foxtrot - Ruby and Weiss repair their broken lives after the war. It's one of the most popular RWBY fics of all time for a reason.

Can You See My Strings?/Deja Vu - premium mentally ill Weiss escapes from child abuse angst, with a happy ending if you read the sequel.

But Your Voice Used to Be Mine - Weiss escapes abuse to join RBY's punk band whose smash hit she inspired.

Just One Cigarette - Ruby and Weiss have a little meetup roleplay and it's really good.

Faunus Weiss (generally major themes of struggling with internal and external racism)

Craving the Sky - Weiss has painfully concealed her faunus heritage while she tries to earn her father's love. The support of her team, and the love of Blake and Yang (BeesSchnees) help her soar on her own.

Black Swan Theory - faunus Weiss struggles to recover from child abuse and navigate a deeply racist society while building a relationship with Pyrrha (Schneekos).

Clipped Wings - secret faunus Weiss, dealing with racism and abuse from Jacques, this time slow burning towards Pollination.

Villainesses

Melting Glace - Cinder and Neo find love, and no redemption, in the trauma of failing to destroy Beacon. Will make you cheer for them to win by the end.

Rise from the Ashes - Cinder has a Vader moment and saves Ruby from Salem, and Ruby's pure heart helps her heal, and their adversarial relationship turn to affection. Peak RWBY enemies-to-lovers.

Odds & Ends

The Bermuda Triangle - great modern AU BeesSchnees that gets filthy hot at the end.

Midnight Rose - Summer rescues and adopts Cinder out of Atlas. Their relationship, and Cinder coming to love the Xiao Long-Rose family, is beautifully depicted. Still very much ongoing (no ships as of yet).

Fallen Maiden - Jaune dies protecting Pyrrha at Beacon, and the Fall Maiden power remains split. Will Pyrrha's bloody crusade of vengeance consume her? Or, 'Pyrrha goes full Magneto and fucks Cinder up'.

What's In A Name? - Winter and May grow up together, struggling to cope with their feelings for each other against the background of the Atlas aristocracy.

Red Sky at Night - This excellently-composed fic has a hacked Penny as the primary antagonist of the Beacon arc and builds it to Nuts & Dolts. It captures both Penny's horror at being controlled in her own body and RWBY's fear in fighting a seemingly unstoppable enemy, almost like Terminator vibes, and ultimately takes it to a very sweet relationship.

Linked In Life and Love - I'd be remiss if I didn't mention this one. I really, really love the first act, where Team RWBY sees Blake suffering terribly through a surprise heat cycle and decides that they will all "help" her with it. It's sweet and tender and feels legit for them. I'm not a huge fan of where all the series has gone since, but I would invite anyone to judge that for themselves.

(As I see this getting a decent amount of traffic, I'll just point out that, if it's convinced you [correctly] of my impeccable taste in fanfic, you might want to check out my own RWBY writings)

#rwby #rwby fanfic #rwby shipping #ao3 #rwby recommendations #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #bumbleby #whiterose #save rwby #save crwby #greenlight volume 10 #nuts and dolts

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juyeonszn · 8 months

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SAME DREAM, SAME MIND, SAME NIGHT

PAIRING kim younghoon x f!reader

WORD COUNT 3.60k

GENRES smut ﹒little bit of fluff ﹒little bit of crack tbh

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, fawn when she can’t get enough of the brothers best friend trope, hyunjae and jacob are side characters that never actually make an appearance, younghoon is wearing a ghostface mask for 2 seconds 😵‍💫, reader is down bad, younghoon is also down pretty bad, size kink — the obvious yk, he’s big everywhere tbh, vaginal fingering, oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex, missionary/lowkey mating press towards the end LMFAOOOO i’m sorry i got carried away, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, pussy drunk!younghoon (i lied he’s down horrendous), creampie, the couch is a paid actor, last scene is kinda silly kinda cute, lmk if i missed anything!!

SUMMARY hyunjae really shouldn’t have left you home alone.

MORE and day 3 of fawntober has made her entrance 😈 i’m curious,,, how do we feel about these so far? i feel like i’m focusing on this challenge more than i am my school work 😭😭

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri

Being home alone has never been much of an issue for you. All throughout high school, you stayed home by yourself when your parents worked late and your brother had practice. And even now, well into adulthood, you’d never really been afraid of being alone.

If it were up to you, you’d live all by yourself. But unfortunately, rent was way too expensive to afford on your own. More fortunately, your brother had a spare room in his apartment for you. Pros included low grocery costs, low monthly rent, and free parking. Cons included living with your brother, living with one of his best friends, and having to deal with two grown men who sometimes acted like children.

It was a Friday night and both Hyunjae and Jacob were out, attending a Halloween party one of their friends was throwing. The holiday was only a few days away, so almost everyone you knew was hosting parties this weekend. Along with being content to stay alone in your home, you were even more so to never leave it. Going out and getting black out drunk or worse didn’t sound very appealing to you.

Nights like these were the rare occasion you got to be with yourself and some movies, snuggled with a blanket on your couch. Living with only men did not provide any luxuries except maybe someone to kill a spider every now and then. So you were abusing the fuck out of the opportunity, dressed in nothing but an oversized sweatshirt and some crew socks, a mug of hot cocoa in your hands as you watch the second installment of the Scream franchise. (Might as well get in the holiday spirit.)

There’s a knock at your door, causing you to raise an eyebrow. It was half past midnight and your brother mentioned that he and Jacob would be crashing over at Sangyeon’s after the party. You were also very much single, so you weren’t expecting anyone to come over either. The only other possible explanation was maybe a food delivery, but you hadn’t ordered anything.

You assume it’s someone at the wrong apartment and choose to ignore it, putting your focus back on the movie. Your mug raises to your lips, taking a long sip of the now lukewarm drink just as the movie’s plot begins to progress. Before you can fully revert into your concentration, there’s another knock.

A sigh escapes your mouth, setting down the mug and pausing the movie. Your sock-clad feet trudge over to the front door, expression flat as you undo all of the locks and swing it open. You jump at the sight in front of you, nearly dying of a heart attack on the spot.

A tall figure, dressed in all black and wearing a Ghostface mask stands on the other side, one arm resting on the threshold of your doorframe and their body weight leaning against it. When they realize they’ve almost killed you, they gasp.

“Oh my god, I forgot I was wearing this stupid thing.”

The person hurriedly removes the mask to reveal one of your brother’s other friends, Kim Younghoon. The tall male rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, apologizing for nearly making you faint. You clutch at your chest as your breathing stabilizes and your heart rate returns to normal.

“Jesus, Younghoon. Couldn’t you have said something before I opened the door?” You hold the heel of your palm to your forehead.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” he bows slightly, his eyes drifting off to something behind you. “Woah, wait, are you watching Scream 2 right now?”

“Uh, yeah?” At that moment you notice the silly coincidence that his costume happened to be Ghostface. “Do— um— do you wanna come in?”

“Yeah, sure.” He smiles, tucking his mask under his arm and following you into the apartment. He shuts the door behind him, making sure to hit all the locks as well.

As the two of you sit at the couch and you resume the movie, you purse your lips in confusion. You were curious as to why Younghoon was here in the first place, seeing as your brother was not. He had to have known that information himself considering he was dressed like he’d just come from a Halloween party. It only made sense that it was the same one Hyunjae and Jacob attended.

“Wait, so what are you doing here?” You ask, fiddling with the hem of your sweatshirt. Shit, you weren’t wearing any pants…

“Oh! Right,” he nods, ruffling his hair a bit. “I woke up really early this morning and it was starting to catch up with me so I decided to leave Sangyeon’s party to head home. Hyunjae asked if I could stop by to check on you since it was on the way.”

A simple call or text from your brother himself couldn’t suffice? You guess the fact that Younghoon really did live close by coupled with Hyunjae’s intoxication might’ve been a factor in asking his friend for the favor. All you can do is hum in response.

You weren’t all that upset by Younghoon’s sudden appearance either, and you were more than happy to invite him into your apartment any time. Out of all of your brother’s friends, excluding Jacob, Younghoon was probably your favorite. Aside from having a little crush on his handsome face, he was the easiest to get along with and you felt comfortable around him. Sometimes you wish he was your other roommate instead.

But then again, the thought of him being so domestic around you was enough to send you into cardiac arrest, much like his accidental jumpscare from earlier. Just imagining waking up to him making coffee and breakfast in the kitchen, wearing your Hello Kitty apron, had your pulse quickening. Oh God, bumping into him exiting the bathroom after he’s showered? Nothing but a towel wrapped loosely around his hips and droplets of water decorating his no doubtedly sculpted chest?

Did someone crank up the thermostat?

“Y/N? N/N. N/N… Y/N!”

You blink, snapping yourself back into reality. Younghoon waves his hands back and forth in front of your face, a cute pout on his lips. He really was not making this any easier for you. You clear your throat, hoping your face isn’t as red as it feels.

“Y-Yes?” Why did you have to stutter, you fucking loser? There you go, blowing your cover.

“I was just wondering if you’ve seen the movies before. But you kinda spaced out on me there. You okay?” He asks, face full of concern. It doesn’t do much to quiet the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. If anything, it makes it ten times worse.

“Oh… Um. Yeah, I have,” your voice wavers. “And I-I’m fine, I swear. Don’t even worry about me.”

Your efforts to convince him are futile and instead of de-escalating the situation, you just add further fuel to the fire. He leans in to you, permeating your personal bubble as he examines your expression. If he moved even closer, his lips could land on your own, and the idea of that has you shrinking in on yourself.

“Are you… nervous around me?”

Did he have any sense of self-awareness? Did he think he wasn’t intimidating in this proximity to you? Kim Younghoon’s new talent just dropped; driving you to the brink of insanity!

You swallow thickly, eyes a little wide like a deer caught in headlights. Your line of eyesight falters to his lips, even more kissable now that they’re so close to yours. You shake your head when you realize that you haven’t responded, praying and hoping you were keeping your composure.

“I don’t really believe you, Y/N,” he says, tone no louder than a whisper, but so voluminous in your empty apartment. “So, I’m gonna rephrase my question. Are you nervous to be alone with me?”

When you process his words, you come to the conclusion that, yes, you are nervous to be alone with him. Your brother and Jacob were usually around when he was, so you’d never been in this position before. You’ve never truly been alone with Younghoon. Perhaps that was because you knew you couldn’t keep your feelings to yourself, afraid you might fuck up and say something stupid to him.

A few seconds pass with nothing but the noise of the movie still playing in the background, your lips pressed together. His eyes bore into yours, dark and swirling with something that looks a whole lot like lust. Your silence is a sufficient answer for him, one of his hands coming up to support his weight on the armrest of the couch behind you. The other trails up your thigh, the sheer size of it big enough to nearly cover the expanse of your skin.

Younghoon’s lips part when he slides under your sweatshirt and finds that you’re not wearing anything underneath. His eyes flutter shut with a sigh, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

“Tell me you don’t want this, tell me no before I lose all of my self control and I can’t hold back.” He lets his forehead fall to your shoulder, voice hushed.

The better, rational part of you wants to say no. It wants to tell him that you shouldn’t do this, because what would your brother think? Hyunjae would beat his ass if he found out about the two of you, especially on the living room sofa. Hell, he’d beat your ass for sleeping with one of his friends. But the part of you that was unhinged and has dreamt of this moment for years wants to say otherwise.

That part is what has you spreading your legs, taking Younghoon’s hand and leading it to where you need him most.

“Don’t hold back.” You breathe into his ear, your free hand coming up to the back of his neck and pulling his lips onto yours.

You whimper into his mouth as he kisses you, his thumb rubbing tight circles on your lace covered clit simultaneously. He’s by no means gentle, tongue tangling with your own roughly and desperately, as if he’s been dreaming of this just as much as you. He halts his motions, creeping further under your sweatshirt to palm your bare breasts and grind his hips into yours.

Your back arches off the couch, the feeling of his large hand on your chest goading your arousal. Younghoon presses open mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, sucking and nipping your supple skin, licking the abused area to soothe any pain. You can feel him even through the material of his black cargo pants, already hard for you. Without seeing it, you have an inkling of what you’re working with.

Younghoon’s always been tall, standing at six feet with broad shoulders. As long as you’ve known him, his height alone was enough to scare people away, despite the fact that he had the personality of a hyperactive puppy. But now, his body looming over yours and his touch all over your skin, you can’t help but feel turned on by his size alone.

“Can I finger you?” He asks suddenly, slowly pushing up your sweatshirt so he can expose your cute panties. You nod frantically, biting the hem of your top to keep it out his way as he pushes your underwear down your legs with one hand. “Wanna prep you as best as I can, baby.”

He smiles at you again, and in spite of being in such a compromising situation, he looks so stunning. You remember the reason why you’ve had a crush on him this long, because aside from his beauty, he was also doting and caring, willing to go above and beyond for those near and dear to him.

You squirm a bit beneath him when his middle finger glides through your folds with ease, you slick providing enough lubricant for him. He all but groans, inserting the digit into your entrance. Your moans are muffled by your sweatshirt in your mouth, his long finger so deep inside of you it brushes that one spongy spot you could never reach yourself.

Younghoon uses his thumb to circle your clit as his finger thrusts in and out of you, kissing along your jaw. He glances down and moans at the sight of your tits jostling around with each pump of his finger. He lowers his head to attach his mouth to one of your nipples, tongue flicking the sensitive bud.

There’s so much going on, your eyes practically rolling to the back of your head when his finger curls and his teeth scrape the swell of your breast. If his slender middle finger wasn’t enough to send you over the edge, then the sound of him being so vocal was, vibrations spreading on the surface of your skin. Younghoon adds the slightest amount of pressure to your clit when he sinks his pearly whites into your collarbone, coaxing your orgasm.

He swallows your whines, waiting until you’ve stopped spasming under him to slow his assault. He pulls his hoodie over his head, helping you remove your sweatshirt afterward. Your chest heaves, watching with heavy eyelids as Younghoon scoots himself further down the couch. He brings himself eye level with your cunt, experimentally blowing air on your core. You shiver, biting the inside of your lip and running a hand through his hair.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he makes eye contact with you, pressing a sweet kiss to your clit. “Can't believe you’ve been hiding this from me.”

Younghoon pushes your knees up to your chest, hands digging into the fat of the backs of your thighs. The position gives him better access to your glistening cunt. He licks a long line from your hole to your pelvic bone, flattening his tongue against you and repeating once more.

“Fuck, Hoon,” you mewl, holding the back of your hand to your forehead. “That feels so good.”

He hums, lips wrapping around your clit and giving it a harsh suck. That particular action rips a loud moan from your vocal cords. He doesn’t get any gentler, sliding both his middle and ring fingers into you as he continues making out with your pussy. Your head feels light and airy, your brain incapable of producing any coherent thoughts aside from how badly you need his cock inside of you. His thick fingers aren’t enough, you need more. You need him to fill you completely.

The pads of his fingers continuously brush along your velvety walls, inching you closer and closer to your tipping point. You aren’t sure you can last much longer, especially with the promise of having him fully following this. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly he wound you up and knocked you over the ledge again, like he was already so familiar with what you needed.

He swirls his tongue around your clit, alternating between curling his fingers and straightening them. It’s as if he’s doing a come-hither motion. Your whines are uncontrollable at this point, tugging at his hair with every suckle of your engorged skin. The sting on his scalp has him moaning against your cunt, the resonance shooting through your whole body.

“Shit shit, I’m cumming— I’m—“

Your hips buck up towards his mouth, his skillful tongue and fingers still working your overstimulated pussy until you’re begging him to stop. Good God, you already finished twice and he hadn’t even properly fucked you yet. You’re a panting mess beneath him when he parts with your lower lips, chin shiny with your release.

“You can give me one more, right?” Younghoon licks his lips to taste the remnants of your sweetness, wrapping them around his fingers to do the same thing. You let out a strained moan, nodding and connecting your mouths to kiss him roughly.

He laughs into the kiss, pulling back to tuck your hair behind your ear. His eyes resemble crescent moons, crinkled at the sides. His duality gives you whiplash. How could someone so sexy be so adorable at the same time? It was beyond you.

He goes to unbutton his pants, kicking them along with his underwear off his legs as he leans down to kiss you again. You gasp when you’re finally given the opportunity to see his dick, hard and flushed for you. You reach down to stroke him, reveling in the hiss he makes when your thumb glides over his sensitive tip.

You guide him to your entrance, but he pauses. “Wait, I don’t have anything on me.”

“It’s okay, Hoon,” you place a comforting hand on his cheek. “I trust you. I’m clean, I’m assuming you’re clean, and I’m on birth control. I wanna feel you— all of you.”

His head falls to your shoulder once more with a groan, his cock prodding your hole almost instantaneously. You exhale through your nose heavily, the stretch burning so good that you’re raking your nails down his back. Even the feeling of his broad shoulders and back muscles beneath your fingertips sends you into a frenzy. He’s just so huge. You’d never wanted to be ruined by someone as much as you wanted to be ruined by him.

Younghoon coos when you start to whimper, slowly pushing himself all the way in to his pelvic bone. He massages the back of your thighs, still pushed to your chest, pulling out gently before ramming his entire length back in. He does this a few more times to ensure your cunt has adjusted to his size, but the thought of you wrapped so tightly and warmly around him is enough to make him bust without going through the motions fully.

Your sweet pussy is so inviting, sucking him in like a fucking aspirator. He risks a glance down to where his hips meet yours, moaning so uncharacteristically at the sight of you enveloping his cock, coating it with your previous release. You clench when the sound hits your ears, provoking one of your own.

His thrusts are calculated, dragging them out so they’re deep rather than shallow. Despite not pounding into your brutally, like you were used to with past partners, you think you like this better. You can feel all of him this way. Every vein, every pulse, every fucking graze along your insides— as if he was meant to be there.

“You’re taking me so— fuck— so well, baby,” he breathes, voice hoarse in the crook of your neck. “Don’t know how much longer I can last.”

“G-God, you’re s-so b-big,” you cry, sinking your fingernails into his shoulder blades. “I feel so— oh my god— feel so full.”

You look so pretty underneath him, he doesn’t even care that he might go to hell for fucking you. He’d let Hyunjae murder him any day of the week if it guaranteed his spot above you, cock buried to the goddamn hilt. He places his forearm behind your knees, pressing your legs flat and practically folding you in half so he can speed up his tempo.

Younghoon throttles into you at a near animalistic pace, skin slapping on skin echoing throughout your apartment. You’re fucked stupid, noises that you can’t comprehend leaving your mouth to punctuate every single drive of his dick in your cunt and eyes fluttering shut. His tip kisses at that one spot that scratches your itch each time.

One particular gyration of his hips snaps that cord in your stomach and you’re cumming a third time, jaw going slack as your body spasms with the force of your orgasm. You produce no sound, the wave of your release cresting like a jolt of euphoria to your head, Younghoon following suit. However, his reaction is the opposite, so cacophonous and pornographic that it prolongs the twitching of your velvet-like walls, milking him dry of everything he can offer.

As both of you come down from your peaks, oxygen recirculating in your brains, Younghoon sighs and slips out of you. You wince, still so very sensitive from all three of your orgasms and how aggressively he was hitting it those last few minutes. You watch with choked groans as a combination of your cum flows out of your cunt onto the sofa.

Hyunjae was going to lose his mind.

“Shit, we gotta clean this up,” you panic, finally sobering up and moving into a sitting position. “I’d prefer to live long enough to tell you how much I like you.”

“Woah, wait,” his eyes widen animatedly. “Y-You like me?”

You gape at him, confused how after everything you just did together, he would think you didn't have feelings for him. “I just let you fuck me on the couch I share with my brother and Jacob. Do you think I’d do that if I didn’t like you?”

“I dunno. Maybe you were just really horny?” He shrugs, scratching the back of his neck shyly, like he hadn’t just rearranged your insides six ways to Sunday. You get on your knees, capturing his lips in a soft kiss that portrays all the words you could’ve ever wanted to say and more.

“Does that answer your question?” You ask, pecking them once again. “I like you so much, Younghoon. I have since, like, my freshman year of uni.”

He smiles warmly, cupping your cheek and caressing it with his thumb. “That’s funny because I’ve liked you since then, too.”

“That makes me so happy to hear,” you giggle, nuzzling into his palm. “Okay, now get up so I can deep clean this fucking couch.”

#the boyz #the boyz x reader #the boyz smut #tbz #tbz x reader #tbz smut #the boyz younghoon #tbz younghoon #kim younghoon x reader #kim younghoon smut #younghoon x reader #younghoon smut #juyeonszn #fawntober.2023🎃

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piratekane · 27 days

Note

what r some of ur fav kacy moments?

a FANTASTIC question. here's a top ten in no particular order:

the parking lot scene. kate is not the bad guy! let's kiss under the parking lot lights! they did not go get that beer and i love that for them.

that one scene in season 3 where kate is bringing ernie mochi and lucy says that kate is looking fantastic today. something about that whole interaction just... got me. the grin on lucy's face. the way kate smiles back over her shoulder. pls tell me about your acting choices and why they made that 15 second scene endearing.

first date reenactment. those freakin dorks, i swear to god. kate's "well, i don't seem like a lot of things" lives rent-free in my head.

OF COURSE the scene in 3x04 where they have to dip into that storeroom to avoid the bad guy and they're, like, 2 inches away from each other. maybe i've watched that a few times.

the first kiss in the pilot. i'm split equally between the original airing with the smash cut kiss and the extended scene because i originally thought that lucy initiated the kiss, but finding out that kate was the one... mind-blowing.

the 2x01 episode kisses (plural!) because i love domestic kacy. i could write about that allllll day. i was not expecting lucy to straight up (ha) get into kate's lap at the outro of that episode. sigh. that was such an opening episode.

kate waiting at lucy's desk in 1x10 after the whole finger business. i just loved how kate said she was more comfortable with things at dinner and then just casually sits at lucy's desk waiting for her to come back (which is why 1x11 is so fucking crushing).

the scene in that episode in season 2 where lucy is helping Joe, the sailor with the memory problem. and joe elbows her in the jaw and lucy and kate are in the kitchen in the office and kate is snippy because she's worried. i'm not mad kate says, definitely not happy.

and speaking of lucy being beat up... the scene in 1x07 (? maybe) where lucy agrees that secrets can be fun and kate ducks her head and says something like, "want to tell me more about secerts" or whatever (i am not searching for the lingo, sorry). like, goodness. kate. relax.

the 'move in' scene where kate is so far behind on the conversation and she's just blinking as lucy explodes. i love a good "why are we fighting?" "we're not!" in shouty volumes and then the break in the tension where they realize they're definitely arguing scene. and they did this one perfectly.

okay, that was a nice little walk through my mind. now i need to go watch all these scenes (shoutout to the people who upload their scenes to youtube, they're the real ones).

#kacy #ncis: hawai'i #this was fun to think about thank you anon #now i want to go watch them and write them and i am a little sad again but i will go do something else #maybe read

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sweetercalypso · 7 months

Text

Watch Party || Joel Miller

word count: 1.5k

summary: renting a Halloween movie turns into a nightmare when poltergeist!Joel Miller crawls out of your TV

notes: part two in my week of horror series! minors dni; female mast., male mast., voyeurism, facial, afab reader, better tags on a03 because tumblr hates this post

It’d started as a joke.

The dusty VHS tape sitting on your coffee table was a relic, an obsolete piece of lewd cinema recorded and forgotten by time. ‘Night of the Lustful Undead’ is clearly an outdated work, but you doubt that the twenty-first century has produced anything that rivals the corny obscenity featured in this parody of a classic horror film.

Static from the TV flickers in a black and white trance, casting a strange light over your living room, dancing across the furniture with an eerie glow.

You grab the tape and slide it into the VHS player that you’d pulled from storage just for this occasion, and settle onto the couch with the remote in hand. This started as a joke, but you’re in too deep to back out now.

When your Halloween plans had been cancelled for the third time in a row, you’d assumed it was a sign that you were meant to spend the holiday weekend at home. You’d told your friend about your dilemma over brunch one morning, and she’d said that time alone could be just as fun, as long as you knew how to spend it.

You’d blushed at the implication and laughed off her suggestive tone, but the idea had planted a seed in your mind, and by the end of the month, it’d grown into something more.

If you were going to spend the holiday by yourself, you decided that you wanted to stay on theme with your choice of celebration. A movie rental company on the other side of town had exactly the entertainment you were looking for.

You’d been grateful for the anonymity of the empty, dated storefront, though you’d struggled to make eye contact with the cashier as he’d stuffed your purchase into an inconspicuously plain plastic bag.

Now, as the opening credits roll across the screen, you’re still telling yourself that this is just an ironic charade. You’re not actually interested in the passionate plot you’d read on the back of the cover; you’re not secretly glad that your friends hadn’t invited you out at the last minute; you’re not vaguely aware of the heat simmering in your belly at the thought of what’s to come.

The scene opens with a grainy shot of a scantily dressed woman barricaded in the cellar of an old farmhouse – a reference to the film’s inspiration.

She’s toying with a radio to call for help when the reanimated “zombie” bursts through the door, mangled shirt barely covering his tan chest. He lunges towards her and she gives an exaggerated gasp before zealously attempting to wrangle herself free.

“Oh, that’s so fake,” you scoff, though your hands twitch absentmindedly at your sides.

Their stilted performances makes the movie seem more gaudy than you’d anticipated, but you’re too distracted by their heated struggle to worry about bad acting.

The performer in the scene is handsome enough – a burly, broad-shouldered man with dark eyes and a stony expression. The undead part of his character had been implied solely in his tattered clothes and the baritone warble of his voice, and now that he’s stripped down to his popped-open jeans, you can’t remember much else about his role.

Your hands inch into your lap as the two actors tangle themselves together, almost entirely abandoning the storyline they’d spent the first ten minutes building up. He lays the woman down on a conveniently placed blanket and moves between her thighs with the promise to ‘give her what she needs’.

The camera changes angles and you shift in your seat as the expanse of his back fills the screen. His muscles flex in time with his first experimental thrust, spine bent at an awkward angle as he leans down to groan against the woman’s throat. You barely notice the sound of her high-pitched moans over the guttural noises he sings against her skin.

When the point of view changes again and you’re met with a close up of his side profile, you’re immediately entranced by the sight. His nose is pressed against the woman’s cheek, brows pinching together as they share greedy breaths between their open mouths.

You gasp as he glances over at the camera. For a split second, it felt like he was looking directly into your eyes.

The thought is enough to bring you to your breaking point, finally caving in and slipping your fingers beneath the waistband of your sweats. You’re soaked between your thighs and the sound of the actor’s heady pants fuels the urgency in your touch.

Your fingers swipe messily at your clit as the man on the screen picks up pace, grunting a breathless command of ‘don’t come without me’ into the small room.

The camera switches to a more scenic shot of the pair and you mourn the loss of his close-up features. The woman seems to have forgotten her character’s earlier reservations, thighs wrapped snugly around his waist, one hand knitted into his dark, tussled hair. You silently envy the way she gets to explore his form.

She throws her head back in pleasure and you imitate the act, almost like you’re trying to envision yourself in her place. Your eyes squint shut and you picture his face again, dipping your fingers into your core.

Light from the TV flashes behind your closed eyes, a wild display of vivid colors that doesn’t fit the setting of the movie. The sounds of their affair are replaced with a jarring static that makes you groan and slump down into the couch. The tape must be jammed.

You peel your eyes open with a disappointed sigh, already feeling the tightly-wound coil in your gut beginning to unravel. So much for enjoying your alone time.

From the flicker of the screen, you notice a tall silhouette looming beside the TV. The color drains from your face when it begins to move closer and you realize that it’s taken the shape of a man.

You’re frozen in fear, too scared to move and too dazed to consider whether your heart is hammering out of panic or eager anticipation.

The figure stops just a few feet away and you’re able to piece together his identity. The mused hair, the stubble on his cheeks, the hills and valleys of his exposed shoulders and chest – the man from the screen is here in front of you.

You look towards the TV in disbelief. Everything seems to be exactly the same, minus the empty space that he had once filled.

His scene partner is still plastered on the screen, blurred by the digital lines running across her image. Without his presence, the movie seems much more like the unserious spoof film you thought you’d purchased.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” his gruff baritone breaks the monotonous white noise coming from the speakers.

“How did you…” your question trails off before you can finish it. What could he say that would make you understand?

He nods towards where your hand disappears beneath the waist of your bottoms. “Keep going. I want to watch.”

His own hand is wrapped around the length of his cock, moving slowly to keep his interest limited to your assent. He’s close enough that you can see the pearl of precum dripping from his ruddy tip, glinting in the light of the flickering screen.

Your fingers move of their own volition, circling your clit with a gentle pressure, matching the leisure pace of his hand gliding over his length. Small chirps and sounds of pleasure fill the air, turning into little hums and choked sobs as your shared tempo becomes faster.

“Y’like my cock?” He spits, thighs flexing as he bucks into his palm. “Dirty girl, getting off on watching other people fuck.”

You whimper and stretch your free hand out to motion him to come closer, but he shakes his head and bats it away. “No – you’re gonna finish what you started.”

He takes another step closer and rubs his thumb over the underside of his cock, laughing to himself as your jaw hangs open in awe.

“Make yourself come, and then I’ll touch you however you want.”

A few more swipes over your clit is all it takes for you to reach your peak, crumpling forward and shuddering through your release. You’re still catching your breath when a warm hand meets your cheek, pulling your attention up to the man towering above you.

His cock stands just inches from your face, and he twists over the shaft once, twice, before he comes, striping the evidence of his arousal over your glazed features. He hisses out a blissful noise and taps the weeping head against your parted lips, leaving a salty taste in your mouth that makes your walls clench.

He tips his head to the side, admiring the opaque lines streaked across your face. When he takes a step back and glances at the TV over his shoulder, you’re afraid for a moment that he might disappear. He turns his focus back towards you with a grin, and the look in his eyes says he’s not leaving anytime soon.

#sweetercalypso’s week of horror #the last of us #the last of us smut #the last of us x reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller one shot #joel miller x you #joel x reader #joel tlou #joel smut #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #tlou #tlou smut

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shu-of-the-wind · 3 months

Note

I don't remember the exact quote but Jyn and Cassian's hug when they reunite on the Death Star post Cassian's torture in falling sinking lives rent free in my brain for that ask game

MY FAVORITE SCENE IN THAT FIC,,,,IF I'M HONEST,,,,i'm so glad it sticks for folks

“You could have left them,” says K. “Or used them as a distraction to escape. I would have let them be captured. It would be easier.” “I,” she says, and then stops, because through the tangle of Bodhi and Leia and Skywalker there’s movement, a shifting. Cassian. The look on his face is a shipwreck, fire and torn metal and wires spitting sparks. He doesn’t say anything. She’s not quite sure he’s even breathing. He’s just watching her, lips parted like he’s seen a ghost, and her knees nearly go out from under her with the relief, that he’s alive and leaning and staring. He’s stolen a uniform, too, one of the sharp black masks of the bodyguards, and it’s closing her throat up, the adrenalin, the déjà vu. She thinks she might say his name, but no sound comes out her mouth. There’s something terrifyingly naked about the way he’s looking at her as he pushes away from the wall, sways on his feet. Alive, she thinks. Alive. It’s a sick kind of rewind, but she doesn’t care. No one’s paying attention. She’s not sure it’d stop her if the whole Imperial fleet was staring, no matter how new it is, no matter what weakness it shows. Jyn slips between them, Bodhi and Leia and Skywalker. She just means to get closer, to talk to him, to prop him up if she can, but when she gets close enough he draws her to him, arm around her ribs, curling up her back, winding her into a grip like a vice, chest to chest. Oh, she thinks, this is what it must have been like for Mama, on Lah'mu,and then her mind goes blank from the warmth. He’s almost shaking, and his fingers are icy on her shoulder, her waist. Her hat’s come off, he’s dragged her so close. Jyn wriggles her good arm out of the tangle, works it around him, presses hard enough to bruise. Open wounds and bleeding vulnerabilities. She’s on her toes and leaning into him and Cassian fists his hand in her stolen uniform and drags in air like he hasn’t breathed in years. And this—this is what she’s wanted. This is what she’s wanted since she woke up in sickbay to find him watching her. This is the one thing she's wanted from him that she's never once wanted from anybody else, not like this, not closeness and warmth like this. His hair’s sour with sweat and smoke and blood, and the collar of the uniform smells like someone else, but the rest of it is Cassian. You’re all right. It crawls into her mouth. You’re all right, you’re all right. Jyn shuts her eyes, tries not to let them burn. You’re all right. “You’re okay?” says Cassian, very soft, right into her ear, and she’s nodding even though it’s a lie. He has to know it’s a lie. Still, his head slips, and suddenly there’s his hand against the nape of her neck, his nose at her throat. He doesn’t say it again, not aloud, but she can feel it against her collar, lips and nose and the brush of his beard. Mouthing it. You’re okay. His hair tickles at her mouth.

thank you for this ask game by alexs-prompts-folder!

Anonymously - or not - tell me what passage, fic, line of narration, or anything you remember me by as a writer.

#floating sinking #my writing #ask game

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ghostofskywalker · 1 year

Note

Hey Tori! Sliding in with a 3k (yay!!! congratulations🩷) request for Echo our most beloved <33

I am forever thinking about that one scene where Echo says "Harm her and you're a dead man". It lives rent free in my brain and never fails to make me smile the ways is says it is just so-

So maybe something with Echo being a little extra protective over the reader? Looking out for them and making sure they stay safe?

thank you ezzie!! he is just So Lovely!! i don't know if this is anything like what you had in mind but i really hope you enjoy this :)

words: 1,750

summary: rationally, echo knew this assignment was going to be easy, an in and out acquisition of information. he's just annoyed that he's not the one playing your lover at that gala tonight.

clone troopers masterlist || join my 3k celebration!!

Under a Watchful Eye

Echo watched from his seat in the cockpit as you stepped out of the barracks area of the ship, and the dress you were wearing stopped his breath for a minute. It was long and flowing, fluttering and shifting around your legs with every step you took, and the fact that the color was a near-perfect match to that of his old battalion was not helping.

But unfortunately, he was not the one you were dressed up for.

Technically, the mission was the reason that you had donned the gown that had apparently come from Echo’s deepest fantasies, not a person. But still, this assignment required two people, as you were going undercover as guests at a banquet. And much to his dismay, it wasn’t him that had the privilege of being the one who played your lover this evening.

No, that honor had apparently been bestowed on Crosshair.

Logically, it made sense why you and Crosshair were the ones going on this mission. Even though there was little to no Separatist presence on this planet at this point, you couldn’t risk being recognized, and Crosshair was the member of the team that looked the least like a traditional clone (and he was also the least likely to draw attention to himself in the way that the others would).

But even though it made sense, it didn’t mean that Echo had to be happy about it.

He knew his brother, he knew that there was no way Crosshair would willingly put you in harms way or leave you behind, but there was still a festering cauldron of worry in Echo’s stomach as he thought about the fact that all he could do at this point is just sit and wait until you left the function. He would have to sit by if something happened to you in there, and he hated the thought of it.

“Do I look okay?” you asked, stepping into the cockpit as you finished putting a pair of earrings in your ears. As well as matching the color of the dress, they would serve as a communication device that could easily be turned on and off from a remote location, this way if anyone tried to scan you, nothing would show up. That was Echo’s job this evening: to sit there with Tech, Wrecker, and Hunter and listen to everything that went on while you and Crosshair were gathering the information they would send back to Commander Cody.

It took him a moment to realize that you were talking to him, and his eyes widened slightly before he responded. “You look amazing,” he said earnestly.

“Thank you,” you responded, and he could see the hint of a smile cross your face. “I wasn’t sure how the dress would look, since I don’t usually wear this type of thing.”

“Well, I would never know it if I just looked at you,” he said, the urge to walk over to you and take your hand only growing. “I mean it, you look stunning.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but were interrupted when Tech stepped into the space. “Oh good, you’re here,” he said, directing his attention to you. “Come with me, I have a few things for you to add to the ensemble.”

The “extra defense” had been Echo’s idea, a way to ensure that you would be able to defend yourself if necessary. Just in case everything went wrong, he wanted to make sure that you made it out unscathed, and it would be a lot easier if you had a tiny blaster strapped to your leg.

Right as you and Tech walked away, Crosshair stepped into the cockpit. He was a wearing a suit, the tie matching the color of your dress perfectly. Somehow he had found a way to cover his tattoo, and Echo hated to say it, but the image of you and him together screamed “power couple” to anyone who wasn’t aware of your identities.

The only thing wrong with Crosshair’s look this evening was the scowl etched onto his face. “Do you have all the information from Cody about the mission?” Echo asked, wanting to make sure they didn’t miss anything.

“Yes.”

“And you remember where we’re going to meet you when you have the intel?”

“Yes.”

“And you know-”

“Echo,” Crosshair said, cutting him off with a matching glare. “I already got this lecture from Hunter, I don’t need it from you too. I promise that I won’t let anything happen to your girlfriend.”

“She’s not-”

“-Your girlfriend, I know,” Crosshair said. “Even though you’re acting like it right now.”

“I’m-”

But Crosshair silenced him with a look. “You’re questioning me like I’m brand new to the team, and you haven’t been able to stop glancing over at the entrance to the barracks. It’s not that hard to figure out that you have feelings for her.” Crosshair was right, but Echo did not want to admit it. “Look, if you don’t want to say anything to me it’s fine, but don’t lie to yourself about it.”

Echo was suddenly very glad to see you step back into the cockpit, because he had no idea what he was going to say to that. However, that happiness was tempered slightly when he realized it was time for you and Crosshair to leave. After one final check to make sure that everyone was up to date on the plan, he sat down in one of the seats in the cockpit and watched you walk away until you were too small to see.

Security was bypassed, and you and Crosshair had successfully infiltrated the banquet. This was an assignment that spawned from an unnamed informant to the Senate, so they didn’t have as many details as they would have liked about what was going to go down, but so far it seemed like everything was going to work out and no major catastrophes would happen.

“Do you see anyone suspicious?” you asked quietly, and you voice easily carried so that the rest of the team could hear you through the small device that Tech made to communicate with your earrings.

“Not right now,” Crosshair responded, his voice slightly quieter. “But I don’t think we’ll have a good vantage point from where we are now.”

“Where should we go?”

“What about over there?”

They could hear shuffling, so it was clear that you were moving somewhere, but the fact that this device only picked up audio was starting to get a little annoying. Echo wanted to see what was happening, rather than just hear what was being said.

Suddenly the music suddenly got a little louder, and his curiosity only grew.

Finally, your voice once again came through the radio, and he was allowed to imagine some of what was going on out there. “Wow Crosshair, you didn’t tell me you were such a good dancer.”

“I’m a man of many talents.”

“I’m sure.”

It was only for the mission, it was only for the mission, it was only for the mission, Echo kept repeating to himself. Although he understood the fact that you and Crosshair were going to be posing as lovers for this event, he didn’t really think about what that might have entailed. The thought of you dancing with someone that wasn’t him was almost too much, but he forced himself to keep his cool.

***

Trouble always found them, there was no way they should have expected anything different with this mission. After you and Crosshair had acquired some very interesting information from another set of guests (which sounded a hell of a lot like what they needed to bring back to Cody), Tech was right about to tell you and Crosshair to meet the rest of them back at the ship when the sound of blaster fire came across the communication device, and they realized something was wrong.

Instantly, Echo jumped into a frenzy. “What’s going on?” he asked worriedly, pulling the radio device up to his lips.

“Bounty hunters just showed up!” you whispered. “I don’t know what they want though.”

“That doesn’t matter, you need to get out of there, now!”

Crosshair’s voice came through the device next. “Wow, what am I? Chopped bantha?”

“You know I meant both of you!” Echo responded, rolling his eyes. He didn’t have time for the jokes right now, not when you were in danger. “Now, before anyone sees you!”

All they could do was wait until you and Crosshair could be seen through the windows of the cockpit, and it was taking a much longer time than Echo was comfortable with. Although the communication devices you wore were still technically active, the sounds of footsteps and general chaos really were not of any use to them when trying to determine your location.

Finally though, the two of you were bounding up the ramp of the Marauder, and Tech was pulling the ship off the surface of the planet and back into hyperspace. None of the other batchers batted an eye when Echo got up from his seat and made a beeline to where you had just walked in.

Crosshair had already disappeared, probably having gone into the refresher to wash whatever was hiding his tattoo, and you smiled at Echo when he got close enough. “Are you okay?” he asked, noticing a few rips near the bottom of your dress.

“I’m fine,” you responded, reaching out to take his hand. “We got out of there just in time, no one even noticed us leave.”

“But-”

“We took a shortcut through some woods and the shoes they sent me weren’t really meant for anything too extreme,” you said, laughing quietly as you reached up to place your other hand on his cheek. Echo’s gaze traveled back up to your face, and he couldn’t help but fall in love with the smile you gave him. “I promise, everything is okay now.”

“I know,” he said, too busy drowning in the sensation of your fingertips touching his skin to really worry about what he was saying. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

“Me too Echo,” you said, pulling your hand away from his face. Echo would have been upset at the shift if you hadn’t leaned up and placed the softest of kisses on his cheek. It felt like his skin was set aflame, your lips permanently marking his face; it was evidence that he’d always be yours, even if you didn’t know it yet. “Me too.”

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

#3k celebration requests! 🏖#tbb echo #tbb echo x reader #tbb echo x you #tbb echo x female reader #echo x reader #echo x you #the bad batch x reader #star wars x reader

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strqyr · 1 month

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I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, Ik Sacrifice wasn’t exactly written to be Raven’s theme but it’s kinda crazy how well it fits her. Like yes, it’s vague enough that it could apply to Cinder or Salem, this is not a new discussion at all. But the line “the moon will sadly watch the roses die in vain, lost no gain, but you're not taking me” hits harder after the flashback we got in V9

yeah, 'sacrifice' is definitely... it's one of those songs, ya know? doesn't really strike as For This Character Only. it has range; it plays during the V2 credits, which were in part preceded with team rwby not having answers on who the Mystery Girl™ on the train was (which. only really leaves either raven or neo, but they've already met neo before, so...?) and followed by the after credits scene that fully reveals raven; but, as a leitmotif it has only appeared in two scenes, at least based on this video.

"the moon will sadly watch the roses die in vain, lost no gain, but you're not taking me" definitely hits harder, especially when 'when it falls', the next song in line as the V3 opening, has lines like these:

"there'll be no rest. there'll be no love. there'll be no hero in the end who will rise above. and when it ends, the good will crawl. the shining light will sink in darkness, victory for hate incarnate, misery and pain for all when it falls." // "swallowed by the darkness, soon the moon is bathed in black. the light of hope is taken and discontent is the contagion."

and more from 'sacrifice': "you can't have my life, i'm not your sacrifice. you can try, but i'm free, and you won't conquer me. i won't crawl, most of all, i won't fall for you."

like. this paint such a vivid picture of what might have happened on summer's mission: perhaps she fell into a grimm pool trying to fight salem (or someone else, idk) -> "the shining light will sink in darkness // swallowed by the darkness // the light of hope is taken" and in raven's mind, it was all pointless: "the moon will sadly watch the roses die in vain, lost no gain // there'll be no hero in the end who will rise above." and that while the good (summer) will crawl and fall, she won't. she will be free of it all, not wanting anything to do with either ozpin or salem.

and if ozpin, without outright saying it but left it up in the air, allowed all of team strq to think that silver eyes were the answer, that summer could end it all and take the fight up to salem if given an opportunity—though i'm certain had he known about summer's intentions, or if summer actually brought it up with him first, his answer would have been a strong "No"—, well. you've got your potential 'sacrifice' angle right there, because that's how it easily comes across; ozpin willing to risk a life of a silver-eyed warrior for a chance to defeat salem without properly informing them what it is they're really up against.

anyway. after all these years, 'sacrifice' continues to live in my head rent-free. amazing song. hopefully we'll get the answers to it one day lmao

#rwby #paradox-oflife #ask.strqyr

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phantasmagorianfantasy · 11 months

Text

Freak Next Door: Part 1

Read Part 2

Read Part 3

18+ only! Josh x OFC

Some Jon Bernthal goodness for a character I don't see a lot of fanfiction about. Sharp Stick was quite a movie, and those scenes now live rent free in my mind forever. Even if Josh was a loser.

Warnings: masturbation, voyeurism

@grippingbeskar This is YOUR fault. I am working on two different pieces right now, and you have been a muse. Thanks!

This is the first part I have written for a Sharp Stick fanfiction which will be inspired by this post by @chellestrash. I think Josh is pretty much a fuckboy of a character, but I would love to see someone torture him. In the fun ways. More to come ASAP - just getting my sea legs.

Comments welcome! Thank you!

Updated June 22nd

Josh stared open-mouthed out of the window. He had been doing this for days now - he'd wake up, say goodbye to his wife before she took the kids to daycare and climb back into the guest-room bed, sitting up against the headboard.

This window gave Josh a perfect view into his neighbor's bedroom. A room with a view, he mused.

After his last stunt with the babysitter, he was still in the dog house, and he had been relegated to the extra room on the opposite side of their home. Married, but in the same purgatory he had found himself in previously. Josh felt his heart clench as he thought about how that last affair had ended.

That wasn't his fault, though. There had been a lot of pressure on him, and with Heather the way she was... Still. He really hadn't meant for any of that to happen.

How long had it been? It must have been two years now.

Such a fuck up...he thought to himself, guilt filling every sense. In this moment, he even considered stopping, not going through with his new ritual, saving some sort of semblance of honor and decency for the mother of his children. But the memory of their first meeting always tugged him back into the filth and away from any honorable thought or intention.

Josh had first met her at a community barbecue down the street. He swallowed hard, running a hand lazily along his chest as he remembered her in that checkered blue and white bathing suit top, still wet from the pool. She had a smile that could dazzle, and he loved how her eyes crinkled at the sides when she threw her head back when she laughed. Josh remembered how he had unconsciously eyed the fabric clinging to her body, to every single curve.

Josh closed his eyes, thinking of the sweat that languidly dripped down her neck into the valley of her breasts as the sun shone gold through the wisps of her blond hair. He imagined himself running a tongue through that trail and a shudder ran through him.

Josh groaned, the self-depricating thoughts at war with the growing arousal in his stomach. That day... he remembered that woman's delicate fingers picking up a strawberry from the buffet table and sinking it in between her lips in a way he felt was meant for him. Her eyes were boring into him, this tight 30-year-old shamelessly making eye contact with him as her red lips pursed against the curve of the berry. Her eyes fluttered, rolling back as her teeth sank into the fruit. A small trail of juice had eeked out of the corner of her mouth. He had been halfway through raising a beer to his lips, and Yuri was blabbing away about his current hot piece, but that had stopped him in his tracks too.

'I said goddamn Josh, was she lookin' at you or me?' Yuri had nearly gasped these words out beside him. Josh hadn't known the answer.

His mind flipped back and forth from memory to reality, and Josh licked his lips, the memory of that damn barbecue sending an electric shock through his body. He pulled off his shirt, throwing it unceremoniously into a ball near the hamper. He bit his lip, waiting with trepedation and a little bit of guilt as he looked through the window into her bedroom.

From here, he could see her golden curls splayed on the sheets, her legs twisted in them. Josh dragged his hand from his neck down his own chest, his eyes closed for a moment, imagining her delicate hands following this very trail. His throat was so fucking dry as he tried to create what he imagined she would do...his finger tips barely putting pressure on his skin, alternating from petting to a slow, light draw of fingernails.

Josh felt his phone vibrate as the 10am alarm sounded. His eyes opened lazily as he sent the alarm into oblivion. She'd be waking up any second now. His eyes darted back, praising whatever diety allowed the bedroom a view straight into her bed.

His breath caught in his chest as he saw a pair of legs slide up. She was awake. He was thankful that the curtains allowed this small space where he could see her in bed. That woman always slept naked, and seeing her legs emerge sent a jolt straight to his growing arousal. He could see her hand lazily playing with the inside of her legs, and he imagined the murmurs she might make if his hands replaced hers. Josh stiffened, watching her sit up in bed. They were nearly facing one another, the distance seeming paradoxically close and yet so so far as he watched her fingers squeeze around her breast and then trail down her stomach to the curls below. He wondered if she tasted sweet like that strawberry, wondered how it would feel to have her grinding herself into his mouth as he cleaned the juices from her. He groaned softly, his hips rising slightly at the thought of being in between those legs, gripping her thick thighs.

Another whsipered moan escaped his lips, all thoughts of resistance chased away in a moment. He jerked his sweatpants down just above his knees and streched out his legs. He spat into his hand, pumping his length lazily a few times before turning his eyes back to her, who was mirroring him now, her back against her headboard and fingers slipping in and out of her.

He choked as his length pulsed, seeing her slowly raise her hips to meet her hand. He hoped that her eyes were closed, afraid of the consequences of her realizing his little fantasy. But Josh wanted nothing more than see her gaze cutting into him, burning him, making him squirm. His grip tightened, and he released a breath he had been holding in earnest.

Her lips were curled into a smile though slightly parted, and he watched her hand circling her clit. He moaned softly, watching her alternate between her clit and sliding a finger into her own folds. He could tell she was moaning from the way her chest rose and fell, by how her hips rose off the bed.

He looked down at himself for a moment, considering how it would look to have her fingers wrapped around his length. His grip tightened, and the pleasure was double edged. He continued to slide his hand in time with her motions, and his mouth hung open as he saw her plunge two fingers into herself. He could see everything, and the pressure building within him made his stomach tight. His grip was firm and deliberate. He was not rushing, yet.

God, she was beautiful. He praised her in his mind, his eyes locked on her hands and how her hips rose as she pumped her fingers. He felt his release on the horizon, and moaned softly as she continued her assault.

Josh felt his end approaching, the pre-cum leaking and mixing with his spit as his speed increased. He imagined what those breathy moans would sound like if he were the one sinking his digits into her, the one licking up and down her slit before taking her clit between is lips and sucking gently. He groaned again, his speed increasing as his eyes locked on her face.

He moved away from the headboard, his legs hanging off the side of the bed as he ached to get a closer look at her as he came. He felt a shot of panic run through him as their eyes made contact. He was unsure if she'd actually seen him until she too began to scoot away from her headboard and closer to the window, knees up and legs perched at the edge of the bed as she fucked herself for his eyes only. Her eyes were alternating from her own body to him, and her other hand slipping a pair of fingers into her mouth.

Josh gasped, imagining the filthy sounds he imagined she would make. His minstrations became erratic as the woman next door laid on her back, her hips bucking up as she fucked herself for him. He watched his cock jump, his hands tightening and releasing pressure as he considered how she would feel under him, panting and mewling. When his eyes returned to the window, she was leaning back on her elbows, looking straight back at him. Her fingers were still plunged inside her, and he watched as she pumped them quickly before her other hand joined in order to rub quickly against her bud. The quiet of the morning allowed the muffled sounds of her moans to drift into the room, and Josh groaned again, his insides twisting with pleasure. He watched as she threw her head back, thrusting into herself as her hips jumped forward.

He gasped, an "Oh fuck" escaped his lips before he threw his head back. He moaned as his cock throbbed in his hands, cumming over his own stomach. He felt his cum as it landed on the sweated sheen of his chest. He couldn't stop the grip of his hand, unrelenting as he came hard, even as the orgasm began to abate. He felt a little pathetic, hearing his own breathy moans as he fucked himself life a teenager. As he finished, he did feel the knots in his stomach release just slightly. Josh's eyes were momentarily fixed on the mess on himself, a feeling of slight shame and nervousness as he thought of how his eyes had locked with hers.

He didn't know if he should move, hide the evidence of what he had been doing as he watched her. He bit his lip and chanced a peek back up. She was looking straight at him, her mouth opened with a look of gasping elation.

Josh slowly threw his legs over the side of the guest bed and walked to the window, unable to take his eyes off the quivering mess in that beautiful woman's hands. He swallowed hard seeing the look in her eyes.

She didn't look completely satisfied, and the idea both thrilled and terrified him. He still hoped in the back of his mind that he was imagining her eyes boring into his. Perhaps she was just staring into space, overcome with pleasure like he had been.

However, his breath caught when she slowly slid off the bed and approached her window. The space between the houses couldn't be more than 30 feet, and he groaned as she raised a hand to wave, a playful grin spreading across her face.

Oh fuck.

#jon bernthal smut #sharpstick fanfiction #jon bernthal #here we go again #jon bernthal fanfiction #sharp stick #sharp stick josh #sharp stick josh smut

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maggotbxby · 10 months

Text

Coup De Grâce - Deadite Ellie x OC/Reader - Chapter One

"and the devil who had deceived them was thrown into the lake of fire and sulfur where the beast and the false prophet were, and they will be tormented day and night forever and ever" Revelation 20:10

Or...

Greta is a God-fearing, wannabe actress with a particularly strange family history, and an impressive talent of stumbling upon disgusting scenes. When tragedy strikes her home in an old LA high-rise, she quickly realizes her fate may be much more twisted than she was brought up to believe.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6,349

TW: Religious Trauma; Gore; Suicidal Thoughts; Violence; Everything in Evil Dead Rise.

---------

This building is dead.

It died a month ago when the landlord dropped letters in our mail slots letting us all know we have to be out by next month. He didn't even give us the courtesy of calling, just a print and copied half-assed apology letter to the tenants who pay out their livelihoods every month in rent so he can buy a new Ferrari and not fix the lights.

It’s not that I want to be here, particularly. There is just no other apartment on this side of LA that I would be able to afford. No others would even consider me, if I could. No stable job and a 480 credit score doesn't bode well with most landlords.

A category 5 earthquake was just a death blow, and exactly what I needed to truly understand it was, in fact, God's will for me to return to Tennessee.

The apartment is nearly pitch dark, even with the couple of candles I lit. A blackout coming with the aftershocks while I was packing explains a lot about how my luck has been the past few weeks. It’s as quiet as the dead, aside from the typical moans and groans of the old building. If my neighbors weren't stomping around, I would consider it eerie.

I sit on a rickety stool that came with the place as I sort through my papers. Every tiny shift in my body causes the stool to creak and groan, just like the rest of the wretched building, so I try to be perfectly still.

The candlelight picks up my papers just enough for me to sort through them and chuck them into boxes- or the trash. It's nearly 10:00 and on a normal night I wouldn't keep packing, especially during a post-earthquake blackout, but I want out of this place as quickly as possible, and if I have to suffer for a while to do that, I will.

I pick up a folder on my desk, and even in the dark I recognize it as my portfolio- or my pathetic excuse of one. I open it up to see my year-old headshots and my resume. I’ve never been a bad actress, particularly, I’ve just been bad at landing roles. Sure, maybe I didn't work hard enough to find a manager, but even if I had, my off-screen charisma has always been lacking. I scored one decent role in a film, only for it to be scrapped halfway through production. But I have kept trying, I tried theater, I tried commercials, I even tried volunteering into the musical theater at my local church; I’ve tried lots of things.

Because my father left me on this earth alone, and try is all that I can do.

I need to keep living, for reasons undisclosed to even my own mind.

I tell myself that my father left because God wanted him to come home. He spent years of his life driving out evil spirits, freeing tormented souls from the clutches of the Devil, and maybe God thought his work was done? I like to believe that over the probable truth that his fear overcame him; that what he has been running from his entire life finally caught up to him. There is a devotion to God and, with it, a fear of the Devil that has been passed down for generations throughout my family. My father, and many men before him, suffered because of it.

But if God called my father home, what does that tell me about our home? Does God not care about our family? Why wouldn't he take both of us? No matter what I have done to myself after he died, the agony I have both endured and inflicted upon myself, I am still here. So maybe I do have a purpose on this earth. Or maybe God doesn't want me in His Kingdom at all.

I remain faithful that these thoughts are untrue. I pray to God every day and every night. I spread His word to those I meet, and I follow His guidance in everything I do, so maybe that’s why I'm still here.

Packing my, and the rest of my fathers belongings a second time has my mind cruelly bogged with memories, scents, feelings; just pure sentimentality. I have never been host to it before, being estranged from the rest of my family young never granted me the privilege. I do not have the patience for it. My body aches as I look at my shattered dreams, and I feel something cold and awful prick at the throbbing muscle inside my chest, frigid claws that dig deep into my being and tear away so subtly.

My anger gets the better of me and I throw the folder into the trash, causing it to topple over and spill papers and garbage all over the floor. Tears of exhaustion and frustration well up in my eyes, and I grip the sides of my head in my hands and bite back a scream. I will not let myself cry over this. I created this problem, I have to dig -or well, clean- myself out of it.

I admit, I am an exposed nerve, and have been for the last year, my father's death having ripped off my epineurium.

I hop up from the stool, making it creak wretchedly, scraping the wooden floor, and I grab a broom from the kitchen to clean up the mess.

It’s because it is so quiet that I hear footsteps outside my door.

In most apartments, this wouldn't come as a surprise but considering I live around a corner, at the end of the hall, on the top floor, it’s a bit odd to have foot traffic this late. I tend to be left alone down here, no one vying to get in aside from the rats and dust bunnies.

I keep cleaning, because if someone has come to rob me, they will surely be disappointed, and if they have come to kidnap or kill me, my weak body and dry-rotten broomstick surely aren't going to stop them.

The steps draw closer, and I can hear their breathing; sharp, heavy, fast. The pattering footsteps stop but the breathing doesn't, however it draws farther away.

My curiosity gets the best of me, and I slowly approach the peephole in the door. I take in a deep breath only to relax when I see it’s one of the neighbor kids, peering around my little back corner out into the long-stretched hallway with the other apartments. I can’t see that hallway from my room, however.

The moment of relaxation is cut short as I realize the kid is crying. His eyes are wide and red, and his breath is quick, like a rabbit being hunted by a fox.

Then I hear a scream coming from the hallway.

Then another.

The child is still hiding around the corner and even though I can’t see what he’s hiding from, everything in my nature tells me it is something he needs to get away from, now. I go to open the door and before I can unlock the deadbolt, the kid takes a mad dash down the long hallway.

…

……

...……

Another scream.

A thud.

My eyes well up in tears of panic and fear as I stand frozen, staring out of the peephole. I see nothing, but I hear everything.

Screaming, crying, ripping, squelching, banging, a gunshot.

Laughing.

Across that sequence of events, which lasted all of 3 minutes, I decided to make peace with death. Because it is all that I can do.

Then it goes quiet again. This time the quiet is eerie. No loud neighbors, no footsteps, nothing.

The air at the top of the high rise is thin, always has been, but trying to breathe it in during a panic feels like there is no air left at all. My hands shake, my chest feels as if it is about to explode. I unlock my cell phone and dial 911 only to be met with a repetitive beep. The earthquake took out the cell towers, of course. Self-preservatory panic overstimulates my senses and I drop to my knees at the door in a terrified heap. I cannot stop the sobs that choke out of my throat, and I fear even my body knows that whoever- or whatever is out there is going to come for me soon.

I clasp my hands and bow my head as I sob out the only thing I can “The lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside still waters; He restores my soul. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death; I fear no evil; for you are with me.”

I whisper prayers until my voice is hoarse. Because that is all that I can do. If anyone saw me at this moment I would be mortified. My neighbors are being attacked just outside my door and I have done nothing . But what can I do? Face a mass murderer by myself. Whoever is out there hasn't been stopped by the entire floor of people. They're a predator, and I am just as much a lamb to be slaughtered as anyone.

What I do need, is to get out of this place.

My mind is frequently unreliable, especially with time, however I have been hyperfocused on sounds tonight and I can confidently say the hallway has been pretty silent for at least 10 minutes now.

This can mean one of two things:

Everyone here except me got the hell out of this building, because they didn’t hide in their apartments like cowards, and the authorities are on their way.

Or everyone here except me has been killed, because they didn’t hide in their apartments, and ran out like idiots, and I am just waiting for my turn to face death as well.

Regardless of the right answer, staying in my apartment is going to get me nowhere. The only available exits are the elevator -which is a terrible option post-earthquake- or the stairs, both of which are at the end of the hall.

I get up from my heap on the floor and scour my apartment to grab the rest of my essentials to get out of here. I toss my phone, keys, wallet, and bible all into my purse, and I slowly and quietly unlock the deadbolt.

The moment I put my hand on the door handle to pull it open I feel my stomach sink and my body tense. The narrow hallway feels like a chute, and I feel as soon as I turn the corner my executioner will be waiting with a captive bolt ready to be driven into my skull.

I take two quiet steps outside my door towards the other hallway and I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and my heart threatens to crash its way out of my chest, sending a painful wave of thunder to my wrists and my neck. The sheer force of my blood pressure reverberates into my ears. I keep my body to the wall and clutch my bag to satisfy my brain’s need to have leverage and I use every ounce of courage in my body to peer around the corner into the hallway and-

Corpses.

There are corpses.

Horrifying, mutilated corpses of my neighbors. The corpse of the child who, if I was a second faster, could have been brought into my apartment.

Skin sloughed from muscle, muscle from bone and I am sick sick sick sick si-

The putrid, infectious scent of bile, blood, and exposed flesh makes its way to me, and by some miracle I do not vomit but my body doubles over, and my eyes and mouth are pooling while a black haze creeps into the borders of my field of view.

When I glance up, the sensible part of my brain makes my obscured vision focus on the only thing still moving in the hallway.

I, as anyone who knew her would, recognize her from the tattoos on her exposed flesh and the distinct red hair on her head, Ellie Bixler.

But very much not Ellie Bixler.

Her skin is pale and gray with death, and she is caked in blood and bits of everything that are no longer inside my neighbors' bodies. The curve of her arm is made jagged, and My God limbs are not meant to bend that way.

I suddenly believe that every prayer I have ever spoken has come to protect me at this moment, as she somehow does not notice me while she is focused on what I think is the door to her own apartment. I do not let my luck go to waste as I rush back behind the wall, out of sight of anyone in that hallway.

The quiet I got too comfortable with finally comes to an end in what I assume is the sound of her breaking, or trying to break through her door.

I peer around the corner like an idiot in some sick daze of infatuation when I hear the scream of a child.

Ellie is pushed halfway into her apartment, holding onto what I can only imagine is her youngest daughter, Kassie. Someone else inside the room comes to help as the door is slammed onto Ellie’s arm and she recoils back into the hallway.

She then throws herself into the door, furiously banging on it.

“OPEN THE DOOR LIKE YOU OPEN YOUR LEGS YOU STINKING GROUPIE SLUT!”

The voice sounds like a twisted, savage, faux version of my neighbor’s and I feel the overwhelming urge to vomit again as I dart back into hiding, and I take the opportunity of the noise to rush back to my apartment.

The contents of my stomach do end up on my floor after I close and lock the apartment behind myself.

I despise vomiting. Tragically, I was cursed with a weak stomach and an impressive ability to stumble upon revolting sights. A deadly combination only I could be so lucky to have.

I do not think to clean up the vomit on the floor that will soon be covered in my own blood when I am inevitably found.

I quickly realize as my body autopilots into my bedroom, that spilling my guts combined with a severe spike in adrenaline has given me three things; sharp chest pain, energy renewal, and a massive degree of mania.

I now know what I need to do.

I haven't touched these books since I moved out of Tennessee, not that I should have. Every time they have been opened they consume the one who opens them. My father was constantly buried in these writings, wasting his life trying to make something of them. Something that would allow our family to repent from the sins of our ancestors. I have never been so unlucky to read them, until now.

I know exactly where I hid them. I drop to the floor in front of the old, dusty armoire that came with the apartment, that definitely should have been thrown out years before I moved in here.

I flatten myself on the splintery floor and snake an arm under it, finding what I was looking for. I pull out the wooden box and rise to my knees as I pop open the latch. There is a stack of 3 handwritten journals. Journals scrawled by my great-great Grandfather, Marcus Littleton.

My body quivers, and adrenaline and fear flow through my veins as I pull one of the journals out of the box, illuminated by the moonlight.

I take the box and journal to my desk. I re-light the candle upon my desk and I open the treacherous tome up. My heart is frightened; however, my mind is set.

I have heard my father describe demons for the entirety of my life. ‘Twisted, rotting corpses intent on causing chaos, destruction, and pain everywhere they are found.’

I never fully believed his tales. Of course I didn’t, there was never any public recordings of such events. His stories were from the 1920’s, it could have been nothing but hearsay. Hearsay that he lived and died for. Hearsay that, if I do nothing, I will also die for.

He never let me touch these books when he was alive, he kept them hidden for himself. When I inherited them, I never opened the box. Partially because I respected my fathers wishes, partially because I didn't want to become consumed in them as he was. My father and I always were alike.

The handwriting of my great-great grandfather is sloppy, and every word is abbreviated, shortened, or misspelled. These books were scrawled in a panic. I knew this. I was, however, never told the extent. I skim through the most legible parts of the pages, many words and phrases unreadable.

“The words I uttered have unleashed a demonic entity beyond my darkest nightmares”

“The book, it cannot be destroyed.”

“Their bodies twisted, decaying.”

“Rotted from the inside out.”

“It does not stop.”

“The possession will spread.”

“They will tear you apart, and bathe in your guts.”

“Run.”

“It cannot be stopped until innocence is destroyed.”

“I cannot escape this.”

“It's going to get me soon.”

I slam the book shut. My body trembles so wildly I begin to spasm. My heart is beating as fast as a racehorse’s and my breathing refuses to slow. The fear of being discovered from the thing just outside my apartment is the only thing keeping me from screaming.

The chicken scratch writing described a book. I have heard about this book for years. A book that was hidden away for the good of humanity. My father wanted to keep us as far away from Los Angeles for a reason. He never knew where the book was hidden away, but he knew it had to be here.

And of course, it would make total, logical sense, that by some absolute joke from God, out of all the old buildings in this city, I manage to land an apartment in the one the book was being held at.

Or perhaps I really am cursed, and some sick string of fate brought me here to die and end my family's bloodline.

The only way this could be happening is if someone found the book. My father always said, ‘They have no power without the book, so long as the words aren't spoken.’ I’m hoping he is right. If he is, maybe there is something in the book that can be used to save whoever is left in the building. Something my great-great grandfather missed.

There is only one problem.

I have absolutely no idea where the book is.

This building has 14 floors, and hundreds of tenants. It would be nearly impossible for me to find it without a mass murderer trying to kill everything in its sight.

The chaos does seem to be contained to this floor, and by the looks of it, Ellie is the only one causing it. That could potentially narrow it down to someone on this floor having it, unless of course Ellie was just the unlucky one, in the wrong place at the wrong time. It could have been anyone.

Ellie Bixler didn't deserve this. The journal said the souls of those taken were corrupted by the demon, damning them to burn in hell while their body and partial consciousness remains to wreak havoc among men. Ellie Bixler does not deserve hell.

------------

Ellie Bixler was one of the first faces I saw when I moved to this treacherous place. Moving alone was a nightmare, especially moving alone into the top floor of a high-rise, into the apartment farthest from the elevator.

I thought the nightmare was ending when I got to the last boxes in the truck. However, when I picked them up, and almost toppled over with the weight of them, I realized my bad luck streak continued. I glanced at the label on the top box and sighed—of course it would be my dishes. I hear the ding of the elevator and feel a sudden whoosh of thankfulness.

“Hold the elevator!” I called, hoping that whoever was inside of it heard me. But seeing as I didn’t run into the doors, they must have. “Thank you," I said breathlessly, in passing, and then slumped against the wall of the elevator, balancing the bottom box on my thighs.

“Do you need some help?”

I peered around my stack of boxes to see the woman who had been kind enough to hold the elevator door for me; she was still standing there, dressed in a Guns N’ Roses t-shirt, dark blue ripped jeans, and leather boots. She wasn't dressed like the women I grew up around in the Bible Belt, that's for sure. And judging by her dyed red hair and tattoos, I would guess she didn't act like them either. She was staring at me hesitantly with blue eyes that looked as exhausted as I felt.

“Oh, no, I’ve got it,” I said quickly, disappearing back behind the boxes once I realized I had been staring a few moments too long at the gorgeous, courteous stranger while looking like I had been hit by a bus. “Thank you, though.”

There was a soft hum of contemplation, and then, a few moments later, a swish of the elevator doors sliding closed. I slumped against the elevator wall, thankful that I wouldn't have to converse with my new neighbor while coated with dirt and sweat.

“I think I have to insist, then.”

I jolted up so quickly that the box on the top wobbled precariously, only for it to be slipped off the stack and into the arms of the tall stranger. I stared at her, eyes wide, as the woman slouched under the weight of the box and flushed, before straightening up and smiling at me.

“Um.” I cringed at myself. What a way to be eloquent. “Thank you, but you really didn’t—”

“I know,” the woman smiled back. “What’s your number?”

I blinked in surprise.

“Excuse me?” There was no way this lady just asked for my number. Who did she think she was?

The woman’s mouth fell open and she was immediately blushing. Her brow furrowed and she chuckled awkwardly, shaking her head. “Your floor… Number. Is what I meant. For the elevator?”

Oh . I looked over at the rows of glowing white buttons; I hadn’t pressed the floor number when I rushed in.

“Oh, yeah! Right!” I replied awkwardly, still not looking at the woman. I shouldn’t have felt bad—after all, this stranger is the one who said it—but I couldn’t help feeling like I was the one who made everything uncomfortable.

“Fourteen,” I finally replied, sighing, after clearing my throat. The woman grinned, a big beautiful smile, and pressed the button.

“Well hello neighbor! I’m on 14 as well, apartment 85.” I looked back over at her sheepishly. “Expect to climb a lot of stairs. This elevator is out of order more often than it’s working.”

“Of course it is,” I commented dryly. Well, at least it appeared to be working on the day I needed it to be. Hopefully that luck holds true for grocery days, too. I thought. “Stairs aren’t a problem. Besides, it gives me an excuse to drink a third cup of coffee in the mornings.”

The woman laughed. “Sometimes I need at least five. Don’t have kids.” the stranger joked.

“You have kids?” I asked.

“Three.” She started, “Two sweet girls, Bridget and Kassie. And my boy, Danny, who is always the culprit if you hear loud music coming from my place.”

“Wow you've got a handful then.” I replied. “I’ve always wanted kids… but it doesn’t seem in my cards anymore.” I winced, and wanted to kick myself so bad for accidentally sounding super melancholic.

The woman nodded kindly, smart enough not to pry. Or maybe she just didn't want to entertain depressing, deep conversation with someone she met less than 3 minutes ago.

“I’d shake your hand…” the woman said, her voice hesitant as if she could sense the awkward tension in the elevator, “but…” she glanced pointedly at the box, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“I appreciate the concern for my dishes.”

“Dishes,” she said, staring at the box. “Well, that explains things.”

Like the fact that it’s a lot heavier than you thought it would be , I thought, and couldn't hold in my chuckle.

“My name’s Ellie.” The stranger—or Ellie, apparently—looked over at me. “By the way. Since we’re… Going to be neighbors.” This time, Ellie was the one who cringed.

“Well then, neighbor.” I stressed the word around my smile. “I’m Greta.”

“Greta.” Ellie said. My name sounded so pleasant coming from her lips compared to my own. I quickly eliminated that thought from my mind.

“Ellie.” I intoned in the same manner, and Ellie laughed. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open; Ellie inclined her head, as if to say you first , and I nod as I step through the doors.

“I probably should have warned you that I live all the way at the end of the hall.” I shifted the box in my arms and glanced over at Ellie. “Before you decided to be a good samaritan.”

“I’m always a good samaritan,” Ellie responded, her tone of voice slightly defensive.

“Careful. You told me where you live. I might abuse that.” That sounded a lot creepier than I meant it, but Ellie just laughed, which slightly lifted my embarrassment.

I stepped through the doors of my apartment. I didn’t expect Ellie to be impressed—chances are we had the same exact apartment, hers just… properly decorated—so rather than trying to play the role of host, I simply led Ellie straight to where I put the box containing my disassembled Ikea kitchen table.

Ellie did, however, let out a low whistle as she looked around.

“Wow, you’ve been at this all day, haven't you?” She slipped the box on top of the Ikea box while I laid mine on the floor.

“Yes, tragically. I slept on the floor and left the truck full of my non-essential stuff last night. Looking back, I definitely should have gotten robbed.”

“Long drive then?”

“You could say that.. Knoxville.” I sighed.

“You're telling me you drove here… from Tennessee?” She looked at me, eyes wide in shock. “With seemingly no help?”

“Just me and god.” Ellie laughed at that, but then caught herself when she noticed my expression, and the cross on my necklace, and realized I was serious.

“Well, then… I’d be happy to help, if you’d like?”

“That’s really nice of you, Ellie, but I’m afraid you're just too late. Those were my last boxes.”

“I have impeccable timing, huh?”

“Seems like it.” We both laughed, a bit awkwardly.

“What brought you all the way to the City of Angels?” Ellie interjected, cutting the awkward tension once again.

I breathed a heavy sigh, “It’s a long story…”

“Well, you could tell it, if you come have dinner with me.”

I recoiled, “I couldn’t- No. No thank you, I really should start putting all this stuff away.”

Ellie put her hand on my arm, “I insist. My husband, Jay, is making steak tonight and when he cooks, he cooks for a village.” Not that 3 children isn't a village.

I flinched, then relaxed slightly under the hand on my arm, I looked up at Ellie, contemplating, but there was little I would do to argue. I was exhausted, and I shouldn’t decline free food, even from a stranger. “I suppose I can't say no.”

------------

That night was the first, and the only time in a long time I felt safe.

I didn’t spend a lot of time with Ellie outside of that night. She was a very busy woman, and I was constantly trying to find work, or locking myself in my apartment stressing about trying to find work. I often passed her in the hallway, or stopped to chat while doing laundry, but that was the extent. For the most part.

We were also very different, spiritually and morally. She wasn’t religious and I was not going to try and convert an entire family of 5. Our lives were just very different, as much as I felt drawn to her. I often, for some reason, constantly had the gnawing ache to go back to her apartment and spend time with her, and just be in her presence more than I should. It’s a feeling I have felt before, when I was young, and something deep rooted in my consciousness told me I shouldn’t give into that ache.

‘For god cannot be tempted by desire, nor does he tempt anyone; but each person is tempted when they are dragged away by their own evil desire and enticed.’

I found out about her divorce when we crossed paths in the hall. It came as a shock, to an extent. Externally they seemed like the perfect couple, but being their neighbor, I had heard a fair number of screaming matches between the two of them. Divorce is something my family has always been against, especially when there are children involved; however, I believe that God would forgive Ellie if her husband abandoned her.

Ellie was a kind person; Ellie does not deserve Hell.

Ellie’s family –by the looks of it– is still alive in her apartment. As long as no one in the apartment has been possessed, it is possible they can be saved.

I just have to, you know, get there, without the demon in the hall ripping me to shreds before I take a step.

I sit at my desk, chewing on my cheek as I think out the most insane, ludicrous plan to save my neighbors, and to free my family from this book that has haunted us for generations.

There is an estimated 10 percent chance of getting out of this alive, but there are little alternative options.

There was a shotgun in the hallway.

If I can get ahold of it, and subdue Ellie long enough for her family to let me in, I can get ahold of the book, and with it, and my great-great grandfather's journals, I could find a way to get us all out alive.

That is, if they will even let me in, and if the book is even with Ellie’s family. This is where my odds drop further.

This plan is flawed. It is dangerous. It is stupid.

But I am all of those things, yet God has kept me alive, so perhaps there is hope to be found somewhere.

As I pack the journals into my bag, and I pull my largest and sharpest knife from the kitchen, I feel the full weight of my mortality sit upon my chest.

I am mad for this.

But what is my life going to be otherwise? What did God keep me alive through so much for? I have to have faith.

I bear the knife in my hand, and wrap a rosary around my arm and wrist. My bible is held in my bag and I stand before the door to my death once again, praying for my father’s forgiveness if I mess this up.

As I carefully unlock the piece of wood separating me and the Devil, I go white-knuckled on my knife, and I feel bile begin to creep up. I am already out of breath due to panic, dissociating out of my mind, and trembling so forcefully that my teeth chatter. I bite my tongue until I taste blood, and I push open the door.

I am not sure how I want to do this, but planning now would only exhaust me further, and I need to think on my feet.

Grab the gun, shoot the demon, get inside.

I take a few, quiet, petrified steps into the hallway and look around the corner when I see-

Kassie?

Ellie’s youngest daughter is standing in the hallway, moving to help a young, dark-haired woman off the ground. From what I have heard, this is Ellie’s sister, Beth, whom I have heard referred to as ‘The Groupie’ from various neighbors.

Their attention turns to me, Beth looks shocked, eyes wide, as she moves to grab the shotgun from what I now sickeningly realize is the corpse of Mr. Fonda.

The smell, Christ. I have sworn off vomiting again, but my body desperately wants to overrun my mind at this moment. I fight bile and slowly approach them. Kassie puts a finger over her lips, assuring I know to stay quiet.

Where are Bridget and Danny? I already know, at least, I should already know. My twisted mind does not choose to process that in the moment, only focusing on the two people merely 20 feet from me.

It is my fear that allows me a keenness to sound -even over my heartbeat in my ears- and I hear the cracking of glass and bone behind me as I begin to pass Ellie’s apartment.

No.

Please, God, don’t let this happen to me now. Not when I’m this close.

I freeze, because I am a prey animal, no matter what anyone says, in this building, right now, I am prey, and as a prey animal, I have developed the intuition of knowing when I am being watched.

Its gaze is fixed on me, and I am all taut muscle and dilated pupils underneath it. I know it is behind me, and I know with every fiber of my being that I am going to die if I do not move.

But my body will not allow my muscles to relax enough to bend my limbs.

I am gripping the knife in my hand for dear life and my eyes are locked with Beth’s, who is, currently, my only hope in surviving this. The groupie raises the shotgun, and points it behind me. It is then that I decide to turn and look at-

There is a hand on my neck.

There is a hand on my neck. There is a hand on my neck. There is a hand on my neck.

It is cold and wet and awful and I set my jaw and every muscle in my throat tenses more than they already were. My teeth threaten to break each other under the force caused by my fear.

I attempt to drive the knife into the flesh behind me, when my arm is caught in the grasp of another hand. The grip is tighter than the sickeningly gentle hold on my neck, and its claws dig deep into the tendons of my wrist, making me scream out in pain, my eyes screwing shut as my hand involuntarily releases the knife.

There is a wet, breathy, crackling chuckle behind me, and the grip on my neck releases, and I open my tear-filled eyes, only to be thrown into the door across from Ellie's apartment.

It is on me swiftly after that. It grabs my wrist again and pins it against the door, like it’s body alone wasn’t doing that enough.

Its stare is predatory and piercing, nothing like Ellie’s once was. It is feral, and it's burning into me. Wide, consuming and unblinking as it stares down at me, I am drowning in it. Pupils like a pinpoint amongst a pale blue, scleras dark and bloodshot.

It leans down for an awful moment, a pit forms in my stomach and I want to vomit as it licks the blood dripping down my forearm from its claws.

I look over its shoulder at Beth, who Kassie is hiding behind and gripping for dear life.

“Please.” It is my voice that pleads, but I have never heard myself so breathless nor shrill.

“Pl…ease.” The demon's voice mocks me, eyes still burning into mine. It's voice hoarse and deep and repulsive, but the thing that makes me want to upchuck more than anything, is that I can still hear Ellie's voice underneath it. Sweet, funny, no-bullshit Ellie Bixler, consumed by the Devil.

Beth is looking at me now, fear in her wide eyes, as she aims the gun down sight for a moment, aiming directly at the demon.

Pull the trigger.

PULL THE GODDAMN TRIGGER.

This is my apex of disaster. This is all that my mind has been made to handle. I have hit the limit of my unluckiness and hit it so damn hard I might as well have heard a comedically timed ‘bang’ and seen stars dancing around my head.

Beth is unmoving, and my breath catches in my throat as I choke out a strangled sob when I see the woman mouth ‘I’m sorry’ before the shotgun it aimed at the door to apartment 82, and it is blasted open.

The demon before me jolts upright, but doesn't take its smothering gaze off of me, even when Beth grabs Kassie and runs through the door.

My fate is sealed as the door slams behind her, and all that is heard is the clanking of the security chain lock, as Beth well and truly escapes.

Then there is a deafening silence…

…A pattering of footsteps…

…Heavy, excited, wheezy, panting.

An excited panting that is coming from the creature before me.

This is where my faith in God has led me. Like my father, and his father, and the father before him. All of my life, and all of their lives, have led to this very moment. My death will be the fated coup de grâce of our cursed bloodline.

I am crucified to my place, paralyzed from the neck down as it looks upon me. I am fated to be consumed by this monster. This is my destiny.

#ellie bixler #ellie x reader #evil dead rise ellie #ellie evil dead #expect this to be gross in future chapters #this is my corruption kink fic and will be VERY graphic #do not expect ellie to be nice #i love deadites sm #and i want her to be as nasty as possible #evil dead rise #evil dead oc #yes greta is related to the priest who made the records #and her family is tormented bc of it

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