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likeadevils · 5 months

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Midnights Timeline

This is a very long post that puts all the songs on Midnights in order of Taylor creating them. I’ve also included a few other songs she worked on while writing Midnights and quotes from Taylor and her collaborators talking about her process.

If you don't want to read all that, check out this playlist of the album in order, or this playlist of her entire discography. (warning: there is a very large chunk in the middle of Midnights that I have no information on (Maroon-Dear Reader. On the playlist not the album I have guesses for more than one song)).

I’ve also added this color coded scale of how sure I am of the date:

Confirmed: There is some type of official source for the date

Inferring: Nobody has officially said “This is when we wrote it,” but all available evidence points to that date

Speculation: This date is based off pure vibes and guesswork and is highly likely to change.

Unknown: All that is known is the year (from the US Copyright Offices

Renegade: March 7-15, 2021 (Confirmed)

Aaron: “I wrote the music [for Renegade] at some point after we finished [evermore], and sent it to her, because she was inspired by a llot of the Big Red Machine stuff we were working on. And she had already sung on Birch, a song that hasn't come out yet but is one of the major ones on the record. And I think she wanted to write a song for Big Red Machine. She very much feels like part of this community to me. So I wrote Renegade, the music, and sent it to her. And not unlike a lot of the things we've done together, one day I woke up to a voice memo from her and she had written this incredible song about how anxiety and fear get in the way of loving or being loved. And she was clearly thinking about Big Red Machine. And then we recorded her vocals and everything the week of the Grammys, when I was there in LA, and it was really nice to have something to think about that wasn't related to the Grammys - just to make music because you feel like making it." (transcript from jaimie)

High Infidelity and Would've Could've Should've: March 7-15, 2021 (Confirmed)

Aaron: [Would've Could've Should've], we wrote that song together, and recorded it while we were together in LA for the folklore Grammys. It goes back that far. And the same with High Infidelity. Those songs, we actually recorded in her house, the vocals, we recorded them then. And I just kept making music, and it was kind, after we had made folklore and evermore, I started to have ideas which I would share. And eventually, she obviously made most of Midnights with Jack, and it became something different. But High Infidelity, and Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve, and The Great War, and we made Hits Different with Jack and Taylor and I also, and it was great to be part of that record in that way. (transcript from @cages-boxes-hunters-foxes)

The Great War and Hits Different: between April-October 2021 (Speculation)

In the above quote talking about his songs on Midnights, Aaron says "Eventually, she obviously made most of Midnights with Jack, and it became something different," implying his stuff was written before the bulk of midnights in fall. He also says High Infidelity and Would've Could've Should've "[go] back that far," which implies they were some of the earliest stuff on Midnights, so it's safe to assume TGW and Hits Different come sometime afterwards.

Summer 2021: Jack has a session with Sounwave, Sam Dew, and Zoe Kravitz, where the instrumentals for Lavender Haze and likely Glitch are written

Rolling Stone interview with Sounwave: Before Antonoff began to work on Swift’s tenth album, he was cooking up tracks with Spears, Dew, and Zoë Kravitz [...] During a brainstorming session, the quartet put together a track that would eventually become “Lavender Haze.”

November 3 2021: It was announced that Joe has been cast in Stars at Noon, alongside Margaret Qualley, Jack Antonoff's then girlfriend now wife. Since Joe was parachuted into the film last minute, filming had already started, making it likely he left as soon as possible.

Taylor: We’d been toying with ideas and had written a few things we loved, but Midnights actually really coalesced and flowed out of us when our partners (both actors) did a film together in Panama. Jack and I found ourselves back in New York, alone, recording every night, staying up late and exploring old memories and midnights past.

November 8: Jack gets back from touring with Bleachers. Let the games begin.

Vigilante Shit: November 2021 (Speculation)

Vigilante Shit is the sole solo writing credit on the album, which implies it was written before her and Jack were holed up together 24/7. Also Scooter and his wife divorced in July. Beyond that there's no evidence this is early in the process, besides it making sense that Taylor wrote this alone, brought it to Jack, and then fell into a creative inferno.

Maroon, Anti-Hero, You're on Your Own Kid, Midnight Rain, Bejeweled, Labyrinth, Mastermind, Paris, and Dear Reader: November/December 2021 (Inferring)

I don't have enough info on the making of any of these songs to give them each their own little blurb, but if anything pops up I will update this post and reblog it letting y’all know.

Question..?: After November 21, 2021 (Inferring)

We know Rachel Antonoff, Dylan O'Brien, and Austin Swift were there the day they recorded it thanks to this behind the scenes footage of them recording the cheering vocals. Dylan was filming The Vanishings at Caddo Lake in Louisiana sometime between October 5 and November 20. I don't know exactly which dates he was filming-- he was in New York for All Too Well filming in late October and to attend the premiere on November 12, but since we know for sure he was in Louisiana on the 20th, I'm just gonna Occam's Razor it and say Question was written sometime after he got back from that.

You're Losing Me: December 5, 2021 (Confirmed)

December 17, 2021: Filming wraps on Stars at Noon, and with it the bulk of recording for Midnights.

Lavender Haze: Early 2022 (Speculation)

Lavender Haze, Snow on the Beach, and Karma are the only songs to have Henson Recording Studios credited (I can't find studio credits for the 3am tracks so there is possibly more on there). This could point to them all being recorded around the same time time, or it could be in reference to Jack and Sounwave's original recording sessions taking place at Hensen. I lean towards the former, since 1) it seems like the Winter 2021 sessions were mostly between Taylor and Jack, and the spring sessions have other collaborators, and 2) the tabloid rumors about Taylor and Joe getting engaged really started heating up in February 2022. On the other hand, Sounwave implies that there was a notable stretch of time between Lavender Haze and Karma, so I totally understand if you want to put it with the rest of the Winter 2021 sessions. Rolling Stone interview with Sounwave: A few months [after Jack and Sounwave wrote the instrumentals], Antonoff reached out to Spears, Dew, and Kravitz to see if he could pitch [Lavender Haze] to Swift, who loved it immediately. She wrote lyrics inspired by a Mad Men scene, numerous tabloid rumors and online gossip about her relationship status, and “1950s expectations.” “When Jack brought us in the hear for the first time, all our mouths dropped. She took it to a whole new world and made it her own. She created different pockets we did not hear.”

Glitch: Early 2022 (Speculation)

Rolling Stone interview with Sounwave: "Glitch,” one of the bonus songs on the Midnights (3am) edition, was born from the same studio session as “Lavender Haze.” I don't know if this means the instrumentals to Lavender Haze and Glitch were done in the same session, Taylor wrote the lyrics in the same session, or both. For the same reason as Lavender Haze, I lean towards this coming later in the process, as well as Glitch mentioning being together for six years, and in November 2021 Taylor and Joe had been together for a little over 5 years. That being said, Taylor could've assume the album was going to come out in 2022, and that she would stay with Joe until then, and bump up that date a bit. It's still very up in the air.

February 5, 2022: Taylor is photographed leaving Jack's house holding a keyboard.

Sweet Nothing: Spring 2022 (Inferring)

Joe is a co-write on this, meaning they likely wrote it after he got back from filming. It also mentions their trip to Ireland in 2021 and refers to it as "last July", implying it was written in 2022. While I was writing this timeline Taylor liked this post on twitter, implying that at least the second verse is in reference to Paul and Linda McCartney. The quote is from his poem Blessed, which you can read in this interview (TWs for death and cancer)

Bigger Than The Whole Sky: March 2022 (Inferring)

Claire Winter, a close friend of Taylor's, posts on Instagram that she miscarried. (I toyed with whether or not to add this, but seeing as Claire Winter made the information public herself, I decided to put it in. If she ever takes that Instagram post down, let me know and I'll delete this part.)

Snow on the Beach: April 1, 2022 (Inferring)

On April 1, Lana Del Rey posts a video on Instagram of Jack in the studio with an unidentified female voice in the background. Two days later she posts this photo, which Taylor and Jack both include in posts about Midnights/Snow on the Beach. Lana: Well, first of all, I had no idea I was the only feature [on that song]. Had I known, I would have sung the entire second verse like she wanted. My job as a feature on a big artist’s album is to make sure I help add to the production of the song, so I was more focused on the production. She was very adamant that she wanted me to be on the album, and I really liked that song. I thought it was nice to be able to bridge that world, since Jack [Antonoff] and I work together and so do Jack and Taylor. Taylor: And with Snow On The Beach, which features the genius Lana Del Rey, very lucky to have collaborated with her on that. And Dylan [O’Brien] was actually in the studio with me and Jack, because a lot of the time we record at his place, and Dylan was just hanging out, drinking wine with us, and listening to stuff, and he was just trying out the drum kit there. He wasn't serious. But we were drinking wine, and we were sort of like, 'We haven't recorded the drums for this one yet! See if you want to...' and he played the drums on the song. Sometimes it just happens like that. (transcript once again from jaimie)

Karma: Spring 2022 (Speculation)

Rolling Stone interview with Sounwave: The bubbly “Karma” came later [than Lavender Haze and Glitch], when Antonoff reached out to Spears for any other ideas he may have to contribute to the album and its synth-pop vision. “‘Karma’ was just a last-minute Hail Mary,” Spears says. “I remembered I was working with my guy Keanu [Beats] and had something that was too perfect not to send to her. As soon as I sent it, Jack was instantly like ‘This is the one. Playing it for Taylor now. We’re going in on it.’ The next day, I heard the final product with her vocals on it.”

April 19, 2022: Elle's interview with the Conversations with Friends cast is released, and when Joe is "asked if he hopes to continue writing songs, Alwyn simply says, “It’s not a plan of mine, no.”" It's possible this means Sweet Nothing was yet to be written, but I think it's more likely Joe was just denying in order to not create hype around a song that wasn't officially announced yet.

May 2022: Taylor teases Labyrinth lyrics in her NYU Commencement Speech and says m i d n i g h t very prominently on this instagram post, meaning by early summer she was likely confident in the album's name and which songs would make the tracklist.

And that's all for this timeline! Check out my others:

TIMELINES: debut • fearless • speak now • red • 1989 • rep • lover • folklore • evermore • midnights PLAYLISTS: debut • fearless • speak now • red • 1989 • rep • lover • folklore • evermore • midnights • entire discography GENERAL: tag

#taylor swift #timeline*#wrote this one in a haze with frequent breaks to pace around cause i was shaking so much #so if theres a typo that’s why #as always lmk if you spot a mistake/want further sourcing on anything/etc #AHHHHHH!!!!!

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sailoryooons · 7 months

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Fang Daddy | knj (m)

☾ Pairing: Vampire!Namjoon x fledgling! F. reader

☾ Summary: Ever since Namjoon turned you into a vampire, there is only one thing that you crave more than blood. Good thing your sire is more than happy to indulge in his sweet little vampire fledgling.

☾ Word Count: 3,801

☾ Genre: PWP, Supernatural, Vampires, Established Relationship

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Explicit sexual content, blood sharing, depictions of blood, feral fucking, vaginal fingering, nipple play, biting and a lot of teeth and spit and blood they’re vampires, a lot of carnal feelings, dom/sub themes, oral (f. receiving) cum eating, obnoxious use of the word daddy, subspace implications/descriptions, bodily fluids, a lot of feral thinking, explicit language, vaginal sex (reader on top), a bit rough, light degradation, reader is super needy, use of ‘good girl’ I think that’s it.

☾ Published: October 12, 2023

☾ A/N: This is a pseudo-request because @kithtaehyung and I are unhinged and somehow this is where we ended up. I am not responsible for literally anything this might awaken inside of you because this is actually what Namjoon speaking/existing awakens inside of me - and I made it Halloweenie. This is just straight-up feral sex I don’t even know if it makes sense in parts. This is mostly unedited!

☾ A/N 2: Mildly inspired by this video

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment, or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Haliween Requests

“Everything okay, baby?” Namjoon’s rough voice comes through the phone. You squirm, feeling your stomach tighten. “Talk to me.”

Even the sound of his voice makes the air in the room feel thick. Heady. You can hear everything so clearly on his side of the phonecall: party noise, loud voices, the sounds of clicking champagne glasses and laughter. He tries to muffle the sound of the party, but your hearing is sharper now. Better.

You imagine Namjoon standing in the corner of the party, phone tucked to his ear, head bent down as he murmurs into the receiver. A shiver ripples through you and you can’t help but make a soft sound. The sheets in his bed are too hot against your skin, feeling staticky as you slide your legs open. You haven’t made a move to touch yourself but just the imagery of him makes your core ache.

Namjoon hears you, of course. His hearing is too sharp not to. He hums, almost a growl in the back of his throat. “Is that why you called me, baby?”

“Yes.”

“I haven’t been gone that long.”

You stick your bottom lip out. A tingling sensation spreads over your skin from the tone of his voice. When he answered, he had sonded concerned. He’d only been gone for about two hours, nothing serious. But now, his voice has shifted. It’s darker, teasing.

“What do you need?”

“You.”

It’s an honest answer. The only one that you ever have, these days. With the way your senses have been heightened since Namjoon has turned you, all you can think about his him. The smooth, warm skin of his neck. The spicy sent of his cologne and natural musk of his skin. His deep, throaty laugh as he lets you nuzzle into him, dig into him, do whatever you want.

Blood lust keeps you from going to parties with him. You’re not ready. Not this early, and certainly not with Namjoon, who acts like a natural sparkplug for you. Even with him in the same room, your instincts and rational thought blur the line between beast and person.

“Yeah?” he asks. Cocky. Assured. You roll to the side, hiding your face in the pillow. “Want me to come come and take care of you?”

You nod, but he can’t see you. He hums a question and you open your mouth, feeling the throbbing in your gums intensify at the thought of him coming home. “Please.”

“Okay. Give me twenty minutes, alright?”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you… what?”

You feel the heat creep up your neck, a blooming inferno of pleasure and embarrassment and shyness all wrapped up into a smooth little cocktail. “Thank you, daddy.”

“Anything for you baby.” Just as you go to hang up, Namjoon adds in a warning, “Don’t you dare touch yourself without me.”

Even giddy from the threat, you listen to him. Instead of toeing the line of how far you can push him, you lay in bed like a good little fledging. Before you were turned, being stubborn with Namjoon was one of your favorite things to do. He’s not quick to anger, he has all the time in the world for your shenanigans, and he is more than happy to wait until you behave yourself.

Wait is no longer in your vocabulary. Vampirism comes along with life-changing traits. Better hearing, smell, and site. You’re much faster and you don’t need sleep as much - and according to Namjoon, eventually won’t need it at all. You’re nearly invincible, and once you pass the blood phase, you can return to mixing in a normal diet with your A Positive drinks.

But something you didn’t expect was sensation. Everything feels more. Emotionally. Physically. Mentally. Music moves through you differently, bringing you to tears as you hear notes and sounds you’ve never noticed before. Skin-to-skin touch drives you wild, like your outer layer of flesh has become a minefield of nerve receptors, sparking at the slightest touch.

It is overwhelming and addicting, and you’ve learned right away that making Namjoon punish you for flirting with rebellion will drive you into hysterics faster than it will drive you to pleasure.

So you wait, just like he asked.

Hot air clings to your skin. Temperature eventually won’t bother you, but you’re still a fledging. With each day, things that were normal as a human will fade. Some things - like the eating - will return. For now, you feel flustered and shaky, knowing Namoon is coming home.

Your Namjoon. Your boyfriend. And sire.

Namjoon explained the convoluted relationship between sire and fledging only once. You have barely listened, to fixate on the bass thumping beat of the pulse in his neck. It isn’t uncommon for fledglings to be attached to their sires, especially since the vampire’s blood flows through the veins of their newly turned companion.

Plus, it’s easier to drink from Namjoon than from a person. Blood bags work fine. Deer work better. But when Namjoon lets you sink your teeth into his tender flesh to taste his most recently meal is divine, driving you somewhere between hunger and lust, trying to straddle both.

When the door to the loft opens, you sag in relief. Sweat beats on the back of your neck as you sit up a little in bed. Pillows prop you up. You’re in one of his shirts, the fabric soft and smelling like him, reaching to your mid-thigh.

Seeing him ignites your instincts, gasoline to a flame. Your fangs prick at your gums, the ache intensifying as you feel them slide out gently, prodding your tongue lightly. Your breathing quickens and your eyes zero in on him, unable to tear your eyes away.

He looks good tonight. He looks good always, but the way the turtle neck hugs the wide frame of his body makes your mouth salivate, drool pooling on your tongue. His arms ripple under the dark fabric as he stands by the door, shuffling his shoes off.

The dark shirt is tucked into perfectly tapered black dress pants, showing off his perfect waist. Namjoon’s dark hair is styled back and out of his face. The silver hoop in his right ear catches the moonlight when he turns to look at you, full lips spreading into a grin.

Namjoon rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. Your eyes dart to the smooth, tan ski no his forearms. You can already smell the blood pumping through him. It’s hot. Fresh. Your fingers grip the sheets as you sit up eagerly, realizing he must have fed just for you. To let you drink.

His gait is smooth and casual. You say nothing as you stare at him. He crosses the spacious, warehouse-style loft until he’s standing in front of the bed, looking down at you, a pile in the sheets and blankets.

Slowly, Namjoon dips his gaze down to the apex of your thighs, which are squeezed shut and shaking. Every hair stands up on the back of your neck as Namjoon puts a single knee onto the mattress. It sinks under his weight and he leans forward, hand brushing your knees to ease your legs open.

Your legs slide against the fabric unde you smoothly, feeling like heavy. It flusters you, but not nearly as much as Namjoon looking at your dripping folds, nostrils flaring. He smirks and meets your gaze, his eyes dark as ever.

“Let me see your hands.”

You untwist them from the sheets and hold them up. He leans forward more catching your fingers to twist them in the light. Your eyes flutter shut at the spark of his touch, pleasure rippling through you. It makes you go pliant. His tough fingertips turn your hands this way and that, every brush of them against your skin making you burn.

“Good girl,” Namjoon croons. You open your eyes as he drops your hands. Belatedly, you realize he was checking to see if you’d touched yourself and left signs of stickiness on your fingertips. He crawls onto the bed properly, shuffling until he’s on his knees between your legs. “Does it ache?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

Letting your head fall to the side, you close your eyes. Your pussy pulses between your legs, desire so raw for him that you have to clench your teeth to stop from crying. Namjoon’s hand skim up and down your thighs, each stroke sending you further into a pent up craze. Your heart thunders against your chest, louder and louder until you can hear your own blood rushing through your body, hunger spiking.

When you open your eyes, you meet Namjoon’s. It’s quiet in the room. Your tongue runs over the tips of your fangs. They pinch tender flesh and you open your mouth a little, flashing Namjoon your pearly little incisors.

Namjoon’s gentle hands turn to blunt nails scraping down your thighs. “What do you want?”

“Daddy.”

“Need to be taken care of?” You nod, head starting to get cloudly with want.

It’s hard like this. To figure out how to articulate. Your tongue is heavy in your mouth and your gaze is trapped on his neck. The subtle pulse drags you in. You don’t think in words so much as images and feelings. Brief flashes of what you want to do as an idea more than a thought.

Stuck between giving in to a primal instinct and being a thought-processing human leaves you in a stretch of grey that only Namjoon knows how to navigate for you. Because he knows you and what you need. Knows just what to do to get you through it.

“I’ve got you, baby.” He grips the bottom of your shirt - his shirt - and pulls upward. The scrape of the cotton against your skin is like fire. “You remember how to tell me when it’s too much?”

Too much is very likely to happen. It has before. When the thoughts, the feelings, and the sensations are so overwhelming that it suddenly feels like you will blink out of existence.

“Yes, daddy.”

The nickname drips from your tongue like nectar. You don’t remember when you started calling him that, only that it feels good and that you like the way his mouth twitches upward when you say it. Like the way it makes him a little more feral.

“Tell me.”

“Indigo.”

Cool air pebbles your nipples. You shiver, exposed, and splay out for him. His dark eyes drink you in. Twisting your fingers in the sheets, you watched with hooded eyes, feeling the arousal drip drip drip between your legs.

Namjoon’s hands are like embers as he traces your skin. Up your legs, hips, stomach, fingers tracing under the swells of your breasts. His fingers stroke upward, dizzying touch circling your nipples gently. It hurts. The ache for him is deep, your mouth falling open to reveal your fangs as you hiss.

His mouth twitches as he lowers himself down. The anticipation makes you suck in a sharp breath, holding it trapped until it comes out in a long, wined whine as Namjoon’s tongue flicks at your hardened nipple.

Immediately your hands shoot up to his arms. He doesn’t mind, letting you dig your nails into his shirt as he sucks generously at your tit, sending you wild. The sensation is overpowering. You feel a ringing in your ears as you press your chest up into his mouth.

More more more more.

You don’t realize you’re babbling, saying the words out loud until he’s laughing, dark voice vibrating through your skin as he kisses his way to your other nipple.

“More?” he asks. “You know how to ask.”

“Please,�� you gasp, feeling the tip of his tongue apply the barest pressure imaginable. “Please, it hurts.”

Namjoon’s fangs scrape sensitive flesh. It makes you sing, squeezing your eyes shut as you pant through what is barely the beginning of intimacy. You’re already woozy and preening and light-headed and he knows it. Maybe takes a little pity on you.

Normally, Namjoon likes to take his time. Now, he moves with more urgency. He dives in for your neck, plying your skin with wet, generous kisses as he does. You bare your neck for him, pliant and obedient, knowing that your artery is there for the taking if he wants to.

Blood sharing is intimate between vampires. Even sires rarely share blood with their fledglings the way Namjoon does. It’s only done between the most precious of partners, between two vampires ready to consume one another. To be one another.

Anything less would be an act of cruelty or desperation, and this is neither.

Namjoon doesn’t bite down, though. He slides his hand between your legs, fingers brushing against your sticky folds to relieve some of the tension. You whimper, nodding your head to unasked questions as his fingers lazily trace circles around your clit.

Pleasure ebbs and flows, your blood rushing. You can feel your heart thundering in your chest as he kisses his way up to your mouth, stealing your lips in a searing kiss. It’s all tongue and fangs, the wet slide of his lips against yours messy and carnal and hungry.

Your hips roll into his hand as Namjoon plays with your cunt properly. You’re relentless, rolling your hips into the palm of his hand, pressing your swollen clit against him for friction. It’s a messy slide but it feels so good, brows pinched, mouth open as you pant.

Namjoon sinks a finger into your throbbing entrance and you go mad. Your nails rake down his sleeves, tearing fabric as you go. Your legs shake, muscles squeezed tight as he fucks his fingers up into you, meeting your sloppy thrusts.

It’s feral and heated, driven purely by the inferno burning in your stomach. Namjoon catches your earlobe between his fangs, dragging the sharp points across soft flesh. You let out a loud, wanton sound, unable to control yourself.

Shaking. Sweaty. Deteriorating. This is what he does to you with just his hands. His fingers press into your cunt, hitting your spot each time. It feels like pandemonium, walls clenching down on his fingers as you start to come loose around him.

“Fuck you’re a mess,” he growls, nipping your jaw as you frantically chase an orgasm. The wet slap of his fingers is loud, backtracked by your shaky breathing. “Fucking my hand like a little whore.”

“Daddy,” you mumble, eyes rolled back. You know it’s depraved. You don’t care. You just want him. Anyway you can have him.

Namjoon knows. His mouth goes to your neck. Your breath hitches, waiting as the flat of his tongue laps against your pulse point. When he bites down, you unravel.

Pain and pleasure unfurl, white-hot. You gush around his fingers, body convulsing. The warmth at your neck sedates you momentarily, knocking you into a state of bliss. Your head spins and it feels like you’re everywhere and nowhere all at once, not even breathing.

Namjoon takes long draughts. You feel his tongue pressed against your punctured skin. Feel the hot, slow bead of blood dripping down your neck to your shoulder. Every nerve is on fire and alive.

“Want,” you gasp. Namjoon removes his mouth from your neck. You feel the blood running, sticky. “Want want want want want.”

Namjoon kisses you. He tastes like blood, tongues tangling. You suck his tongue into your mouth generously, making him moan deep in his throat. The sound of him drives you further. You surge upward, seeking and hungry, hands tearing. He snarls when you rip off the shirt but he has others. Nothing is more important than him - than this.

Warm skin meets your hands. Vampires recently fed aren’t cold at all, their skin burning with fresh blood and heat trapped between you. Your fingers explore the taught muscles of his chest, the dips in his biceps and shoulders. Namjoon is a work of art, towering over you as he sits up to kick off his pants, movements blinding.

Your hands don’t remain still, grabbing any part of him you can, mouth latching on. You suck at his wrist, forearm, bicep. Anything you can taste, your mouth is there, searching. You don’t bite, though. Not until he lets you. Not until you have his permission.

Namjoon ducks between your legs. You gasp, feeling his tongue eagerly sliding up your folds. Your hands shoot to his hair, locking in his silky strands as he drinks you down.

It's feverish. Your feet kick out as Namjoon ravishes you, tongue plunging into your cunt, mouth sucking greedily on your clit. The stimulation is maddening, sending you shrieking toward another high.

He doesn't stop, smacking his lips together, licking, gasping, pressing his face further and further until he's shoving you up the bed, tongue buried inside of you.

Namjoon sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue flicking over the swollen bud. You squeal and crash down, orgasm washing through you as you come into his mouth.

He devours, tongue lapping, mouth sucking. He leaves nothing spared, and when he finally pulls away, panting and shining with cum and blood, the bottom half of his face slick and eyes blown, you know that you'll never want someone else. Anything else.

The world spins when Namjoon lifts you. You blink and he’s under you, his thick cock leaking onto his stomach. Your mouth waters as he settles you in his lap, his back against the pillow. Namjoon looks like a dark god, his sweaty hair falling into his dark eyes, mouth kissed with crimson, tan skin glowing.

Your hands go to his face, cradling his jaw. For a second, your touch is soft. Nestled in his lap, you trace the outline of his jaw, brushing your fingers to wet lips. He is yours. You are his. In body, soul, and blood. His gaze softens, as though he sees this too.

“Mine,” you murmur, thumb pulling at his bottom lip. Your gaze meets his. “Right, Daddy?”

“Yours,” he agrees, lifting your hips with one hand and stroking his cock with the other. He settles you over the dark tip and you shiver, head tilting back. “And you are mine.”

In a single, fluid motion, Namjoon spears you on his shaft. You let out a shriek, pleasure bolting through you. You feel full, gasping as you’re fully seated in his lap. Namjoon doesn’t wait for you to adjust, pulling you in to lay against his chest as he plants his feet on the bed, fucking up into you.

You go mute. Your body slides against his, your chest pressed against his, your face buried in his neck. You can smell the blood there, and hear the beating pulse like a siren’s call. Drink drink drink.

You wait, completely distracted by the way Namjoon thrusts into you, jostling your frame into his. His arms are wrapped tight around your waist, your knees digging into the bed. He gives and you just take, eyes rolling back in your head, blood running down your neck, mouth slack.

Despite his ferocity, it’s intimate. You feel every breath Namjoon takes. Feel his thighs flex underneath you, feel the way your arousal slides down your legs onto his waist as he fucks you. It’s feral but it’s different, a tether of emotion that goes deeper than anything you could perceive as a human snapping between you.

Namjoon slides down the bed a little. Changes the angle so that he’s hitting you deeper, harder. You clench your teeth, barely hanging on to your sanity as you wait for him to give you permission to bite him. Your mouth salivates at the thought, his blood roaring in your ears.

You roll your hips into him. It’s a little disjointed but it works, sliding along his cock as he drives you closer and closer to the high roaring inside of you. It’s so close you can feel it burning, nova under your skin. Only Namjoon can do this to you, lighting you up until you’re burning so hot you can’t take it.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck. No thoughts trespass here. It is only the shivering pleasure as Namjoon relentlessly takes you, growing. You scoot your face toward his neck, nose pressed against hot skin. You’re trembling, completely at his fingertips.

Waiting. Waiting.

“Go ahead, baby,” he grunts, fingers digging into the globes of your ass. “You’ve been so good.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, voice barely audible even to your sensitive ears. “Thank you.”

Finally, you indulge. You open your mouth against Namjoon’s neck, soft and tentative. Your tongue sweeps across salted, hot skin. You whine, feeling his pulse beating under the tender skin. Your fangs scrape against him and he moans, arms tightening around you.

And then you bite down.

Namjoon moans. You lose yourself in the sweet taste immediately, like cherry wine rushing into your mouth. Rapture. You drink slowly. Soft. Gulping as your veins ignite. Every atom lights up along the way, until you’re a vibrating mass of energy.

It’s like threads of awareness connect you. You feel Namjoon’s burning desire, his hunger for you. The deep-rooted adoration and love for you, a river that runs down to his marrow. You bathe in it, letting the connection wash over you.

Blood sharing gives you glimpses to Namjoon that you normally don’t see. Flashes of the way he sees you, his heart fluttering. Snatches of seeing something at a store that reminds him of you. The way you taste to him, the way he wants to hold you and never let go.

It’s so much.

You don’t take much. You know your limit, and as your thoughts start to black out, you remove your mouth, gasping. Your head falls to Namjoon’s shoulders, eyelids fluttering. Your stomach coils on the edge of another orgasm so strong that you just let it happen. Let it slam into you, a rogue wave.

The world blinks out of existence. There’s just the smell of Namjoon. The ghost of his mouth on your temple, and the softest feeling of floating. This is what you crave. The feeling of lightness with the accompanying touch of Namjoon. Because even in this space alone, there is a thread back down to him, a beacon to pull you back.

Slowly, you come back to him. You feel his heart beating against yours. You move your head, nuzzling into him. You feel flaky, dried blood but you don’t care, nuzzling into him. Your Namjoon. His arms are steady around you like a cocoon.

You have never been safer. More loved.

“Thank you,” you whisper, voice raspy.

“Always.”

You settle in comfortable silence, wrapped up in one another. Nothing will ever beat this. A thousand lifetimes with Namjoon is all you ever need to do this as many times as you want.

“You okay?” you nod against him. Your fingers slide up his neck and face to card through his hair, playing with the strands. Your eyes are still closed, enjoying the sound of his heartbeat. “Good.”

“A little needy.”

“You? Needy? Unheard of.” he teases.

You grin. The carnal desire from earlier washes away, fed. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s really hot.” You hum, continuing to play with his hair but saying nothing. “I’m kind of like your fang daddy, huh?”

Your hand pauses and you crack an eye open. Namjoon is grinning up at the ceiling, eyes turned to crescent moons as he tries not to laugh at his joke. Gone is the dark, powerful vampire, replaced by the sweet, boyish man that you love just as much.

“Namjoon,” you chastise, tugging his hair a little.

He giggles. “How about fang father?”

You sigh. “Whatever you want. Anything you want.”

He kisses your temple and lets you fall asleep.

#namjoon smut #kim namjoon smut #namjoon fic #kim namjoon fic #bts smut #bts fic #namjoon fanfic #bts fanfic #namjoon x you #namjoon x reader #minors do not interact #mindors dni #haliweeen #vampire namjoon

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bxtchycaprisun · 6 months

Text

let it be me | a. anderson ONE-SHOT

summary: you’d been avoiding your best friend for weeks, and she was determined to figure out what was wrong. she never would have guessed your absence was due to your repressed romantic feelings, which she also happened to share.

notes: fem!reader, bsf!abby, softdom!abby, porn w/ a plot, mutual pining, friends to lovers, angst but in a fluffy way, SMUT, fingering (both receiving), pussy eating (r!receiving), thigh riding, dirty talk, lots of pet names, i think that’s it?

a/n: i know this isn’t obstinate, but it’s wlw season and i’m WOMANLESS, so i needed to write some smut.

MDNI!!! sexual content. comment if you want to be added to my tag list

(named after the ray lamontagne song)

you and abby never fought.

attached at the hip from the start of elementary school, the two of you were never seen without each other. and as new friend groups came and left, you and abby always stayed inseparable.

you were so close that she’d even followed you out of state to your dream university after you’d graduated high school.

despite the feelings that emerged in your early teen years when abby had grown taller, and the impact of her various high school sports was clear on her toned arms, you never dared to express your changing perspective of her.

other than some consistent cuddling most friends would consider crossing a boundary, the lines of your friendship never thought to cross between platonic and romantic. you figured that if she were to ever return your feelings, she would have by now.

and even though you two were only friends, in a way, she was yours, and you were hers.

or at least, that’s how you saw it.

that was until you saw her out with angela, her chem partner who you’d heard her complain about dozens of times, a girl you thought she hated. and they were drinking coffee and eating pastries at the east campus cafe, you and abby’s cafe.

and though you knew your perception of your relationship was nothing but a fantasy, it almost felt like a betrayal to see her like that with someone else. but of course, you couldn’t actually be mad at her for it, nor would you explain what was making you so upset.

so you did the one thing you thought was logical, you avoided her.

knowing that she would see right through you from the beginning, and demand that you tell her what was wrong, you tried to be strategic about it.

but you couldn’t a thing past your best friend, the girl who knew you like the back to your hand.

and you had no idea what you were in for if you continued your fit.

…

it had been two weeks since you sent abby the text, and now, as she laid belly down on her crammed dorm bed, she was rereading it.

y/n: oh my god abs, i’ve got the worst week coming up everrr. hannah scheduled me like double the hours i’ve asked for and i’ve got two exams! fmlllll

abby: damn, i’m sorry bun. still room for me in that schedule of yours?

y/n: you know it abby. text you later, off to work

the conversation didn’t worry abby much initially. but looking back on it, she saw it in a different light.

you didn’t make time for her. and she was determined to know why.

abby sat up in her bed, furrowing her brows as she remembered the date. it was a wednesday.

she opened back up her texts, quickly typing out her message.

abby: what time you coming over tonight? it’s october, so we can officially make our movie nights halloween dedicated :)

she pursed her lips worriedly as she awaited your response. she had been shot down daily over the last couple of weeks, always given the same excuse. work, exams, stomach flu, etc.

abby knew something was up, she just needed one final confirmation.

y/n: shit, i totally forgot! i promised i’d take my coworkers closing shift since she opened for me. next wednesday i promise!

abby felt her heart sink, the situation becoming all too real and unavoidable. you were angry at her, and she didn’t have a clue why.

she scrambled out a message, quickly pressing send and biting the inside of her cheek as she watched the unchanging screen.

abby: are you mad at me? please tell me what i did, and i’ll fix it

she watches with a tight chest as the bubble of your response appears and disappears. and as ten minutes pass with no text back, she throws her phone down on the bed, groaning into her hands.

if it had been anyone else, she’d assume you were just busy at work. but this was you.

abby sprung up from the bed, throwing on a jacket and slipping her feet swiftly into her beat up sneakers. the sneakers you’d bought her for her 16th birthday.

she swung open the door, grabbing her things and moving swiftly down the stairs and out her dorm hall. she tucked her hands under her arms, pulling her hoodie over her head as she walked through the breezy fall air.

she rounded the familiar block and pushed into the entrance of your dorms.

and before she could think twice, she brought her fist up to your door, banging loudly with her other hand stuffed in her pocket.

“open the door!” she says sternly, already hearing your movement in the dorm.

you pull the door open with a displeased grunt, but as you recognize the rosy cheeked girl in front of you, your eyes widen.

“a-abby?” you stutter, staring up at her with a guilty expression.

she stares at you, taking in your loose sweats and braless tank. you weren’t at work, and you certainly weren’t getting ready.

after a long pause, the reality of the situation setting in, abby speaks up.

“you lied.” she murmurs, her voice low.

you cast your gaze down, stepping back to let her in silently. you knew you weren’t gonna get out of this one.

she shoves her way into your room, shutting the door loudly and pulling her hood off to look down at you disapprovingly.

“so,” she huffs, throwing her arms up and crossing them against her chest. “are you gonna tell me what’s going on with you?”

you sigh, pinching your temples. “nothings… nothings going on i just-” you begin before being cut off abruptly.

“nothings going on?” she repeats desperately, “y/n, you’ve avoided me for weeks!”

“i- i haven’t avoided you,” you reply breathlessly, stepping forward. “i’ve been really busy.”

“oh right, busy,” she scoffs, “just like how you’re so busy right now?”

you bow your head silently, avoiding her burning gaze. “i- i can explain..” you say slowly, although you sure as hell didn’t want to.

“great!” she snaps, “good, let’s hear it.” she shifts her weight back and forth on her legs, her figure now trembling with anger and desperation.

you look up at her with pleading eyes, trying to find away to avoid this conversation if you had any hope of keeping your friendship the same.

you were so disappointed with yourself you felt like you could cry. for years you’d stuffed your feelings down, terrified not just of rejection but of your own selfishness.

abby was the perfect friend, she was everything you could ask for and more, and yet your inconsiderate mind desired more. and when she didn’t give that to you, you pushed her away.

abby watched your expressions alter, staring at you with her mouth agape. “well?” she asks in a final, breathless plea.

when she doesn’t get a response, her mind jumps to the only conclusion she could think of.

“you’re… you’re seeing someone?” she whispers, her face falling.

your expression twists in confusion and frustration at her accusation, shaking your head fervently. “what? what are you talking about?”

“you are, aren’t you?” she presses on, taking a step forward.

you roll your eyes at the irony of her words. “no okay, i’m not seeing anyone,” you huff, the attitude clear in your voice. “you’re the one that’s seeing someone,” you murmur, back turned to your best friend. your eyes widen at your own words, cursing yourself for letting that slip.

you hear abby’s breath falter behind you. “what?” she asks, voice somewhat amused which annoyed the hell out of you. “did you say i’m seeing someone?”

despite knowing how childish you were being, you narrow your eyes, continuing on with your antics.

“well you are, aren’t you?” you say with a pout, tilting you chin up at her.

at this, abby laughs at you. “y/n… are you talking about angela?” she says with a smirk. “i’ve been trying to tell you about that, so much happened!” she exclaims and you nearly feel like breaking down then and there.

your expression drops, lips curling into a proper frown as you turn away from her once again. she stutters as she sees your change in demeanor.

“yeah right, i’d just love to hear all about angela,” you mutter, unable to meet her piercing blue eyes.

“no no.. it was bad, okay, it was really bad,” she chuckles, rushing over to grab your arms and turn you to face her. but as she takes in your distressed expression, abby’s mouth hangs open, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place in her mind.

“hey, hey, what is it?” she cooes, her voice softened as she brings her hand to cup the side of your face, stroking your cheek.

when you don’t respond once again, her back straightens, and she drops her hands from your skin, staring down at you in contemplation.

“you’re… you’re jealous,” she says quietly, her words laced with certainty.

you shake your head, stepping back from her with worry as she figured it out. “no, why the hell would i be jealous?” you heave, but abby doesn’t let you get away.

“because you like me,” she asserts once again, hands going for your wrists as she reaches out to you.

“hey, look at me, hey..” she brings her face close to yours, lowering to your height. your arms go limp in defeat as she holds you still, grabbing your chin gently to make you look at her.

as she studies your face, the way your eyes crease with uncertainty, she knows.

“you do..” she whispers.

the only thing you can do is drop your head in shame, praying silently that she would agree to just forget this conversation completely and return to your blissful friendship.

your murmur is nearly inaudible as a small “i’m sorry,” passes through your lips.

abby inhales sharply, taking your cheeks into your hands and lifting your head to face hers in a quick motion.

“oh sweet girl… don’t be sorry..” she breathes, brushing her thumb over your bottom lip.

she stares at you for a moment, chest heaving with her uneven breathes, contemplating the same action she’d been dreaming of for years. the action she never thought she’d get the opportunity of doing.

and just as your eyes meet hers, they flutter shut to the feeling of her lips pressing against yours.

you sigh against her, the tension easing from your muscles as she guides you gently against the door, running her hands desperately, yet hesitantly over your arms and shoulders.

the touch, the way her lips gently parted yours, her tongue rolling into your mouth with a soft hum, it was foreign, yet so painfully familiar.

this was abby. your abby. the girl who had been attached to your hip for a decade. the girl you had convinced yourself never to kiss and never confess to out of fear of ruining your perfect friendship.

and you couldn’t be happier as she did it for you.

you bring your arms around her broad shoulders, pulling her against you as your noses clashed together in a desperate kiss, her hands getting rougher and more curious, and so do yours. you tug her hoodie up over her head, touching her chilled skin from the cool fall air outside.

you feel her calloused palm reach below your shirt, grazing the soft skin on your belly, inching upward to your unclothed breast. you feel her hand suddenly stop, her mouth pulling away from yours.

“abby-” you call out her name in a slight moan, digging your fingers into her hair and tugging on her braid. you knew what she was thinking. you knew she thought she was rushing things, but you didn’t care. you’d waited so long.

“i know.. i know..” she nods, eyes nearly shut as she peers down at you, leaning in again to kiss you, slowing her rhythm and taking her time with you.

you whine into her mouth, brows furrowing as you grabbed her hand, trying to pull it towards your chest once again, and she chuckles against your lips.

“so needy,” she smiles, but with how shaky her voice is, she sounds almost hypocritical.

“neglected you for so long, huh?” she grins, kissing the corner of your mouth gently.

even though abby hadn’t had many relationships or sexual partners, mostly thanks to her hopeless pining towards you, she was undeniably more experienced than you.

you could feel the hesitance in her fingertips, the uncertainty in her eyes. knowing she didn’t want to rush you, you grab her cheek, pulling her lips away to speak.

“then don’t make me wait any longer,” you whisper, eyes looking up at her pleadingly as your thighs squeezed together, desperately trying to relieve the ache between your legs.

abby smiles, not missing a beat to crash her lips to yours once again, and this time her hand travels up your chest without hesitation. you whine as you feel her thumb brush over your nipple, and arch your back against the wall.

she dips her head down to your neck, peppering kisses along your throat, and sucking soft marks onto your skin. she groans as she hears your quiet moans, feeling like she could cum on the spot. she’d envisioned how you would sound so many times, but to actually hear it was so much better.

“you’re so fucking pretty, you know that?” she hums, large palms needing your tits as she pushes your legs apart with her knee, and slots her thigh in between them. “sound so fucking pretty”

your face is red and hot as you let out a quiet whimper in response, grabbing on to her toned stomach to pull her closer. as you feel the friction of her muscular thigh against your clothed cunt, you absentmindedly grind yourself against her.

“there you go, sweetheart,” abby praises you, hands leaving your tits to hold onto your hips. she gently guides you against her propped leg, and leaves small love bites below your ear as she whispers to you. “tell me if we’re going too fast, okay? you tell me.”

you shake your head, hips picking up their rhythm as you try to chase that sensation that slowly builds in your cunt. “not too fast, abs. i want more, please?”

normally, you would care about sounding too desperate, but since this was abby, you couldn’t hold back. even in this unfamiliar situation, you were comfortable with her. and even more importantly, you needed her so bad.

“you want more, huh baby?” she cooes, smiling ear to ear as she helps you keep up your pace. suddenly, her hands push your hips back off of her, and you whine in disappointment. before you can protest the loss of contact, she brings her hands to the hem of your tank top, pulling it off your chest in a swift motion.

her palms return to your waist, guiding you quickly against your small bed, her lips instantly connected with yours once again. she pushes you gently down, situating herself between your legs, and hooking a finger at the hem of your sweatpants.

the fabric is tugged down to your ankles in seconds, and she tosses the pants across the room with a shit eating grin. you can’t help but look up and giggle at her as she crawls on the bed to meet you, kissing up your stomach and on the fat of your chest.

“whatcha laughing about, pretty girl?” abby smirks as she sucks hickeys onto your skin. she tried her best to sound stern, but she couldn’t help but melt as she heard your laugh.

“nothing, this is just weird,” you can’t help but admit with blushed cheeks. “i just… never imagined we would be doing this..”

“oh?” abby says with faux surprise, “so you’re telling me… you didn’t imagine me doing this?” she asks mischievously as she takes on of your nipples into her mouth, sucking gently.

you’re breathing falters and you let out a small gasp, handing falling the the back of her head as she runs her tongue over your hardening nipple. “n-no i mean… i imagined it… just didn’t think we actually ever would.”

abby smiles against your skin, kissing her way down your stomach and settling between your thighs. “what would you imagine, bun?” she asks teasingly as she kisses just above your underwear. “would you picture me doing this to you? dream about my mouth on your cunt?”

with that statement, abby drops in between your legs, pressing her face against your panties and inhaling dirtily. she shakes her nose against your clothed pussy, nudging your clit deliciously. you cry out into your hand, instantly squirming from her touch.

you felt her start to kitten lick your clint through the fabric, causing you to let out an deep whine. you lift your head with hazy eyes, listening to her soft growls against you, which only made your stomach whir.

“abby pl-ease,” you say brokenly, desperately bucking your hips upward to chase the friction you needed, “stop teasing me…”

“m’not teasing…” she mumbles, her voice low as she runs her tongue flat against your underwear, applying pressure to your folds.

“a-ah, please!” you moan, feeling your cunt gush with more arousal.

“you are teasing me, you are-” you begin your protest when she suddenly yanks your panties down from your hips, and before you can process it, her hot mouth is licking a stripe from your hole to your clit.

you release a borderline pornographic moan at the sensation, eyes rolling to the back of your head. she doesn’t waist any time to start sucking at your clit with vigor, and alternating to lap up your juices.

you’re nearly shaking at this point, your chest heaving with every breath and hips twitching from every touch she gives you.

“fuck- i love the way you taste bun…” abby moans into your pussy, her hands keeping a bruising grip on your waist. “knew you’d taste good.. so fucking good…”

she already sounds pussy drunk as she flattens her tongue against your clit, helping you grind your hips against her mouth however you wanted. you continuously tried to close your legs around her head, completely overwhelmed by how good she was fucking you, but each time her palm would catch your leg, only pulling you further apart.

“gotta stop squirming, baby,” abby would growl as your thighs continued to tremble and your arms would thrash around aimlessly. you respond with an apologetic whine, already too cloudy minded to form words.

when you continue to move in her grip, she finally pushes your knees against your chest, keeping you firmly pinned with your cunt fully exposed for her.

“look at that…” abby cooes as she gives your pussy a small slap before dipping her mouth back down to your hole, lapping you up quickly.

“how many fingers you want, sweet girl?” she breaks away from your cunt to ask you breathlessly, before returning to suck at your clit.

you whimper from the added pressure of the position, head falling weakly against the pillow as you tried to clear your thoughts.

“ngh.. don’t know… o-one..?” you manage to muster, but you can’t already feel yourself tipping over the edge. anything abby gave you, you would take.

“hmm…” abby smiles against your pussy, keeping your legs pushed up with one hand while bringing the other down to slide through your folds.

you groan as you feel the tips of her fingers prodding at your hole, unconsciously pushing yourself against them. “we can do two…” she whisper as she slowly inserts her middle and ring finger into your pussy, hissing through her teeth as she feels you clench around her.

“relax baby… it’s only me,” she comforts you as she curls her fingers experimentally inside of you. you let out a soft cry, back arching against your mattress as she explores your insides.

abby watches your expression carefully, her tongue giving your clit small, stimulating licks as she searched for the spot that made you scream.

when she felt the spongy area deep in your core, and watched as you jolted against her fingers, panting out a moan, she knew she found it. she gave you one last lick, collecting the juices that leaked around her fingers on her tongue, she crawled up to your face with her fingers still deep inside of you.

her strokes were slow and gentle at first, teasing that spot with an almost unbearable pace. her eyes met yours and she positioned herself above you, but her pupils were darkened.

“i want to go harder,” she whispers, her voice low and full of lust. “can i do that, bun, can i go harder?”

you nod and quickly, grabbing onto her neck and pulling her lips against yours, moaning at the taste of yourself on her tongue. “please… so close..”

she didn’t need to hear another word before her pace turned from gentle to hammering. the air is punched out of you as she drills her fingers into your pussy, curling upward and hitting that spot with every thrust.

you were crying and moaning out her name, grabbing onto anything you could as she continued her rough assault on your hole. obscene squelches from your pussy fill the room, and your face blooms from embarrassment.

abby kisses you sweetly, in sharp contrast to the brutal pace of her fingers. you wrap your arms around her, hoping for a bit of her comfort to ground you in this moment. she immediately recognizes your need, bringing her forehead against yours as she fingered you.

“that feel good baby? yeah?” she whispers, her voice sultry as her palm rubs perfectly against your clit.

“m’gonna cum.. abby.. oh my god,” you cry out, fingernails digging into her back without even realizing. she clenched her teeth, the stinging pain only enhancing her desperation.

“that’s it sweet girl..” she mumbles, her pace unbreaking. “cum on my fucking fingers- let it out.”

without missing a beat, you feel your hearing practically go out, white hot pleasure coursing through your body as your orgasm crashes down on you. you shake, mouth open in a silent moan as you ride out your high, abby’s fingers never ceasing. your final sound comes out in a shattered moan, your eyes rolled back as you grind your hips into her fingers, feeling the best high of your life.

“good girl…” abby praises, her fingers slowing down even so slightly as she watches your expression.

“good. fucking. girl.” she finishes, her pace coming to a stop as she feels you tense up from the overstimulation.

you fall against the mattress, your face completely red from your post-orgasm, and your chest heaving with every breath. abby takes her fingers out of you, shoving them into her mouth and licking them clean.

you watch her in amazement as she lowers down to your face, pressing her lips against yours gingerly. you smile against her, pulling her closer by your shoulders until she practically falling on top of you.

“y/n,” abby giggles, trying to remain propped up from her elbows. “i’m gonna crush you!”

“don’t care,” you shake your head with a wide grin.

she smiles, kissing you again, but this time with a little bit more desperation. her tongue slips past your lips, massaging the inside of your mouth.

you tug on the waist band of her sweats, looking up at her with a pout. “take ‘em off,” you whine.

abby smirks at your plea, shaking her head. “so bossy,” she mumbles, pulling down her pants and tossing them aside. you instantly spring up on your knees, smashing your lips against hers.

abby flinches a bit, startled by how quickly your fingers find their way to the waistband of her boxers. you yank them down her muscular thighs, diving your much smaller fingers between her folds as you kiss her sweetly.

“woah- baby,” abby breathes, her voice almost failing her as she grabs onto your wrist. “what’re you doing?”

“returning the favor, silly,” you grumble against her lips, smiling as you feel just how wet she is. “i think i got you a little excited,” you giggle.

“no.” abby shakes her head firmly, “you’re not the one that gets to tease me.” she tries to sound stern, but the shake in her voice didn’t go unnoticed.

it wasn’t often that abby was on the receiving side. but staring down at you, with your eyes blown wide staring at her dripping cunt, she couldn’t help but grow just as desperate. she needed this too.

you palm her aching pussy, watching in awe as she bucked her hips against you, bringing her hands up to clutch the headboard. you hold your breath to surpress your own moans at the sight, wanting to only hear her soft sighs and the dirty sounds of her wetness.

“fuck… yeah like that,” abby groans, head falling back, and her knees trembling as she stays upright for you, not even realizing how she’s furthering spreading her thighs, and grinding into your palm.

she felt herself getting red the moment she realized she was already about to cum. but the pleasure was too consuming, and she was too pent up to feel any embarrassment.

the second you slipped your middle finger into her folds, your thumb instantly finding her clit, she toppled over the edge. she released a strained moan, instantly falling against you. she props herself up on the headboard to keep up her weight, and lets her head fall into your neck. she brings one hand down to cover yours, keeping your palm in place as she practically humps your fingers. she rides out her orgasm in shuddering breathes.

you watch her in shock and awe, remaining silent as she started to come down. she pulls your hand away, burying her face further into your neck with a deep sigh.

“did you just..” you begin, and she could practically hear your smile.

“yes..” she groans, rolling her face towards yours and pressing her lips at the base of your throat.

your grin widens as you stare up at the ceiling, stroking her back carefully. abby lifts her head, and secures her arms around your waist.

in a quick movement, you are rolled on top of her, your legs intertwined. she holds you tight to her chest, kissing the top of your head affectionately. you blush as you feel the stickiness between both your legs.

“we’re a mess,” you say softly, smiling up at her.

“leave it for now,” she whispers, fingers tracing shapes on your bare back. “wanna stay like this for a minute.”

you lay there in silence, listening to each others slowing breaths. and in that moment, you knew this was what it was supposed to be all along.

abby’s words come out in a content hum, her fingers affectionately pinching at the soft fat below your ass.

“sorry for making you wait so long, sweet girl.”

“you’re forgiven.”

#abby anderson x you #abby anderson #abby tlou #abby anderson fic #abby anderson one shot

530 notes · View notes

radioactiveparker · 5 days

Text

The Breakfast Club - Eddie Munson X F!Cheerleader!Reader

Part Three - Hallway Vision

Chapter Summary - During an adventure through the maze of school hallways, we see the Criminal become the hero, and the King become the villain. (A retelling of The Breakfast Club, written and directed by John Hughes.)

Chapter Warnings - Characters are all 18+ / Strong Language / Illusions to Emotional Abuse/ Abusive Relationship / Vandalism / Strong Sexual References / Drug References / Angst

Word Count - 5k

(Series Masterlist) (Masterlist)

(Part One) (Part Two)

~~~~~

Saturday.

October 25th, 1986.

Hawkins High Library.

1:00pm

~~~~~

"Let's take off. Dick's gone cruising." Eddie poked his head back into the library.

"Is that a euphemism?"

"No, Buckley. It means Higgins has just left his office."

You looked at the others as if this was an easy yes; you wanted to leave this library. Steve and Nancy didn't look too fond of the idea. Robin was torn between not wanting to leave, and not wanting to be the only one left behind.

"How do you know where he went?" Nancy asked, as if his answer would determine hers.

"I don't. But he's gone. He wouldn't've come to check on us first if he wasn't going somewhere for a while. Jesus, I've never seen so much chicken shit in one place in my life."

She didn't find that answer very reassuring, but if Nancy was anything, it certainly wasn't chicken shit.

Robin looks at her, then back at Eddie. "I'll go out in the hall for a minute, but I don't wanna leave." As if that was proof enough that she wasn't chicken shit.

You really wanted to get out of that library. It had felt a lot bigger when you had first got there, but now, five hours later, it was starting to get suffocating. You didn't want to see another book for the rest of your life.

"Do you mean take off for good?" You asked hopefully.

Eddie shook his head. "For good? No, just down to my locker."

"Okay." You agreed simply, taking your place beside him.

He smiled at you. "Being bad feels pretty god, huh?"

You rolled your eyes at him and gave him a playful shove. The others looked like they were starting to consider it. Eddie's locker wasn't that far away. They would be gone for five minutes tops. If things went well, that was.

"What's the point of going to a locker?" Steve questioned.

"Why don't we just stand in the hall for a minute? That'd be fun, huh? If we get away with it." Robin attempted to persuade.

You and Eddie ignored them, taking the chance to slip out the door. The longer you all spent debating it, the less time you would have to get back.

Steve, Robin, and Nancy looked at each other.

"I'm not chicken." Nancy disclosed boldly, shifting on her feet and crossing her arms.

"I am." Robin gulped. At least she was honest.

"You two gonna stay?" Nancy flicked her eyes between the two of them.

"Not if you don't." Steve leaned against the door frame, like his answer showed her some sort of compassion, that he was thinking of her.

"What do I have to do with making up your mind?"

Steve gulped. Not the reaction he was hoping. He cleared his throat and accepted defeat. "I don't know. I guess if you're not scared, I shouldn't be... not that I am. I'm not scared. Not of Principal Higgins."

Nancy stared at him like she didn't believe him, then left before he could dig the hole any deeper for himself. Steve was crushed as he watched Nancy walk away. He felt like he had just blown a chance at impressing Nancy. His shoulders slumped, and Robin patted him on the back.

"Maybe you should think for yourself for once. It's healthy."

She hadn't said it in a bad way, but it had still injured his dignity. He brushed her hand off him and left without a word. Robin turned to the empty library. She debated sitting back down, but she had visions of Higgins storming through the doors and hounding her with questions. At least if she got caught in the halls, she'd have the others with her. She quickly followed after Steve.

Nancy and Steve caught up with you and Eddie, with Robin running behind, trying to catch up. You all hurried up the steps as quietly as possible. You made it to the teacher's lounge and paused, hearing noise coming from inside.

"For cryin' out loud!" Principal Higgins hit the vending machine. His soda can was stuck inside.

You and Eddie ran across the open doorway while he was distracted. You tried not to think about the way Eddie had grabbed your hand to pull you along. Higgins rattled the coin return and started banging on the buttons. Steve and Nancy went next, taking a big lunge across and landing on their feet silently. Higgins let out a defeated sigh and started rummaging his pockets for more change. Finally, Robin made it across, just in time before the Principal turned around after having no luck. Eddie turned to make sure that everyone had made it across. He hadn't realised that he was still holding your hand until you wiggled it out of his grip. Your face flushed, and you awkwardly wiped your hand on your skirt, suddenly feeling the perspiration on your palm. You took a step away from each other at the same time. Eddie cleared his throat, and the others eyed him, wondering why his demeanour had suddenly changed.

They all turned when they saw his eyes staring behind them, paralysed in panic. Principal Higgins had walked out of the teacher's lounge.

Everyone froze.

The Principal paused, looked down at his watch, turned the other way, and walked down the hall. Everyone released a breath when he was out of sight. Eddie led you down another hall until you reached his locker.

His locker was so ugly it hurt your eyes. The white paint on his locker was non-existent. It was a horrific amalgamation of stickers from bands you've never heard of, spray paint graffiti, and lettering scratched into the metal with handwriting so bad you couldn't even read it. When he opened it, the inside wasn't much better. The stickers and writing wrapped around the inside of the locker door. It was a stunning mess of clothes, bags, papers, books, cassette tapes, and auto parts. You'd hate to see what his bedroom looked like.

Not that you were thinking of being in his bedroom.

Eddie started fishing through his locker. Nancy was revolted by it.

"You're such a slob. Your maid take the week off or something?"

"This is on purpose, Princess. Don't worry." Nobody believed him. "It discourages nosey people from going in it. Like cops."

Eddie smiled when he located what he was looking for. He pulled out a greasy, stained shopping bag. Out of the shopping bag, he took a smaller brown paper bag, and out of that, an even smaller paper bag. Then, with great drama and a huge, proud smile, he reached his hand into the final bag.

"You ready for this action?"

He slowly took out a baggie bulging with marijuana. Your mouth hung open in shock. Nancy looked at it like it was infectious.

"No way, man. Put it back." Steve insisted, making a reach for it.

Eddie stuffed the baggie down the from of his pants with a smirk. Steve pulled a disgusted face; there was no way he was going to take it from him now.

"Let's go."

You all turned and quietly crept back down the hall. You were about to turn the corner when Eddie stopped you. Professor Higgins was standing outside of the teacher's lounge again, holding two cans of Coca Cola after finding some spare change in his office draw. He was only five yards away. You all scooted backwards to hide behind the corner. You bravely peeked a head around. Higgins turned and made his way down the hall. He was on his way back to the library. You told the others.

"We're screwed!" Robin cried

"You asshole!" Steve seethed. "I knew this was a lost idea!"

Nancy shook her head in disbelief. "We're finished. This is just great."

You had a bit more optimism than that. You turned to Eddie. He got himself out of shit all the time. What's one more? You had faith in him, and he had felt it in how you spoke your words. "What're we gonna do?"

Eddie thought hard. Higgins' leisurely footsteps echoed down the hall, each one diminishing your chances of getting back to the library undetected.

"We'll go around, cut through the lab, and double back. C'mon."

Eddie urged everyone to start running. You all swerved around corners and scrambled downstairs, sacrificing volume for speed. You narrowly escaped Higgins' sight when you turned and corner and seen he was walking head on towards you all. He was too busy sipping on his Cola to notice the group of students at the end of the hall. At least he had decided to take the scenic route back to the library. He was unintentionally buying you all some time. You all ran in the opposite direction again.

"Cut through the cafeteria." Eddie directed, starting to run down the hall to the right.

"The gym will be faster." Steve countered.

"What? No, you don't know what you're talking about."

"No, you don't know what you're talking about. I'm through listening to you. You'll just end up getting us into more trouble. We're going this way." Steve had managed to persuade the others into following him.

Eddie hardly spent time in school, and he certainly never used the gym. He couldn't remember if it was quicker or not. He didn't like not being in control. He felt like he was running off a cliff head first with a blindfold on. He watched as the others followed Steve down the hall to the left. It was just you and him left. You stared at him fearfully, listening to Principal Higgins' footsteps grow closer. You started backwards slowly, encouraging Eddie to follow. He did with a scoff of annoyance. The two of you quickly caught up with the others, falling behind while Steve led the way. After a couple of twists and turns and another almost run in with the Principal, you reached the gym doors. Steve pulled on the handles.

They were locked.

Sheer panic set in.

"Great idea, shitbag." Eddie spat at Steve.

"Fuck you." He tried the doors again to double check that they were locked.

They were. He kicked them bitterly.

"Fuck you, why didn't you listen to Eddie?" You defended.

You crashed back on some lockers and folded your arms in frustration.

"We're dead." Robin whimpered.

Eddie looked at you. You had probably given him more credit that what he was worth before when you had asked him for help, but now, as you stared back, he wanted to prove himself to you. You seeing the clogs working in his brain and the change in his eyes.

He didn't take his eyes off you. "No, just me." He said heroically.

"What do you mean?" Steve's voice finally drew his eyes away from you.

"I'm gonna take the rap." He pulls his baggie of marijuana out and shoves it down Steve's pants. "Keep your unit out of it."

The girls giggled. Steve was horrified that a group of girls were laughing about his genitals.

"I mean, what if the bag broke and the dope seeped into his thing and it got high?" Robin laughed.

"Can you imagine this airhead running around with his little weenie stoned?" You cracked up.

"Little?" Steve looked wounded. "It's not that funny."

The girls just cracked up more. Eddie smirked.

"I don't want this, Eddie!" Steve begged.

"C'mon King Steve, I'm gonna save your buns! It's your fault we're in this mess, the least you could do is hold on to that until Dick leaves."

The girls were still laughing. You meet Eddie's eye and he starts laughing too.

Steve turned back to the group of girls snickering behind him. "Excuse me, but I don't want to do this. Eddie's making me, so I'd appreciate it if you guys would stop with the jokes. Okay?"

Eddie turned and started running back down the hall. "Just get back to the library!"

There was a pause as the girls calmed down. No use in trying to be sneaky when you can't stop laughing.

"Eddie, wait." He paused, eyebrows raised in interest at your voice. "Be careful."

Eddie beamed and shot you a wink before sprinting down the hall.

"That stuff couldn't really happen, right?" Steve's voice quivered with concern for his unit.

With a roll of your eyes, you urged the group to start towards the library. You lead the way, taking Eddie's route through the cafeteria. As you ran through the halls, you could hear his loud singing, but he was too distant for you to understand any of the words. If you could hear him from all the way over here, Principal Higgins would most definitely already be on his way to catch him.

You managed to get them all back to the library safely. Everyone was huffing for breath, and Steve kept adjusting his pants. Everyone took their seats, except for Nancy, who was peering out of the doors to keep an eye out for Higgins or Eddie.

Nancy gasped. "Higgins' got him! He's gonna get reamed."

Steve recoiled at the name. "I do not want these drugs in my underwear anymore."

"Shhh!"

Nancy rushed from the door to her desk. No sooner was she seated than the door opened up, and Principal Higgins shoved Eddie in. He was red-faced from running around, and he had managed to tie his hair back into a low bun that you thought suited him. His red paid shirt was half hanging off, and he was carrying one shoe in his hand, but he still had a big shit-eating grin on his face. You wondered what on earth had happened. He made his way towards his seat next to you, hopping on one leg as he tried to walk and put his shoe back on at the same time.

Higgins crossed his arms impatiently. "Mr. Munson has taken it upon himself to visit the gymnasium. So, I'm sorry to inform you that you'll be losing his company for the remainder of the day."

Eddie chuckled to himself as he sat back in his seat next to you.

"Everything's a joke, huh, Munson? The false alarm you pulled on Friday? Are false fire alarms real funny? What if your home was on fire and the fire department was over here answering a false alarm?"

"I'm not that lucky, Sir."

Everyone suppressed the urge to laugh at Eddie's wisecrack.

"Fine, what if it was your dope on fire?"

"That's impossible, Sir. It's in Harrington's underwear."

Everyone cracks up again. Steve turned red, adjusting himself in his jeans not-so subtly.

The Principal turned his attention on everyone else. "You like this? You think Munson's funny? Do you think he's cute?"

He got no reaction from anyone. Eddie glared at Higgins as he made his little speech, trying to hide his embarrassment at the fact that the Principal had managed to one-up him.

"I bet Y/N thinks I'm cute." He mumbled under his breath. Eddie had spoken your actual name for the first time. It sounded like honey running off his lips. Your eyes widened, but you pretended not to hear.

Higgins continued. "Go visit Big Eddie Munson in five years and see how goddamn funny he is." He smiled and leaned in close to Eddie. "You look like you're gonna cry, Munson."

Eddie was struggling to keep himself from striking Principal Higgins across his smug fucking face. How dare he humiliate him in front of everyone. How dare he humiliate him in front of you.

"You're not tough, Munson. You're pathetic." He reached out and grabbed Eddie by the front. "Let's go."

Eddie smacked his hand away. "Get your fucking hands off me! I'd expect better manners from you, Dick."

Eddie shuffled around the table, planting a big kiss on your cheek as he left. You almost gasped in surprise. As he walked away, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of sunglasses. Why he was carrying sunglasses in October, you had no idea. You had learned it was probably better not to question him. He lay them on the desk in front of Steve.

"For better hallway vision." He sniped.

Principal Higgins walked out, holding the door open for Eddie as he shuffled languidly behind him. He turned his head and looked at the others.

He held up a peace sign in farewell. "It's been a slice, ladies."

The door closed behind them.

The room was silent once more.

You reached a hand to your cheek where Eddie had kissed you. The skin was tingling under your touch. You couldn't help but smile at the memory of his surprisingly soft lips. Billy flashed through your mind again. Your heart dropped into your gut. How could you have let Eddie have that effect on you when Billy was waiting for you at home? The thought had your body tingling again. But not the good kind.

Everyone awkwardly glanced at each other. You realised now that somehow Eddie had been the glue that was holding you all together. You had all bonded over your inadequacy to tolerate Eddie that, now he wasn't here, you had absolutely nothing in common. You were unable to prevent the disappointment swarming in your chest.

"Principal Higgins is a total meat head." You broke the silence and everyone turned to you.

They all had the same sort of sorrow in their eyes. The girls agreed with you, but Steve shook his head like he didn't have any regrets.

"The freak asked for it."

The insult upset you more than it probably would have upset Eddie. "Hey! It isn't fair that Eddie gets treated like that. We all left. He saved our asses."

"Oh, get a life, Y/N."

You thought Steve was starting to come around to you after your talk on the way to the teachers lounge. You guessed not. "He sacrificed himself so we could get back here. I didn't see you volunteering."

You had wounded Steve's dignity. "I didn't want to leave in the first place. He got us into it, it's only right that he take the shit for getting us out of it." He bit back.

"You weren't forced to go!"

"Munson is a troublemaker."

"Yeah? So what does that make you?"

"Meaning what?"

"Wimp."

CCRRAASSHH!!!

Everyone turned in the direction of one of the seclusion rooms. There is a gaping hole in the ceiling where the tiles had crashed through, and Eddie splayed, stunned, on his back on the table. After catching his breath, he sat up and shook the dry plaster out of his hair. He sauntered out into the main library like nothing had happened.

"Miss me?"

"How did you do that?" You bewildered.

"Smoke and mirrors." He winked, taking his rightful seat beside you.

"Goddammit!" Footsteps came hurtling towards the library doors.

"Shit!" Eddie ducked underneath the table.

His tall, lanky body hardly fit underneath. He shuffled upwards until his upper half was tucked between your legs. You cringed, trying so desperately to close your legs so Eddie didn't look straight up your skirt, but your legs were trapped on either side of his shoulders.

Principal Higgins stood at the door, red-faced and puffing. "What was that ruckus?"

"What ruckus?" You played dumb, jumping in before Steve could open his mouth and rat on Eddie.

Higgins eyed them all up. You all sat like little angles, up straight and arms folded innocently in front of you.

"Could you describe it, Sir?" Robin asked.

"Watch your tongue, Missy."

Eddie shifted in discomfort, adjusting himself so his back didn't ache as much. He eyed your white keds. Only a slight discolouration in the laces and few specs of mud from when you had crossed the school field, but otherwise clean. He moved back slightly so he didn't get any dirt on himself. He followed his eyes up your white socks, tracing the green trim at the top of your knee. He was glad to be under the table when he flushed at the sight of your bare skin. The soft flesh of your thighs enticing him to follow higher.

There was a sudden knock from under the table from Eddie accidentally banging his head. You jolted in surprise, hitting your hands on the table to disguise the sound. The others copied, tapping their own little beats.

"What was that noise?"

"What noise?"

Eddie hoped that the sight he saw would never leave his mind. It was enough to send anyone into a cardiac arrest. His mouth hung open as he ogled straight up your skirt. You hadn't worn your spandex briefs since you weren't actually doing any cheerleading, and instead had opted for a pair of baby blue cotton panties. Eddie's mouth was watering at the excruciatingly tender bulge. In his entire life, Eddie would not be able to duplicate the raw power of this moment. Eddie's eyes were locked in a stare, hand trembling and eager to touch.

"Really, Sir, there wasn't any noise, just ---"

You shot up straight with a gasp, hands reaching underneath the table and into Eddie's hair. You could feel it tickling the skin of your thigh as his head moved further between your legs. The others looked at you with alarm. You pulled gently on his hair to urge him to stop, but couldn't find yourself putting in any effort to resist him. Your hand stayed weaved into his curled as he continued to delve in deeper. Your legs had started trembling when you felt his lips graze your inner thighs before placing a soft kiss there. Your mouth hung open in shock before you came to your senses. You quickly covered your gasp with a cough.

The others joined in and you couldn't be more grateful. The four of you sat in a coughing fit with Higgins eyeing you all suspiciously.

"What that the noise? The noise I just made. Was that it?" You thought fast.

Eddie's nose prodded at your mound. You suppressed another gasp and slammed your thighs closed around his head to stop him from moving any further. Eddie snapped out of his trance at the sudden pain on either side of his head. He slapped your leg to tap out, and you relaxed your thighs. He moved away from you, rubbing his ringing ears. When you felt him leave, you gave him a deserved kick to the arm. He hissed in pain, but Higgins hadn't heard it.

The Principal scowled. "I didn't catch you this time, but you can bet I will." He pointed a finger at you. "You!"

You tensed.

"I will not be made a fool of."

And with those final words, he stormed from the library.

Everybody held their angelic expressions for a couple beats and then, assured that Higgins was out of earshot, Steve, Nancy, and Robin break into laughter. You shoved your seat back and kicked your legs at Eddie as he scrambled out from under the front of the table.

"You're such an asshole."

Eddie tried to keep as serious as he could, but struggled to contain his laughter at your anger. "What?" He asked innocently.

"You know what."

"It was dark under there, it was an accident."

The others seemed to take interest in your spat. They wondered what had Eddie laughing and felt inclined to join in.

"What?" Steve asked.

"None of your business." You slumped back into your chair and crossed your arms, angry and embarrassed.

Eddie saw your wet eyes and soft pouting lips. He started to feel bad. He hadn't meant to upset you.

"I couldn't help it, okay? I'm sorry."

You refused to look at him. He placed a gentle hand under your chin and guided your eyes to meet. His voice was much softer. "I'm sorry."

You hadn't said it out loud, but Eddie could see the forgiveness in your eyes. You relaxed under his touch, feeling the truth in his words. He smiled tenderly.

"What did you do?" Steve asked again, still hoping for a laugh.

Eddie had clearly embarrassed you somehow. Steve thought it was only fair to get a few jokes out on you after you and the other girls had made fun at him in the hallway.

"Shut up." Eddie snapped, and the moment was over.

He held out a hand to Steve who just looked at it in confusion. He reached like he was going to shake Eddie's hand but he slapped it away just before they clasped hands. Eddie looked at him like he was as thick as pig shit.

"You smoke all my reefer or something? The dope, waistoid. Give it to me."

Steve's eyes lit up at the disclosure, wondering how he had managed to forget. He reached into his pants and tossed the baggie to Eddie, murmuring a 'good riddance' to it under his breath. Eddie sat back next to you and opened the bag on the table. You stared at it in curiosity.

You had never smoked weed before. You had never smoked period. But Billy did. He always tried to force you to smoke it with him, but you refused. It wasn't that you hadn't wanted to do it, it was because Billy wanted you to. It was kind of like when your parents ask you to do something and it immediately puts you off wanting to do it. He'd call you a killjoy, or Miss Priss, which always got under your skin. But what made it worse was that Billy always got horny when he was high. He struggled to contain himself around you, even when you told him no. Luckily, he had never done anything, but you knew it was only a matter of time before he would.

You knew Eddie wouldn't be like that though. You had never seen him stoned, but there was something about him that told you smoking with Eddie would be okay. He wouldn't pressure you into trying it if you didn't want to, and if you did, that was okay too. Eddie sold weed to people all the time, heavy hitters and noobs alike. He had taught plenty of people how to smoke before. You could try it for yourself, without Billy's untoward provocation.

He patted his pockets then looks troubled. "Do you have any papers." He asked no one in particular.

Then with a shake of his head, he answered his own question. "Why would you dinks have papers?"

"You're not smoking in here." Nancy looked fearful.

"Yeah? Watch me."

"If you want to smoke, go back to where you were before. Before you fell through the fucking ceiling." Steve ordered on Nancy's behalf.

Eddie reached over and pretended to click a switch to turn Steve off.

"What can I use for papers?"

"A book?" You suggested.

"What about the smell?" Nancy quizzed.

Eddie regarded her off-handedly. "Take your shoes off, that'll mask the smell."

Nancy's mouth hung open in offence, She knew her feet didn't smell so the insult hadn't wounded her pride too much. But it was still embarrassing none the less. Especially in front of Steve.

Eddie ignored her and turned to you. "Book pages are too thick."

"How about dictionary pages? That paper's real thin."

Eddie looked at you impressed, eyebrows raised and a slight twitch in the corner of his mouth. The look of pride made your stomach flip. You took a great deal of pleasure at his silent praise. He walked over to the dictionary stand.

"You can't tear up a dictionary." Robin protested. "What if somebody needs a word and you smoked it?"

Eddie ignored her, opened a dictionary and ripped out a random page. He couldn't care less if he had caused someone a minor inconvenience. There was more than one dictionary in the world.

He pointed at Nancy. "Hey Princess, watch that door. This is a police matter if we get caught."

Nancy tensed. She didn't like that idea very much. She swallowed hard. Eddie walked to the back of the library where the comfy chairs were and plonked himself down on one of the bean bags, making himself right at home.

You got up to follow. Steve looked at you completely pissed off at you for encouraging Eddie's behaviour.

"Loosen up." You scoffed.

"I'm not getting my paper written." Nancy sighed to herself.

"You know," you continued, "he's not all that bad. I'm kind of getting used to him."

"You're just bored."

"Why are you acting like this towards me, Steve?" You'd had enough of the way he was talking to you. "I thought we were fine after I apologised."

It was like when you were alone together you were fine, but in front of the others he hated your guts. You thought he had some nerve calling Eddie out at lunch for trying to keep up with his image. He was being such a hypocrite right now.

He scoffed. "It was hardly an apology."

"It was hardly an apology because I had nothing to be sorry for. I told you already what Billy did wasn't my fault."

"I know!" His voice softened. "I know."

Nancy gave him a gentle look, as if urging him to apologise. He sighed in defeat, tracing a finger along the split in his lip. Suddenly it didn't hurt as much anymore. Like holding this grudge over you was a constant reminder of the pain Billy had given him. He knew apologising was the right thing to do. He opened his mouth, but his time was up.

You shook your head in disappointment. You didn't know what you were expecting from him. Perhaps Steve wasn't as nice as you once thought. It was crazy how things had turned out. In the beginning, you thought for sure that this experience would have given you a chance to make amends with Steve, maybe even become friends of some sort. Turned out that you grew apart from Steve and found yourself feeling closer to Eddie. A notion you had never entertained in all your years at Hawkins High.

You walked away before Steve could say another word to you.

~~~~~

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~~~~~

Taglist: @cruwushes @the-ch0sen-on3 @namelesshumanperson @ali-r3n @cadence73 @munsonssweets @ahoyyharrington @mewchiili @yourdailymemedelivery @httpsunflowers @b-irock @coolglittercornbae @sav12321 @cumslutforaemond @siriuslysmoking @learninglinesintherainn @peaches-roses-sins @lodeddiperrodrick @catherinnn @lilocapoca @minniedreamers @melaninjhs @chaosfrogsonfire @levylovegood @bowsforsienna @rcailleachcola

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson series #mini series #cheerleader!reader #eddie munson x cheerleader!reader #stranger things #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #the breakfast club #the breakfast club mini series #the breakfast club fanfic #stranger things x the breakfast club #enemies to lovers

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plussizefantasia · 7 months

Text

Fluttering Heart

Fluffober Day 13: Soulmates

Kili Durin x f!human!reader

Word Count: 1.5k

AN: OMG! This has definitely been my favorite to write so far. I love Kili with my whole heart and that for sure came out while I was writing. I really want to see about making this a longer series once October ends, if anyone wants to see that leave a comment and let me know.

divider credit @royallaesthetics

The culture of the dwarves is much like their treasure, kept under lock and key. Histories, customs, and traditions all are played very close to the chest of the stubborn race. The only beings who are let in on the secret are those lucky enough to be a fated match.

There are different names for these matches in every culture, Soulmates, true loves, twin flames. The dwarves called them Ones. To find your One was said to be the best day of your life. At least that is what Kili thought, he wouldn’t know though. He hadn’t met his yet.

His uncle’s one had been the Hobbit, Bilibo took longer to fall than Thorin but fell just as hard if not harder than the dwarf. The two were very much in love, it was sickening. His mother’s One had been his father, and he doesn’t remember much about their time together. Fee’s One was a lovely lass that had come from the Blue Mountains to try and establish herself as a seamstress under the mountain.

All of them had told him how wonderful finding their Ones was, even Thorin whose One was not of the race of Dwarf and thusly did not feel the same pull that he had. Thorin had to actually make Bilbo fall in love with him, which amused Kili to no end because of how much their two personalities seemed to clash.

Kili hates spending time under the mountain now, he loves Erebor and takes pride in the fact that he was one of the brave few who had reconquered it, but everywhere he looked he saw people being happy with something he did not have.

The feeling went much deeper than those childhood squabbles he had had with Fili when the two pebbles would play together. Jealousy over toys was easily remedied, the ache that had recently taken up residence in Kili’s heart was much more difficult to push aside or fix.

So he had taken to going for walks. He had volunteered himself too many times to be the point of contact for the King of Dale. He had told Thorin it was because he wanted to prove that he could be trusted with matters of diplomacy. He might not be next in line, but he was still a prince and could take care of these things. It was on one of these trips to Dale that Kili met the very person who would change his life.

She was of the race of men and seemed to work in one of the few taverns that housed the nightlife of the town. Kili was in a sort of informal meeting with Bard, his son Bain, and the Captain of the Guard. They were discussing a deal between the two kingdoms where Erebor would provide the army of Dale with iron-forged armor and weapons and in turn, Dale would pledge their allegiance to the kingdom under the mountain in any future battle. Kili couldn’t help but find the humor in the reversal of roles as if the company had not asked and pledged the same things five years ago. This clause was only one of the facets that made up the current peace treaty in the works. It was Kili’s idea to have the meeting in a less tense and stuffy room than they were previously held in.

“Everybody has to eat Bard, why don’t we eat and talk at the same time? I’m sure we’d all be much more comfortable.” Bard had agreed at the behest of Bain who had laughed and reminded his father of the last time he had had a proper meal. After that, the men had embarked towards Bard’s favorite tavern. And judging by the way he had jovially called out to the man behind the bar, he was at least acquainted with the people who worked there.

Their waitress was a beautiful woman, who had skills like Kili had never seen, and he had been in a lot of taverns. She was able to carry three trays of piping hot food at the same time and at one point he had even seen her stack and move at least twelve pint glasses to a rowdier table towards the back of the establishment. And she did all this with the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

If only he would actually get to talk to her. The tavern was busy and she seemed to be one of the only other people working besides the man behind the bar and whoever was preparing the food to be served. She was never in the same place for a very long time. After she had gotten their initial order she had placed their pints down and immediately zipped off to fulfill the next request.

Without the ability to actually talk to her, Kili had to settle for second-hand knowledge. “So what can you tell me about the woman who served us?” Kili asked nobody in particular.

“Why, do you fancy her?” Came Bain’s reply.

“No, but any woman that can carry that much and move that fast without wasting a drop is certainly one I want to get to know.”

“Her name is y/n, She’s apprenticed to Brant, the man who owns this tavern. She arrived in Dale a year or two ago. I think she's from Bree but she's settled here. I think she has an arrangement with him, when he finally retires the place will be hers.” Bard had explained, throwing a somewhat scolding glance at his son. Kili might be young and more carefree than his uncle but he is still a prince and Bard did not wish to offend him.

“Interesting, any idea why she left Bree? It’s quite a long journey to take on your own.” Kili asked.

“Why don’t you ask her?” A third, much more feminine voice replied. Kili who had not seen her make her way over to their table, had nearly jumped out of his skin. The other men tried and failed to hide their amusement at his predicament. “After all, I’m sure she’d be willing to tell you as long as she didn’t catch you talking about her when she wasn’t around.” She had said all of this with a smile spread across her face and delight in her voice. Kili wasn’t really sure how she felt about his impolite inquiries, but she hadn't chased him out of the establishment with a broom yet, so he thought he was okay.

“I’ve gotten everyone else settled and thought I’d come visit the King, how are you this evening King Bard?” her attention was firmly placed on the King of Dale now, and Kili longed for her piercing gaze to once again land on him.

“I’ve told you, it’s just Bard, all of this King nonsense will just go to my head,”

“Of course King Bard.” She smirked and turned towards the rest of the men. “Anything else I can get you, gentlemen?” With a firm nod at their newest order, she spun and headed back towards the bar.

“I think I’m in love.” Kili had said under his breath.

“I think it’ll take you much more than that to win her over.” Bain had replied, hearing Kili’s self-confession. “Every time we’re in here I see her turn down men. Granted, most of them are usually drunkards but the principle is all the same.”

Kili was certain that the fluttering in his chest and the feeling of light-headedness had to mean something. And given that both the feelings had started right after she had spoken to him, he was pretty sure he knew what it was.

“Here you are boys, four more pints and a basket of bread, on the house.” She had placed the basket of bread and little bowls of butter and honey on the table. When she pulled her hand away it bumped into Kili and sent a wave of shocks all the way up his arm.

#plus size reader #plus size!reader #fanfic #fluff #x reader #flufftober #kili durin #kili #thorin #bagginshield #just a little bit #kili x reader #kili the dwarf #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit #kili x you #kili x plus size reader #kili durin x reader #hobbit fic

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heli-writes · 1 month

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Between then and now

Part 1: The return

Pairing: Toshinori Yagi x Reader

Summary: When a whirlwind affair between you and All Might was found out by his manager, it was made sure that no one ever knew about you or your relationship with All Might. Even twenty years later, Toshinori Yagi still thinks of you. His retirement leaves him lonely in a cold city apartment and he wonders what could’ve been. Maybe it’s time to rekindle? But is that what you want?

Disclaimers: -

Note: I’ve been writing this piece since October 2022. So glad, it’s finally done!

Heli’s Masterlist

*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~ *~*

Twenty years ago, Japan.

You giggle when Toshinori pulls you into him. He’s only wearing sweatpants and his skin feels hot under yours.

“C’mon y/n, we still have a few minutes, right?” Toshinori whines.

“No, the driver will be here soon. You still have to get dressed and do your hair!” You run your hand through his messy hair.

“Well, and who’s fault is it that my hair is all a mess?” he grins.

“Besides the point.”, you shrug, “The actual point is that I am responsible for getting you to your event on time.”

He sighs. “All right, all right.”

Toshinori bends over to pick up his shirt from the ground. “Just so you know, Mr. Kanno can be really glad to have you. Without you, neither of us would have any overview about where I have to be when.” he smiles.

“Just don’t let him find out that half of the time you are late because of me.” you sheepishly reply.

*~*~* *~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~ *~*

“Yagi-san, seriously! How could you possibly think this was a good idea at this crucial time of your career!”. Naoto Kannos voice boomed through the empty office.

“Kanno-san, you need to calm down. It’s not that bad. It’s not like y/n can’t be trusted.” Toshinori said slightly embarrassed.

“I would never tell anything to the press.” you said quietly.

“Y/n, this is not about whether you talk to the press or not. Eventually, they will find out. Are you even aware of what this could mean for All Might? For yourself?” Kanno massages his temple.

“Look,” Toshinori said, “We’re careful. And there is no reason why a hero cannot be in a relationship.”

“There are a thousand reasons why a hero shouldn’t be in a relationship, Yagi-san! You of all people should be aware of that.” Kanno states shaking his head.

Your heart beats loudly and leaves an aching pain in your chest. Toshinori presses your hand.

“I’m sorry you two. But you know this has to end.”

*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~ *~*

After a night-long fight and seemingly endless discussions, it eventually did end. You went overseas to work for the American branch of All Might’s hero agency and he stayed behind to fight villains in Japan. When he and Kanno brought you to the airport, you didn’t know that things would get to be a lot worse in America than you anticipated standing at the boarding gate to fly into the unknown.

*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~ *~*~*

The present day, Japan.

He knew the end of his career was coming. He knew for a good few years. He knew when he chose young Midoriya as his successor and he knew during his final fight with All for One. What he didn’t know then, was how much his life changed after his retirement. Sure, he still has his position at UA. He still has to train young Midoriya.

However, his days are significantly slower and quieter. Nothing could have prepared him for those empty nights in his empty apartment. He has no hobbies, no friends and no family to fill his time. He never had time or the head space to cultivate either of these things. And now all that waits for him at the end of the day is his cold apartment in a city that’s always bright. His home, however, isn’t that bright.

These days, he often finds himself thinking of you. It’s been such a long time. What were you up to? He knows you left his agency in America only a couple of months after you started there. He can’t begrudge you for that. After all, that’s what Kanno wanted for both of you: a clean cut. Where did you go after that? Did you find a fulfilling job? Did you meet someone special? Did you get married and have kids of your own? Are you happy?

He really hopes so. He really hopes that you are happy. The last time he saw you, you weren’t. You were holding back tears. Your broken heart is written all over your face. If things only were different back then, maybe you would be lying right next to him right now.

What a silly thought. He truly has become a pitiful old man. Sick and lonely. So far from what he used to be.

Laying in his bed, he stares at the dark ceiling. He turns over and grabs his phone. He opens social media and types in your name into the search bar. No results. He turns off his phone discouragedly. This was a stupid idea anyway.

*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~ *~*~*

The present day, America.

“When do we have to be at the airport again, Mom?”

“Jesus, Takeo, you are an adult. How can you still rely on your mother to be punctual?” you sigh, dragging your suitcase down the stairs.

Your son walks around the corner and gives you a lopsided grin. “Hey, you have to be at the airport too, you know!”

Takeo takes your suitcase and lifts it above his head as if it weighs nothing.

You sigh. “Stop that. Put it down. I feel like I shouldn’t have signed up for this.”

“Hey, this was your decision. No one asked you to follow me overseas! I certainly can imagine something better than your mother following you around.” your son pouts while putting your suitcase close by the door.

“I am not following you around! I always wanted to return to Japan eventually. Just never had a good reason. And what better reason do I have than you?” you mumble embarrassed.

“It’s ok, mom. I didn’t mean it like that.” He nudges you. “We’ll be living in different cities anyway. Far enough apart, so I can my freshman year at university in peace.”

You give him a suspicious side-eye. “And how exactly do you plan to enjoy your first year? Studying I hope.”

You pull your jacket from a nearby chair and start to put it on. Your son is already halfway through the doof when you hear him say: “Geez, mom, let me live a little.”

You hear a car door open and close outside. Your heart does that thing again. When it pulls itself together leaving behind a small ache. You take a look around the almost empty house. It will be the last time you see it. The new owners are moving in next week and you will have left the country by then. It’s strange. You choose to leave this place so that you can return to your home country. And yet, it makes you feel awfully melancholic. There are so many memories connected to this place. Most of your adult life. Your son’s childhood.

“Are you ready?” your son asks behind you.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” you say.

*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~ *~*~*

The weather is cold and rainy when you land in Tokyo. You get your son settled into his student accommodation. After that, you take the train to Musutafu. Your family lives in Musutafu. While you don’t have any contact with them anymore, the place holds a dear place in your heart. You always knew that that was the place where you wanted to grow old and find your final rest.

With All Might retiring, you finally felt safe enough to return home. Your new home is a small apartment on the third floor. You’re glad it came with furniture so that you had no heavy lifting to do. Your other belongings arrived a week ago. The landlord was kind enough to let the delivery crew put it in the apartment.

It’s almost midnight when you arrive at the place that will be your home from now on.

After opening the door, you turn on the light in the hallway. You close the door and walk into the living room. In the middle of the room, several boxes are stacked on top of each other. All my life in just a couple of boxes, you think.

You leave your suitcase standing behind you and open the box closest to you. Kitchen utensils. You open a few more boxes until you find what you’ve been looking for. You pull out a framed picture of your son and you on his first day of kindergarten. Carefully, you wipe over the picture. Then you put it on the windowsill at the right side of the room. Contently, you look at the mess that’s in your living room.

I’ll take care of the rest tomorrow, you think and you pull your suitcase behind you into the bedroom.

*~*~* *~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*

It’s your first real day back in Japan. Before you tackle the unpacked boxes that are stacked in your apartment, you are in desperate need of breakfast and coffee. Although breakfast is relative since the long flight and time difference made you sleep well into the early afternoon. After a quick shower and some fresh clothes, you set out to find the nearest grocery shop.

Your apartment is in a different part of the city than you grew up in. It’s a safety measure really. You don’t want to run into family while out and about. It would be awkward for all parties involved. Still, you feel anxious when you set foot in front of your apartment. It feels as if you’re being watched. As if someone would jump at you around the next corner and yell: “Hey, aren’t you the one that got pregnant out of wedlock?”.

It’s silly, you know that. Most people in this city probably have forgotten you, those who don’t either won’t recognize you anymore or don’t want to recognize you anymore.

Nevertheless, this place brings back memories you’ve tried to forget for a long time.

*~*~* *~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*

Twenty years ago, America.

“Pregnant? pregnant?”, your mother’s voice booms through the speaker of your phone. “Who’s pregnant?”, your bother asks in the background. “Yuto, get out of the kitchen. And tell your father he needs to come in here immediately”, your mother yells at him. She sounds shrill and on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

“Y/n tell me that this is not true!”, your mother yells into the phone again. You massage your temples. This was going just as you thought it would. “Mom, it’s true. I’m pregnant.”, you tell her.

You can hear shuffling at the other end of the line. “Are you sure? Or are you just late? You know, the women in our family have very irregular cycles.”, your mother rambles. “Mom, I’m sure. I’ve been to the doctor already. They did blood work. I’m most definitely pregnant.”, you tell her.

You know that you’ve been pregnant for a couple of weeks already. When your period was late after a month in America, you did a test from the drugstore. When it came back positive, you went into panic mode. You ignored the problem for another week or two in hopes that it’s a false alarm and that your period eventually does start. When it didn’t, you had to face reality and make a doctor’s appointment.

Now the first trimester is almost over and you start showing. You put off telling your family for a while now but you can’t hide it forever.

“But y/n... how could this happen?”, your mother asks desperately. “Well, I’m sure you have an idea of how this can happen.”, you answer dryly. You can hear your mother take a sharp breath. Somewhere in the background, a door opens. “Give me a moment.”, your mother mumbles. For a few minutes, you hear quiet talking in the background. Someone slams something onto a table or another surface.

“Y/n, this is serious”. Your father must’ve picked up the phone. “How far along are you?”, he asks. “I’m in the 14th week.”, you tell him matter-of-factly. “That’s too late.”, you hear your mother say closely to the phone. She must be pressing her ear onto the other side of it.

You feel anger rising in your stomach. “Too late for what, mom?”, you challenge her. You know exactly what she means. “To get rid of it.”, your father says irritatedly. “I’m not going to get rid of my child.”, you tell him. You’re not surprised your parents would propose this. Nevertheless, it makes you angry.

“Alright, then when’s the wedding?”. Your father sounds calm but challenging as well. “There will be no wedding.”, you reply coldly. You hear your mother sob in the background. Your father grinds his teeth.

There’s more shuffling. Your mother must’ve ripped the phone out of your father’s grip. “But who, y/n? Who is the father? He must take responsibility for this!”, your mother asks. You can practically hear the tears in her voice. “There is no father.”, you tell her. “Of course, there is a father!”, your father booms. “Or are you Virgin Mary?”

You almost laugh at that. To be the Virgin Mary would be easier than the situation you’re in. Of course, there is a father but it’s not like cou can talk about him. “The father isn’t in the picture. He doesn’t want anything to do with this.”, you say. It hurts saying these words.

“Goddamit!”, your father swears. It makes you flinch. Your father never swears. He’s too sophisticated for that. Your mother wails in the background. “At least he could pay child support.”, he says. “I don’t need his money.”, you explain.

“Oh no, I think you will.”, your father says angrily, “Because we won’t be paying for your bastard child”. You feel tears pricking in your eyes. You don’t want their money. You make good money on your own. What you do want is their support.

“I knew it was a bad idea when you said you’d be going to America! I told you to quit when they transferred you there! You could’ve come work for me and your brother and you wouldn’t be in this situation!”, he scolds. “But no! It’s always been like this! We gave you everything! We paid for your education at one of the top universities in the country. With that degree, you could’ve worked for any company! You could’ve joined the family business and worked for your brother. But no, you chose to work for that All Might. Y/n, I knew that would be your downfall!”, he continues not giving you a chance to say something.

You grind your teeth and stop listening. What your father says is true. You could’ve gotten literally any job you wanted. If it weren’t for your degree, it would’ve been for the connections of your father. And of course, they wanted you to work for the family. Keep you close, keep you under their control. It makes you sick. The whole reason why you started working for All Might’s hero agency was to get some independence. Make your own decisions.

“... and now you got knocked up by some foreigner! What a disgrace! How are we supposed to explain this to our business partners? Do you comprehend what this means for the family?”, your father rambles.

Ah of course, what would it mean for the family? That’s the only thing that matters. Hot tears stream down your cheeks. You feel a big lump in your throat. One that you can’t swallow down.

“... you hear that, y/n? What do you think are we supposed to do now?”, your father yells into the phone.

“Nothing.”, you manage to reply, “You do nothing. You tell them your daughter took a job in America and decided to stay there.”

“Damn right, that's what you’ll do! You won’t set foot into our neighborhood with that brat of yours.”, your father bites back. Anger and determination start to settle in your stomach. It makes the lump in your throat melt away.

“Don’t worry, dad. I won’t. I will do as I said. I’ll stay here and I won’t return to Japan. There’s nothing and nobody left for me there anyway.”, you say and slam the phone down.

That’s the last time you ever spoke to your father. Your mother spoke to you a couple of times afterward. You’ve tried talking to her but she was unreasonable. After she gave up the idea of abortion, she tried talking you into adoption. Giving birth in America, giving the baby away and then returning home to Japan into the lap of the family. You refused. Despite everything, you loved that baby growing inside of you. Eventually, you stopped picking up the phone when she called. Your brother didn’t even try to talk to you. The reason for that you don’t know.

When your son was born, you sent them a card and a picture. In return, they sent you papers of disinheritance.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

[Please comment if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters]

#mha #mha toshinori #yagi toshinori #all might #all might imagine #all might x reader #all might x you #all might x y/n #toshinori yagi x reader #bnha toshinori #toshinori yagi imagine #toshinori yagi x y/n #bnha #my hero acadamy #boku no hero academia

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wooahaes · 6 months

Text

team effort

pairing: non-idol!performance unit & gn!reader

genre: fluff + roommates au <3

word count: 0.8k~

warnings: food/candy mentions!

daisy's notes: themst :( <3

“I’m home—” Minghao had called out, only to stop in his tracks at the sound of plastic bags rustling. All four of you were sitting on the floor now, working diligently at… some task you’d decided to amuse yourselves with. “What the hell are you doing…?”

Normally, he could depend on things being relatively normal when he came home to you four together. Usually if anything weird was going on, it was the direct result of Soonyoung and Jun (and sometimes you) drinking while Chan sat by and watched with amusement and a phone to record the antics. Yet today seemed weird on a different level. Last Halloween, things had been far more normal: the five of you had gone to a Halloween party together. This year… Someone had moved the coffee table aside, the sofa and chairs back, giving all of you ample room to sit on the floor. Empty bags of different brands of Halloween candy were neatly stacked aside, and all four of you had a Halloween-themed bowl in your lap or between your legs, dutifully sorting the candy into five piles.

He made his way in. “Hi?”

Chan looked up. “Oh. You’re home.” He looked back down to his bowl, fishing through it again. He said nothing else: no warm greeting, no questions of how work went… He was just focused on his candy again, picking up a piece and reaching out to drop it in one of the piles.

“What are you guys doing?” Minghao furrowed his brow.

“We bought Halloween candy and we’re sorting it so we can all get what we want,” you said with this ‘isn’t it obvious?’ tone to your voice. He caught the way you and Soonyoung rolled your eyes, although the subtle smile on the latter’s face gave away that it was purely to poke fun at you for how serious you were taking this. It made Minghao wonder who’s idea this was to begin with now—he could easily see you coming up with it and either Soonyoung or Jun getting excited and dragging the rest of the group in on it.

“Okay… But what about me?”

One of Jun’s hands shot out, pointing at one of the piles. “I know which ones you like.”

Minghao nodded slowly, and turned to continue to his shared room with Jun. He returned to the group, still dutifully sorting away, now changed out of his work outfit. He lowered himself onto the couch, watching as the four of you kept sorting in silence. He found himself smiling a little, too: sometimes living with the four of you could be… a lot, to put it simply, but other times it would be like this. There was something so wholeheartedly endearing about watching his four roommates sort out the candy they liked best, all while taking Minghao into account as well.

Chan called your name after a moment, looking up. “Did you want the Hersheys, or was that Soonyoung?”

“... Lee Chan, please tell me you haven’t been giving Soonyoung my candy.”

Chan barely managed to apologize before the three of you started to voice your complaints. He’d been giving you the Crunch bars that were supposed to go to Soonyoung, and that meant he needed to sit down and sort through your pile and Soonyoung’s to fix the mistake. Rude ass! How dare you! Hershey bars and Crunch bars were different!

Minghao rose, making his way over to the empty space. “Which one is which?” He said, sitting down. “I’ll sort through them.”

Immediately, Chan was thanking him for saving him from further scorn. Minghao merely chuckled, putting himself to work as he listened to Soonyoung bring up if the five of you were going to pull together matching costumes again this year.

“I dunno,” you shrugged, toying with a small piece of candy wrapped in shiny orange foil. “It was a lot of work last year…”

“But it was cute,” Jun said. “I still have pictures I haven’t posted.” (Purely because Jun changed his phone background to one of them once October began.)

Chan shrugged. “We’re cutting it kind-of close.”

“Oh my god,” you immediately looked up. “Guys. We can be the Scooby Doo characters. Soonyoung is Scooby.”

Chan immediately pointed, “Yes! I don’t want to be a dog again. Soonyoung can do it.”

Soonyoung rolled eyes, but he was smiling again. “Everyone knows Scooby Doo, though. Are you sure?”

Minghao said nothing as he continued to work, listening to the rest of the group as they planned things out. He definitely didn’t object to being designated as Daphne (he’d figure out something fun to do with the outfit… and maybe he’d dye his hair, too—he hasn’t gone ginger in a while), listening as Chan and you bickered over who would get to be Fred… only for you to turn the title over to Chan when you realized you could dress up as Shaggy and hang out with Soonyoung. It left Jun with being Velma, but he didn’t mind: he just said something about liking her smarts. Minghao placed another mini Hershey bar into your pile of candy, and pocketed one for himself.

Just as a little treat for later. He’d just owe you one if you noticed.

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @staranghae @synthetickitsune @weird-bookworm

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bellewintersroe · 6 months

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Max Verstappen x HornerDaughter!

part 13 here’s the LINK to part 12. mentions of sex and sex flashbacks, swearing, a little awkwardness and flirting, but nothing too intense. It’s Halloween and Christians nightmares seems to be coming true, or at least he thinks. Max and Leni can’t seem to stop the smirks and eye contact. Despite it all being fun and games, Leni’s anxieties begin to loom...

Taglist: @ironmaiden1313 @callsignwidow @fangirl125reader @norassimpingzone @roseseraj @eugene-emt-roe @copper-boom @its-elias-world @cassiopeiia24@larastark3107 @maxxiemoo @crashingwavesofeuphoria @18754389

October 31st 2023:

I was meant to be working. I still had an hour left of working online, but instead of focusing I kept sharing sheepish smiles with Max, glancing over to him everytime he’d walk in the room. I’d purposefully picked a quiet room to do my work in, but it seemed to be one that Max also had to be constantly coming in and out of.

My eyes peered through my lashes and I felt a smirk grow seeing Max come in again. “Have you forgotten something?” I quietly asked, taking out an airpod. I wasn’t even listening to anything, it just prevented people talking to me- Max, however, was an exception. “No, why? Oh- actually I left my hat.” He quickly changed his mind, reaching for his cap that was still sat on the table from the previous time he’d been in here. I smiled again, glancing back down to my laptop. “What’re you working on?” He then gently asked, making his way around the table. “Some really fun stuff.” I sarcastically spoke, I felt his arms rest on the back of the chair and immediately I was reminded of how his touch felt on my back when we slept together only days prior. “Fun stuff?” He leaned over my shoulder, peering at the document. “Looks it.” He played along as I turned over to face him. “Leni, what’re you doing later?” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Mmm, nothing. I was gonna watch some Halloween films.” “Not dressing up?” His eyebrows perked. “Well I can do if you want.” I joked as Max’s jaw dropped followed by a bubble of laughter. “I’m joking.” I cleared up. “Well you could dress up, you know.” I felt his hand touch the bare of my skin slightly. His eyes glancing down me indicated he was talking about something else, but he started snickering childishly shortly after.

“Shut up, Max.” I rolled my eyes, the smile failing to fall off my face. “Didn’t know you had that in you.” I pushed my tongue to the inside of my cheek, pretending to be focused on my work. Realistically I was reading the same word over and over again. “Also didn’t realise you had a lot of things in you.” I teased again, hearing him pause before laughing once again. “Well how were you-”

“Leni! Oh- hi Max.” My dad out of everybody walked in and I felt Max’s hand immediately slide off the back of my back as he stood up straight. I mentally cursed, especially seeing how his eyes darted between Max and I with a furrowed brow.

“Hiya.” I smiled, pretending to act focused back on my work. “Hi.” Max nodded. “Sorry, Max I didn’t realise you were in here, Leni have you almost finished?”

“Oh, I just left my hat.” Max commented and I almost started laughing. “Oh, okay. Leni do you wanna grab some food later? Max you’re welcome to join.” My dad offered, open arms. “Sure, I’ll be done in like an hour.” I nodded. “Ah I’ve got training until 9.” Max winced. “Of course you have.” My dad shook his head like he’d forgotten.

“Just you and me then, Len.” It was obvious my dad had noticed something between Max and I. He was acting a little awkward, he looked confused. I mean it’s not like we were in a super compromising position or anything? Then it dawned on me- what if he knew about Max and I the other night?! Fuck! The security did see me go into his room. Maybe a form of Chinese whispers got passed around?! All I knew from now on was to deny, deny, deny. “So, what’s up with you and Max?” My dad questioned once we were sat at dinner, tucking into our food. He was acting occupied, cutting through his steak. I bit into mine a little too harsh when the question fell off his lips.

“Me and Max?” I frowned. “Yeah, you looked awfully close earlier.” I started laughing at his words, hoping I could play it off just like I would anything else.

“I was showing him my work, not that it’s very interesting.” I cringed. “Oh yeah? How’s that going?”

“Okay, I mean. I can’t imagine staying there forever. Works for now, I like being able to do it from wherever.”

“Yeah it’s a good little thing you’ve got going on. Maybe you should come work for me at RedBull?” I was just grateful that the conversation had slipped past and away from Max, a relief spread through me a little too soon.

“The nepotism would be crazy. It’s not like I’ve worked to get there or anything.” My eyebrow perked. “But you know the team better than most people, it’s not like you don’t understand the sport.”

“Mmmmm, don’t think I’d work very well as Red Bull’s next team principle, dad.”

“Well I think you’d be great!”

“That’s a little bias.” I responded, chewing on my food with a smirk. “Yeah, maybe.” He shrugged, only half convinced.

“Even if you’re getting back into physiotherapy again, you’d enjoy that no?” He referred back to my degree that I’d only graduated from the year prior.

“Probably.” I shrugged, taking a sip of my water. “I’m sure Max would like to spend more time around you.”

“What?” The words fell off my lips quicker than I could piece together what he’d actually said. “Well I just see a few things, you know? I’m not completely stupid, I know you’re close.”

“Yeah, we’re close. But we’ve always been close.” I took a final mouthful of my steak, acting completely occupied by my food. “Hmmm, okay.”

“You’ve just been reading all those rumours online.”

“Well are they true?”

“You know they’re not.” I narrowed my eyes as my dad began to laugh. “I haven’t even read half those rumours!”

“Ah, pay no attention to them.” He waved his hand. “You too then…” ___________________________________________

“And he was so good in bed, Anna, like, really fucking good at sex.”

“Did you finish?”

“Yeah, oh my god, literally twice.” I paced back and fourth as I spoke on my phone to my best friend. “Len, you need to sleep with him again.” I laughed at her words.

“I know. I really want to.”

“Well you know it’s gonna end up somewhere at least, like he’ll be your boyfriend, that’s what you both want isn’t it?”

“Well… I’m not sure yet, I really like him-”

“-and he really likes you.”

“Yeah, but- you don’t think it’s too soon do you? I just… his breakup was what? Five weeks ago?” “Yeah but the circumstances. It’s different for everybody, you and Max have known each other way longe than him and his ex were even together, same for you and Josh.”

“Yeah, true…” I twirled at my hair. “Just see how it goes, Max is a nice guy, he’s not gonna bullshit you Leni, if that’s what you’re scared of.”

“Mmmm, true…” my phone lit up as a text came through. It was from Max and I smiled pathetically fast.

“Speaking of the devil..” “What did he ask?”

“Just what I’m doing… you think I should go round and fuck him again?”

“Yes, yes a million times yes.” Despite the eagerness there was the looming anxiety that would quickly take over me sooner than later…

#max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fanfiction #Max Verstappen X OC #Max Verstappen #f1 x OC

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seijorhi · 2 years

Text

Means to an End

Miya Atsumu x female reader x Miya Osamu

w.c 7.3k

tw: dub/non-con elements, yandere, drugged reader, cheating, toxic relationships, implied abuse

“Ame, I really don’t think this is a good idea.”

The blonde pouts, lovely, long eyelashes fluttering, “It’s one weekend, for my birthday. Please? Don’t make me beg.”

Biting back a heavy sigh, you take her proffered phone, glancing down at the images of the picturesque onsen retreat flashing on the screen. And it does look amazing; traditional Japanese architecture, steam rolling across the natural springs and lush mountain views. Of course, Ame’s birthday is early-October, and by then the mountains and surrounding valleys will be awash in vibrant hues of red, orange and gold.

The whole thing oozes a calm, relaxing tranquillity and you can only imagine how lovely it’ll be if you do decide to go. The where has never been the issue. “It’s not that I don’t want to go, you know that,” you begin. “I’m… I don’t know if I’m all that comfortable spending a whole weekend with either one of them.” Especially not trapped in such close, cosy quarters for days on end. “I don’t want to ruin your birthday by making things all weird and tense.”

“You won’t ruin it at all, not if you come,” she hurries to reassure you. “Look, I’m not saying they’re angels or that how they treated you back then was in any way okay, but high school was years ago, and they’ve both grown up a lot since. They’re not the same assholes who used to pick on you, I promise. They’ll be on their best behaviour.”

“Ame–”

“Please,” she says as you set her phone back on the coffee table that separates the two of you. “Atsumu’s changed, Osamu too. I’m not saying let bygones be bygones, but… can’t you give them a chance? For me?”

She makes it sound like they went around pulling on your pigtails and calling you names, tripping you up in the hallways between classes. Not her fault, you suppose; Ame didn’t know the twins back then, nor you for that matter.

You, she met during your first year together at university, Atsumu (and by extension his brother) eight months ago when her company transferred her from Tokyo to Osaka.

No, it’s not her fault. She knew the vague bits and pieces you’d shared over the years, but you’re the one who swallowed the truth down the day she called to gush over her new stupidly hot, talented, Olympic volleyball playing boyfriend.

“I’ll… I’ll think about it,” you concede quietly.

Ame beams at you, “You won’t regret it!”

—

“You know you didn’t have to drive, right? Osamu’s jeep would’ve fit all of us perfectly fine,” Ame calls out in lieu of a greeting, walking down the ryokan’s steps.

You shrug, “I like driving.” That, and it makes you feel the teeniest bit better knowing you have an escape route if this whole thing goes sideways.

There’s a knowing twinkle in her eyes as she comes in for a hug that tells you she doesn’t quite buy it. She embraces you tightly in spite of it, “I’m really glad you’re here.”

If she were anyone else, you think, you wouldn’t be. For Ame, you’ll suffer through this weekend with a smile – or as close to one as you can manage. “This place is beautiful,” you comment, changing the subject as she helps you with your bags.

“You should see inside, the pictures really didn’t do it justice,” she gushes. “Oh, and the onsen – we have two, it’s amazing! I’ve been waiting forever for this trip and now that we’re here it’s literally so perfect! Did I tell you that Atsumu hired a private chef for us?” Happily chattering away, she takes no notice, perhaps deliberately so, of the deep, steadying breath you draw in before you reach the door.

The last time you’d laid eyes on either one of them was the night of (morning after?) graduation, and considering how that ended… is it any wonder your heart’s lodged firmly in your throat? That you feel that same pit in your stomach that you used to have every morning walking through the school gates?

Yet Ame… Ame’s positive that they’ve changed. And maybe you don’t have any faith in the Miya’s twins and the possibility of leopards changing their spots, but you have faith in her, don’t you?

She’s a good person. She wouldn’t be with someone who, who–

Without so much as looking over her shoulder, Ame reaches back, fingers entwining with yours. Another breath in, and you follow when she steps inside. “Tsumu and I’ve got the room on the left, and Osamu’s in the one down the other end” she tells you, pointing towards the respective bedrooms. “Which leaves you in the one next to ours.”

You’re barely nodding along however, because with one leaning over the kitchen bench and the other seated on the sofa near the crackling fireplace, the realisation that you’re once again face to face with the Miya twins is kind of taking all of your focus.

And they’re staring; matching unreadable expressions boring into you like a bug under a magnifying glass. It’s an effort for you not to fidget as the silence seems to stretch.

You’ve seen Atsumu plastered throughout Ame’s social media feeds, and the odd glimpse of his twin, yet now that they’re both right here in front of you, you’re struck by how little they’ve changed in the years since you saw them last.

They’re bigger than they were back then, both in height and their sheer physical size, though that shouldn’t come as a surprise. Especially not in Atsumu’s case, what with him being some big shot professional athlete now. Osamu’s hair’s a bit darker, Atsumu’s a little blonder. They both have it cropped shorter, too, you notice. All superficial things, probably no different to the small changes in your own appearance.

And it isn't that you expected some big, dramatic change, only that seeing them here, now… it’s whiplash. As if you could blink, and you’d be right back there again; shoved back against their lockers, the two of them looming over you.

Ame, ever your saviour, is the one to break the silence, gently dropping off your bag before flitting to her boyfriend’s side. “Tsumu, baby, you remember–”

“Nah, not really,” The blond tilts his chin, appraising you even as he lifts his arm for Ame to slip under, “Ame says you went to Inarizaki High, in the same year as us or somethin’?”

Osamu snorts, “She was in our class for three years, dumbass.”

His brother shrugs, “So? Am I s’posed to remember every scrub we went to school with?”

While the bickering between the pair is nothing new, Atsumu’s sudden lapse in memory strikes a chord of surprise – and you don’t buy it for a second.

He’s certainly arrogant enough, self absorbed enough, talented enough to purge all but the few people deemed important from his past – friends and rivals mostly. If all you’d been was another girl in the crowd, it wouldn’t have mattered how smart you were, how close you sat, or how loudly you clamoured for attention, leaving a lasting impression on the great Miya Atsumu would’ve been an uphill battle.

You’d seen it in action; the revolving door of girlfriends shoved out of mind the moment he grew tired of fucking them.

And through it all, you were a constant. A puppy to torment when the mood struck. They hounded you through the hallways of Inarizaki, isolated you, hurt you.

Took and took and took ‘til they were satisfied.

So no, you don’t believe that either one of the twins has forgotten you. For Ame’s benefit, though, you force yourself to smile pleasantly, “It’s fine,” you say, addressing none of them in particular. “We weren’t exactly friends.”

From his position behind her, Atsumu smirks.

—

Dinner swings around quicker than you’d like.

While the chef they hired moves throughout the kitchen with a single minded focus, Ame ushers the three of you to the beautifully crafted, oak table in the centre of the living space. Osamu, for his part, swipes a bottle of expensive looking sake from the counter on his way through, and wastes no time at all in dropping down into the seat to your left and cracking it open.

“You want one?” he asks, grey eyes shifting towards you. He’s already pouring it though, sliding the glass your way before you can answer.

‘We’re celebratin’, aren’t we? One drink won’t kill ya.’

Clearing your throat, you push it back, “I’m good, thanks.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Atsumu chimes in. “I brought this ‘specially for tonight, ain’t a proper party without good booze.”

‘Y’know it’s rude to refuse the hosts.’

Slowly – deliberately – he pushes the sake back towards you. “Try some, you’ll like it.”

A little belatedly, you realise something in his earlier comment doesn’t sit right. “… What do you mean you bought it for tonight? Ame’s birthday isn’t ‘til tomorrow,” you remind him, frowning a touch.

You’re well aware that Atsumu’s of the belief that the world revolves around him, but surely even he can’t have mixed that one up. At least, you hope not for Ame’s sake.

Atsumu gives you an odd look, like you’re a complete moron. “Yeah, I know that, I’m not…” he trails off, his gaze shifting from you to the blonde in question, who’s suddenly extremely interested in the edge of her place setting. Beside you, Osamu snickers, Atsumu opting for a wide grin as the pieces fall together in his head. “Ah, she didn’t tell ya, did she?”

You frown, “Tell me what?”

Steadfastly refusing to meet your eye, Ame’s cheeks turn a dusky pink as she fiddles with her chopsticks. “I um, I told you today’s the twins’ birthday, didn’t I?”

No, and she knows that full well. Just as she knows that you never would’ve let her talk you into this trip at all if you’d had so much as an inkling that it wasn’t solely about celebrating her birthday, but theirs too.

At least it makes sense now why Osamu’s here, why Atsumu bothered shelling out for this fancy villa and the expensive alcohol, the private chef diligently working away in the kitchen, pretending not to overhear a word of this.

A sick feeling settles in your gut.

Back then, you used to dread it. The twins were insufferable enough on an average day, their sense of entitlement over you only ever skyrocketing whenever their birthday rolled around. It never mattered what else was going on; exams, qualifiers, girlfriends, Osamu and Atsumu always found time to collect – whether you were willing to give or not.

And now you’re faced with a deeply uncomfortable thought; were you invited here this weekend for your best friend’s sake, or the twins’?

Ame was adamant that they’d changed, and despite your own reservations about that, you’d nevertheless assumed that they’d grown out of whatever… interest they’d had in you. The idea that you’re both wrong isn’t one that you want to entertain. Not when Ame’s happy, not when you’ve worked so, so hard to put all of those awful memories behind you.

It’s only one weekend, you remind yourself. One weekend, for her sake.

“Nope,” you murmur, feigning a light laugh. “Must have slipped your mind.”

She knew and lied to you anyway, and while there’s some small sense of vindication at the guilty look she sends you, it does little to ease the bitter sting in your heart.

You push back the sake one last time. “Anyway, I don’t drink.”

Another lie. This time, mercifully, Ame keeps her mouth shut, reaching across the table to take the drink herself. “More for me,” she says with a weak grin, and proceeds to knock it back in only a few mouthfuls, much to her boyfriend’s amusement.

Nothing more’s said on the topic, because at that moment the chef appears at the table, the entrée course in hand.

You could honestly kiss him.

—

Sleep is evasive.

Not for lack of trying. Despite the unfamiliarity of your room, the bed and the pillows are perfect; soft and warm, you could close your eyes and sink into blissful oblivion–

If not for the moans, the gasps and unmistakable sounds of loud, drunken sex seeping in through the thin walls.

And you have to give them credit, they’ve been going at it for a while, and judging from the sounds of things, enjoying themselves plenty. An hour ago, it was uncomfortable, now you’re simply tired and frustrated, and honestly a little thirsty.

And the longer you lie there, listening to your best friend moan her way through yet another orgasm and regretting your decision to leave your headphones at home – your decision to come at all – the more that it eats away at you.

Surely they know you can hear them? You’re beginning to suspect that Osamu opted for the room on the opposite side of the villa for this very reason, and you wonder what it’d take to get him to swap you for it tomorrow.

Knowing Osamu, likely more than you’d be willing to give.

Another grunt, deep and guttural echoes through the room, and you squeeze your eyes shut, silently counting backwards from ten. Impressive pro-athlete stamina or not, eventually they’re going to wear themselves out, right? They have to, for the sake of your sanity if nothing else.

Instead of blissful quiet, you’re met with the muffled sounds of Ame’s giggling, the rustle of sheets and after a beat or two, the slapping of skin against skin begins anew. Your stomach churns, and with a huff, you kick back your covers and reach blindly for the thick, fluffy robe to ward off the cold, cocooning yourself in it.

The soft pad of your slippers is muted against the wooden floorboards as you slip from your room, easing the door closed and tip-toeing back into the living area. If you’re lucky, the fire will still be burning away. You can make yourself a cup of tea, curl up on the couch and read a book on your phone, or scroll aimlessly – anything to distract yourself until Ame and Atsumu tire themselves out.

You get half your wish. The logs in the fireplace are smouldering away, casting the room in a warm, golden glow – enough to keep the temperature toasty without bordering on stuffy. In spite of that, any hope you had of temporary peace and quiet goes up in smoke at the sight of the other Miya twin in the kitchen, watching you with that same inscrutable expression.

It shifts into a small smirk, however, when you falter, drawing up short on the opposite side of the island counter.

“Fuckin’ animals, aren’t they?” Osamu comments drily, jerking his chin towards the direction you'd emerged from, where the faint sounds of Atsumu and Ame going at it are still drifting out.

You swallow, saying nothing.

He’s dressed in sweatpants and an old tee-shirt that clings to his well built frame – which admittedly is less than you’re wearing, yet your fingers itch to tug at your robe and pull it tighter around yourself, despite knowing you’re covered. Osamu’s always had that effect on you though, those dark, grey eyes never failing to make you feel like you’re stripped bare before him. A butterfly pinned back beneath his heavy stare.

A shiver rolls down your spine.

With Ame around, you don’t have any choice but to keep your mouth shut and pretend that everything’s okay. Which is doable, only because you know that they also have to be on their best behaviour whilst she’s in earshot. One on one, without that safety net, facing Osamu fills you with a new kind of apprehension.

Ever since you arrived, he’s been treating you with this bizarre kind of … cursory friendliness. As if you really are nothing more than a friend of his brother’s girlfriend. An old classmate he vaguely recalls.

There’s no need for either one of you to keep up that charade, now that he has you alone.

If he’s bothered by your silence and wary stance, Osamu gives no indication. “Ya want some tea?” he asks you instead. “Freshly brewed.”

You eye the steaming pot in front of him, the cup innocuously set to the side. And despite the tiny voice in the back of your mind that tells you it’s only tea, you shake your head. “I’m fine.”

The corner of his lips twitch, amusement glittering in his eyes, but Osamu only shrugs, “Your loss,” and pours a cup for himself.

With Atsumu and Ame showing no signs of slowing down for the night, going back to your room to listen to them screwing each others’ brains out for another hour or two is hardly an appealing thought. On the other hand, staying out here with Osamu, walking on eggshells as he pushes and prods you under the guise of small talk fills you with a distinctly unpleasant sense of trepidation.

And the longer you hesitate, caught halfway between your bedroom and the kitchen, Osamu watching every microexpression flit across your face with near predatory focus while he sips at his tea, the more awkward the atmosphere becomes.

Not for the first time, you find yourself wishing you’d had the guts to tell Ame no in the first place.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, “I came out for some water.” Which isn’t a lie, per se. You are thirsty, and once you have your glass of water, you can go and take it somewhere else to drink. Anywhere else. The open courtyard that lies between the living room and the indoor onsen, or the terrace that skirts around the western side of the villa. There’s a thick, knitted blanket thrown over the couch, you can grab that on your way through to keep yourself warm if worse comes to worst.

You’d rather brave the mid-autumn iciness than stay in here with him.

Whether or not he believes the hastily concocted excuse, Osamu doesn’t give an indication, merely stepping back to allow you enough room to awkwardly slip past him.

“Y’know,” he begins in a conversational tone as you start opening up various cupboards in search of a fresh glass, “I‘m glad you’re here. S’good seeing you again.”

Pointedly, you ignore him.

Back when you were teenagers, Atsumu was always the more temperamental of the pair. He’d lash out over the tiniest things – a practice that hadn’t gone well, Osamu getting a better grade on a test, you, for making him trek all the way across campus in order to track you down.

At the end of the day, it usually didn’t matter what trivial thing had set him off, he’d inevitably find a way to make his frustrations your problem. And yet for all Atsumu’s irritability, you can’t forget that Osamu was no saint either – or that neither one of them appreciated it when you didn’t pay them the attention they felt they were owed.

Caught between him and the countertop, there’s no room for you to escape when he decides to close that gap once more, calloused hands finding their home on your hips, his broad chest at your back.

Slowly, he inhales, fingers digging harshly into the soft flesh – paying no mind to your pitiful struggles.

“I missed ya.”

The scent of his body wash, that fresh, woodsy musk, tickles at your nose, you can feel the heat permeating from his skin as he presses himself closer. Grinds himself against you, simply because he can. You squeeze your eyes shut, heart pounding so loudly against your ribs that you’re sure he has to be able to hear it too. This can’t be happening again, it can’t, it can’t, it can’t–

“I hate you.” The words slip out before you can stop them; a trembling whisper, almost lost to the crackling fire, the sound of wind rustling through the trees outside.

Almost, but not quite.

Osamu hums, “Yeah? S’that why ya ran off on us after graduation?”

Your stomach flips. “I-I don’t–”

His mouth now at your ear, Osamu continues, his voice a deep rumble, “We took care of ya, didn’t we? Made ya feel good? You were beggin’ for it by the end.” You tremble in his gasp, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to keep yourself from crying out, from begging as he turns his attention to the knot at the front of your robe, “At least, I sure thought we had a good time, ‘til we woke up to find you’d up and disappeared on us.”

He sounds angry now, all of that faux affability bleeding away into something decidedly colder.

And with every word that leaves his lips, the nausea churning away inside of you only grows. You’ve worked hard to forget that morning, the pure panic you’d felt waking up naked between them, your head fuzzy and throbbing, your body a wreck of foreign aches and finger shaped bruises.

Nimble fingers succeed in untying the knot, Osamu impatiently tugging the fabric aside. You should be putting up a fight, clawing at his arms, kicking out, screaming like a wild thing. Ame’s only in the next room, there’s no chance she wouldn’t hear, wouldn’t come running to investigate, wouldn’t stop this, but–

A silent tear spills down your cheek.

You’ve never told a soul what happened at that party – the little you remember of it anyway – just shoved it down, buried it deep in some untouchable recess of your mind.

Easier to pretend it never happened than agonise over the doubt that festers whenever you prod too close.

You don’t remember, you don’t remember, you don’t remember, you don’t remember how much you had to drink that night–

Ignoring the small, distressed whine that escapes you, Osamu slides a hand beneath your top, a muscular arm curling around your middle. His thumb strokes along your bare skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake, a pool of shame that deepens with every possessive touch.

There’s no mistaking the thick, hard outline of his cock pressing up against your ass as he idly toys with the waistband of your pajama shorts.

“Y’know, Ame told us your news.” Teeth graze at your earlobe, hot breath sweeping along your neck, “You’re finally comin’ home, huh?”

The admission has you flinching, buckling in on yourself as much as Osamu’ll allow – which admittedly isn’t much. The thought that your best friend would even consider telling the twins hadn’t occurred to you, too excited when you’d rang her with the good news to stop and think about things like consequences.

A new job as an editor; better paying, closer to your family, to her. At the time, it’d seemed too good to be true. Only now it feels like some kind of cosmic joke, and all you want to do is curl up into a ball and disappear entirely.

Osamu isn’t like his brother, who’d take pleasure in your obvious dismay, even mock you for it, but there’s still something unmistakably cruel about the way he kisses your hair, and tells you, “Guess the three of us are gonna have to have a little welcome back party for ya.”

And you’re sure in that moment that he’s going to yank down the shorts he’s been toying with, bend you over the counter and fuck you right there and then. Or maybe push you down to your knees like they used to back behind the locker rooms at school, so it takes you by surprise when out of nowhere, he simply squeezes your waist once more and withdraws, trudging back to his room without another word.

Leaving you shaken and alone, a hand clamped over your mouth to stifle the sound of ragged, terrified sobs.

—

You can’t stay here.

Stacked neatly by the door to your room are your bags, packed in the early hours of the morning after you finally gave up on fitful sleep. But despite the strong urge to slip away at dawn, you still haven’t left yet.

You can’t bring yourself to, at least, not until you’ve talked to Ame. Had the chance to explain why you’re all but running out on her.

Not the full truth, of course – you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to give her that – but some variation of it, maybe. And you’ll simply have to pray that she’ll take it at face value, that she won’t pry too deep or hold it against you.

That you won’t lose your best friend over this when all’s said and done, because you can’t lie to her either.

By the time you finally venture out from your bedroom, you find the chef already working on breakfast in the kitchen, Ame and Atsumu settled at the table, the latter’s arm casually slung over the back of her chair as she sips her morning coffee.

She brightens at the sight of you, a wide, beaming grin that somehow makes her look even lovelier than usual.

One smile, and you falter, that steely determination of yours withers away, crumbling like ash in your mouth.

“Morning!” she greets cheerfully. “Are you hungry? I don’t think breakfast’s too far off, but there’s tea and coffee if you want it.”

One smile, and you’re reminded of the girl you met back at university, bright eyed and bubbly, who’d sat down next to you on the first day of semester and told you point blank that you and her were gonna be friends, because there was no way in hell she was gonna make it through this class alone.

She looks happy, glowing almost, nestled into her boyfriend’s side. Yet there’s something different about it, an easy contentment you’ve never seen before – at least, not in any of her previous relationships.

And it hits you; Ame isn’t merely happy, she’s in love with him.

Before her, before high school, before the Miya’s, you’d had other friends. Ones you thought would stick by your side through thick and thin. Inevitably, though, as you entered high school together, caught the twins’ attention, those friends were forced to make a choice.

You, or staying in the twins’ good graces.

In the end, whether it took days or weeks, a whole semester in one case, they all came to the same conclusion. Between being your friend and standing up to the wonder twins, there never seemed to be much competition.

As your eyes flicker between the couple, Atsumu’s fingertips grazing along her arm, the lazy, watchful eyes that bore into you, Ame, perfectly at peace around him, still smiling at you in spite of your very obvious hesitation, your heart sinks once more.

‘I’m not complaining, but... I just don’t understand why you want me there, wouldn’t it be better if it was only the two of you; a big, romantic couples getaway or whatever?”’

‘Because I wanna celebrate with both of my favourite people. You’re my best friend, and I’ve missed you… Is it so awful that I want you guys to have a second chance?’

History has a funny way of repeating itself, you suppose.

Swallowing down the bitter lump in your throat, you plaster what you hope is a genuine looking smile across your face and lean over the table to hug her – awkwardly trying to avoid Atsumu in the process, “Happy Birthday.”

Coward.

“Thanks,” she replies. “Tsumu gave me the prettiest earrings this morning, look,” sweeping back her thick, blonde locks, she shows off the new, sparkling diamond drops as you sit. “Aren’t they stunning?”

“They’re gorgeous,” you agree. Expensive looking, too – exactly the sort of showy, ostentatious gift you’d expect from Atsumu.

Lips parted, she looks on the verge of continuing when Atsumu – unusually quiet up until this point – decides to drawl, “You’re lookin’ rough this morning, didja sleep alright?”

If anyone else had asked, you could be forgiven for mistaking the query for a well meaning – albeit poorly worded – expression of genuine concern. Atsumu’s incapable of such sentiments, though, and even if he weren’t, the half lidded smirk he sends your way puts any lingering doubts of sincerity to bed.

“How could she?” another voice answers; Osamu, emerging from his room, hair still damp from his morning shower.

Sparing you only a cursory glance, he slots himself into the chair beside yours and reaches for the pot of tea. “You two were fuckin’ loud enough to wake half the damn mountain,” he continues, narrowing his eyes at his brother who scowls in return.

In a way, you almost feel sorry for the chef. Amidst the bickering and sniping of the twins, Ame’s flustered, blushing apologies, no one seems to really pay attention to the breakfast spread he lays upon the table, plates laden with everything from fruit to freshly baked pastries and omelettes to miso and rice. More food than the four of you could ever hope to eat in a single sitting.

You’re sure that he’s talented, that the plates of food he’s painstakingly plated this morning are as delicious as they are lovely to look at – last night’s certainly were.

The few mouthfuls you manage to swallow down taste like ash.

—

Your day does not improve from there.

Whilst the twins are left to their own devices, Ame drags you along with her to the ryokan’s day spa for a morning of pampering, which isn’t terrible in and of itself. The masseuse works wonders with deft hands, and your skin feels impossibly soft and smooth after she’s finished.

You should feel relaxed. You should be enjoying yourself – especially now that it’s back to being just the two of you. After breakfast, though, you can’t escape the feeling that something’s shifted, perhaps irrevocably.

In all the time you’ve been friends with Ame, you’ve never felt distance like this before. She’s only a few feet away, the two of you left alone to relax as the treatments work their magic, yet there may as well be a mountain between you.

You can’t reach her.

Lighthearted small talk lapses into nothing, and you catch yourself wondering whether Ame senses it too. If she has any inkling that the silence that settles between you isn’t the comfortable sort, but the fraying of a tether. A loss of something that once came as naturally as breathing.

A secret that stretches between you like a wide, yawning chasm, leaving you miles apart on either side.

You nearly tell her a few times. You want to tell her; about Osamu cornering you yesterday, all the awful things they put you through back at Inarizaki, the night of graduation. All of it.

But the words don’t come.

—

“Why are you wearing that?”

“It’s… a swimsuit?” you reply, somewhat self consciously. The one-piece you’d slipped on for the hot springs was modest, sure, but you hadn’t thought it was awful or anything. “What’s wrong with it?”

Ame, herself clad in a soft, pink robe, just giggles, “It’s an onsen, silly. We’re not wearing swimsuits.”

What else would you–

Realisation hits you like a freight train. “Naked?!” you splutter.

She laughs again, “Yes, naked. Why are you so surprised, it’s not like we haven’t done this before.”

“Yeah, when we were alone!”

“Oh, don’t be like that, it’s totally normal – they’re just bodies.” And yours is nothing they haven’t seen before, that cruel voice in your head whispers.

The sick feeling from this morning returns with a vengeance.

Ame’s not wrong, but it’s not that simple.

You know that being naked isn’t inherently a sexual thing, that people have for hundreds of years, thousands even, bathed in springs like this one all over the country bare as they day they were born and no one makes a fuss over it. You know that the twins’ have seen you in far more compromising positions, and that with Ame right there beside you, the chances of either one of them acting up in any way is practically non-existent.

You know all of that, and it doesn’t change a thing.

The thought of stepping into those steaming baths without so much as a stitch to protect your dignity, of trying to relax with the twins – equally undressed – less than a foot away–

A weight slung heavy over your waist, prying open sluggish eyes to find your pillow isn’t a pillow at all, but a chest.

– it’s too much. Dredges up memories of things better left alone.

“Actually, um,” you tell her, “my head’s been killing me all morning… I don’t think stewing in hot water’s such a great idea right now. Might go and lie down for a bit instead, see if that helps.”

Ame studies you for a long moment. “They’re not gonna say or do anything to make you feel uncomfortable, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Reaching over, she takes your hand in hers and squeezes it, offering you a small, reassuring smile, “They’re not those guys anymore.”

Your heart tugs painfully.

“No, I know. It’s not that, I promise.”

From the doubtful, almost wounded expression on her face, it’s clear she doesn’t believe you. “Okay, well… If you change your mind you’re more than welcome to join us. It won’t be as much fun without you.”

You nod, letting your hand fall limply back to your side as she turns to leave.

At the door, though, she hesitates, and when she glances back to you there’s a furrow in her brow. “Hey, we’re… we’re good right?” she asks, and for the first time all weekend, you think you hear a note of worry in her voice.

None of this is her fault, you know that. You force yourself to smile, to nod again.

“Yeah, we’re good.”

—

When a knock sounds at your door a few hours later, you’re expecting it to be Ame, coming to check in on you.

Instead, the door slides open to reveal her boyfriend.

Atsumu leans against the doorframe, arms folded, and gives you – lying back against the pillows, flicking through an old book you’d found in one of the drawers – a slow once over.

The soft sound of music filters in behind him.

“We missed ya earlier,” is all he says.

As it’s not technically a question, you don’t offer him a response.

“Ame said you had to go lie down, but you’re lookin’ fine to me,” he continues, and from the tone of his voice you can tell he doesn’t buy the excuse for a second. That, or he simply doesn’t give a shit. “Anyway, we’re having some drinks. You coming, or are ya planning on hidin’ away in here for the rest of the night?”

Your eyes narrow, but you bite back any retort in favour of a short nod.

Sure enough, when the two of you emerge from your room, Ame and Osamu are chatting over a bowl of snacks, the blonde sporting a pink-ish cocktail, a beer for Osamu.

There’s another glass lying on the island countertop, which Atsumu grabs on his way through. “Don’t worry, it’s a virgin,” he smirks, pressing it into your hand before you can refuse him. “Sleepin’ beauty here finally decided to join us,” he announces a little louder, dropping a kiss to Ame’s cheek as he slots into place beside her. “Can we drink now?”

Sighing with a fond sort of exasperation, Ame ignores the comment. “How’re you feeling?”

“Yeah, much better.”

She smiles at you, warm and lovely, and raises her glass, “Yes, Tsumu, now we can drink.”

You follow suit as the twins do the same; one sip for a toast won’t do any harm. You don’t have the energy – or a good enough excuse – to make a big deal out of it.

Especially not when things with Ame still feel so precarious.

Atsumu shifts, turning slightly to better face her. “Ame, I love ya more ‘n more every day. Bein’ with you…” he smiles. Not a smirk, but a genuine, honest to god smile. “You’ve given me more than you’ll ever know. Happy Birthday, baby.”

Coaxing her chin up, you’re subjected to a tongue-heavy but mercifully brief kiss between the pair.

“Cheers,” Osamu finishes in his stead, the three of you echoing the toast with a knock of your drinks.

The first sip of the pink concoction hits with a wave of saccharine sweetness; strawberry, peach, mint, a weird sort of aftertaste that lingers even after you swallow the mouthful down – syrup, maybe? – but when all’s said and done, it’s not… awful. You’ve had worse.

Ame, for her part, has already downed most of her cocktail, her cheeks and nose flushing a delicate pink in the wake of the alcohol.

“So tell us about this fancy new job of yours. When‘re ya moving back?” Atsumu asks, eyeing you over the neck of his beer as his girlfriend snuggles happily into his side.

“Um, not for another three weeks or so.” You shrug, “And there’s really not much to tell… It’s a job.” And you don’t want them anywhere near it.

“She’s being modest,” Ame chimes in, voice carrying a little louder than necessary. “They’re making her editor, it’s a huge deal! She’s worked her ass off for this.”

You’d said as much to her the day they made you the offer, called her before you’d even thought to call your parents.

From her place by Atsumu’s side, she gives you a tiny, encouraging nod.

Any other time, with anybody else, you’d beam, taking the opportunity presented to gush over the new title and your excitement over finally making it after years of hard work. But with the twins, every little piece you offer up, however small, however unwittingly, feels like handing them the knife and showing where to slice.

This job is everything you’ve worked for, dreamed of.

Fingers tightening around your glass, you remind yourself that Ame means well, that she’s just excited on your behalf. Proud of you, even. “It’s really nothing.”

And simply because you can’t stand the way that they’re all staring at you, you take another sip – barely holding back a grimace at the punch of artificial sweetness.

The older twin mirrors you, throat bobbing as he slowly downs the rest of his beer, but it’s Osamu, cold, grey eyes drinking down your discomfort, who clicks his tongue dismissively and shakes his head. “Nah, don’t sell yourself short. It’s impressive, ‘n ya should be proud.”

“Oh, uh… Thanks, I guess.”

You risk a glance at the empty kitchen, a tug of disappointment filling you when you notice Atsumu’s chef has yet to make an appearance. Not because you’re hungry – no, with the knots your stomach has twisted itself into, food is the furthest thing from your mind – only that with dinner comes the chance of a much needed reprieve, and at this point, you’re beginning to grow desperate.

“Yeah,” his brother agrees, setting the now empty bottle down. “Samu’s right, look at’cha.” He whistles lowly, “Who’da thought our cocksuckin’ little whore’d be out here making editor.”

Reeling back like you’ve been physically slapped, your breath leaves you in a sharp gust. “W-what?”

Ame mumbles something – his name, maybe – your attention is wholly fixed on her boyfriend, though, and if either of the twins pick up on it, they elect to ignore it.

He shrugs, the casual nonchalance of the gesture spoiled by the sheer delight that gleams in his expression. “I’m just surprised s’all. I never knew ya had it in ya, but I guess anythin’s possible when ya get on your knees quick enough.”

“Tsu…Tsumu–”

The sound of glass shattering rips through the tense atmosphere, pulling your focus from the twins. Ame, brow furrowed, eyes glassy and unfocused, stares at her boyfriend, mouth softly agape.

At her feet lies her cocktail, or what’s left of it – dregs of alcohol clinging to broken shards of crystal.

Something’s wrong, though, because she isn’t cuddling up to Atsumu as you’d originally assumed. No, Ame’s clinging to him now, fingers clawing at his clothes for purchase, her legs shaky and weak, struggling to keep her upright.

“I- I don’ feel s’good,” she slurs.

Your heart stutters.

“Ame–”

Without thinking you leap towards her, but Osamu’s there quicker, grabbing you and hauling you back against his chest, thick arms curling around your waist before you can shove him away.

His chin comes to a rest atop your head. “Nah, let her be,” he tells you,“ Tsumu’s got her.”

And his brother might be the olympic athlete, but broad and strong, Osamu’s equally as immovable as you wrench yourself against him. “Let me go! Ame– Ame!”

Her legs give out entirely a moment later, leaving Atsumu to catch her in the split seconds before she hits the glass studded floor.

“Y’all right, baby?” he asks mockingly, reaching down to heft her up into his arms. Tiny as she is, he manages it without so much as a grunt. “Gettin’ a little sloppy there.”

You shout for her again, voice hoarse and desperate.

She tries – fails – to lift her head, and the icy terror that grips at your heart sinks its claws in deep as you watch your best friend’s eyes roll back into her skull, her body slumping like dead weight into Atsumu’s hold.

This– this has to be a nightmare.

Your gaze darts from Ame, now hanging limply in his grip, to Atsumu, who meets your stare with a slowly widening smirk, and from a leaden tongue in a dry mouth, you manage to choke out a single syllable; “Don’t–”

Don’t touch her. Don’t hurt her.

Please.

It falls to Osamu, hand now rubbing slow, soothing circles against your hip, to reassure you. “Not her ya need to be worried ‘bout, babe.”

The comment sends a fresh wave of panic surging through you. You whine, weakly renewing your effort to tug yourself free of his grasp, making him chuckle.

He relents his grip enough to turn you around, and you’re spared the sight of Atsumu dumping Ame onto the couch as he grasps your jaw. The brunet studies you, a thumb tracing along quivering lips.

A lone tear slips from your lashes, and with a tenderness that breaks something inside of you, he brushes that away, too.

“Gonna be good for us, yeah?” he murmurs, dark eyes searching your face. You’re vaguely aware of Atsumu closing in on your other side.

And it doesn’t matter that the words get stuck in your throat, that tears start falling quicker, because his twins scoffs, “Course she is.”

Your car’s parked out front, the keys in your purse – which is lying somewhere on the floor of your bedroom. As Osamu’s lips curl in satisfaction and descend upon yours, there’s a tiny voice in the back of your head that tells you in no uncertain terms to run.

You can almost picture it; shoving him off and ducking under Atsumu’s outstretched arms. You’ve never held any delusions about being strong enough to physically fight them, but you can be quick on your feet when you need to be.

Forget Ame, it whispers – you’d race for your room, snatching up your purse on your way through and slipping out onto the terrace balcony through the sliding door. The railing with its thick wooden beams would be easy enough to clamber over, and the drop to the grass below only a few feet. You could make it, if you were fast enough.

You doubt they’d follow you out into the grounds – too much of a risk, too many prying eyes – and once you were safe inside your car, you’d drive and drive and drive, until the twins and this awful place were nothing but a lone speck in the distance…

Hands impatiently yank at the hem of your sweater, Osamu parting from your lips just long enough to allow the fabric to be yanked over your head.

A belt buckle clinks behind you, and that tiny voice falls silent.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere atsumu x reader #yandere miya atsumu x reader #yandere osamu x reader #yandere miya osamu x reader #yandere osamu #yandere atsumu #tw: noncon #tw:dubcon #you ever just wanna throw a fic across the room??#:))

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accio-victuuri · 6 months

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OCTOBER READS 📚

Another productive reading month for me! Manhua/Manhwa binge again and for those who are interested in what titles I tried, then this is the post for you. I don’t know what the next months will bring but I wanna get back to reading novels… we will see how that goes. for now, I just feel thankful that these works are out in the world for people to enjoy ^^

• The Tyrant Prince’s Last Promise ( Chapter 74 ; Ongoing )

Adapted from the novel, “the wife is first” so I see why there are alot of people following the manhua. Jing Shao ( MC ) is a prince who is good at battles and was made to marry a male concubine Han ( ML ). He didn’t treat him well for years but Han stayed by his side even if he was sentenced to death and was accused of so many things. Right before they died, he promised to treat Han better.

So his wish gets granted and he goes back to their wedding night. Then the whole story focuses on their relationship and how Jing Shao pays his dues and tries to be the best husband for Han. He also tries to make different decisions to prevent him from falling from grace like before. This story is just so fluffy and sweet <3 and i love their chibi versions! ☺️☺️☺️ I might read the novel to see where it goes but i have to say it’s a standard trope — and i will never get tired of it.

Guilty Affection ( Chapter 47 ; Ongoing )

Esper/Guide trope but this one is more problematic. LOL. The MC, Han Yoonjae is an undocumented Esper and living his life as a normal person. There is some mystery from his past because you can tell that he is strong but decided to leave his life as an Esper. Then here comes the ML, Cha Minhyung. A popular & strong guide who comes to his life and offers to be his guide and make his life better. These two have a shared past and the story tries to uncover that. Also what will happen to Yoonjae and his power. I really like his power, and I understand why he will be someone that everyone will want to control. The relationship between them is not really the “romance” type but more co-dependence and lots of smut.

Crushing Jade & Catching Pearls Chapter 51 ; Ongoing

This one is very unique, I have never read something with this plot. It is modern era, but the MC/ML both work as apprentices for an old art of sculpting. Tho the ML ( Ding Hanbai ) is much older and is more accomplished in the field. It’s really more of the relationship between the MC & ML and less “romance” so far. I feel like some people will find it boring, but there is something about it that draws me to it. and it doesn’t hurt that the art is pretty. Ding Hanbai starts off as an asshole who bullies the MC Ji Zhenzhu — but then they slowly become closer. The MC who is the goodest boy with puppy energy melts Ding Hanbai’s heart 💕

No arguing with Mr.Mo Chapter 71 ; Ongoing

The trope of Mr. Cold hearted CEO who is actually a simp for the MC is not new and I usually like it — I often root for the MC and hope they get together. But in this one, I find myself liking the ML ( Mr.Mo ) waaaay more than the MC. To the point that I don’t think the MC deserves Mr.Mo at all. I get that Xiao Nuo have some trauma and baggage of his own but his drama over nothing just irritates me. Mr.Mo is straightforward and clear with his intentions, but MC takes advantage of him, willingly or not, is not my cup of tea.

I won’t be continuing on, or if i do, maybe it’s to see Mr. Mo’s panels.

Hard Boiled Love Chapter 93 ; Ongoing

I only finished up until Chapter 40 cause I felt like there is nothing else for me as a reader to see, plot-wise. I could be wrong but maybe I will pick it up again when i’m in the mood. This is popular, and i understand why, the trope is catchy : Rich kid and his Bodyguard, then add BDSM into the mix. Boom! There is just no way that people will not click and read. It is a good read and enjoyable but I wasn’t in the headspace for that type of smut, the interaction of the MC/ML tho are sweet!!!! 💕

What captured me tho is the ML. Hwayoung Yoon. He is a lovable psychopath. He gave off so much Hisoka vibes ( from the anime hunterxhunter if you didn’t know ) and this type of character would do so well if done in live action. How he seems to be this sweet boy that his family dotes on but is secretly a sadistic bastard. I mean, look at him as a kid:

A master manipulator.

The MC too, Gyuwon, is well written. He is an ex mercenary who really wants to be someone’s sub ( in a sense ) but he doesn’t think that will happen because of how he looks. People have expectations of how he should be but lo and behold, he meets the fucked up Hwayoung. 😂😂😂 it’s more light and funny considering the subject — they could make the plot really dark, so i’m glad they didn’t.

Campus Trap Chapter 24; Ongoing

AHHHHHHHHHH! My new favorite. The omegaverse hoe in me is screaming! 🤍 too bad there are only a few chapters out. I honestly want to read the novel which is already completed but i’m still trying to figure out how to navigate korean sites. The plot of the story may seem dramatic to some, because it’s all about the MC (Chaewoo) who is an Omega and trying to make ends meet. He was once this kid who lived a pampered life but things changed and now he is a struggling student. One day, his Uncle, told him about the concept of a reset partner, which is kinda like a surrogate. So a dominant omega like him will be a surrogate to a rich dominant Alpha. He agrees and finds out that the Alpha is someone he goes to school with — Mister popular, Euigeon. It doesn’t help he doesn’t like the guy and Chaewoo is even jealous of his “success” cause he feels like he will be the same way if unfortunate events didn’t happen to him.

I LOVE IT. I LOVE THEM. The campus setting and the two being music students is also a bonus, it’s only beginning to be explored and I wanna see more. They have great chemistry and the way I squealed during the car scene. 😱😱😱 it’s also the type of story where I can’t wait for the ML to fall for the MC. I’m reading about Euigeon being this arrogant bitch to Chaewoo and i’m like— can’t wait to see you fall head over heels and regret your actions. It’s nothing abusive, if anything, I feel like his actions are reasonable cause he doesn’t want to make their relationship complicated. It’s supposed to be a business transaction. I wanna know more about ML too cause i’m sure he has so many issues that caused him to be this way. I have spoiled myself a by reading comments on the novel but i will surely keep an eye out on this till it’s completion.

Miss you, Lucifer 15 chapters ; Completed

A short Manhwa that is full of uwu and love! 🥹🥹🥹

If you want something to lift your mood up then this is the best pick. Honestly! It had everything: romance, comedy, angst and some plot in there even if it’s only 15 chapters. The premise is an “idol” from a boy group that’s not popular x A-list actor pairing. I don’t wanna spoil too much cause it’s better to just dive into it, and like i said, it’s not that long.

Business as Unusual 15 Chapters ; Completed

Another short one that I enjoyed. 💕

Tho i’m not a believer of getting back together with your ex. Lol. That’s the story here. MC/ML were a thing back in college and because of a misunderstanding they “broke up”. Years later, they meet again as office mates and rekindle their romance. I’m happy for the characters because they had a second chance at love and are now at a better place to stay together.

Considering the length of this, there was one scene that really stuck with me. The two are walking on the street late at night and ML is chasing the MC, he wants to talk but the MC won’t listen so he shouts:

“HEY! MY FIRST LOVE KIM MINJUN!” 🗣️🗣️🗣️

It’s so funny considering why it was said, to get someone’s attention — but also so romantic. It is like a scene in a k-drama.

Tied To You 64 Chapters ; Completed

I feel so lucky that I found this title in it’s completion cause i would absolutely go nuts if I had to wait, to find out what’s gonna happen next. As soon as I started, I couldn’t stop and took me 5 hours to finish the whole thing. So worth it. This kind of Manhwa is the reason why I keep reading, hoping that I will find something like this. It’s really something special. 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

the synopsis is as follows:

It’s only sleeping together while holding hands, nothing else. That’s what Shin Wooseo tells himself when a red ring that ties a person to their soulmate appears on his finger one day. Once two people get tied by the ring, they cannot fall asleep unless they’re physically together. However, his destined partner isn’t his long-term friend and secret crush, Kang Jiseok, but rather his older brother, Kang Jigeon! And so starts the tragedy of loving one brother but having to share beds with the other. Although, it might not entirely be a tragedy, as Kang Jigeon doesn’t seem so disappointed about being tied to his younger brother’s best friend…

I don’t usually go for love triangle tropes, but this one is not really that kind of love triangle. The strength of this Manhwa is the storytelling. Every panel & interactions served a purpose. As a reader, you are pulled in and can’t help but want to know more. I also appreciated that we can see the perspectives of 3 different people, but moreso on the MC/ML. I liked the concept of “love” that was portrayed too — it’s something that you have to work and fight for. It’s a conscious choice and not all sweet gestures.

Now i wanna spotlight the ML, KANG JIGEON 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼 If I was to rank my fave MLs from all the stuff I read, he would easily be in the Top 10. He is manipulative but in the best way because all he does is for Wooseo to pay more attention to him. I have to say that he ultimately sets up the “scene” but most of the time the choice is still with Wooseo. His devotion is very real and his approach to fighting for his love is ( to me personally ) admirable! GO GET YOUR BOY! I’m not even mad at him.

I’ve been wanting to read a character like him, a chaotic good if you will, and that’s probably why this made such an impact on me. It was hilarious seeing the comments of readers in the early chapters being sus about Jigeon and thinking he is gonna be an asshole ML. In the middle, they were confused whether to love or hate him and the schemes. Towards the end, everyone was cheering for Jigeon and applauding him. Lol. I guess he was successful in making the readers fall in love too. ❤️

The King and Me Chapter 36; Ongoing

The story is very unique, atleast to me, cause I haven’t read anything set in Ancient Egypt + Time travel. There is also some heavy plot aside from the romance and every character here is just beautiful and badass!!!! The first few chapters broke my heart. I swear. It was effective in setting up the MC’s quest and why he is so stubborn when he goes back in time. What he is after is so important. 💪🏼

I adore the MC (Zhang Li)!!! He is so smart and determined to find out the truth about his “Rocky” and the tyrant king. His circumstances are not the best, but he tries to adapt and is not some love sick fool. Even if the main reason that he is there is because of love. This story is still in it’s early stages and I feel like it could easily go up to 150++ chapters because of the plot and well, the progression of MC/ML relationship. It’s also a slowburn so if that’s your thing, you would enjoy this.

Manhattan Romance Chapter 40; Ongoing

This reads like the kind of novel set in a specific city, in this case, NY, and two people meet each other and fall in love. Of course there are challenges and issues between the characters and their environment but the central story is their relationship. I think people who will read this would want to be the MC (Hyeon), in a way, all because of how much the ML (Luwan) dotes on him. Hyeon has his own issues and he is a precious bean that is too good for this world! I’m so happy that Luwan is the person who “caught” him and not some toxic shit. Let them live in their penthouse and be happy, Let Hyeon paint more masterpieces and the two of them to travel the world. ❤️

Ordinary life of a Universal Guide Chapter 61; Completed

Because i’m a sucker for esper/guide universe I had to pick it up. There is really nothing “special” with the plot, it’s the usual for the trope. My comments sounds like i hated it or something lol but the truth is — it’s alright. I picked this up after reading really good ones ( tied to you & the king and me ) so this was an in between read. I can’t always be that lucky.

The Third Ending Chapter 67; Completed

OMG how do I even begin to describe this perfection. I’ve been seeing this on other people’s list but for some reason I kept putting it off. Funny how I always manage to “start” reading something really good just before bedtime — which delays the “sleeping” I should be doing 😂😂😂

First of all, I love the art. It reminds me of Omega Complex that was so pretty so that helped a lot. 🫶🏼

Synopsis:

Suh Yoonseul has had life easy—everyone likes him, he’s good at his job, basically everything has always worked out as smooth as butter. However, there’s something that brings all of his good luck down, and it’s the infrequent dreams he has of Kang Joon. Who knew that rejecting a guy once would hang so heavy on your life? To make things worse, after he runs into Joon the dreams keep on coming daily. At his wit’s end, Yoonseul takes some advice from a friend so that he can free himself from this jinx. It’s simple. Make Kang Joon think that he’s a nice person. That can’t be hard, right?

Yoonseul is one of my favorite MCs. He’s a chronic people pleaser and has this perfect facade that he presents to everyone. So when he remembers being mean ( showing his true self ) back in high school to someone who confessed to him — he can’t let it go. It was so fun to see him suffer when it comes to winning Joonie over ( AHHHHHH Joonie is the most precious and can do no wrong!!! ) because tbh his intentions weren’t good. He is selfish. The entire season 1 was such a treat. Seeing their relationship progress and I— I don’t wanna spoil anymore but this could easily be a kdrama. There was that scene in the snow. AHHHHH! I was screaming while reading it! Lol. Season 2 is sweeter and more on fluff, by that time, you’re already so invested on them that you don’t care about any plot. Personally, what I loved about this is their mutual obsession towards each other. I’m a fan of that. I like tropes that are about “fated pairs” or something similar.

Between the Lines Chapter 20 ; ongoing

Not gonna say too much about this and I encourage people to wait for more chapters but it has a solid start. The MC/ML are both likable. Especially the MC. The premise is also hilarious, cause MC is a bl writer who is having a writer’s block and needs an inspiration for his protagonist. Here comes ML, who acts like Mr.Perfect ( but he isn’t ) and inspires him. There is so much more going on here that I feel like will be explored more as the story progresses so i’ll definitely come back to it.

Necromancer Survival 79 chapters ; 2 seasons completed and s3 is TBA

I had no idea what was in store for me when I decided to pick this up. I have a thing for necromancers and this one has the whole “dungeons” concept to it so I was down. But like — this probably ruined every other story for me. In a good way. Now I want a plot-heavy type of story with the romance as a bonus only. All I’ve been reading so are heavy on the romance & relationship, this has that element too but you get really invested with the plot.

Synopsis:

When the weak and unconfident Choi Yikyung first found out that he was a user, he thought he had finally hit the jackpot. In Yikyung’s mind, Necromancy seemed like the ultimate mix of cool and interesting. Back then, he had no idea that the Necromancer class was the weakest of them all! But as Yikyung enters the newly reopened Tower of Spirits in search of enhancement materials, he is sucked into a mysterious area of the dungeon where he encounters a frightening corpse. “Ding!” A quest window pops up, and it says… “You have made a pact with Seo Dawon, a vengeful spirit.” When tackling quests, it doesn’t hurt to have a companion or two, especially if one of them is the spirit of an ultra powerful and handsome young man. After all, “it’s dangerous to go alone”!

Don’t let the art fool you. It’s not some bright and shiny story. I made the mistake of thinking it’s gonna be some g rated adventure story lol It’s literally a necromancer whose goal is to make a master/slave pact with all the members of a dead team. He has to fulfill their wishes and help them get their revenge— which means killing a lot of people. It comes with a price, because every summoning is making him weaker in some aspects. Also no one knows what the true power of a necromancer is so whatever it is he’s doing — they don’t know what will happen to him in the long run. I freakin love the concept and how it’s mixed in with the romance. Is Seo Dawon only attracted to Yikyung because he is his master or are these real feelings? How will this relationship even work when one of them is Dead? A huge bonus too are how likable the other characters are. Especially Jung Garam!!! 🫶🏼

I hope the Manhwa continues cause I wanna see them get that revenge! 💪🏼 I wanna know too if Yikyung’s power will allow him to resurrect people and if so, what’s the payment?

I see lots of comments that say this adaptation does not live up to the novel & source material. Which i get it — a Manhwa will have restrictions, especially on the themes. The novels seems more gruesome and explicit ( not the sexual kind ) which usually has to be toned down for a Manhwa to get a license. Plus from what I can tell, the Novel is like 500 chapters ++ with a concept so niche and is for a specific type of reader. So yeah… I’m not sure if I will pick up the novel. I don’t have that urge yet, tho I am very interested in the censored scenes and if it’s really as dark as people are saying it is. I have a feeling it’s right up my alley. && I read some comments that Yikyung gets more dangerous as the story progresses ( getting corrupted by the summoning and the practice of necromancy ). I’m very curious! 👀

If anyones decided to read this, lemme know what you think. 💕

Black Mirror Chapter 64 ; Completed

This is the perfect spooky + sexy read for the season we’re in right now. From the first page down to the end, I can’t stop reading and wanting to know what happens next. It perfectly captures that eerie feeling, even if there are a lot of explicit scenes, it’s still there. The author really planned this well and the artist perfectly executed it. I don’t explain more because it’s best to go into this blind and experience the story for yourself. Highly recommend ✨✨

====================

See you all next month ^^ & feel free to recommend me some titles! 💕

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victoriansecret · 8 months

Note

How did you get into living history as a profession?

In eighth grade, on my big school field trip, we visited my current museum. At the time I didn't think about it as a job, I just wanted to live here. Which I now literally do: I live in one of the reconstructed buildings inside the historic town. The same year, my history teacher was very good, and structured his class in ways that worked for me very well. For one thing, he'd tell the anecdotal, often amusing parts of history, not just pure dates and names. And more importantly, he had couches in the back of the classroom arranged in a circle, where after reading the chapter we were on the whole class would go back there and talk about it. I am a very auditory person, so this helped me tremendously. It also, not so coincidentally, is very similar to how this field works. The term for the work I do, internally, is called "historic interpretation". I try not to use that term with guests unless I can explain it, but basically, if you can imagine what a language interpreter does - that is, turning a foreign language into something a person can understand - that's what we do with history. Help people better understand it, who may not otherwise know much about it. There's a lot more to it, and for anyone interested in the field, I highly recommend the seminal work on interpretation (not just historic, but also nature, science etc.): Freeman Tilden's Interpreting Our Heritage. He had been contracted by the National Parks service for decades to observe how park service guides interacted with guests, and from that develop an understanding of what works and what doesn't, and did a lot of training for the parks. This book was the culmination of all that, where he breaks interpretation down to his six primary principles, to each of which he devotes a chapter explaining them in depth. There are updated works which expand on it, but part of why his work still stands up (and is, in my opinion, still far better than any of the others) despite being published in the 1950s is that he really gets down to the basic core of what interpretation is and can be. I am not ashamed to say I literally cried the first time I read it, because it exemplifies why I care so deeply about the work that I do. To quote what is, in my opinion, the most important and core of his principles, he writes that: "Interpretation is not information, but provocation." That is to say, all interpretation is based on information, but the goal is not to come away with every guest interaction having shared so many facts, but rather to have inspired them to be interesting in the subject more deeply and want to learn more. This is what happened to me, all those years ago. Between that class and that field trip, it made me realize I loved history. In hindsight I now realize I already did - I loved Jane Austen film adaptations, for example, and was already beginning my obsession with servants - I just didn't like or connect with the way it had been taught to me up until that point. And again, interpretation as an idea in and of itself, beyond just the things being shared, also became something I was enamoured with.

About 12 years later, I was working at a restaurant which was destroying my mental and physical health, and I knew I needed a change. I also desperately needed to get away from my home town. I thought about the things I liked (history), was good at (talking to people), and wanted to do (wear period clothing -- and again, get away), so I thought maybe I could work at a historic museum. Long story short, I began applying to various places, including my current museum. Eventually, I ended up working at a seasonal site in Michigan, where I spent four 'summers' (for the last three, I was there from beginning of May until end of October), and with that experience was able to get my first full time job at my current place. Which I eventually left to go to another museum, only to come back about a year and a half later. ..... as an aside, and I like to tell this story especially for anyone aspiring to get into this field, or really in general, my first boss once told me why she gave me an interview. My restaurant job was my only job ever, and while by that point I had my GED, I was a highschool dropout and have never been to college. I've worked with hundreds of colleagues since, and not counting people still in school, I think I can count on one hand the people that do interpretation specifically who are not college graduates (not to mention many with Masters and PHDs etc), let alone have never gone at all like me. In my cover letter for that first job, I made an analogy. My job at the restaurant was running the salad bar, and because it was in the middle of the dining room, I said something along the lines that it meant I was "always on display", so that would help me in being in such a visible job in period clothing etc. and always having to be 'on' for guests. Because analogies, and connecting to things people understand to help them better grasp the information being shared, are such a huge part of the job, she, in her own words, "knew she needed to give me an interview." And because I am, in fact, good at talking, I knocked it out of the park. ..... which is not to say I didn't have a lot to learn when I started, it was truly a struggle at first on a lot of levels, but these days I think I am an excellent interpreter. And considering I have very low self-esteem overall, it's one of the only things about myself that I'll say that about.

#me #living history #asks

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joonlaksme · 6 months

Text

October 17th

Park Jimin x Camboy

Contains: Gender Neutral Reader

Word count: 700+

Kinktober Masterlist

“Today, I wanted to show you these…things I found.” Jimin starts buttoning down his shirt. “For some reason, you really wanted to see my chest so I worked really hard to make it look pretty for you.”

Covering his nipples are heart shaped pasties that are a nice shade of red. All over the rest of his chest and stomach is covered in red glitter. It’s a light bringer in person than on camera but his viewers are going crazy. Men, women, and everyone in between are in love with everything Jimin but this is the first time in his 2 year long camboy career that he’s shown his chest.

“What should we do today? Any suggestions?” He leans in closer to his monitor and reads the fast messages. “Take them off? I don’t think so. I’m a bit nervous about that.” Jimin is lying but he enjoys slowly revealing himself to his fans rather than just giving them what they want. It keeps them coming back for more, pointing out a new slither of skin when they see it.

Jimin wiggles down his shorts a bit along with his underwear, his cock hitting his glitter dusted stomach. “I’ve been actually hard for a bit. I had this really…interesting dream.”

And immediately his viewers ask what it was about.

Immediately his imagination flashes with thoughts about you. Guilty, he takes his cock into his hand and strokes it, lips subtly mouthing your name before he starts telling the details of his wet dream.

“They were wearing this…really eye catching black dress. A lot of it was blurry and we weren’t even in a fancy place or a club or anything like that. We were in my room. They were dressed for me, I think.” He huffs out. “They never said a thing the whole time. They just looked at me…like they were ready to devour me.”

Jimin sits back in his chair, closing his eyes to relive and soak in his memories. He could remember this particular dream feeling and looking more realistic than his typical nonsensical ones. Edges were blurry but you were there in complete detail. “I felt weighted, too. Like I had to get on my knees.”

He opens his eyes again, this time they’re glossy. He glances at this chat and chuckles. They’re begging for him to get to the best part already, anticipating this story and what exactly had Park Jimin hard all day.

“They never took off any of their clothes but they pushed me on my bed. I remember them…” and he exhales.

He’s already close at the thought of what you did next. You, his coworker at his boring office job. His job where no one knows his secret camboy side work. Why he’s able to afford all these name brands, and the apartment he lives in at his age.

No one knew expect for you. You never held this knowledge over his head but you did look at him in a different way. You flirted with him and bent over to pick up pens a little too often. You knew the way it affected him so you would smirk and blow a kiss his way. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you these past few days.

He hopes you’re watching right now.

Jimin cums in his hands before he can finish his story, quickly apologizing to his viewers. His cheeks are flamed pink with embarrassment. He could usually last long than that but today seems to be the exception. For the duration of the stream, after cleaning up, he spends the last five minutes conversing and making promises to edge in his next one.

He says bye with his lips pursed and then lays back on his chair with a sigh. What a mess, both literally and figuratively. Then he hears his phone go off in a call. It’s not often that people call him so it peaks his interest and he’s standing up and grabbing his phone from his carefully crafted, wooden bookshelf. You’re calling him.

He doesn’t hesitate to answer but maybe he should have. “He-“ His voice cracks and he clears his throat, “Hello?”

There’s silence at first. A thick silence. But then you’re telling him your address very slowly. You tell him to be there as fast as he can. You finish the call by saying that you’d like to hear him finish his story. Jimin lips part but then he’s rushing to shove his wallet, phone, and keys in his pockets.

He’s so glad you knew he was thinking about you.

All likes, reblogs, and comment feedback are appreciated for stories like this. Friendly reminder that reblogs spread more than likes!

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #gender neutral fanfic #bts fanfic #park jimin x reader #sub!jimin #sub!bts

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fourtharbiter · 7 months

Text

October 5th, 2013.

Ten years ago today, the first formal Grindstone event happened on the Balmung server in Final Fantasy XIV. The game had only relaunched as A Realm Reborn a month and change earlier, but already the roleplaying community was coming together to establish, well, a community.

Originally started by the Eorzea Free Trade Company as a more low-key place for roleplay, there were only two rules if you wanted to participate: No killing, no magic. At the time, the community at large didn't really have a ton of lore to go on; Everything was new and exciting and not everybody had the means to level everything all at once. The ceiling for what people wanted to express in the play space was so high you couldn't really see it from the ground, and that's exactly where the Grindstone was designed to exist.

Let the High Mages have their omnipotence and unimaginable power. We just wanted to fight.

...I say "we" as if I was there from the beginning. I wasn't. I only heard about it some time later, and to demonstrate how immature I was as a roleplayer at the time, I thought the idea was kind of absurd on its face. Rolling dice to see if you succeed? That's entirely random! It's unfair! That means... GASP! I might LOSE to someone I feel I shouldn't! It's a mentality that I (and many others who got a better grasp of what the point of the event was) would grow out of. It wasn't about winning. It was about the writing.

Within the first year there was the expected churn of organizing and hosting an event; Volatility between players and factions, the fact that a weekly schedule in primetime meant your Saturdays were locked down if you wanted to stay consistent, real life getting involved and forcing absences or changes. Sigyn Shieldbreaker gave way to Sindl Arahan. Sindl gave way to a loose coalition of people familiar with the rules. For a brief period of time, the future of the event was uncertain. That's when I figured "Hell, I can do this."

Ta-da.

I have a lot of extremely fond memories at the Grindstone. I've got a lot of not-so-fond memories, too. More than that, so do a laundry list of other people. The Grindstone means a lot to me, but the fact that it also means so much to other people is really what makes me proud of what the event has achieved over the years. Strangers met and became friends. Sometimes more than that (I would still like an invite to the wedding when it happens). Stories were etched, characters were developed. People who had no idea what roleplaying was about walked by, saw a crowd and hung out. Every night was anyone's night, and everyone has a story to tell.

A fishing rod. A frying pan. Arrows tipped with paint. Someone fighting with hair brushes. Impossible come-from-behind victories. That time someone fighting for the first time winning the whole show. The several dozen times that happened, in fact. The time that one guy wrote "attaks with all his mite" and nearly won the night. That hand that got cut off. That lady who emoted giving birth on the sidelines. That kid who kept trying to fight. "FOOOOOORE!"

If you attended the Grindstone at any point of the years, at least one of those probably just touched a memory. That's the thing I keep thinking about as we're on the cusp of this event turning ten years old. Ten! The Grindstone's seen three US presidents, five English Prime Ministers, outlasted the Confederacy by twofold! Children who were not yet conceived when the first fights happened are now old enough for you to talk to and have a conversation with.

The list of names involved both in front of the curtain and behind it is entirely too long to name, or even recall. At least for me. I'm incredibly proud that folks have volunteered their time and their nights and their energy and efforts to make sure the Grindstone exists and will continue to do so. I'm happy that so many people, even if they only showed up once and didn't really like it, at least got to experience it. They got to take something away from it. The Grindstone got dropped into the middle of an extremely large lake and boy did we make some ripples.

Today is October 5th. It's not a date many people could recall many details about, but for me it's always going to be special, even if I wasn't actually there the first night. I hope that everyone who got to experience the Grindstone in their own way feels that way, too. That sometime when the air is just right and someone notices it's a Saturday night, that they can just know that the Grindstone is happening in the same place it always has been.

Everyone night is anyone's night. This coming Saturday, it's everyone's night.

#grindstone #balmung #ffxiv

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bradshawsbaby · 1 year

Text

Letters to My Love // Part V

Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female Reader

Summary: When you signed up to volunteer with the USO, you never anticipated that you would meet a man like Ensign Robert Floyd. Fate brings you together one balmy spring evening in Charleston—the night before Bob is set to ship off across the Atlantic. Pen and paper become your only means of sharing your heart with the naval aviator who’s captivated it, igniting a correspondence that spans the distance between you. Can love blossom even as war rages and thousands of miles keep you apart?

Word Count: 3.7k

Author’s Note: As always, if you’re interested in learning more about the historical context of any of the letters, or if you have any questions about anything that gets discussed, feel free to reach out! I will say that Bob’s mother’s remedy for influenza that gets mentioned in this chapter was a real “home cure” that people used to use back in the day!

Set the Mood: If you’re looking for some 1940s vibes, check out the playlist I made to pair with the story!

The title for this chapter comes from The Andrews Sisters song of the same name.

Dedication: As always, this story is dedicated to @luminousnotmatter. I could thank you endlessly for all the love and support!

Warnings: Alternating POV, references to war and its impact, mentions of rationing, discussion of war casualties and death, references to church and prayer, a ton of fluff as always.

October 12, 1942

Dear Peach,

First of all, I want to start by saying that I’m so sorry for the troubles your family went through at the end of the summer. Little Frankie sounds like quite the trooper, but I’m sure it must have been hard on all of you to see him so sick like that. I’m real, real glad to hear that he’s on the mend. Dottie, too.

It’s funny—even though I’ve never met her, it’s not hard at all for me to believe that your sister was one of the few babies who survived the Spanish Flu back in 1918. From everything you’ve shared with me, it sounds like it would take a lot to break Dottie Sheridan. I’d bet my last dollar that she gives Paddy a run for his money on a regular basis. Maybe don’t tell her I said that though. I do want her to like me, should we ever get to meet in person one day.

You know, a couple summers back, my little brothers ended up coming down with a case of influenza. It seemed as though they picked it up from some of the kids they’d been playing with. It might sound crazy, but my mother would take a handkerchief, sprinkle it with whiskey, and make my brothers inhale the fumes every night before they went to bed. I don’t know where she learned that remedy, but would you believe that the two of them were right as rain after just four days? I’m confident that everyone in your household is the picture of health now, but you might want to give it a try should anyone else come down with the flu. I can’t explain it, but it did seem to do the trick!

I’ll selfishly admit that the weeks that went by without receiving a letter from you were desolate ones indeed. I received a couple letters from home, which were wonderful, but I found that my mind kept wandering back to sunny Charleston instead of the farmlands of Iowa. When I finally saw your handwriting on the envelope they handed me during Mail Call, it took everything in me not to jump up and down like a fool and make a scene. Just like you, I’ve been rereading your letters each night before lights out. I know we haven’t been exchanging messages for long, but each one lifts my spirits more than you could know. And around these parts, that’s a real special thing.

Despite being so far away from home and from everything that’s familiar and comfortable, when I close my eyes and imagine sharing a slice of your mama’s peach tart or getting to dance with you again and hear your pretty voice, I feel as though everything’s going to be alright. Even if the feeling only lasts for a minute or two, it gives me something to hold onto in the moments when it feels like maybe the world really is going to pieces. So thank you for that. Your kindness and your sweet words of encouragement are helping me get through this war, minute by minute and day by day.

I think, if you’re agreeable to it, that I’d really like to take you up on your offer to show you the world one day. Maybe even from up in the air. I may be Paul’s backseat gunner, but I know a thing or two about piloting an aircraft. You can trust me. Any places in particular you’d like to see, Peach? I’m all ears.

I promise you that I am most certainly NOT remembering you through rose-colored glasses. If you remember, my glasses are very much of the non-rose-tinted variety. But they do aid my vision, which helped me to see that night back in May just how absolutely swell you are. I hope it doesn’t embarrass you if I say that I still remember the way your smile put the stars to shame that night on King Street. And though I know no rehearsal is necessary, it does make me quite happy to think that you’ll be practicing a song with me in mind. I know any song you pick will be beautiful, but how about “Someone to Watch Over Me?” It was the first song we danced to, after all. And I’m sure you’ll knock it out of the park. If Gershwin was still alive, I know he’d be thrilled to hear someone doing such justice to his music.

I’ll have you know that it took me quite some time to get the peace and quiet I needed to write this letter because Tommy Boy and Benny simply would not stop chattering in my ear. At first, it was just more of their usual advice—most of which, for your sake, I don’t actually take—but then I realized they were trying to pass along messages of their own to you! I very clearly, and perhaps a bit selfishly, told them that you were my pen pal and that they’d just have to go find some of their own. Benny pouted a bit, but Tommy Boy just grinned, slapped me on the shoulder, and told me he’d never been prouder.

They both say hello, by the way. I did agree to pass that much along.

Paul’s sitting near me right now, writing his own letter home to Natasha and the kids. He wanted me to thank you for your prayers and for your kind words. He’s not one to get all mushy most of the time, but I can tell that your thoughts for him and his family really do mean a lot to him. And he said he’s definitely going to take you up on that jewelry offer when we get home. He may have made some comment about buttering Natasha up when we finally return home, after leaving her alone with two babies for so long. Although, now that I think about it, my little goddaughter, Clara always insists that she’s a big girl. So I’m sure she would take great offense at me referring to her as a baby. Promise you won’t tell on me?

Peach, I hope you know how truly extraordinary you are. I find it just about impossible to believe that people don’t take notice of you. To me, that feels like people taking a stroll outside and not taking notice of the sun. But it means more to me than words can say that you can relate to me in that way. Feeling like you see me, like you really understand me—that doesn’t happen to me often. Especially not with girls as lovely as you. I’m very much looking forward to us getting to know each other better and better.

As far as childhood stories go, I want to make it very clear that Paul and Natasha were solely responsible for any and all mischief that was had in our youth. I was very much just along for the ride. I promise you that it wasn’t my idea to put frogs in our mean teacher’s purse during the school picnic when we were in the third grade. And I certainly wasn’t the one who kidnapped our class hamster so that he could “live a life of freedom in the great outdoors.” Though I will admit I may have been present when the crime was committed. I was a very nerdy and awkward kid, which I’m sure isn’t hard at all for you to imagine, so I do have to credit Paul and Natasha with providing me with some of the most exciting and interesting moments of my life. There’s hardly a memory I have that doesn’t involve the two of them. I think you and Natasha would get on wonderfully. Maybe one day, the two of you will get to meet.

What about you, Miss Peach? Were you a rebel growing up in Georgia, or a goody two shoes like me?

I’m glad to hear that President Roosevelt is keeping you all informed back home, but I’m sorry to hear that the prices are still going up. I know you already mentioned that they started rationing sugar. I hope more rations aren’t coming your way, but, truth be told, I have a sinking feeling that they will be. We’ve been burning through supplies like crazy over here, and it always feels like a scramble to get more of what we need. But I’d still hate to think of you or anyone else having to go without. It just doesn’t seem right. But then, I suppose a lot in this world doesn’t feel right at the moment.

Thank you for sharing the president’s words with me, Peach. I passed them on to the rest of the fellas, and we’re all mighty appreciative of it. I have to say, even if it was Roosevelt’s words, they sounded a lot sweeter coming from you. My safety and comfort feel like a small price to pay if it means that you and my family and the rest of the good folks back home get to rest well each night.

I hate to end my letter to you on a sad note, but thinking of men who aren’t concerned about themselves makes me think of some of the boys that we just lost recently. Just last week, in fact. They weren’t part of my squadron, but I did know several of them. They were a couple years ahead of me at Annapolis, and they were bunking on the carrier with my squadron. Good men, every single one of them. They were shot down during what was supposed to be a fairly routine fly-over. They leave behind mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, fiancées, sweethearts, and friends. But I think a part of them will still be here, so long as those of us who remember them are still around. They were men, like President Roosevelt said, who put duty and country before themselves. And they deserve to be remembered.

We also recently lost some enlisted men—some sailors on a nearby carrier. We’d gotten to know them pretty well these past few months, and it was a tough blow. I was saddest to learn about the death of a boy named Timmy [REDACTED]. I say boy because that’s what he was. We got to talking one night, him and I, and he admitted to me that he was only sixteen. He’d lied about his age and somehow managed to squeak on by—my guess is that with the draft on, they’re willing to look the other way when boys jump up to volunteer. Sixteen years old. I tell you, I don’t think I could have stomached this at sixteen. I can barely stomach it now at twenty-two. I promised him I wouldn’t tell, and I feel a little guilty to be breaking that promise now that he’s gone, but I think someone else besides me should know how brave he was. He gave everything he had for the family and the country that he loved. I know I’ll never forget him. I know I keep piling more and more names on your list, but maybe you can remember him, too? That way, his legacy will live on. I think he’d be happy to know that.

If any of my letters ever feel like too much to you, Peach, please let me know. I don’t want to unburden my own heart at the cost of your peace of mind. I’m thankful for all the ways you listen and make me feel heard, even with the entire Atlantic in between us. Just getting these words down on paper, knowing that you’ll be reading them soon, fills me with a great sense of calm. Has anyone ever told you what a great pen pal you are?

My mother wouldn’t be happy if she heard me admitting this, but sometimes I’m so dead tired at the end of the night that I fall asleep without saying my prayers. On the nights that I do manage to stay awake, however, I pray for you right after my family, you and Paddy and Dottie and Frankie. I pray that you’re safe and happy and well. I’m always glad to hear that it’s so.

Goodbye for now, Peach. I look forward to your next letter, as I always do.

Very Sincerely Yours,

Bobby

November 3, 1942

Dear Bobby,

I was so thrilled to receive your last letter in the mail, but I admit that I was crying like a baby by the end of it. I’m so sorry for the friends that you lost, especially young Timmy. Sorry always seems like such a trite thing to say in the face of such a tragedy, doesn’t it? It doesn’t feel like it encompasses even half of the pain and the grief and the sorrow that follow in the wake of such horror. But for lack of any other words that would suffice, I’m afraid that “I’m sorry” is all that I can say. Please know that I mean it from the very bottom of my heart.

I hope you don’t mind, but I showed the last part of your letter to Dottie. She walked into the kitchen and was very concerned about why I was such a bawling mess, so I thought it would be better if she heard it directly from you. My big sister is much less prone to tears than I am, but even she cried when she read your beautiful tribute to that young man. We went to church the next day and lit candles in honor of Timmy and all the young men who were lost. I’m so incredibly touched that you would want to share their memories with me, Bobby. I will most certainly treasure them in my heart and pass them along to anyone I can. I don’t want them to be forgotten either. I don’t think anyone deserves to be forgotten. Everyone leaves their mark on this world, no matter how tiny it might seem to others. Even at just sixteen, Timmy clearly left his mark.

I can only begin to imagine what it must be like for you over there, flying dangerous missions yourself and watching those around you, men who you’ve shared laughs and good times with, make that final sacrifice. Please don’t ever feel like you can’t share it with me, Bobby. If you have to live it every day, and face that reality, then the very least I can do is lend a listening ear. I’m always here for you, whatever you need to get off your chest.

To be honest, you’re the first real pen pal I’ve ever had. I’m glad to hear that I’m doing a good job, because I happen to think you’re a terrific pen pal, and I wouldn’t want to let you down in return. It’s kind of funny—when I’m sitting down to read your letters or write one of my own, I sometimes forget that there’s an entire ocean between us. Sometimes, when I read your words, it feels like you’re right here next to me. I can hear your voice, even if it was so long ago now that we were last together. And it just makes it all feel so real to me. You’re a rather wonderful writer, you know.

Hm, now let’s see. Which part of your wonderful letter should I respond to next? I have it laid out in front of me right now, so that I don’t miss or forget anything. Should we discuss your mother’s rather unorthodox cure for the flu? I’d never heard of whiskey in a handkerchief before! I thought Paddy was going to split his sides from laughing so hard when I told him and Dottie. He said that he’s not so sure he should be sticking booze in his baby’s face, but that he’d be more than happy to try that remedy himself! We’d only ever been aware of good, old-fashioned chicken noodle soup and lots of rest. I’m hoping we don’t have another influenza scare any time soon, but we’ll be sure to try the whiskey trick if we do.

Now as for seeing the world—I’ve never been flying before. On the one hand, it seems very exciting and exhilarating, but on the other hand, it seems like the most terrifying prospect in the world. Bless those Wright brothers for being the first ones to give it a go. I suppose if I ever wanted to expand my horizons, however, I’d have to get on an airplane. Ocean liners aren’t exactly the most efficient means of travel. And if I’d trust anyone to take me up in the air for the first time, it would be you, Bobby. Like I mentioned once before, my parents went to Paris for their honeymoon, so I’ve always wanted to see it. Did you know that they call it the city of love? I suppose it must be very romantic with a nickname like that. I’ve also always wanted to see Italy—the Colosseum, the Pantheon, all that amazing art. I imagine it must be so magical. Maybe not right this moment, but Rome has certainly survived its fair share of catastrophes, if I remember my history correctly. I’m sure it will survive this, too.

How about you, Bobby? What parts of the world would you like to see when all of this is over?

“Someone to Watch Over Me” is one of my favorite songs. And now every time I hear it, I think of you and that dance we shared at the USO. If that’s the song that you’d like to hear, then I’ll happily start practicing it right away. Mr. Gershwin certainly knew what he was doing when it came to composing, didn’t he?

Don’t tell them this—we wouldn’t want them getting big heads now—but I always find it to be a delight when you share stories of Tommy Boy and Benny. It makes me so happy to know that you have such good friends over there with you. And I always get a good laugh, imagining their antics. You must have the patience of a saint, Bobby, to put up with all of it. As I’ve said before, I know all too well what it’s like to have to hide away to carve out a little peace for letter writing—Dottie is constantly trying to throw her two cents in whenever she can. I actually have Frankie to thank for my solitude at the moment. He’s been a bit fussy, so Dottie hurried off to check on him. I adore my sister more than life itself, but even I can admit that it’s a bit easier to concentrate when she’s distracted.

I absolutely cross my heart that I will never let it slip past my lips that you called our young Clara a baby. It will be our little secret. I’m sure she and Natasha and Paul, Jr. will be thrilled to receive the letter Paul’s writing to them. Paul sounds like such a wonderful husband and father. He reminds me of Paddy in that way. The two of them seem to have a lot in common. Tell Paul that I’m more than happy to lend any assistance I can to helping him pick out the perfect gift for buttering up his wife. Trust me, I’ve helped my dear brother-in-law do it on more than one occasion.

Speaking of Paul and Natasha, I’m shocked to learn they were such little hooligans when the three of you were growing up. Frogs in your teacher’s purse? Kidnapping the classroom hamster? What kind of trouble did you not get into, I should ask? I think that perhaps you were more of a little rebel than you’re willing to admit, Ensign Floyd. I myself was quite the prim and proper little lady growing up back home in Georgia. Believe me, I was much too shy to be getting into any sort of trouble with anyone. Truth be told, I really sort of kept to myself, even when I was a child. But I always had Dottie, thank goodness. She’s four years older, and she’s always looked out for me. She’s my best friend and my biggest champion. It would be lovely to get to meet Natasha one day, too. Any friend of yours must be a delightful person who I’m sure I would like very much.

Your words are sweet as honey, Bobby, and make me feel just as warm and cozy inside. Whenever I’m having a difficult day, or the weight of the world’s troubles feel like they’re pressing down on me, I read your letters and they never fail to make me smile. I always knew that there were good men out there in the world—my father and Paddy have always been prime examples of that to me—but I think I was starting to doubt that there were many men left who were truly kind and good-hearted. You put those fears in my heart to rest. You are such a good man. I know we haven’t known each other long, and that most of our conversations have been through letters, but your warmth and your kindness always shine through.

I may not be able to speak to how unhappy your mother would be to learn about you falling asleep before your prayers—I like to think she’d understand, given the circumstances—but I can say with total confidence, despite never having met her, that she would be very happy and proud to know just what kind of man her oldest son is. I’m sure she already knows and is already so proud.

I keep you in my prayers every night, too, Bobby. You and Paul and his family and Tommy Boy and Benny, and all the rest of your squadron. All I ask for is that you all come home safely. And soon.

You’re in my thoughts. I look forward, as always, to your next letter, whenever it may arrive.

Affectionately Yours,

Peach

P.S. I almost forgot to mention that it was Frankie’s first Halloween! Unfortunately, the annual parade in town was canceled, but everyone still decorated and the children in the neighborhood got to go trick-or-treating. Dottie made Frankie a little pumpkin costume—he was the cutest little pumpkin you ever did see! We still have some candy lying around the house, which I wish I could send to you. Did Clara, Paul, Jr., and your brothers dress up this year? I hope they had lots of fun!

#robert bob floyd #robert floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #x reader #x female reader #top gun #top gun: maverick #lewis pullman #WWII AU #1940s AU

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