#you’ve heard of the backrooms

[after-witch]

Sufferance [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Title: Sufferance [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: Patience is a thread. Eventually, it snaps. You should have minded this with someone like Chrollo Lucilfer.

word count: 3000+

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, rough noncon sex, sexual assault, degradation

You love books. You always have. As a child, you would curl up under your covers, flashlight in your mouth or propped up carefully with dirty laundry, reading page after page until you heard the creak of your mother’s footsteps in the hallway and had to flop down like a fish, pretending to be asleep. As a teen, you devoured books on the bus, in between classes, sometimes during classes much to your teacher’s irritation. 

Your love of reading led where it sometimes does as an adult--to the library. You were just an assistant--shelver, pamphlet folder, read-books-to-the-kids-every-Tuesday-morning--but it was enough for you to be in the building.It wasn’t a particularly lucrative job, and you had heard from friends and family time and time again that you really ought to go back to school and aim for something higher. Time and time again, you shook your head, smiling, and said you were happy to be there.

Now, you wish you had listened to them. You wish you had put in your 2 weeks notice and went back to school or hell, just quit and taken a job somewhere else. Anywhere else. Preferably in a backroom. A warehouse. Somewhere that wasn’t visible to the public and therefore visible to people like him.

Somewhere that didn’t have you sitting quietly behind a desk, processing books, double checking inventory, darting here and there to help patrons or put something back on the shelves. 

Because that is exactly how Chrollo Lucilfer found you.

You met him once… twice… three… four… five times at the library. At least, five times that you know of; thinking back, you wonder if he watched you secretly. He must have, to know so much about you. You push that thought away.

He left an impression, but how couldn’t he? He was handsome and rather intimidating, with a casually professional outfit and an intriguing bandage wrapped around his forehead. His voice was soft and polite, inquiring, curious. 

He came back a few times. Struck up a conversation. Helped you reach a tall shelf, a low shelf. Offered to carry a stack of books that you had to put away without the cart because it had gone missing. 

At first you appreciated another kind patron--but there was something about him that you didn’t like. Something which seemed to seep out of him as time went on.

Oh, you couldn't have pinpointed it if you’d been paid in solid gold. It was something innate. Something primal. Something deep in your gut that told you to stay away from him, like a rabbit catching a whiff of a predator in the woods.

So you started avoiding him as much as possible, running into the stock room whenever you saw him come in, pleading with a coworker that you weren’t feeling well and needed to swap out. You thought if you ignored him, he would leave you alone, move on. 

Chrollo, on the other hand--if his own words told to you later are to be believed--fell absolutely, maddeningly for you.

So he waited to see if you could come around (you didn’t) and he took matters into his own hands.

That is to say, he kidnapped you. 

You had asked him why, just the once. He shrugged and mentioned that he couldn’t stay in this town forever, and he had to take you before he left. If he didn’t have to go, perhaps he might have tried to court you, but ah, it simply couldn’t be helped.

“Couldn’t be helped.” That’s what he said. It couldn’t be helped that he stole you from your life, your friends, your family. It couldn’t be helped that he stole you. Took you away from everything you’ve known and has decided to keep you with him. Like a pet--no, not that. Like a treasure. Something to be admired and touched at his whim.

And that is where you are now… 

Well. More or less.

Just because he’s kidnapped you doesn’t mean you have to give in to him. At least not outside of the fact that you can’t get away from him, and you know that there’s no point in trying to run or fight or desperately beg hotel concierges or passers-by for help. Because no one can help you. 

What you can do is fight, in little ways. Ways that dig under his skin and keep you from completely drowning in horror and misery. 

The best way to dig under the skin of the seemingly almighty Chrollo Lucilfer is to ignore his attempts to woo you. And oh, they are temptations, there is no doubting that. He has offered so much at your feet that you sometimes wonder why he simply doesn’t find someone who might be open to his advances and do the same. You’ve told him as much, and he’s murmured sweet nothings (emphasis on nothings, in your opinion) about how you’re the only one who’s ever really caught his eye and his heart. 

He’s offered you a veritable library of books, including treasures that you’re sure (even if he won't admit it) were stolen from some priceless collection. He’s taken you to bookstores and told you to have your pick, anything you want--it’s yours. He’ll even read it with you. 

He suggests getting your favorite meals--sticky and spicy rice dishes, homey pasta from the local restaurant, pastries with sweet cream. Whatever you want, whenever you want. He’s collected all of your favorite films (the fact that he knows which were your favorites makes you feel sick every time you think about it) and watched them with you, but there’s no enjoyment in the scenes. Just as there is no enjoyment in the jewelry he clasps around your wrist, your neck; the rings he slides on your fingers. 

You reject the intention behind them all, verbally or physically. Except the food, but only because you need the energy to keep up your struggles for another day. 

You refuse to accept this as normal. Any of this. 

That’s why he still ties you up when he has to leave, whether it’s a short leash that keeps you on the bed or a long chain around your ankle, keeping you away from the front door of wherever you’ve been stashed.

Sometimes you’re tied up when he’s here, too, if you’ve been too ornery. You refuse to let him touch you or kiss you, though God in heaven knows he’s tried. You’ve bitten him in the past, and got gagged for the trouble, but it was worth it. It’s not like you wanted to talk to him anyway. 

He can kidnap you, but he can’t make you love him. He can’t make you let him love you, either, whatever version of “love” he believes is in his heart.

But.

But.

But.

Patience is a thread. Eventually, when pulled too tight, it snaps.

You might have paid more attention to this fact, if you knew what was coming.

--

You shouldn’t be surprised when you exit the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed in clean sweatpants and a lounge shirt, that the apartment has been transformed. It’s not the first time Chrollo has attempted a romantic evening.

But you weren’t expecting it and tonight, he’s pulled out everything in the book. Lights. Music. Food. Mood.

On the table of the hotel room are some of your favorite dishes, all neatly arranged on top of a crisp white tablecloth. There are glasses of wine, probably expensive. In the background soft music plays, something nice, relaxing, elegant. There are candles on the dining table, on the coffee table, above the fireplace. Flickering and dancing, giving the room a dreamy effect. 

And there is Chrollo, of course, standing as casually as he can (which is not very much at all) in front of the table. Staring at you with unspoken expectations in his eyes. 

“I thought,” he says, slowly, after a while, “that you could pick our movie tonight as well. Anything you please.” 

You don’t answer. You look at the table and then at him, but you don’t answer.

He sighs, and you see--just for a moment--one of the hands at his side clench and release. He walks toward you, and you’ve half a mind to turn around and lock yourself in the bathroom, but he’s quicker than your thoughts. 

One hand goes to your chin and you set your jaw together as tight as you can, lips pursed, ready to spit venom if he should try anything. 

“Darling,” he whispers. “I wish you’d let me treat you.” He pauses. “I wish you’d let me kiss you.” 

You can feel his breath on your cheek. It smells like mint. He probably popped one while you were in the shower. Asshole. 

He leans in, and it’s not the first time he’s tried to kiss you but it’s the most audacious in recent memory, and you yank your jaw away and take a step back.

You breathe in through your nose, wishing hot fumes could come out to represent how you feel inside. But they don’t. 

So you settle for words.

“Fuck. You.” You spit them out, jaw clenched, brow furrowed. “Fuck you and your ‘date’ and if you think I’m ever, ever going to let you… let you…” Kiss me, touch me, have anything from me except poison and hatred? You can’t finish.

The words aren’t enough. You need something more, something that lets you kinetically toss all of this anger and helplessness out into the world. 

Ah. The table. 

You don’t think before you do it. You just do it. Your hands grip the pressed white table cloth and you yank, hard, sending all the carefully set glasses and dishes flying to the floor. The candles, fragile things, sputter out in the process.

For a few moments, it is mostly silent, punctuated only by a soft dripping that you assume must be spilled wine and your own rapid breathing.

And then you look back at Chrollo and feel your stomach drop out from underneath you.

He’s staring, not at the mess you’ve made, but you. And he doesn’t look angry at all, which isn’t quite right--because you know he’s angry. You know it because the air feels heavy, rancid, like you’re being pressed down by mere emotion. 

“I’ve been kind,” he says finally, voice soft and calm. You want to scream--kind?!--but the feeling in the air keeps you from speaking. You don’t want it inside your mouth, this air. 

“I’ve been kind,” he repeats, “but enough is enough.” 

If you were a rabbit, you would have run. But you’re not, and so you’re standing perfectly still when he takes slow steps toward you and grabs your wrist.

Now, you do try to pull away--but for once, you can’t wrench yourself from his grip. You always had been able to before. But this is different--he’s different. It’s like he’s a stone statue, and no matter how you pull, it makes no difference.

Only he’s not as still as a statue. His hand returns to its earlier position, but instead of gripping your chin, he continues upward, tracing lines across your jaw, up your cheek.

“So lovely,” he says. “A pity that you haven’t let me admire you.”

“Fuck you,” you spit, venomous air be damned. You pull as hard as you can, your socked feet sliding on the floor. You wrench and yank and squirm. Stupidly, it turns out, because it doesn’t work.

He smiles at you. It’s not a nice smile at all.

“That is the plan, dearest.”

Your stomach lurches ahead of you, like a sudden stop on a roller coaster.

“What?” 

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he begins to walk, pulling you behind him.  Your feet skid and slide, but it doesn’t matter. It’s like you're made of nothing, a doll, a toy, that he’s pulling along without resistance.

“Chrollo--what?” You ask again. 

He’s silent as he drags you into the bedroom, and it’s then, your toe bumping against the threshold on the floor, that you realize where this is going. 

“Wait, wait--” The words tumble out of you like water, but there’s no stopping the pull against your arm, or the gravitational force when he gives you a push onto the bed.

The softness of the mattress has you sinking into it, but you manage to scramble backwards before turning yourself over.

“Wait--” 

He stands over the bed. He looks at you for a few long, awful moments.

“No more waiting,” he says. Simply. Coldly. Goosebumps run up your arms and you want to run but you feel stuck, frozen, like something is holding you to the bed. You can’t tell if it’s something real or your fear keeping you there.

And then he’s crawling on the bed, his body over yours.

“I’ve been patient.”

His hand reaches out and grabs your wrists, which feel limp and useless; he pins them above your head.

“I’ve been kind.”

His other hand goes to your chest, but not to touch you. He grips the fabric of your shirt and pulls. It rips like paper. The air must be cool because goosebumps immediately dot the flesh of your bared chest, sending a shiver through your body that almost covers up the sense of dread within you.

There’s a sense of finality to those goosebumps. Because he’s not going to stop at taking off your shirt, is he? 

Your mouth twitches as you 

“No, I don’t want--you--you--you can’t.”

There’s something that changes in his expression, then. You don’t know what it is, and there’s not enough time to really focus on it. Not with adrenaline pumping through you, making you start to squirm, making your breath start to come fast.

He leans down, close to your ear, that damned smell of mint wafting into your nostrils again.

“I’m a thief, love. I can take whatever I want.” 

He lets go of your wrists, and both of his hands grip the waistband of your sweatpants. And that’s exactly when panic truly sets in. Your leg kicks--you hit him, you think--and your body flails, hands flying. Every muscle in your body is tight and tense and screaming to get away.

“No, no, no, no!” 

At your panic-induced fury, he merely hums, and it’s the most awful sound you’ve ever heard. 

You feel the shift in the air before you see the book. You hate the book. He’s never used the book on you, no, that is true. But you’ve seen it used on others. A warning towards you, but you didn’t heed it well enough.

He murmurs something and your hands fly up towards the headboard. You try to move them but you can’t. It’s like they're held together by some invisible rope. It doesn’t stop you from kicking your legs, twisting and turning, spit flying as your breath comes in ragged gasps.

At this, Chrollo merely uses his free hands to pin down your thighs.

And he waits.

He waits until your body is exhausted, too exhausted to kick or flail or fight him. Not that it did you any good, with your hands bound. And with his own strength in the mix. 

When your body ceases to do more than squirm pitifully against the bed, and your breath has gone from spitting and ragged to merely heaving, he smiles down at you.

“There, now. That’s better.”

You don’t want this.

“Please don’t,” you say, voice cracking.

But it doesn’t matter what you want.

Your sweatpants are pulled down first. He doesn’t pull them all the way off, and somehow, this makes your stomach squirm. Then he pulls down your underwear, bunching it along with your sweatpants down by your ankles.

You squeeze your eyes tightly and will yourself to be anywhere but here.

You hear his breath hitch at the sight of your bared body, at all the things you’ve kept hidden from him until now.

“Beautiful,” he says, a crooning reverence in his tone. “Simply lovely.”

Something desperate and stupid pushes you to open your eyes, to look at him, gaze shining with oncoming tears.

“D-Don’t,” you force out. “Let’s do--let’s do something else, okay? You can kiss me, or… or…” Your mind scrambles for some substitution.

Chrollo smiles down at you with indulgence, then presses a finger to your trembling lips.

“Hush now. You had a chance--many chances, in fact--but they’re gone now. We’ll do this a different way.”

And then he finally unbuttons his trousers and pulls them down, along with his boxers. You immediately look up, afraid and unwilling to see what’s underneath. 

He leaves his own shirt on, and the sight of that makes you angry, somewhere, deep down. Goosebumps on your chest give way to righteous flushing, hot, angry. 

There’s a moment where the two of you merely look at one another. You, with your eyes watery and wide, naked, bared. And Chrollo, his eyes drinking in the sight of you, filling up his own hollow spaces with what was prone in front of him.

And then his mouth is on yours, wet, warm, insistent. 

For the briefest of moments, it occurs to you that while you can’t move your wrists, you can still move your mouth. You can still bite. 

He pulls back only to speak against your lips, sensing your throats.

“Don’t bite,” he murmurs, in between pressing his lips to yours. “I can be so much worse than this.” 

And just like that, the thought of biting recedes, stuck behind the cold fear of what else Chrollo could do. Would do, if you pushed him to it. 

But that just leaves you and him, on this bed. 

He murmurs something in approval and begins to kiss you again. HIs tongue finds its way into your mouth and you want to retch. It’s wet and warm and awful. There’s pressure on your chest--his hands, resting at first, then kneading your breasts. 

Your entire body wants to recede into the mattress. To simply dissolve into it, down to the floor, and possibly beyond.

You don’t want him touching you, but he is.

He pulls away from your mouth, and you can’t look him in the eye, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“I can’t wait any longer, my dear.” 

You know what he’s talking about but it doesn’t make it any less terrifying when his hands drift away from your chest, trailing down your stomach, until they finally reach between your legs.

It’s a light touch, at first. Something you could blink away. But he has no patience to take it slow, and in a moment his fingers are inside you. You’re dry. It hurts. But he says nothing when your breath catches in your throat and you let out a pained wheeze. 

Your inner walls squeeze him, not to keep him in but in an attempt to push his digits out. It’s an instinctive gesture, and maybe that’s why he doesn’t bother you about it. 

He pulls his fingers out and there’s relief for a moment,  until you feel  his thumb rubbing your clit. There’s too much pressure, an electric sort of tingle. You can’t tell if he’s experimenting or trying to get you wet or something else entirely.

You stare up at the ceiling. The ceiling has tiles. You could count them. You could count them and pretend you’re not here, and that this isn’t happening. 

Yet it’s too hard to do that, when you can feel him. Feel his thumb rubbing your clit and his pressure on the body and hear his breathing.

“Look at me, darling,” he says, light, crooning. Like he wasn’t keeping you tied to the bed and touching you unwillingly. Maybe while you’re trying to count tiles, he’s imagining that this went a different way. Maybe.

When you meet his gaze, he keeps it there. 

“This will hurt, I imagine.” 

He stares at you as he thrusts inside you and he’s right. It does hurt. You’re a little wet, maybe, but not really prepared. It feels like your breath gets knocked out of you, like something is stuck in your lungs, all the while a rough stinging against your inner walls brings tears immediately to your eyes. There’s an awful soreness where the two of you meet.

Tiles, tiles, tiles--who can count tiles while this is going on? 

Chrollo, still wearing his damn shirt, begins to thrust inside you. Your breath comes back just in time for it to hitch at the roughness of his thrusts, at how unusually wild and uncontrolled he seems. 

It’s painful. It’s humiliating. You don’t know how long it’s going on. Tears trickle down your cheeks, but they feel cold. A startling contrast to the painful heat between your legs, the uncomfortable dryness even as he thrusts inside you. 

“Oh, you’re cruel,” he says suddenly, voice tinged with just a touch of breathiness. 

His words make something inside you begin to crack. A fissure line ready to spread. 

“I’m cruel?” Pain chokes your voice.

He presses against you, leaning down so that he can kiss your jawline, peppering kisses on  your tear-tracked skin. 

“Yes.” His breath is hot against your cheek. “For denying me the pleasure of this feeling for so long.” 

Some part of you, some dull dragging part, wants you to ask what feeling he means. All you feel is pain and humiliation and this awful helplessness that feels like your guts are being scooped out while you’re still alive. 

“How awful of you,” he continues, uncaring of whatever thoughts might be racing around in your head. He presses a kiss to your lips. “But I’ll forgive you, in time. Starting with this.”

You shake your head against it all, and he only chuckles, pressing a sickeningly chaste kiss to your cheek.

And then he begins to thrust harder, and there’s added torment to it. More pain, more stinging, an awful feeling of stretch. Another feeling, too, something hitting you--again and again, timed with his thrusts. You realize, with a humiliation that makes you actually cry, that his balls are slapping against you. 

There’s an awful lewdness to it, and it’s something you’ll never forget. 

Now and then, you feel a thumb brush against your clit, and you jolt from it. But there’s no pleasure, no warmth, no seeking out his lips and arms to meld together in an embrace. The sweat you feel against your back makes you feel dirty. 

But all you can do is clench your fingers, wrists bound by some invisible cord, and wish for it to be over soon. It would be a mercy.

You don’t know how long it takes. Time drags and hurts. But eventually you feel him speeding up, catch a crack in his expression that tells you with certainty that he’s going to reach his peak. He leans down again, gripping your chin, and kisses you deeper than he has before.

He groans into your mouth as you feel him still, as you feel wetness inside you. It’s warm and thick and you want to vomit it up, even though it’s not in your mouth. You wish you could spit out the sound of his moan. You imagine brushing your teeth a thousand times and never ridding yourself of it.

In time, Chrollo pulls away from you, and removes himself from between your legs. Liquid seeps out of you, slow and warm. 

You will think, later, of birth control. Of asking for a pill. Your stomach will clench and you will throw up with worry that you could be pregnant. He will give you a pill and that worry, at least, will disappear. But that is later. 

Now, however, all is silent. Or almost silent. Your ragged breathing and somewhere on the wall, a soft ticking of a clock. Dim sounds from outside, but maybe that is only rushing in your ears. 

Your thoughts are not so silent. They are buzzing, going from thought to thought. He hurt you. It hurts. He made you kiss him. He fucked you. 

He’s taken everything from you now. Everything you tried to keep, stubborn, stupid thing that you are. Is it any wonder that more tears come, when this thought slams into your brain? 

And is it any wonder that Chrollo gazes down at you with something like reverence when you do? He drinks in  your expression, and when he leans in, you think for a moment--and only a moment--that he’s guilty. Or sorry. Or something almost like those two human emotions that everyone should possess. 

But what he whispers is nothing so human. 

“This is your fault, you know. If you hadn’t denied me for so long, well…”

He nuzzles your neck. His touch feels like sandpaper, but you can’t bat him away. How long will he keep your wrists bound like this? Another minute? Another hour? All night? 

He sighs against your skin. 

“Next time will be better, won’t it? No need to repeat this?”

You would like to go into the bathroom and flush everything out of you with scalding hot water. You would like to drink pure alcohol to rid your mouth of his taste. You would like to down pain pills, to address the pain between your legs.

But you’re tied to the bed and can’t do any of those things.

So you nod, absently. Your eyes go from his face--though his never leave yours, watching what you do, taking it all in--towards the ceiling. 

Oh, the tiles. 

One of the tiles on the ceiling is cracked. 

Someone should really fix it. 

#yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere #afterwitch writes

[cntloup]

UndergroundBoxer!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Fem!Reader angst, violence, arguments

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

moodboard | face

You walk through the threshold of the old, rusty building. Walking alone in a neighborhood like this at night was not a good idea and you know that he would scold you, but you would shut him up with a sweet kiss and his favorite drink. That would work, right?

As you walk along the hallway, the ruckus and uproar of the already-drunk people inside reach your ears and the smell of alcohol and sweat hit your nose.

There are all kinds of people here; people you should never encounter in your life as your loving boyfriend mentions to you every night, but you didn’t budge this time. You've asked him multiple times to take you to one of his fights. You've heard various stories about how the infamous Ghost has absolutely demolished his opponent once again, and you’re finally here to see it up close.

You make your way through the crowd, trying not to get hit in the face by the cheering mob who have their hands up into fists and not to slip on the liquid which you hope is beer and knock yourself out or get kicked and stepped on. You finally make it to the front row intact and let out a sigh of relief.  

As your boyfriend makes his way to the ring, you start whistling and cheering at the top of your lungs. He still hasn’t seen you. Then his competitor steps in and your jaw drops. He's fucking huge... maybe even more than Simon. No, definitely more.

As you watch them stand in front of each other and the referee in between them, the truth dawns on you. There are no rules in the underground world. He might get severely injured... or worse. ‘FUCK! No, he won’t. He'll get out of it unharmed.’ you think to yourself and gather your thoughts, taking deep breaths as you try to calm yourself.

You go through every emotion in existence as they fight, wince and gasp loudly every time Simon takes a punch. You try to reach for him and even get inside the ring when he takes a nasty hit to the head. That's when he notices your presence and calls out your name as the security prevents you from getting inside the ring. “Oi! Fuck off! Don’t fucking touch my girl!” he shouts at them and comes to your side and takes your hand in his “It’s ok, lovie. I’m fine.” “But- but-” you can’t get the words out through your sobs as you stare at him in shock. “I’m ok. I promise.” he wipes your tears and lets go of your hand after the referee blows in his whistle and the final round begins.  

Multiple punches are thrown to the faces and heads and various limbs by the fighters, angry roars and shocked gasps are heard from the crowd. The match finally ends and Simon is introduced as the champion. He quickly starts to exit the ring after they present him with the championship belt. You make your way straight to him and you both meet halfway.

You collapse into his arms and start sobbing, finally getting the emotions out after experiencing so much anxiety and nearly having a panic attack. “It’s ok, love. Let it all out.” he repeats the words as he gently rubs your back. He knows it must have been very difficult for you to watch him not only fight but get beaten several times, some of them pretty serious.

You pull away “Are you ok?” “Yes, love. I'm fine. I've taken worse punches before. It was nothing.” “FUCK! Simon, you got hit in the fucking head. Don't try to play it down. You should get it checked out by a doctor. And don’t fucking think me knowing you’ve taken worse hits, makes me feel better somehow.” you reply angrily, your gaze throwing daggers at him. “Love, again, I’m fine-” “You don’t know that.” you cut him off. He places a kiss on your forehead and responds “Of course I’ll get it checked out. We have a doctor here. I’m gonna go into the backroom to let him do the tests, then I’ll meet you here, ok?” “Ok.” you mutter and he leaves to meet the doctor.  

You wait for him as you think about what you just saw, let it sink in that it is his job. And it wil make you even more worried whenever he leaves for a match now that you have witnessed the extent of the violence yourself.

He finally comes out of the room, dressed in his black jeans and hoodie. “It all went well. I’m fine. Really. Just a few minor injuries.” “Minor you say-” “The doctor said that.” “Ok, then.” you let out a sigh of relief.

“Wait! You didn’t walk here, did you?” he asks as he wonders how you got here since he’s got the car. “...I kind of did.” “You kind o-” he starts to get upset. He pinches the bridge of his nose and brushes a hand across his face in frustration and anger. “You didn’t take an uber? You fucking walked here? How fucking stupid are you? Huh?!” he starts getting in your face and you back away, biting your lip in fear. “I thought I told you not to fucking come in here at all. Do you ever listen to me? Why did you have to come? To see me get beaten half to death? Are you fucking happy now?” “So is this about your ego? Me seeing you in a vulnerable state as you take hits after hits upsets you? Or are you really worried about me? After watching this goddamn match which will leave a scar on my mind for sure and after almost having an anxiety attack over you, this is how you treat me?” you start to bite back. “Don’t fucking twist my words like that. Of course I’m worried about you. No, I don’t give a fuck about my ego. It's not about that at all. And watching the match was your own choice. I've told you not to come a thousand times but you don’t fucking listen!” he bears his teeth at you as he punches the wall beside your head, making you flinch at his outburst and close your eyes out of fear.

comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated ♥ 

A/N: I may or may not post a part 2 for this :')

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #cod x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost riley #ghost simon riley #cod fanfic #ghost cod #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod #mw2 #cod modern warfare

[qierxing]

Legends

A/N: No one look at me. Yes I’ve fallen into the OP hole in 2023 to the point where I’ve started reading the manga….a little piece to warm up writing if you so will....

Yan!Dracule Mihawk x Reader “I miss you more than I remember you.”

—

You heard him before you saw him.

That is to say, you heard the sounds of men yelling and then the muffled sounds of groans and thuds, followed by the creak of the bar seat next to you. You don’t have to even turn your head to see who it is. No one else has such a dramatic entrance. 

There’s only silence as the singular poor barmaid who looks on pensively to the customer next to you; analyzing whether he was a threat or not enough to be served. You sigh and ask for the nicest wine they have. The barmaid’s eyes only squint in confusion before ducking into the shabby backrooms.

“Is picking fights a hobby of yours?” 

Dracule 'Hawk Eyes’ Mihawk has always been like that for as long as you can remember. He never liked to speak first, not if it meant you would break the ice first with your probing. It’s become a habit to be the one to first greet him before he deigns it worth explaining himself.

“They were in the way, even after I had warned them.” The response is curt with no interest. 

You don’t doubt his words, but Mihawk can be…overwhelming in a sense. It’s why no one has yet to challenge him in his position for the years you’ve known him. At least no one with self preservation.

The barmaid slides your order over, and Mihawk catches it with ease and a dismissive nod. He barely gives the chipped glass a second glance before taking a generous sip. You have to wonder how he came to find you here, in this dingy little bar all the way out in the East Blue. It was hard to send letters or any kind of message that could reach him; that wasn’t through a transponder snail that you could get ahold of in the nearest port town. The last time you heard from him, a scruffy slums boy relayed to you he would be heading to the Grand Line due to an interesting turn of events. 

It’s been a week since then, and you’ve long left that island. Seeing as how he’s here now, makes you wonder if the boy simply lied to you out of a desire to exaggerate. Only the foolish and brave venture to those waters, and even Mihawk, for all his otherworldly strength, couldn’t have sailed through so fast. 

“So, what brings you here?” You shake your glass of rum, ice clinking like a little tune. It’s not in both of your natures to beat around the bush, and you’re sure Mihawk had a reason for appearing here. “Last minute preparations before you get to the Grand Line?”

He closes his eyes and chuckles, startling you a bit. “You could say that.” 

You could count on your fingers the times you saw him truly, genuinely smile. A pit of unease begins to grow in your chest. You’re not sure if you want to pry further to find the answer to your question.

“I would like to hang out more, but I’m going to start traveling to the West Blue tomorrow afternoon,” you start carefully, attempting to casually rift through your bag so as to not look awkward. “We can have breakfast together in the morning. I’m sure you have some exciting news for me to pen.”

Gold ringed pupils watch as you slide a good amount of berry over the counter. The barmaid gratefully snatches it, and quickly scuttles to the backroom, no doubt to stash it away to make sure it was safe. When you dare to meet his eyes again, it held a strange gleam that made you feel terribly small. Not unlike a rabbit who knew they were being stalked by something much, much bigger.

“Yes, breakfast does sound nice.” A silence follows that casual statement, and you’re left squirming at the unspoken sentiment behind it. It’s not a dismissal. Mihawk never minced words before, and for him to leave you hanging like this never bodes well. Such honors were usually left to his unfortunate victims who managed to get away with their lives after trying to provoke him. Pleasantries meant nothing to a pirate like Mihawk, much to the chagrin of the navy who hoped their alliance would serve as a leash and collar for him. 

“Then, I should get going. See you tomorrow?” You turn, hoping that was enough to signal the end of the conversation, but the man downs his glass of shoddy wine with surprising elegance and follows your action. 

“Where are you sleeping?” 

You’ve dealt with people who don’t know how to take a hint. This was not asked out of ignorance—Mihawk is the furthest thing from a nosy citizen trying to dig too deep. You feign a joking laugh. “How could a high and mighty warlord lower himself to a shoddy inn for the night?” 

“You know such things don’t mean anything to me.” That is true. You’ve seen it firsthand. He’s sometimes kinder than expected. Most pirates love to boast about their feats and dreams, and while it makes your job easier, you have to wonder about how much truth was in those drunken outbursts. Shanks, for one, often tested that theory.

“Yes, but I don’t think it’ll be very comfortable.” You’re not lying. You swear you saw a mouse scrabble through the floorboards of the room and the bed itself was just a step above a wooden frame and some boxes to make the mattress. “You’re better off finding another place, honestly.”

Mihawk’s eyes pierce through you. Before you can even think of bolting, your upper arm is encircled by his grip, locking you in place.

“I suggest you don’t try to run, dear.” The pet name makes you gag. “You know better than that.”

“I don’t need a reminder,” you mutter bitterly. “And why are you insisting on torturing me?”

“Torture? I’m simply picking up something I need before leaving. I thought I'd told you this already.” Your blood runs cold at his amused reply. 

“You can’t! I already booked my ticket out–”

“I can and will, dear,” he cuts you off brusquely with an apathetic air that makes you bristle, “Exchanges can always be cut and those can always be renegotiated. Surely, you know this best.”

It’s not false. It was not him, but his red-haired companion that you sought out to interview that fateful day. Ambition for the greatest story led you to that infamous pirate emperor, but it was curiosity that had you turning to his quiet friend. How shameless of him to bring up the past now.

“And why should I come with you?” You hiss through gritted teeth. His grip is unshakable and ironclad, tight enough to make you feel a painful ache. “There’s no interesting news with you at this moment.”

He tilts his head, eyes still boring through you, as if to try to pick apart your thoughts. “If you’re not satisfied, I could always tear this bar down. That should be enough of a headline for you to work with, no?”

Your mouth dries immediately at the threat in his words. There’s still that poor barmaid in the back. A sleeping drunk in the corner of the tavern. But Mihawk wouldn’t give up so easily even if you decide that their lives weren’t enough for yours. Even if tonight ended in a fire, he would continue to stalk after you until you’re left crawling to get away.

“Fine.” You look away and he lets go, thankfully, only to encircle a hand around your shoulders.

“Good. Lead the way, then.”

#yandere one piece #yandere dracule mihawk #my works

[wormdebut]

The universe expands. Part One | Part Three | Part Four

-

The Daily Grind was Wayne’s baby and Eddie had spent many an evening in the industrial lobby as he got used to living with his uncle at age thirteen. Somewhere over the years, Saturday nights became open mic nights and Eddie would usually just drag out his acoustic, but occasionally his buddy from school, Gareth would join him and bang on whatever planted pot he could pull onto the little corner platform until he finally got a cajon.

Wayne had thrown him an apron at sixteen and he’d been working at the shop ever since. He wasn’t entirely sure how he had been roped into running the whole damn thing by 23 but here he was, and Wayne was somewhere in Indiana opening a fourth location, Eddie was happy for his uncle he really was, but he didn’t have a shred of patience for a customer who was out of line.

Yell at him? Sure, Eddie was a loud (both verbally and aesthetically) kinsey six gay man, that stood at 6’2 (without his boots, thank you) with a penchant for attention of any form; but yell at any of his coffee kiddos? You’ve got another thing comin’ Brenda. No one speaks to his little beans that way, especially not the smallest. Erica Sinclair, sure as hell could handle herself but Eddie was also rearing for an opportunity to kick someone the fuck out of his hallowed little coffee shop, specifically ‘medium single shot soy cappuccino absolutely no foam—no I don’t want a latte you dumbass can you hear correctly from down there’ Brenda.

Eddie had heard the woman from the backroom while he was dolling out pastries from the freezer. She was that fucking shrill, he was already rearing up, as Dustin popped his shocked head back through the door, “Um, Eddie?”

“Yeah Henderson, I heard it I’m on my way.” Eddie threw his long hair up in a messy bun on top of his head, having had taken it down while he was alone in the back and marched straight out to the lobby. God dammit, Brenda it was 7am and there were other guests to serve, “Brenda Brenda Brenda.” He shove his way between Erica and the counter top that Brenda was grossly leaning over to try and get into her face, and shut her up good and quick with a displeased stare that would scare the biggest of the bads.

“We’ve been over this sweetheart, I gave you one last chance, one,” he threw his finger up at her both to illustrate his point and cut off her response, “I’ve been making you your bullshit cappuccino for two years darling, and you know my kids are trained by me. They make the thing better then I do, and—nope I’m talking,” he cut her off again as she made to fight back. Eddie wasn’t looking anywhere but at this bitch of a women, however he knew there were people crowding in the lobby now. He didn’t care, “you can come at me all you want, but you will not ever speak to my staff that way. Get the fuck out and do not come back.”

Brenda huffed in exasperation, “I want the manager, Edward!”

Eddie’s laugh in that moment was pointed as he looked at Erica tucked behind his back and Dustin making drinks dutifully but watching from his side view, “Did you hear that squad? She’s wants the manager!” He snapped his gaze back to the angry ugly little stout woman in front of him, “I’ll do you one better, babe,” He sneered at here, “My names Eddie and I own the place,” Wayne would forgive him, “Get. The Fuck. Out.”

Brenda huffed as she turned on her stubby little heel, “I’m calling the city board!” She yelled as the crowd of coffee customers applauded her exit. Eddie laughed under his breath at that, Chicago didn’t give a shit about a bitch and her coffee vendettas.

“You good E?” He turned to his coworker and she looked up at him with her hands on her hips.

“You know I had it handled right?” He nodded, told her of course she did, but it never hurts to have support, and she kept up her confidence but muttered a quiet “Thanks Eddie”, as she turned around and joined Dustin on the second machine.

“Sorry about that guys, who’s next?” Eddie flashed a thousand watt smiled and whipped through the lobby of guests. Max was due in any second so he knew they would get the early morning rush cleared out fairly quickly regardless of the ridiculous interruption.

Eddie’s smile brightened at a duo he knew he hadn’t met yet, the lanky girl looked nice sure but damn he would’ve remember a boy that looked like this one, “Well hello Gorgeous.”

The boy who had a head of hair that truly rivaled Eddie’s own, and freckles splashed across his cheeks, flushed red and oh, Eddie wanted to devour him. His big brown eyes widened at Eddie’s forwardness and immediatley dropped to the floor. Eddie couldn’t hide the playful smirk on his face. The girl couldn’t help but let out a laugh, whether it was in solidarity or out of awkward tension Eddie couldn’t tell.

“I’m Robin and this is,” she gestures at the blushing mess of the boy that still had his eyes trained to the floor, “well this is just embarrassing, but he goes by Steve.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure. My apologies for the shit show earlier, why don’t I get you guys whatever on me yeah?”

Eddie was a sucker for a pretty boy, and he could tell they were both good people. She basically dragged Steve with her as they waited for their iced oat milk lavender lattes. (Eddie swears by them.) Eddie made sure to deliver them directly to the two and shy boy Steve managed a soft smile and a breathy “Thanks” and Eddie wanted to bite him, dammit. “

Bye, new friends have a safe day wherever your headed!” Eddie flashed them a grin and a wave as they left the shop, just as a flash of red hair zoomed past them.

“What did I miss, besties?” Max asked as she tied her fiery hair up in a messy bun to match Eddie’s.

“Oh you know,” Dustin spoke from the espresso machine, “Eddie kicked out ‘No Foam Cappuccino Brenda’, pulled the “I am the manager” card to defend Erica and I’m pretty sure he fell in love with a shy pretty boy?” He ends on a question and Eddie just tsks at him as he makes his way back to the backroom.

“Ah,” Max breathes, “Just another bright morning at The Grind.”

-

Taglist - @gay-stranger-things @savory-babby @trashpocket if you wanna be added or removed just let me know ✨

#I don’t know man Steve is very Bi but he is also very shy you get me? #eddie is neither Bi not shy #Eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fanfic #steddie #st4 fanfic #stranger things #Robin Buckley #worm brain #the daily grind au #I’m a tall eddie truther and I will die that way #Robin is an icon honestly #okay anyway enjoy whatever this is

[muscleloverz69]

Leader of The House

Bob was already running late to work. The middle aged man couldn’t get his twins up for their first day of middle school and as a result was most definitely going to be yelled at by his boss at work. Sure enough when Bob arrived to his menial desk job his boss was waiting. However while Bob was expecting to be disciplined he never thought he’d get fired, but sure enough he was heading out of the office before morning rush hour was even over. “I already have people calling out left and right for personal days I can’t have someone unreliable when there are young guys I can pay half as much who will do whatever I ask.”

“At least it can’t get any worse,” Bob thought to himself.

Bob pulled back into his driveway dreading telling his wife as he did he noticed a strange car parked in front of the house. As he walked into the house he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. In his youth he had been quite handsome, but a full-time office job didn’t give him much time to workout. Now Bob had wrinkles, a beer gut, and receding hairline. The only thing Bob could really take comfort in was his beautiful wife and large stunning home. As Bob stared pathetically at himself in the mirror he heard a strange noise coming from upstairs. “Uhhhh Ohhhh.”

“Hunny are you ok? Don’t worry I’m home.” 

Bob ran up the stairs and burst into his bedroom face flushed red and sweaty, but when he saw what was going on he just fell to the floor in tears. In his bed was his wife and the accountant from the office. “Bob you aren’t supposed to be home!”

“Why did you do this Madison? I thought you were happy.” Bob wailed hysterically on the floor.

“Bob look at you you’re disgusting, why don’t you leave Johnathon here can take care of me.”

Bob walked out without saying another word. He passed through the front door and just kept going down the street. Bob walked for hours unable to come up with the courage to go back to the home he completely lost control of. Eventually he came across a strange store. He had no idea why but he felt a sudden urge to go inside. 

Inside were strange knickknacks thrown all over long tables. Nothing looked organized or priced in any way. As Bob took in the strange store a small old woman hobbled out from a backroom dressed in a long purple shawl. “Hello dear, I’d ask how you were doing but I can see from your sweat stained dress shirt and red eyes the answer would be not good.”

The woman made her way down a row of her chackies pausing to examine bumper stickers and snow globes, “I think I have just the thing to help though, you feel like you’ve lost control of your home yes?”

Bob looked startled, “How do you know that?”

The woman let out a small cackle before snatching a shot glass from the table. “Take this go home and place it in your kitchen, tomorrow you will be back in control of your home.”

Bob wasn’t usually superstitious but after the day he had he could use all the luck he could get and graciously took the glass. “How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t you worry it’s on me.”

Bob thanked the old woman before beginning his walk back home. As much as he dreaded it he knew he had to return. As he walked up to his house he noticed that accountant was still over but this house belonged to him and entered his home. It was already late and his kids and wife were asleep. As much as Bob wanted to he was too afraid to get into a fight trying to kick the accountant out so he just went to the kitchen put the shot glass away and slept in a guest bedroom.

As Bob slept unaware strange things began to happen. Thick wavy hair grew from his head, his body lost all its fat and in its place muscle swelled. In the next room his twin sons nearly doubled in height. Just as unaware as their vocal cords dropped two octaves and their bodies aged.

As his wife slept in the arms of the office accountant they also began to change similarly. The house began to creak and moan as it underwent its own changes as well.

The next morning Rob stretched his two tanned well muscled arms above his head sitting up. Something felt a little weird but he probably just partied too hard the night before. Rob got up adjusting his thick package before going down the hall. He started with the twins room. They were still asleep the athletic 19 year olds were completely identical in sexy muscle. Rob crept up to them cupped the back of one’s head and let his tongue work his way into a twins mouth in a deep kiss. Chad and Trent were woken up like this every morning, and they loved it.

Once he was satisfied Rob went down the hall to where the pledges stayed the night. The two twinks sat at the edge of the large bed asses up waiting for their spanking. Rob enjoyed watching their plump asses jiggle after each smack. The two twinks felt their asses twitch begging to be filled but that would have to wait until after initiation. 

At the back of all their minds, they knew something was off. But all the frat bros loved their life and Rob was in charge of his house just like he should be.

#flexing #reality change #Frat #Gay

[marshmellowrio]

Flight of the Night | Chapter 2

A/N: Here is chapter 2 of this little fanfic idea I had, I've had way more response than I had anticipated on the first chapter. Thank you for that! If you're new here, you can find it on my profile. I'm still figuring out how to work Tumblr, so bear with me while I figure out how to put in links and masterlists and all that stuff.

Word count: 1113

I left the townhouse after breakfast, not needing to be there any longer as Amren and Azriel spoke to Rhysand. Opting to wander into the city, I remember to tuck in my wings close as the icy winds nip at the exposed skin. Several citizens send me smiles as they pass me in the streets. I don’t even realize I walked onto the Palace of Thread and Jewels until I’m standing front of the Ruby Dream. I cringe when I remember the official name of the atelier, it seemed a good idea when we were drunk, but I really should’ve sobered up before giving Rhysand the filled in form. Not that it wasn’t a nice name, it’s just a mouthful. Ruby Dreams, Emerald Kisses and a Sapphire Embrace. It's kind of obvious why we shortened it to Ruby Dream. Kenna laughed at me when she first found out, but she loved the sentiment of it, she told me after she was done laughing.

I’m welcomed by a warm and calming sensation as I walk through the door, Kenna’s voice drifting out from the backroom, “I will be right out, look around all you want!”

A grin blooms on my face, “Don’t bother, it’s just me.” Little wheels are heard rolling over the floorboards and Kenna’s head becomes visible in the doorway to the backroom as she leans back in her swivel chair.

I start walking her way to the atelier in the back as she straightens, “Hey, I didn’t expect to see you today?” Her sentence sounds more like a question, combined with a set of furrowed brows. “Is something wrong?”

I reach her work station and lean against it as she turns  to face me properly. I chuckle softly, “No, nothing’s wrong.” She sighs in relief and turns back to her workspace. “Just stopping by.”

“Well, in that case,” she shoots a grin to me and I know what she’s about to say. “There’s plenty of work to do, if you’ve got some time to spare.” She gestures to the pile of custom orders and I frown at it, sighing.

I really needed to sort that out. “We’re not taking anymore customs for the time being.”

Kenna snorts, “I’ve been telling you that for months.”

Rolling my eyes at her, I take the pile of forms in my hands and walk to my own workspace, which… is not how I left it. “Kenna?” My eyebrows raise and I look at her.

She smiles shyly, and I narrow my eyes, she’s not shy. “Mrs Hallow needed some adjustments to her ring and she absolutely did not want me to touch it.”

I breathe in deeply, “Mrs Hallow needs to chill, this is her fourth adjustment this month, what does she want this time?” I put the stack of orders in the paper organizer.

“It’s all on the form, she basically wants the stone to be set a little deeper.”

I sigh once more but sit down at my desk and start reading through the form, looking at the ring and seeing what can be done.

The rest of the day is spent working through all of the custom orders, planning which ones to start around what time. The adjustments to Mrs Hallow’s ring only took about half an hour, so I just worked through the stack of paper, forgetting all about the dinner in the House of Wind.

“I thought you had a diner tonight, that’s why you had the day off, wasn’t it?” Kenna breaks through my concentration.

“What?”

Kenna stands up, stretching and points to the clock on the wall. “Dinner? Our High Lord?”

My eyes widen and I shoot up out of my chair. “I-”

The female laughs and nods, “Go, I will lock up.” I grab the jacket I had thrown over the back of my chair earlier and whirl towards my friend, giving her a quick hug before running to the door.

I hadn’t realised it was closing time already, which meant that I was officially late for dinner. My wings flare out as soon as I scan the streets, making sure there’s no citizens around that I could hit. I take to the skies, rushing to the House of Wind, I should’ve known I would get lost in the paperwork.

As soon as I touch down, I hear Amren’s sharp voice, “-your bones were Made.”

I take a moment to breathe in deeply, so I don’t seem as flustered. I stroll into the dining room a second later, feeling the tension as Amren and Feyre stare at each other.

Amren’s eyes flicker to me as she notices the movement in the corners of her eyes, “Nice of you to join us.” I roll my eyes with a small smile in response.

Cassian turns in his seat to see me walking up to him as he’s closest to the doorway. “Oh please, we all know she loves to make an entrance.”

“I learned from the best.” I wink at him right before I reach him and pull him in for a half hug while pressing a kiss to his cheek. Giving Azriel’s bicep a squeeze, I continue to round the table to reach Rhys.

I treat Rhys with the same courtesy as Cassian but his attention remains on Feyre. “She’s pretty.” I whisper with a small grin playing on my lips.

“Don’t you dare.” He hisses in return as I walk away with the grin widening in amusement.

“Good evening,” I stop in between the High Lord’s chair and Feyre’s. “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure.” The human girl looks away from Amren and she takes me in, which makes Amren lose interest and turn to Mor. Feyre’s eyes widen when she looks at my wings and I tuck them in just a little bit tighter. “Don’t worry, I’m not as much of a brute as the other two.” I cock my head to the side, gesturing to the two other Illyrian’s at the table.

“Lyssa, nice to meet you Feyre.” I give her a dazzling grin and I see Mor match mine in the corner of my eyes. Glancing to her for a second, our eyes meet and my grin only widens.

“Be nice.”

“Oh come on, Rhys. It’s been so long since I’ve had someone new to tease and flirt with.” Feyre’s cheeks turn slightly flushed.

Rhys pinches my side, “Behave.” But when I watch him study Feyre I know he’s glad I got some sort of reaction out of her. I roll my eyes, but go to sit down. Deciding to listen to him for once, I settle into my seat next to Mor.

A/N: Let me know how you liked it and if you wanted to be added to the taglist! (I'm sorry of I'm not doing the taglist thing right, I literally do not know what I'm doing here?!)

Taglist: @inloveallthetime

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #acotar fic #acotar imagine #acomaf #cassian #azriel #rhysand #flight of the night #acotar x reader #acotar x oc

[666writingcafe]

Hello my new mootie patootie, idk if you’re taking asks rn so if you aren’t then feel free to delete this but if you are and you’ve heard of the back rooms before plz hear me out.

How do you think the characters would react to a MC coming out from the backrooms? It’s obvious that they’ve been through some shit and now when they finally escape they’re in fucking anime hell???!

Hello! Thank you so much for sending this request! I do know of the backrooms, particularly how the community surrounding it has expanded it to include all sorts of creatures not of this world. My knowledge is pretty general, though. as that's not a part of the internet I have spent much time in, so I won't be able to reference anything specific. At least, not until I do more research.

If you're just looking for a vibe, though...I got you.

So, overall, I think MC would be rather unfazed by the Obey Me characters. Sure, they may be in anime hell, but at least that's recognizable (along with everything and everyone they encounter during their time in the Devildom). Plus, things are a lot less dangerous here. At least these guys aren't intent on torturing MC the way the other creatures were. The worse the Obey Me crew can do is nothing compared to the psychological damage the backrooms have done to MC.

And this makes everyone feel uneasy. If even their most violent and disturbing tendencies don't make MC even bat an eye, then what exactly were they exposed to? Could it possibly be a threat to the stability of the three realms?

Lucifer, Solomon, Satan, and Barbatos would spend time researching the backrooms and the various creatures that inhabit it.

Luke, Beel, and Belphie are the first to try to develop some kind of relationship with MC.

Mammon, Levi, Asmo, Simeon, and Diavolo are initially wary of MC. What if they're actually one of the creatures of these backrooms, and they're just pretending to be human in order to lure them into a trap? Surprisingly, Levi is the first to overcome these reservations.

#obey me shall we date #obey me mc #obey me lucifer #obey me solomon #obey me satan #obey me barbatos #obey me luke #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me simeon #obey me diavolo #obey me lord diavolo

[csilis]

Five Nights At Freddy's William Afton x F!Reader A/N: The continution of Until Death Do Us Part, but can be read separetely. And yes, this one is longer. But at least the characters are talking now.

You left him in that backroom, choking on his blood and dying, never looking back. Still, that night haunted your dreams in ways you could never imagine. There was deep inside a part of you that genuinely loved that man. A part that thought he was only just broken and needed to be mended. But you buried it deep, only letting that part’s guilt torment you in your dreams.

What you knew is that when the management found him in the morning they decided to seal off that room and forget that William Afton ever existed. You wished you could erase him from your life just like they did from theirs.

To avenge your little sister, Cassidy, you had to become a monster just like him. You had to dirty your hands, be his partner in crime. It was the only way to make him think you madly loved him. And when the perfect moment came you betrayed him and took your revenge.

After making peace with what you’ve done, you thought it was finally over. But fate is a funny thing after all. Forgetting that knowing him, he will definitely return one day, you spent the next ten years helping those who have been wronged by William. And boy, it was a long list.

But in the end you circled back to this shithole as you realised that since that day, you didn’t get any older. Like as if you stopped aging. So you went back to his old house for his research papers, thinking that you might find some kind of answers in them.

In his old house you found his son, Michael. He wasn’t looking like he used to be when you two briefly met all those years ago. But you could tell that he’s been through hell. Maybe even worse than that because now he was a ghost, possessing his own rotting body.

He was also surprised to see that you haven’t aged at all. But wasn’t that really when he heard your story of you taking your revenge.

“That fucker deserved it. Maybe even more” That was Michael’s honest reaction to your story. You could only laugh at his response. He then offended to help, thinking that you deserved the same peace just like everyone else.

After looking around, you two found his old notes about the why and how of his killing spree over the years. What started as a promise to put his own damned child back together ended up in the death of many others, so that he could make remnant out of them, thinking that will bring back the children he have lost. On the last pages of the notebook he even wrote about you. It wasn’t what you thought he would write. Professing eternal love so deep that he even thought about just quitting altogether to start a new life with you. But you knew it well that he was way too deep for that. 

Nevertheless you were surprised as you always thought he too played the part of a man madly in love with his woman. You thought this was a game where the one who fools the other sooner wins. But it was not the case. He genuinely loved you. That bastard! 

In the end what you two come up with that the remnant must be keeping you in the same age, making you some kind of immortal. But when that night you dreamt about your sister, you realised. Cassidy was the one keeping you this way, so when Afton comes back you will have the strength to put an end to this.

So you spent the next two decades trying to think of ways how to kill him for good. Send his soul to hell. Hell… that’s what you needed. To burn him until nothing remains.

Soon, 30 years have passed since your cursed wedding at the backroom of the Freddy Fazebear’s pizzeria. And when that same place is reopened as a horror attraction, you knew he will soon be back. So you and Michael signed up for the night guard job and planned how you two are gonna end it.

On the second night he was there and your heart started to beat faster even at the sight of him. Though you didn’t really see anything as he tried to hide from the cameras the best he could. 

“Do you wanna meet him?” Michael asked while looking at you. He knew the history you two shared more than anyone.

“Not now” you quietly said. You then pushed the button and the laughing of children could be heard in the next room, where William soon headed because of the programming of his suit.

“He looks so trapped in that suit. Hm… Let’s call this amalgamation Springtrap” came up Michael with the name idea as you two were sitting bored in the office.

“Fitting” you nod in agreement as you turn a page in your favourite book. Hours pass and you are still reading as Michael fell asleep on the desk, while watching the monitors. Noticing this, you put your book down, deciding it would be time to meet your cursed husband.

Walking past the monitors, you take note where he is now and continue your journey towards that way. Picking up the taser you confidently walked through the halls of the horror attraction.

When you close your eyes and go to sleep And it's down to the sound of a heartbeat

When you heard the song coming from the speakers throughout the whole building, you froze for a minute, only to realise that Michael was up and signalling this by playing the same song you've been dancing to with William on your first date.

"Fuck you Michael" you quietly stated as you composed yourself and took a deep breath as you turned right in the end of the corridor to come face to face with your husband.

He takes a good look at you, his mechanical eyes focusing on your unaged face. Even though 30 years has passed, you were still the same. Not like him. His suit rotted away, leaving even more wires and springs to be exposed. You could see through the holes how his flesh stuck to the metal, making him one with the suit.

You could hear the clancing of the gears as he tried to open his mouth, no doubt to speak to you. But it soon came to a halt as the rusty metal did not let him do what he wanted. However, he was William, so he continued anyway.

"It's been... been... a while" he finally managed to say, his quiet words loudly echoing between these walls. You did not say anything. He didn't deserved to hear your voice. "It took... took me long to... to realise. You are... the sister... the sister of Cas..."

"DON'T YOU DARE TO MENTION HER NAME!" you exploded, anger apparent on your cheeks as you held the taser higher and ignited it, electricity cracking between the two tiny metal rods. "She was just a child and you...!" you yelled, tears threatening too fall even after so many years. But you had to keep your shit together. "You gutted her like an animal and stuffed her into one of the suits" your voice dropped and became so calm that even William was suprised by it.

"So revenge... it is."

"The word revenge cannot even give you what I've planned for you. This time I will send your soul straight to hell and stay there to torture it until the end of time" you said, laughing leaving your lips as you took some steps towards him. You weren't afraid. From him? Never.

As you advanced towards William Afton, a sense of determination and purpose welled up within you. The past three decades had been a relentless pursuit of revenge, and now the moment of reckoning was at hand.

"That... that will be... heaven then" he smiled, or at least attempted to smile. "Because... I get to be with you... forever"

You couldn't believe the audacity of his words. Even now, he clung to the delusion that he could be with you for eternity. It was sickening.

"You are truly mad, Afton" you whispered, your voice dripping with contempt.

"Don't say... that you are... not..." he said and you had to admit that he was right. He infected you and now you were just as insane and bloodthirsty.

"I'm not saying it, love" you quietly answered, not even noticing that the part which still loved him was showing.

With a swift movement, you lunged at Springtrap, ready to push the taser into his suit, but your attempt was short-lived as he quckly grabbed your waist.

"You... can't... escape me" he wheezed, his words coming out in painful gasps. "We'll... be together... always..."

"Always, Afton?" you scoffed, your anger boiling over. "The only thing that will be eternal is your torment in the deepest, darkest pits of hell."

"I... I love... when you... determined like... like this" he whispered, pulling you close and giving you some kind of twisted kiss. And the worst part was... that you liked it.

You tell me that you want me You tell me that you need me

The song still went on and it made you even more unsure of your feelings right now. Conflicting emotions coursed through you. The memories of your twisted relationship with Afton, the years of seeking revenge, and the disturbing connection you still felt for him... it all clashed.

As the song played on, you found yourself grappling uncertainty. Afton's words and the sensation of his touch stirred something deep within you, a part of you that somehow loved him. But you couldn't allow that vulnerability to cloud your judgment.

So you had to trick him once again. So you kissed him back, knowing that this was the only way to get close enough to carry out your plan. As you deepened the kiss, you could see the surprise in Afton's mechanical eyes. He believed he had won you over with his twisted charm, but little did he know that this was your opportunity to get the upper hand. You could taste the desperation in his kiss, the longing for a love that could never be.

"You were always good at playing games, love. But the rules have changed since then..." Breaking away from the kiss, you reached for the taser with your free hand. You had to end this, for now at least. So you pressed the taser against his rotting flesh and activated it.

You watched him silently suffer from the electicity and twitch uncontollably. It felt great.

"You will... will be... back..." he whispered to you in pain. "Because you... you always come back... back to me" he then despite the pain managed to laugh before he shortcircuited and fell to the floor.

"Two down. Four more nights to go" you said turning around and going back into the office. You will make his life a living hell, here... and the other side too once you burned this fucking place down.

Word counter: 1857 Characters: 10037

#fnaf #fnaf x reader #william afton x reader #william afton x you #william afton #fnaf cassidy #five nights at freddy's #fnaf x y/n #springtrap #fnaf 3 #The_Revenge_Saga

[boydepartment]

Choi Yeonjun- The Closing Shift.

a/n: hi so this fic has been in the works for a couple months now, it has been on pause for awhile due to me almost dying because of a concert venue. However, i wanted to get this out SO! happy halloween my loves

warnings- one make out scene, this is HORROR i'd say like PG-14 it is def way crazier than my usual writing.

wc- 3.7k

tags- @yourmomscuntis2tighy @ikeumi @mikuzakii @leetaste

MASTERLIST

The beeping of your alarm bothered you, the constant reminder that work had to be done, and the constant reminder that you will never meet your manager’s needs as an employee. You hit snooze and let the time pass. He was going to yell at you even if you were on time so 15 more minutes of sleep couldn’t hurt right?

WRONG!

You accidentally slept for 20 minutes and now you were rushing out of your house, your hair was still a mess as you practically ran down the stairs. Not before tripping over something in your path… It was a phone. That’s odd… And it was ringing over and over again. You grimaced; it just reminded you of your alarm. The ringtone was loud and annoying too, this did not help your morning.

Your body bent over to pick it up, it looked old, almost like a burner phone. The plastic of the small device was wet, it almost blended in with the ground. The rain was still pouring from the night before, so you decided to quickly get to your car.

Trying not to slip again you made your way to your apartments designated parking spot, the buildings around you needed major refurbishments and-

Hold on… Before you grabbed your keys you saw a man looking for something. Oh! Looking down at your hand, you walked over to him. The man was taller than you, wearing a hoodie that seemed unwashed, it maybe that was just the rain, his pants had stains on them too. Nonetheless, you approached him.

“Excuse me…? Are you looking for something…?” Your voice remains soft and calm, even if the stranger left you on edge.

The man nods and you held up the phone, “well I found this!”

“Give me it.” At that moment he took it from you, no thank you, no kindness towards you. God, this morning already sucked. You got to your car and drove carefully down the rainy streets to your shitty café job.

As you pulled up you could already feel the tension of your manager ripping you a new asshole. Taking a deep breath, you walked in and behind the counter. You had the morning shift, so you had to open up the store, which it looks like he already did. You made your way into the backroom and put your things in your locker, walking past your manager you could feel eyes on you. Turning around you faced the wrath of Christopher.

“I am sorry I’m late…” You deadpanned, blinking slowly.

“Sorry isn’t enough Y/n. I am tired of you not being on time and I don’t want to tell on you.” He sat back in his chair and looked at you. He looked like he had been there for hours, which honestly, was probably true. His hair was disheveled, and his white button up looked distressed. You saw his tie on the desk next to the computer too.

You nodded and put your apron on, “got it. I won’t be late anymore.”

“I also heard you’ve been a klutz with orders. So, I am bringing someone in to help you tomorrow.”

You bit back any kind of sly or coy remark and smiled, “yes sir!”

Taking a deep breath you walked into your position behind the counter, “I also heard you’ve been a klutz with-“Before you could mimic him anymore, you heard the backdoor close and you watched him leave in his stupid truck.

To be honest, Christopher was not a bad guy in the slightest, your manager was just an annoyance because he ran Chilla’s Coffee like a prison. Which is what your barista job feels like now.

As your shift continued, you started to calm down and before you knew it, your shift was over, and you went home. It felt… different as you walked home though… Almost like you weren’t entirely alone… When you got home, you ate some leftovers and mentally prepared yourself for the hell of tomorrow.

Once again, raining, and once again, loathing your job. Your life really just could not get any worse than this. Before you walked in you looked up at the sky.

“Universe, PLEASE, change my luck, I am going insane. Like I don’t know,” you started to walk in now mumbling to yourself, “maybe Chris gets his tires slashes or…”

You opened the door to the backroom and saw Christopher talking to another guy. This other guy could honestly be a male model in your opinion because good lord, he was tall, his facial features curved perfectly, and-

“Ah! Y/n! You arrived, and you’re only… 1 minute late!”

Your eye twitched as you put your head in your locker to get your apron and put away your items. Oh, you REALLY wished that someone would slash his tires. Shutting your locker, you looked up and gave a smile.

“Good morning!” You put your hand out to the guy who was towering over you. He smiled and shook your hand.

“Good morning! I am Yeonjun, you must be Y/n! Chris has spoken a lot about you!” His smile could cure every illness, but it was killing you.

“I hope it was all good things!” You laughed awkwardly, Yeonjun let go of your hand and laughed.

“It really was not good things but it’s fine.”

Christopher gave Yeonjun a hard pat on the back while laughing, “oh Y/n I also wanted to tell you, tomorrow you and Yeonjun are switching to the closing shift. We have too many transfer employees that are openers.”

Even Yeonjun being really hot did not stop you from wanting to wring Chris’s neck. However, before you knew it, you and Yeonjun were behind the counter waiting for customers. You leaned slightly and looked at him.

“How bad did he talk about me?” You questioned him, Yeonjun brushed a hand through his hair and smirked effortlessly.

“Oh, so bad, he begged me to come help you with your shifts.” The man let out a soft laugh and looked at the out the windows that faced you both.

You laughed, “I’m really not that bad its just-“

“Chris runs this bitch like we are training for World War 3?”

Hot and funny, what a dangerous combo Yeonjun was. While you were talking a couple of customers came in so you both got to work promptly. Maybe Chris was right, having Yeonjun here really made you not want to mess up your job.

When the rush died down, both you got back to talking to each other, small smiles exchanged between the both of you don’t go unnoticed.

A woman walked in next, she was dolled up. In your opinion she was very pretty. Almost model pretty like Yeonjun.

“Girl, I need to warn you…” She mumbled, she what?

“Go on…” You said, confused you glanced over to Yeonjun who was acting like he was really interested in the pumpkin pie in the glass case.

“Stalkers are on the rise! The news said so! Oh… I have to be so alert now… A woman like me could get attacked… You be careful too alright?” She spoke so sure of herself…

You nodded and thanked her with a smile.

“You don’t have to be worried about getting stalked as much as me but! Still! Be careful, okay?”

Nevermind, this bitch was ugly.

“Can I take your order now?” You asked, getting reminded quickly as to why you hate your job. The woman nodded and gave you her order. You looked at Yeonjun who was pretending not to side eye her.

After the woman, you had a group of teenagers come in and a few older folks. You learned to prefer the older people.

When your shift was over, you handed the reigns to the next set of workers and went to your locker.

“Y/n.” You looked up and saw Yeonjun at his designated locker, “don’t think too much about what that girl said.”

Your eyes watched as Yeonjun took off his apron and set it in his locked to then look back at you, “you’re pretty and anyone who had eyes would be obsessed with you.” He smiled at you and grabbed his backpack.

“See you tomorrow at 6?”

You smiled at him, “yeah… I’ll see you at 6…”

The next day you were almost excited to go to work, the recent banter with Yeonjun made everything at Chilla’s coffee better. He was funny and sweet and helped you with really shitty customers. The groups of students, the trio of mean girls, older folks. He really did help you a lot. You got to know him a lot better too. To the point where if no one else was in the café you both would just sit and talk behind the counter.

“Okay so tell me more about you.” You spoke, leaning against the counter, today was slow and you had time to really chat with him.

Yeonjun looked at you, picking a pastry from the sliding door. He stopped leaning and you took note how tall he really was.

“Well, as you know, I recently worked at the Chilla’s across town. I am a college student, dance major, psychology minor.” He said, taking a bite of the piece of lemon cake. He was even hot eating a piece of cake. At this point, you should thank Chris.

“What about you?” He asked and stood closer to you, his cologne was intoxicating and his eyes piercing. You took a sip of your water.

“I live alone, I hate my job for the most part, and I can make a pretty mean chillapachino.” You smiled up at him.

Yeonjun smirked slightly at you, “you’ll have to make me one sometime.” The tension was absolutely eating you alive. Until some guy walked in. He had on a long trench coat and was part of an older crowd. He wanted some drink or something. You quickly put on your customer service voice. He finally spoke again and what he said really freaked you out.

“I’ve noticed some shady folk around these parts recently.”

This made your brows furrow, “really?”

The man nodded, “listen, if you ever need any help and don’t want to go straight to the police, I am a private investigator.” He gave you his card before leaving with his drink, Yeonjun came up behind you and looked at his card. You didn’t notice Yeonjun’s hand slightly on your waist.

“That was…” Yeonjun looked at the card, then at you.

“Really fucking weird.” You mumbled, pocketing the card. The customers during the nightshift have been really weird lately. You took note of every person that has come through the door. You recognized some of them, like that guy who’s phone you found a few days ago.

“What’s your go to when asking people out?” Yeonjun suddenly brought up, when you both were cleaning up the café.

You scoffed slightly putting the milks back in the fridge, “if I had a ‘go to’ I don’t think I’d be living alone and single.”

“So, you are single?”

You looked up at Yeonjun who was picking up the bags of trash and grinning at you.

“Yeah I am.” Your eyes scanning his face.

It took approximately five minutes later for you to be pinned up against the lockers in the backroom while Yeonjun nipped at the skin between your shoulder and neck. The café was closed, and there were no cameras in the breakroom. Your breath hitched when he bit a specific part, you could feel his lips curve into that oh so classic smirk against your skin. His hands gripping your waist tighter.

“Yeonjun…” You breathed out, trying to gain some sort of composure.

He hummed against you, his lips trailing up your neck, “you are so fucking hot, I was overjoyed to say the least when Chris gave us the closing shift.”

Your hands made their way to his undercut up to his locks, you felt him groan and he pressed his lips against yours again. You bit his lip and he whined, opening his mouth slightly. You felt his hands slowly trail down to your ass, until you both jumped apart at the noise of something falling in the storage room.

“What the fuck was that?” Yeonjun pulled away from you but still had a tight grip on your body. You took a deep breath, face flushed.

“I-I don’t know… Should we check it out?”

Yeonjun looked down at you, “yeah… we probably should…”

You both walked toward the storage room and opened the door, peaking both your heads inside. The sight was irritating, one of the shelves was completely knocked over, boxes and bags of coffee beans on the floor.

“Jesus christ…” Yeonjun mumbled and led both you two to pick up the mess. It didn’t take long with the teamwork you both just had. After cleaning up the backroom you both went back to the seating area, to lock up Chilla’s and leave for the night.

While looking at one of the tables you noticed a paper, walking over, not noticing it there before you were curious. You had just cleaned this part of the café.

Your blood ran absolutely cold when you saw that it was a photo of you, Yeonjun went to the back to recheck a recipe when this photo was taken. You looked at the photo, about to vomit.

“Yeonjun?” You called out to him; you saw he was already by the door waiting for you.

He whipped around and looked down at you, “you okay?”

You handed him the photo and his brows furrowed, seemingly pissed, “where did you find this?”

“In-In the café sitting area…” You were starting to panic. Yeonjun swallowed hard.

“I’ll walk you to your car, and then I will follow you home, to make sure you get home safely, okay? Tomorrow we can talk to Chris about switching shifts alright?”

You nodded and he followed through with what he said. Yeonjun even called you when he was heading home, you really wanted him to stay with you, but that felt a little bit too forward.

Getting to sleep that night was a struggle, but you managed to anyways.

The next morning you felt sick to your stomach, right by your door was a note. It was haunting.

‘My DeArest Y/n I lOve You I lOVe YOU I LovE yoU yOu Are ThE best yoU HelPED Me FiNd MY tHiNgs And We aAre SouL MatES I Love You I lOve You I lOVe You!’

‘I HATE THAT FILTHY MUTT OF A MAN THOUGH WHO THINKS HE CAN TOUCH YOU’

You quickly ran down to your car with the note and the photos, almost knocking down a lady with her baby. You quickly apologized and tried not to slip and fall into your car. When you finally buckled up you tried to start your car.

It wasn’t working.

You took a deep breath and scanned your apartment complex surroundings, looking down at your phone, you decided to call Yeonjun.

“Yeonjun my car isn’t started I need help otherwise I have to take the bus and-“

“Babe,” he sounded irritated, “I would love to give you a ride, but some fuck slashed my tires last night, and broke my windshield.”

“What...?” Your breath hitched.

Yeonjun was talking to someone then you heard shuffling, “I am going to take the bus too, so I will meet you at Chilla’s alright? My bus is across town.”

You took a deep breath and nodded, “alright…”

Chris did not believe that you were being stalked, even though Yeonjun completely backed you up, he still did not believe you. Which shocked you both. Yeonjun was like his prized pupil. How could Chris not believe him?

“I got sent this last night…” Chris pulled up a photo on his phone, it was of you and Yeonjun kissing in this very breakroom.

Your jaw dropped to the floor, “Chris how the fuck!?” You looked behind you at the storage room.

Yeonjun grabbed Chris’s phone and turned around, copying your actions.

“If this continues, I will have to terminate you both. Don’t let it happen again.” At the Chris left. Leaving you and Yeonjun to stand there in shock.

When both your shifts started, you stood in silence, the banter gone. Your mouth felt dry. Even while helping the nice customers, you felt dull, scared. What really freaked you out was that there was a guy in a hood standing right outside your window, you turned to Yeonjun but he was taking an order. When you looked back the hooded man was gone.

“Y/n can you please focus?” Yeonjun turned to you and handed you the drink orders.

“I-I’m I’m sorry…” You mumbled and got back to work; it was hard to not be angry at the circumstances right now. As the day went by you and Yeonjun just worked. You both didn’t really talk about anything. It made the day go by quick, but it was painful. The tension between you and Yeonjun almost made you forget about the situation.

That was… until you were in the employee’s office, the storage room door was open, and you were digging through your locker. Something fell over in the dark room, and you jumped a bit. When you were going to investigate Yeonjun walked in. He quickly shut the door and blocked it with his body.

“We need to tal-“

“Yeonjun move! Something fell!” You were frantic at this point, going crazy. You were being stalked and your boss didn’t believe you, Yeonjun was mad at you, and he was the only one who DID believe you, you had to deal with some crazy guy dancing today with no clothes on, today was horrible.

“Y/n I am sorry for getting frustrated with you-“

You turned around and went to the café lounge, you still had to clean and didn’t want to hear it from him, “you pretty much ignored me all day!”

He followed you, “Y/n I know I’m sorry, I was mad about my tires and windshield, and I don’t make a lot of money so I can’t just pay for it to get fixed asap! I work in a fucking coffee shop!”

You turned around, “I forgot about that…” You started walking to the front entrance, the closed sign wasn’t up, “but that doesn’t give you- AH!”

You screamed your head off when a man popped up and started breathing on the window, almost immediately, Yeonjun went over to you to shield you from this guy. You watched as the man started to lick up and down the cool glass.

“What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck!?” You were hiding in Yeonjun’s shoulder, now crying.

“He’s gone- wait fuck!” AT that moment Yeonjun ran into the backroom to make sure the storage door was locked. You followed him, you didn’t know what this man was truly capable of.

“Y/N STAY IN THE CAFÉ!” Yeonjun whisper yelled, he turned around and you grabbed his arm. Yeonjun sighed and made sure the door was locked, it was. But by this time, you both noticed what fell earlier.

“What’s a carton of milk doing… by the second storage…?” You breathed out. The second storage was never used, ever. It was like a mini attic that was only built if extra shipments came in, and even then, when you guys did get extra shipments, people would just put them in the employee room. The second storage area was always forgotten.

You climbed up the ladder, Yeonjun beckoning you down, then sighing to follow you. When you got up there you noticed a few things.

There were blankets, food, and… photos of you…

“I feel sick…” You mumbled, Yeonjun heard more rustling downstairs and looked at you.

“You are going to call me crazy, but we need to get to higher ground, I will call the cops, okay? You call that private investigator” You looked at Yeonjun and nodded, you trusted him. You both went up to the roof and Yeonjun stood on the covering, so if someone did climb through, they wouldn’t be able to get up.

You looked over the roof and swallowed hard, “Yeonjun…?” You dropped your phone, it made a loud noise when it hit the ground level, right next to the dead body of the private investigator.

“Yeah?” He asked, on the phone with the police.

“I- I-“ He walked over to you and saw what your eyes were fixated on.

“Oh my god I’m gonna be sick.” He covered his mouth; you took his phone, and the police were already on their way.

Your hand found its way to Yeonjun and he held onto you tightly. That was until the trap door blew open. The man from earlier on the roof with you both, your stalker. Both you and Yeonjun jumped back. The stalker had a weapon and was approaching.

“Do you trust me?” Yeonjun looked at you, you nodded. The next thing you knew, you were being tossed off the roof. Into the snow, right on the dead body. You screamed your lungs out and vomited right after, tainting the white snow. The next thing you knew, you fainted.

When you woke up in your apartment, Yeonjun was right next to you, holding you close.

“Yeonjun…” You mumbled sitting up, a couple weeks have passed from the Chilla’s café incident and needless to say, you and Yeonjun trauma bonded. He ended up moving in with you a few days later. It helped with taxes and his lease was up, so you weren’t complaining. Especially since they never caught the guy who was stalking you…

Yeonjun mumbled and held you closer to him, “don’t wanna get up yet…”

You laid back down and leaned happily on him. Part of you still felt uneasy… your eyes always played tricks on you. You always swear you see things in the corner of your eye, Yeonjun only took away part of that feeling.

Your gut and your nerves still think you are being watched constantly; your brain calls you crazy. And maybe your brain is right, you couldn’t possibly be crazier than the man watching you and Yeonjun with pure jealous rage from your closet right now though. So that’s a win <3

#enhypen imagines #stray kids imagines #txt imagines #enha imagines #skz imagines #tomorrow x together imagines #straykids #stray kids #kpop #enhypen #enha #jake sim #skz #txt #tomorrow x together scenarios #tomorrow x together #choi yeonjun x reader #jake sim x reader #han jisung x reader #choi yeonjun imagines #nishimura riki imagines #han jisung imagines #jake sim imagines #choi yeonjun #sim jaeyun #bangchan stray kids #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun txt #choi yeonjun txt #txt post

[rozcdust]

I don’t speak to whores

Pairing: Bonten x AroAce!GN!Reader

Genre: Crack, SMAU

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Canon divergent, profanity, ooc, whore behaviour, qpp relatinship, NO ROMANCE, just reader bullying Bonten

pt. 3 | masterlist

“What,” Ran slammed his hands on the conference meeting table, “Should we do about y/n?!”

“Photosynthesis.” Kokonoi mumbled into his chin, face buried deep into his palms, “Photosynthesis.”

“Or, hey, maybe we could just leave them alone?” Kakucho threw his hands, looking to the rest of his coworkers for support, “No one? Really? Okay.”

“Flowers didn’t work, they’re allergic.” Ran paced around the room, chewing the skin around his thumb, “And Koko’s bribing failed.”

“Well,” Rindou smirked, lazily leaning back into his seat, “We’ll just have to try harder.”

“We know nothing about them,” Kokonoi pointed out, exhaustion written all over his face, “Are they in a relationship? Do they like jewellery? Do they have any distant relatives desperately in need of a toe transplant we can pay for so they’ll be forever in our debt?

“Don’t worry about that,” Sanzu spun in his chair, smirking, “I already planted a recording device on them. We’ll find out everything we have to know to get them to quit in less than a day.”

“Oh,” Rindou quirked an eyebrow, a mischievous smile playing on his face as he pulled out a small stack of 10,000 yen bills from his pocket, “I’m putting money on Sanzu to get them to quit.”

“And this is what I pay you for.” Mikey muttered from his chair, staring into the ceiling, hopelessness and misery written all over his face, “I will fucking kill myself.”

“But, Tora, please?”

“Absolutely not.”

Kazutora refused to even look at you, keeping his gaze firmly locked on the pet food catalogue he was reading, stopping ever so briefly to make notes of what had to be restocked.

“But Toraaaa~,” Chifuyu jumped to your rescue, standing behind you with a pouty expression, “Look at her! Isn’t she adorable?”

“Look how tiny my face is!” You exclaimed, hoping at least some of your words will pierce down to the core of Kazutora’s cold, dead heart.

The tiny kitten you held in your arms meowed.

“Chifuyu, don’t encourage them,” Kazutora warned, finally looking up to give you a stern gaze, “And no, y/n, we can not adopt a kitten. Our apartment complex is not pet friendly.”

“But Towaaa~” It was Chifuyu’s turn to try again, but he was quickly silenced by a glare and the bowl of candy they kept at the register being thrown his way.

“Wow. Betrayal,” You muttered, still holding the kitten close to your chest, “I can’t believe you’ve done this.”

“Y/n-“

“No, no, Tora, I see how it is.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, clearly too used and not used enough to the kind of bullshit you decided to serve him today.

“Y/n-“

“He’s a meanie, but don’t worry, I’ll get you to go home with us one day.” You cooed, gently booping the kitten's nose, “Yes we will, but oh yes we will baby! Look how cute you are!”

Tora merely shook his head, hopeless, clearly about to say something before he was interrupted.

“Tora, it’s the end of your shift!” Baji peeked out from the employee backroom, sending you a brief nod of acknowledgement.

Kazutora nodded, his back letting out a concerning crack as he stood up and took the pet shop apron off.

You didn’t budge, glaring, the kitten curled up and purring under your chin.

“Y/n, we have to go, come on, I’ll treat you to dinner.”

You hissed, swatting at his outreached hand, the kitten still clinging to your shirt, now awake and glaring at Kazutora as if it were planning his funeral.

“Sir, is there a problem?” Baji appeared out of nowhere, standing behind you, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Yes, sir?” Chifuyu hopped up to the gig, copying Baji with a mischievous grin on his face.

Kazutora groaned.

“Come on guys, we-“

“Sir, I’ll have to ask you to leave. You’re bothering our customer and dear friend.”

“Baji-“

“You heard him, bitch. Go!”

It took all of Kazutora’s strength not to scream, instead gently plucking the kitten from your arms and dropping it on Baji’s head, picking you up as if you were a mere bag of potatoes, followed by a hissy fit from all parties involved, kitten and you both annoyed you had to be separated so soon, Baji and Chifuyu dramatically trying to hold you back to let you play with the kitten a little more, and him desperate to just get some damn food.

And no one messes with Kazutora and his damn food.

Kazutora brushed them off as if they were nothing, and slamming the doors to the pet shop so hard you heard an audible crack, off you were.

On to the 12-foot trek to the car.

Kazutora threw you in the passenger seat, careful so your head wouldn’t hit the top of the car, but with enough force that you yelped, rubbing your ass in annoyance.

Tora jumped in the driver seat, swiftly turning on the kiddie lock to make sure you don’t escape and go back to play with the kitten, ignoring your feral hissing and scratching of the car window.

“I’m never letting you drive again, asshole.” You mused out, finally giving up, annoyed and pouting like a five-year-old.

Kazutora merely grinned, knowing you’ll always let him drive, no matter what he does to cause your wrath.

You knew driving was one of the simple pleasures Kazutora treasured dearly, the concept of being able to go anywhere and everywhere he wished so foreign after spending a decade in jail, yet so comforting you couldn’t help but smile every time his face lit up.

Which also led to another problem.

His obsession with smartphones, and taking pictures constantly.

You weren’t gonna stop him, but every time he asked to take a picture of you because ‘Look how aesthetically pleasing the scenery is!’ made you question if he was your partner or your mother.

He even talked you into transforming one of the extra rooms in your apartment into a black room, which you agreed to, after he promised he wasn’t gonna become a serial killer and start developing pictures of crime scenes there.

“Which restaurant haven’t we gone to yet?” Tora wondered out loud, turning the key to turn on the engine.

“There is a new place in the centre of Shinjuku, I heard it is decent enough.”

“Excellent.” Kazutora grinned, leaning over you to open the glovebox compartment and pull out a small, red box.

He turned to look at you, his grin almost splitting his face in half, flipping the box open to reveal a perfectly polished, diamond engagement ring inside.

“You up for free dessert?”

You smirked back.

“Always.”

What you did not expect the next day at 7 in the bloody a.m. in the morning, was a depressed puppy nervously waltzing into your office, carrying the biggest fucking fruit basket you’ve ever seen in one hand, a thick envelope in the other.

“Hey.” He awkwardly greeted, smiling briefly.

“Hi? How can I help you, Kakucho?” Your greeting sounded more like a question than a statement.

Kakucho seemed taken aback by that question, as if he wasn’t the one who practically caved in the floorboards with his stomping.

You could practically smell the urge to run on him.

“So, I, um, yeah, I-“ He inhaled deeply, finally taking a step closer to your desk, slamming the basket and envelope hard enough, you could swear you saw a screw flying off, “I was in the same restaurant you were in when your boyfriend proposed, and I wanted to congratulate you on your engagement and offer you a gift! You can’t say no or I will eat my own kidney, I hope you and your fiancé have a very happy and successful marriage! Goodbye!”

What the fuck.

You barely understood a damn word, not even being able to ask what the fuck he was on before he marched out of your office, slamming the door off its hinges.

You blinked.

What in the ever-loving fuck was that?

🔖Taglist (closed):

@1818cigarettes @nana-phobia @dilf-city @wakasa-wifey @rinsie @kisekihany @missarabellla @bajifairyy @cryszus @r-xochitl @m0rrax @levistiddies @bxnten @spookygeto @graythecoffeebean @yukihime-mikeys-girl @mukounisuru-gashadokuro @sunahyejin @crybabylisa @yamaguccitadashi @minoozi @gigibobigi @trashmemebitch @frogtits1 @sup-zfam @whydohumansss @xashiui @bontens-whore @nqctre @bontenacious @lumi-does-some-stuff @hana-patata @hxked @erza-uzumaki @sh4nn @sisnot @aurel1ia @nahoyas-nymph @one-green-frog @justrandomlypassing @kio-kookie @haikyuu-simps-assemble @arlecchino-n-scara-k @ayhashi @mOrl @tiredlattes @jeagerslutx @hayamirinrin @crown5 @medusalovessnakes @bblyerim @ohnoyouareasimp @sakinotfound @syddisheep @barcelona-sergei @solliver05 @ricecake23 @ayamvirus @vanillaashakee (second tag list in comments. in bold are those who tumblr won’t let me tag. my apologies!)

a/n: after some consideration, i have decided to give y/n tora as a queer platonic partner! the relationship between them is not meant to be read as anything other than platonic 🤧 also not to brag but i got into my top choice law university 😌💅

#tokyorev #tokyo revengers #bonten x reader #kakucho hitto #ran haitani #rindou haitani #haruchiyo sanzu #manjiro sano #kokonoi hajime

[darkdarkroom]

~ Don’t Get Me Wrong ~

Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Every Saturday for the past three months, Eddie Munson has been dropping in to the record store where you work. And for the same amount of time, you’ve been pretending not to notice he’s just there to see you. It’s a game you’ve both been playing, but today is the day you bring it into the endzone. It’s a classic idiots sort-of-friends to lovers thing, with Eddie at his most adorably oblivious. 

No warnings, just fluff and a very small hint at a sexy dream. 

Author’s note: this is my first fic in over four years and I’m only too happy to be back on my bullshit for Eddie Munson - shame it’s the night before part 2 comes out.  i like italics a little too much and can’t write kisses to save my life, but I hope you enjoy this nonetheless. reader is as gender neutral as i can manage through editing - angel as a nickname is the only vaguely gendered term used. In a bid to get this out before part 2 drops I did not proof read - it is 2:45 am, i am not sorry. MASTERLIST

---------

No one could say that working at a record store is the greatest job in the world, but it certainly has its moments. Getting your hands on the latest tapes first? That’s pretty cool. Playing your favourite tracks whilst you work? Another great perk. Working the Saturday shifts? Mmm, not so hot.  

At least they weren’t so hot, until one morning three months ago. After the Starcourt Mall had that freaky fire, Hawkins locals had needed to look elsewhere for their retail therapy. So, you’d been getting a lot of new customers in the weeks that followed, which was excellent for business, but less so for your peace of mind. Eventually things settled down, and you've been left with a few more regulars – including one particularly striking regular you’ve come to know very well.

The first time you’d met Eddie Munson, he spilled an entire blue raspberry slushie down his front upon tripping through the door. Naturally, he was mortified, but you?

You were enchanted.  

Maybe it was the way he spoke at a hundred miles per hour as he tried to mop himself down with a single black handkerchief, or maybe it was how every time you told him it was okay, his cheeks would colour just a little bit more. Perhaps it was something in his eyes – oh, those eyes. Eddie’s eyes still stop you in your tracks every time, something in those soft pools of molten brown drawing you in like a magnet. It’s so unfair – one look and you were entirely done for.  

Anyway, you’d felt incredibly sorry for the poor guy, insisting he take whatever band tee he desired as a gesture of goodwill - “The step is totally uneven, it’s an accident waiting to happen. Not your fault at all”.  

Eddie had picked Metallica, doing his best to hide his delight at expanding what you now know to be an extensive collection. “This place is pretty cool,” he’d remarked, ducking into the backroom to get changed. “Might come in more often”.  

And come in more often he did – every single Saturday since then. It hadn’t taken you long to start expecting his arrival, and then anticipating it. There’s a difference between the two states, you realise; expecting just means you know you’re gonna see him. Anticipating means you’re actively waiting for him.  

This is exactly what you’re up to now: actively waiting for Eddie Munson. It’s close to 5:30, about the time he always shows his face.  He’s only been late once, a few Saturdays ago – very late. You’d assumed he was out of town for some reason, but two minutes after closing time, you’d heard a frantic tapping at the window. How could you not take pity on him, standing with his gut wrenchingly sad face pressed against the glass and a fistful of dollar bills meant for the new Rolling Stones single. Letting him in had been a no brainer, though you’d gotten shit from your manager the next day.  

The following week, after giving an entertaining and animated monologue about his band's latest gig, he’d suddenly reached into his back pocket and pulled out a can of soda – your favourite soda. It was going “spare”, you see, as he’d “accidentally” bought it but didn’t like the flavour. He'd sheepishly pushed it across the counter, heading out of the store in a rush before you could thank him.  

He’s funny like that; cocky and attention-grabbing one second, and painfully self-conscious the next. The slightest compliment can reduce him to a blushing, stuttering mess, something you discovered when you told him you liked how his hair looked one morning. His eyes had widened, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his ripped jeans. “Uh, I, uh... I brushed it” he’d admitted, shuffling his weight from foot to foot. “Don’t always remember to do that”.  

He remembers now. At least, he does every Saturday, but you’re careful not to draw attention to it.  

After three months of regular conversations, the two of you have built something closely resembling friendship. Since day one, though, there’s been something else there. Something exciting, something electric.  

Something impossible to resist.

Waking up for work has never been easier – you're not even thinking about work, you’re thinking about Eddie Munson. He’s in your daydreams, and your night dreams too, for that matter. There was that one particularly good dream, where you found yourself by lover’s lake and he had his van and -

Yeah, you can dwell on that one another time. Can't have anyone catching you with that faraway look on your face and asking what you’re thinking about now, can you? It’s hard to focus, though, when you know he could appear at any minute.  

Oh.

There he is.  

Eddie approaches from the other side of the street, his standard uniform of denim vest over leather jacket making him impossible to miss. You wonder what band tee he’s got on today – last week it was Dio, and the week before it was Ozzy... and why exactly have you remembered that, hmm? It seems that no matter how cool you play it on the outside, your mind is brimming with information about the gorgeous metalhead you can’t get enough of. Yeah, it’s clear as day – you've got it bad for Eddie Munson.  

But if your judgement is correct, Eddie Munson has it just as bad for you – and today is the day you’re gonna do something about it.  

He pauses at the roadside for a moment, looking from left to right as if deciding where to go next. As if he hasn’t done the same thing every Saturday for the past three months. You suppress a smile and pretend to look busy, shuffling a stack of tapes into place as you await his inevitable arrival. It’s a silly little game the two of you are playing, but it’s one you enjoy – he pretends he’s not there just for you, and you pretend you haven’t noticed.  

You don’t have to look up to know he’s approaching. The jingle of those metal chains hitting his thigh with every step gives him away, and you risk a sideways glace as he stops to browse near the entrance. He has his back to you, thumbing through a stack of records as he stalls for time. Walking straight up to you would give the game away, so he always puts a little effort into his whole “just passing through” routine. It’s probably very convincing to the untrained eye, but you know him and the store a little too well: that’s where you keep the week’s top charting singles, and Whitney Houston has been number one for the past three weeks. He’s looked at exactly the same thing for the past two Saturdays, and unless his taste has drastically changed, there’s nothing remotely interesting to him there.  

Still, you respect his commitment to the bit, keeping up your side of things by letting it play out however he chooses. A customer approaches the desk with an armful of tapes, and Eddie takes your distraction as an opportunity to move a little further in. He’s in the rock section now, this time rifling through the stacks with purpose. You know what he’s looking for, but he’s a little too late – the new AC/DC album sold out two days ago. You watch him realise this as you hand the customer her change, and he tries to reign in his obvious disappointment.  

He waits for the customer to depart, before making a leisurely turn towards the counter. He’s now the only person in the store besides you, so it would be pointless to pretend not to notice him; you look up and smile warmly, his deep brown eyes meeting yours instantly.  

Magnetic.

No matter how many times you play this game, you can’t help the way your heart jolts and your stomach twists at that first second of eye contact. Eddie Munson does something thrilling to you, something more addictive than anything you know he sells. It clearly has an impact on him also: he swallows hard, barely maintaining his attempt at a cool façade as he approaches you.

“'Afternoon, angel” he begins, placing his palms flat on the countertop as he smiles winningly at you.

Angel.

Now it’s you who’s trying the hardest to keep cool. He uses nicknames so breezily, but the effect they have on you is almost embarrassing – like he steals a little bit of your breath with every angel, sweetheart, or darling he tosses your way. One word from Eddie could reduce you to a daydreamy disaster on an off day, but today you’re not gonna let him win that easily – this is a game after all, and it’s time for your next move.  

“Hey, Eddie! How’s it going?” you reply brightly, noting the flicker of delight in his eyes at the mention of his name. The first time you used it had him visibly flustered, seemingly surprised that you even knew who he was. God, how could you not? He was by far the most interesting person in this otherwise dreary town, but that fact seemed to be lost on him entirely. He’d written himself off a long time ago, but every time you use his name you remind him that you see him. It didn’t take you long to notice the effect it has on him, that little thrill never seeming to wear off.  

Excellent.

“Ah, y’know, not too bad” he grins, before glancing over his shoulder to the rock section. It gives him a second to compose himself, a little more relaxed when he turns back to face you. “You don’t happen to have any more Who Made Who’s around here, do you?”

You pretend to think about this for a second, as he watches you hopefully. “The AC/DC record? Oh, I’m so sorry, it sold out like two days ago”

Eddie’s face drops, and he steps back from the counter slightly in his disappointment. It's like kicking a puppy, but you’ve gotta get him down a little further before you bring him back up again. “Yeah, it was gone waaaay quicker than we thought. Can’t even order in a new batch just yet, it’s impossible to get hold of a copy if you haven’t got one already”.  

He seems genuinely put out, nodding in resigned acceptance as one ring-clad hand comes up to rub at his cheek. Music is the very blood that runs through his veins, so it makes sense that he’d be so deflated. You can’t bring yourself to drag this out any longer, so you move into the endzone with a tone of airy nonchalance. “Unless, of course, you happen to be friendly with the salesperson, who’s nice enough to keep a copy behind the till for you just in case you don’t come by in time”.  

His head snaps up, eyes wide with renewed hope. “No way, you haven’t... have you?”

Without breaking his gaze, you reach behind the till and slowly reveal the cassette box you've kept hidden since the day the shipment arrived. Sure, your colleagues had teased you mercilessly about it ever since, but the sheer relief and delight on his lovely lovely face could make any amount of ridicule worth it.  

Eddie pushes himself back from the counter, arms thrown above his head as he stares at you in wonder. His mouth gapes open, lips forming shapes that don’t quite make it into words; you’ve rendered him speechless, something which you – and anyone else who knows him, for that matter – would think to be impossible. Fighting to keep a victorious grin off your face, you tap at a few buttons on the cash register. “So should I ring this up, or...?”

“Yes, god yes” he manages finally, the words coming out in a breathless flurry of excitement. He approaches the counter once again, dipping a hand in his pocket to withdraw a beaten up leather wallet. “You... you’re something else” he adds, seemingly without thinking; the second the words leave his lips he falters, cheeks colouring and gaze dropping as he counts out a few bills. Before he can place them on the counter, though, you reach out your hand until it’s a fraction of an inch away from his.  

“Seven dollars then, please” you tell him, palm open. Physical contact: it’s an unexplored frontier in your little game, and you’ve cornered him into making the icebreaking move. You’re on fire today, not least because of the heat you feel as his fingertips brush against yours for the very first time.  

Hello.

It’s a gentle, innocent touch, but you can tell by the way his lips press together that it means as much to Eddie as it does to you. He lets his hand linger much longer than he probably should, those beautiful eyes flicking up to meet yours as he studies your response.  

One heartbeat, then two, then three pass as you draw the moment out. Loud, insistent heartbeats that he’s probably close enough to hear, maybe even feel -  

That’s enough now.  

You grasp the bills and draw your hand away, turning to the cash register and away from his burning gaze. Try to calm down a little. You’re almost at the home stretch. Out of the corner of your eye you can see him compose himself, flexing the hand that touched yours as the other tugs self consciously at a lock of his hair. You count the bills into the cash drawer, exactly the right amount. No need for change, thank god; the last thing you need right now is more physical contact to addle your brain, if you want to bring this game to a perfect finish.  

You slide his purchase across the counter, setting an easy smile on your face. “All yours”.  

All his.

The tape, and you.  

Have been since the first day you locked eyes across this damn record store.  

“Thank you, so much. You’re a wonder” he says, sliding the tape into his pocket. “Honestly, I owe you one”.

Here we go.

“Oh yeah, you definitely do” you reply, leaning casually against the wall behind you.

Come on, Eddie, take the bait.

He takes a few steps back, and then one forwards, brow furrowed as if contemplating something.  

You know you want to.

Eddie nods almost imperceptibly, decision made. “How about... how about dinner? I mean, how about I take you to dinner. Dinner with me. Obviously!” he rambles, eyes darting from side to side as he tries to regather his words into something far smoother than he’s currently managing. “That is if you’ve not got plans, or like... you know, if you even want to...”

As much as you’re enjoying him adorably losing his cool over finally asking you out, it’s time to land this thing.

“I’d love that!”

Eddie freezes, tongue poking out from between his blush-pink lips. “Really?”

“Yeah, dinner would be great”. And then, just to drive the point home: “Dinner with you. Obviously”.  

He lets out a deep breath, unable to stop a beauteous smile from lighting up his entire face. ‘Okay, cool. Excellent” he says, a hint of relief mixed in with the joy he’s clearly feeling.  

“We could do tonight, if you’re not busy? I finish here in like twenty minutes”.

Scheduled it two weeks ago, just in case.

How you’re still managing to keep it this cool on the outside is beyond you, your mind racing as you consider just how perfectly things have fallen into place. Dinner with Eddie. A dinner date? Shit’s getting real now.  

“Not busy at all”.  

He thinks for a moment, and you can almost see the moment an idea clicks into place. “Weather’s nice, don’t think it’s gonna rain tonight. You fancy heading up to the lake for a picnic?”

He watches you carefully, still slightly unsure of himself. So oblivious – there’s no chance in hell you could ever say no to that offer.

Hang on, the lake?  

Don’t think about your dream, do NOT think about your dream.

“That would be perfect!” you smile warmly, doing your best to offset his nervous energy.  

It seems to have worked; he settles into a laid-back stance, head cocked to one side and arms folded across his chest. “Yeah, cool. My van’s parked round the corner, I’ll be the guy with the sweet tatts in the driver’s seat” he quips, taking a few steps backwards. “I’ll grab some food and see you in twenty, angel”.  

Eddie turns and strides out of the store, shoulders back and head held high. Ahh, he probably thinks this is all his idea. That’s cute. He’s cute, the boost of confidence looking good on him. God, if you’re this caught up in him already, how are you gonna make it through dinner?  

The next twenty minutes pass all too quickly and yet maddeningly slow at the same time. You have a change of clothes in your bag, and make sure to give your hair a quick seeing to before you head out.  

A date with Eddie Munson.

A date, with Eddie Munson.  

Not that he’d called it a date, of course. Maybe you’re getting ahead of yourself here, maybe you’ve got the vibes wrong, maybe -

No, come on. You can read that man like a fucking phonebook, and every number in there is yours. This back and forth can only go on for so long – you're both ready for something more now.

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

You see him the second you round the corner, leaning up against the van with his shoulders hunched. His left hand plays with the rings on his right, bottom lip pulled between his teeth. It takes a few moments for him to realise you’re there, but when he does his demeanour changes entirely. He stands up straighter, puffing his chest out as he gestures to the van. “Your carriage awaits” he says, opening the passenger side door with a flourish.  Showmanship – that’s something he’s always excelled at.  

That same gentlemanly spirit emerges once you arrive at the lake, with Eddie rushing out to open your door before you even have a chance to unclip your seatbelt. He reaches out to take your hand, steadying you as you hop down into the meadow. Like earlier, you let your hands linger just a little longer than necessary.  

The catch in his breath is audible, and sends a pleasant shiver up your spine.  

He has to let your hand drop as he closes the passenger side door, lips pressed together as he regains his composure.  

So, here you are.

Lover’s Lake.

It’s a still night, with the soft spring breeze pushing ripples across the dark water. Quiet, too; you look around for signs of other late-night picnickers, but it seems you’re the only pair around. Eddie stands and observes the scenery for a moment. From the corner of your eye can see his attention turning back to you, his hands diving back into his pockets as he takes it all in.

You know exactly what he’s feeling – this is unfamiliar but exciting territory. Being alone together in the van was something, but now you’ve got this beautiful view and the promise of an entire evening for just the two of you. A picnic was a bold idea. A romantic idea. He has to know what he’s gotten himself into, and you’re certainly not complaining. This is definitely a date, and Eddie’s definitely keen to get things going.  

He rifles through the back of the van, letting out a victorious “Ah ha!” when he emerges brandishing a rolled-up tartan blanket. “Knew this would come in handy someday”. A paper grocery bag is next, which he tucks under one arm, before turning to flash you a winning smile. “Wanna pick a spot?”

You nod your head to the left, where the bank starts to slope towards the water. “View looks good from there”.

“Over there it is!” he declares, before marching over to get set up. He’s diligent and thoughtful, smoothing out the creases in the blanket before laying out the food with great care. Once he’s satisfied with how it looks, he turns to you for approval.

He needs that, you realise. His stance is confident, but his eyes betray a hint of uncertainty. “I’ve never actually had a picnic before” he admits, messing a hand through his hair. “There’s some bread and stuff for sandwiches, and I grabbed some strawberries for something sweet... sorry, I should’ve checked what you like”.

Mentally he’s kicking himself right now, and you’re only too quick to ease his concerns. “Eddie, this looks perfect, thank you!”

The compliment hits the spot. Eddie relaxes instantly, allowing himself a satisfied smile as he surveys his work. “You’re very welcome, angel. Hungry?”

“Starving!”

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

Any worries you may have had earlier are washed away before you’ve even moved onto dessert. Conversation with Eddie flows so easily, the two of you laughing and talking like this is the most natural thing in the world. Without the barrier of a counter between the two of you, you find yourself moving closer to him without even realising it.  

He talks at great length about his band, throwing his head back as he mimes a guitar solo that’s totally gonna bring the Hideout roof down on Friday night. “You should come!” he exclaims, swaying a little as he speaks. “It’s not the biggest of crowds, but we always make sure it’s a rad night”.  

“I’d love to!”

He seems genuinely surprised by your enthusiasm, leaning back on his hands as he studies you. “Really? You’re not just saying that?”

“No, I mean it. I’ve heard so much about your music, I’d love to see you perform” you assure him, tucking your legs up under you. “Why are you so surprised?”

Eddie hesitates, one hand tugging up a clump of grass as he ponders over the answer.  

“You’re just... you’re just like, the coolest person in Hawkins” he says, looking away from you to stare out at the lake. “It’s kinda unexpected that you’d wanna spend time with me”.  

Honestly.

How oblivious can one guy be?

“Eddie... I need you to really think about this right now. Why are we here tonight?”

He turns back to face you with a frown, unsure of where you’re going with the question. “Because I asked you?”

“Yes, and why did you ask me?

“Because I owe you one”

You’re getting closer to the point now, more insistent even as he remains utterly clueless. “And why do you owe me one?”

“Because you kept back a tape that...”  

Eddie falters, pulling his knees up to his chest. “Because you kept back a tape for me. One you knew I’d like”. His voice is quiet, eyes narrowed at the ground as he considers the sequence of events.  

“And why would I do that?”

The pause that follows your question is drawn out, but you don’t rush him. His eyes widen, as if seeing the situation clearly for the first time. The hesitation you see in them is replaced by something stronger, something brighter:

Hope.

“Because... because you like me?”

He phrases it as a question, but the emphasis on the like tells you he understands perfectly.

“Because I Like you” you confirm.  

He lets out a gentle breath, cheeks colouring as he lets his knees drop. The smile that pulls at the corner of his mouth is irrepressible, but his shyness won’t let him meet your eyes just yet. His voice comes out as little more than a whisper - “I like you too”.

Just saying the words out loud embolden him, and he finally manages to bring his gaze up to yours.  

How do his eyes still get you so soft, every time? Little creases decorate their outer corners as he smiles, shuffling closer to you on the blanket.  

“I really like you” he continues, “Like... seeing you in the shop is the highlight of my week. Yeah, the music’s cool, but I only really care that you’re there”.

“So it’s not the Whitney Houston records you keep coming back for?” you tease, and he nudges you with his shoulder in response – he’s that close to you now, your knees touching as you let yourself lean into him.  

“Oh, Whitney’s a babe, but you... you’re really something special”.  

He means it, not looking away like he did when the words slipped out earlier. Eddie owns the compliment, swallowing hard as he reaches out to rest a hand on your waist. “Knew from the first moment I saw you, angel. Just didn’t think I had a hope in hell of getting you”.

You can’t suppress the smile his words provoke, moving in closer as he pulls you into him. “Eddie, you had me from day one”.  

“Day one?! Why did we wait three whole months then?” he asks, mock incredulously. His voice is still soft, though, and his face is barely two inches away from yours. When you don’t answer, his other hand comes up to brush across your cheek. The touch is featherlight, the callouses on his fingertips a reminder of exactly who it is you’re so close to right now.  

A moment passes, as the two of you let the tension build as high as you can take it. It’s Eddie who relents, his heavy-lidded gaze soft and filled with desire. “No more waiting” he breathes, before he gives into the moment and closes the gap between you.  

Eddie Munson is kissing you.

His lips move fervently against your own, warm and soft but more and more urgent as the kiss deepens. Your hands are in his hair, and the hand on your waist pulls you into him, your bodies pressing close together. Breathing becomes irrelevant; to kiss and only to kiss is the all-consuming thought.  

You’ve both been waiting for this moment, and are making the most of every single second. It doesn’t matter that you’re in the middle of the meadow in full view of anyone who may pass by. This kiss is intimate, euphoric, everything you’re thinking conveyed better in actions than in words.  

You don’t know how long you’ve been kissing for, and you don’t care. When your lips finally part, Eddie holds you close to him, unwilling to let you go just yet.  

“Wow” he whispers, his breath ghosting across your lips.

“Wow” you agree, as you smile up at him. He looks perfect, softly lit by the moon as he holds you against his chest. Neither of you speak for a moment, basking in the glow as your breathing slowly returns to normal.  

Who needs that dream when this is what reality gives you? Granted, it didn’t end here, but -

“What are you thinking?” he asks suddenly, his voice snapping you back to the present.  

“Oh! Nothing”  

It comes out a little higher pitched than you’d aimed for, and Eddie notices. He leans back a little to get a good look at your face, curious eyes searching for clues. “Everything okay?” he says, the hand on your back moving to stroke up your arm. “My jacket is all yours if you’re feeling cold”.  

He’s too sweet for his own good, honestly, the concern on his face plucking at your heartstrings. Those puppy dog eyes are hard to resist for too long, and you let out a deep sigh before attempting to explain.  

“I’m fine, it’s just... I had this dream...”  

You let your words trail off, unsure of how to continue. Eddie’s eyes light up as he leans in closer, head cocked to one side. “A dream, you say?”

“Mmhmm”.

“And was I in this dream?” he asks, his tone playful as he leans ever closer. Embarrassed, you move to bury your face in his chest, but his hand comes up to gently but firmly cup your chin. He holds you there, eyes searching yours with a molten intensity. “Was I, angel?”  

“Yes, Eddie, you were” you say, enjoying the glint of delight that appears in his eyes. He makes a satisfied noise in the back of his throat, thumb stroking your skin as he revels in your closeness.  

“You gonna tell me about this dream?”

It's tempting, it really is. Eddie could get anything out of you if he really wanted, but you know he’d never push it. This is information for another day, so you smile softly and let your hand come to rest on his shoulder. “Eventually”

“Eventually?” he echoes, amusement playing across his lips. “I can live with eventually”.  

He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, a gesture so sweet and full of adoration that you can almost feel your heart skip a beat.

Dreams can wait; how you are right now, with Eddie Munson? This is so much better.  

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #stranger things #joseph quinn #x reader #edited to add the formatting tumblr killed #mine

[edenshiba]

Your number

Character: Shibaman x Waitress! Reader

Summary: The scary and creepy guy at the cafe actually wants your number.

Warning: None

Note; okay so we all know that ryu is a big baby in the Rampage so why not pit some of his personality in this oneshot???

“I’m late!” You mentally screams.

Your class ends late than usual since someone thought that it would be nice to pull a prank on someone and the teacher has been in everyone’s ass since the recess.

Without caring about the looks that the pedestrian gave, you sprint as fast as you can.

“Oi!”

There goes your day.

“Sorry!” You yelled before continuing your steps.

After you arrive at the cafe, you quickly went to the backroom and change to the uniform. Finally you made it.

You’ve been late to work for weeks because of the teacher. They always made you do something after school.

“Looks like you early for the first time (y/n). Good job.” Your manager said without looking.

She’s been counting the money at the registers. You smiled at her words.

“The teachers..”

“The teachers talk too much, I know.” She replied with a monotone voice.

You bit your inner cheeks hard. You could feel the blood in your mouth but you choose to ignored it. You need this job.

For god sake.

“I can’t always forgive you kid. The others would think that I’m playing favourite since you’re my little cousin.”

Before she could continue, the small bell on the door rings, two people walk in. You let out a sigh of relief. Finally you could cut her nagging.

“Go.” She said.

You grab the tablet from the registers before heading towards the men. Both of them is chatting with each other.

“Hi my name is (y/n) and what can I get you gentlemen?” You forcefully said it with a cheerful smile and voice.

Both of them look at you before turning their gaze to the menu except for the man with the red hair. He stared at you for a solid 5 minutes before his friend with blue glasses nudge him on the ribs.

“I take the Ice Americano and strawberry shortcake.” The guy with blue glasses said.

You tapped the screen to place his orders before looking at the other guy. The man still stared at the menu before deciding to place his order.

“Mango smoothie and your number.”

“ I’m sorry, what?”

You looked at him with horror in your eyes. Man...

“ Sorry, mango smoothie and red velvet cake.” He apologize before looking away.

You quickly walk away from the table. What a creep.

While you were taking orders and just sending them away, you realize that you’ve been stared at. You look around before seeing the same red head still looking at you in awe. You quickly brush it off.

“Table 5.”

You sigh. That creep.

You bring the foods and beverages to the table with a cheerful smile.

“Ice Americano, Mango smoothie, strawberry shortcake, red velvet cake. That’s all, enjoy your meal.” You said before nodded slightly and leave them as quickly as you can.

You put the tray on top of the table before sitting on the chair. You massage your left foot since it hurts before applying bandaids at the back of your foot.

“Ne, (y/n). The guys at table 5 is so handsome. I’m jealous of you.” You colleague said before pouting.

You scrunched your face in disgust. That creep? Or the other scary guy?

“That creep? Oh please.” You said while rolled your eyes.

Your colleagues hit your shoulder slightly.

“Don’t you know who they are?” You shook your head.

She gasped in horror.

“They’re the famous Oya High duo! Shibaman and Tsuji. Well i guess now trio since they always followed Todoroki around. That’s what I heard from my brother that went to the same school.” She explain.

“Another reason to not get involved Aika. We all know that Oya is a place where delinquent and jerk stay. They’re lucky that they got to stay at school.” You said in disgust.

Aika hit your forearms, hard. You wince at sudden pain that you received.

“ Don’t hate too much (y/n)! You know they said, if you hate something eventually you will like it. There, Shibaman has been staring at you for awhile now.” She said while secretly points at the man.

You look at her direction, the same red head that asked for your number is staring at you. He then quickly look away after seeing that you notice him. You get to see a faint pink hue on his cheeks.

You gagged at the sight.

If he likes you that it’s a sign to not serve or see him again. Oya kid is a bad news.

Very, very, very bad news.

Your attempt to stay away from the particular Oya High kid didn’t work at all. He kept coming to the cafe everyday. Sometimes with the same braided hair guy but sometimes alone.

Today he definitely with the braided hair guy.

“Mango smoothie and red velvet cake am I right?” You said without looking at him.

He ordered it every single day for the past two months.

Shibaman nodded shyly before saying thank you to you. You walk to the small cake section and pick up the cakes before going to the small window that connects the kitchen and outside to wait for their drinks.

“Table 5.” The chef said.

Yeah. He always sits at the same table, same position. You walk quickly to their table to send the food but accidentally bumped into someone.

“ Hey!” The man yelled.

“I am so sorry sir!” You apologize.

All the food and drinks splattered all over the floor and the sound of broken plate attracts people’s attention to you.

Gosh this is embarrassing!

“Are you blind?!” The man yelled again.

Shibaman's head perks up after listening to the ruckus. His eyes widen when he see you apologize profusely to the man but he kept yelling at you. He got up with Tsuji and walk up to you.

“She apologized. No need to yell at her.” He said while gave the man a menacing look. His hands on the man’s neck, making the guy gasp.

You look up to him, feeling a bit happy that someone tried to protect you and help you from feeling embarrassed.

“ If I see you bother her again, you die!” He snarled at him.

Without waiting any longer, the man left money on his tables before ran out from the cafe. Shibaman looks at you, trying to see if the man hurt you or not.

“ Are you okay?” He asked.

You nodded your head, not knowing what to say.

“Um, thank you for helping me. I’m sorry for your orders, I’ll send them right away.” You said before runs to the back.

Shibaman was dumbfounded by your reaction. Tsuji smiled at the interaction. He can say that you are shy.

“Nee Tsuji, I think she hates me.” The red hair said after they sat on the chair.

Shibaman likes you. He genuinely is. Maybe he needs to change his facial expressions since you seems scared whenever you see him.

It’s true he always here because he wanted to see you. Maybe he scared you during your first encounter, or maybe you just not interested in him.

“I don’t know man. I think she likes you but she just shy.” Tsuji said.

Shibaman brows furrowed. He doesn’t believe his partner’s word.

He saw the horror in your eyes when he messed up the first time.

“Mango smoothie, red velvet, white mocha and chicken sando. Enjoy your food.” You said with a wide smile.

They both says thank you at the same time. You walk away after serving their food.

When Shibaman take the tissue to wipe his mouth, he saw black ink on the tissue.

A note actually.

Thanks for helping me

602 XXX XXX

(y/n)

He smiled at the small writing before taking his phone out from his pocket. He tapped the number into his phone before saving the number. His heart fluttered happily. He finally got your number!

“Why are you so happy?” Tsuji jokingly asked.

He knows the reason but he tried to act like a fool. Deep inside he’s happy for his partner.

“I think I’m in love.”

#high&low #high&low the worst #shibaman high and low #high and low x reader #high&low the worst x #oya high #high & low incorrect quotes #shibaman x reader

[ayanominitrash]

I See What You See (Shoko Ieiri x reader)

You’re a conspiracy theorist geek who believes in aliens. Your quiet friend-of-a-friend, Shoko Ieiri, doesn’t understand your obsession and almost seems to make fun of you for it. Next thing you know, the two of you gape at each other at an anticipated alien sighting event.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Studying at a local college, you’ve recently been adopted by the ever-animated Satoru Gojo into his own friend group. That being said, you’re only closest to Satoru, and only starting to get to know his other friend, Suguru Geto. The last member, on the other hand, was still a total stranger to you - Ieiri Shoko. 

She’s mostly kept to herself. You find the short-haired brunette either reading a book, texting on her phone, or smoking a cigarette out on the school grounds -  sometimes all of the above at the same time. She’d join the group’s conversation here and there, and most of the time she’d scold the two boys whenever they got too noisy over their usual banter or when they were bickering over something stupid. 

Ieiri would only spare a glance at you to somewhat acknowledge your presence. It felt like she was actively ignoring you and didn’t approve of your new membership into their small circle of friends. One time, you did try to subtly leave and distance yourself, feeling unwanted, but Satoru would only rope you back in. And when you tried to befriend the quiet girl, she would only peek at you over her book or over her phone before tensing up her shoulders, offering quiet and abrupt answers to any of your questions for the sake of conversations. 

You feel a little hopeless. 

While this was your situation with your in-real-life friends, the place where you truly feel like you belong to a community is on your online forums for conspiracy junkies. Yes, that’s you. You’d let your eyes burn in radiation as you read through articles and articles of conspiracy theories, alien sightings, documentaries, backrooms, icebergs, etc.! The tapping of fingers against keyboard keys can be heard until the wee hours of the morning as you share your opinions with other members of the forum. You’d only bring up this obsession of yours once in a blue moon with your group of friends because you’re still unsure if they’d find you weird for this, your mission to befriend Ieiri was already on thin ice.

“Hey, I’m talking here y/n. Are you even listening? This is some important hot pipping tea I’m spilling.”

The white-haired boy snaps his fingers in front of your face as you’re seated on his right in the school cafeteria. You finally look up from your phone and see that Suguru is nibbling on his sandwich with a miserable look on his face, while Ieiri is drinking her juice box, looking bored as ever. 

“I don’t think you blabbering about how Miss Mei Mei and Principal Yaga would look good together is important.” You finally say after observing the scene before you.

His eyebrows shot up over his round sunglasses, “You kidding? Everyone’s been talking about it! Why aren’t you guys into school gossip? It can be so boring sometimes with the three of you.” 

“Satoru,” Suguru says once his mouth isn’t full. “It’s not nice to spread rumors, especially about our school heads.”

“It’s not really that entertaining,” Ieiri adds, talking around the straw in her mouth. “It’s just a bunch of old people not having any action cause they’re too busy with their work. How mundane.”

“See, for once though I didn’t make up the rumors this time. I got it through word of mouth. That counts for something right? Y/n, back me up?” When he notices you using your phone again, he snaps his fingers at you one more time. “Seriously, I’m getting hurt. Are you texting with someone?” 

“Hmm? Sorry, Satoru. I’m just engulfed in this article.” You say without taking your eyes off the phone, making Satoru lean closer to you to check out what you’re reading.

He starts to read aloud, “ ‘This Friday, a predicted sighting of an alien time-traveling portal will appear in this address’ -” The tall man leans back to give you an incredulous look. “There you are again. Are you actually planning to go to this event?” 

As the subject of your obsession is brought up on the table, your eyes sweep across the group to assess their reaction. Suguru only raises an eyebrow inquisitively, and when your pupils land on Ieiri, you feel your heart drop to your stomach.

She was pulling a face, as if she was weirded out by you.

You felt like a creep under her gaze. 

“W-well, I don’t know really know, hahaha…”You start to say, pocketing your phone absent-mindedly now that all of the attention is on you. “I mean, I read stuff like that but, I’m not that into it, you know? It’s just for shits and giggles. To kill time.”

Satoru scoffs at you, “Yeah right. It’s basically your whole being. You probably eat the moon landing farce articles for breakfast.” 

You glare at him, internally cursing at him for exposing you even more and making you feel ten times embarrassed. He only shrugs at your hostile look. 

Suguru closes his lunch box as he finishes his snack. “If you’re thinking of going, you should make sure it’s safe. Do you want us to come with you?” 

Before you can say anything, you’re surprised to hear a third voice. 

“On a Friday night with other geeks? I’d rather get wasted.” Ieiri says, staring directly at you. Suguru chuckles at this, making you sink further into your seat. 

“Ah, if you’re going to the bar, at least have Ioiri go with you.” The raven-haired man says, and you think to yourself that he’s the mother of the group with how much he looks out for everyone. “Or maybe they allow drinks at y/n’s event. Do they?”

With the spotlight back on you, your shoulders reach up to your ears in your humiliation as you start to lie, “Don’t worry about it! I’m not going so you guys can go to the bar. I have a paper due next week and I’ll focus on that so, hahaha…”

Satoru throws his head back in boredom, “Borrringggg. I’m not in the mood to do either of those. Suguru, want to play Animal Crossing instead?”

It was Suguru’s turn to be embarrassed, “Who says I play that? Shut up Satoru.”

As your white-haired friend pouts at Suguru, you try to not meet the only pair of eyes left on you, aware of their curious gaze making your face burn.

The weekend rolls in and you find yourself standing in the middle of an abandoned parking lot just on the outskirts of your small town. It was already night time and the stars glittered up above you as if they were dancing at the crowd of the conspiracy theories enthusiasts growing gradually below them. You can see how some of them dressed up for the occasion, with some going for the galactic theme. In comparison to you with your black shirt with a print of some type of Monopoly Mandela Effect, a short purple-checkered skirt with some low boots on. This simple outfit earned you a couple of compliments here and there. 

You purposely arrived an hour early before the predicted sighting of the portal to meet up with the forum members whom you’d constantly chat with. You stare at the screen if any of them have arrived yet. 

[You]: anyone here yet? 

[You]: sent a photo.

[You]: its early but a lot of peeps already here.

[aLiEnSaREreA]: stuck in traffic :(( 

[FeelinCuteMightTripToTheBackrooms]: waitin for this guy @aliensarereals

[FeelinCuteMightTripToTheBackrooms]: then otw

[IeireadyOrNot]:@you im here. come to the back.

[IeireadyOrNot]: sitting by the wrecked cars.

[You]:@IeireadyOrNot aight.

Trudging through the tall grass and through the sea of your fellow geeks, you make your way to the darkest part of the venue, spotting a silhouette of a small person who seems to be smoking a cigarette while leaning against a run-down car. You bring out your phone again to use the flashlight to guide your path. No one else seems to be at that part of the parking lot so you assume that they’re the person you just chatted with. As soon as you’re within earshot, you lift your phone up to light your internet friend and greet them, but you stop in your tracks with your mouth agape.

Your supposed internet friend was wearing the same look you probably have right now, except they have a lit cigarette in between their lips. 

And except it was Ieiri. 

With green alien ears for a headband. 

You almost drop your phone as your eyes widen at the short brunette. You watch as a read streak across her face immediately forms in her realization and you can’t help but bend at your stomach and start laughing. 

Ieiri lets out an exasperated huff, clouds of smoke coming out through her lips along with it. “What’s so funny?!” Feeling self-conscious, she can’t help but remove the headband from on top of her head, which made your laughter die down a bit.

“No - don’t take it off! Y-you look too cute with it.” Your cheeks are starting to hurt from smiling and laughing too hard. Your hands fly up to place her headband back in its rightful place.

She almost wacks your hands away, “Then what the fuck are you laughing about?”

Her crudeness caught you a bit off guard but you brushed it off. How can you bother yourself being hurt or scared of your shorter acquaintance when she’s got those cute little alien ears on? Or at this point, she might as well be your bestie with how long the two of you chat through the online forums you’re always on.

How ironic. 

“Nothing, it’s just…It’s funny seeing you here, considering how you just made fun of me a few days ago.” You say as you hoist yourself up on the car, sitting on the hood while Ieiri remains standing, leaning her backside against the front of the sorry excuse of a vehicle. 

“I wasn’t making fun of you.” She replies whilst she puts out her cigarette under her shoe.

“Then what was with the face?”

“Face?” Ieiri pauses, humming in thought. “I was just…shy I guess.”

“Shy? Right.” You chuckle, obviously not believing her. You think that she’s a quiet person but not because she’s shy. It’s probably because she has so little patience to deal with anything she thinks isn’t important.

The brunette throws a glare over her shoulder at the sarcastic tone of your voice. “I was! I don’t really talk about this stuff because…it’s…weird.”

“It’s not - “

“Plus, those two idiots will never let me hear the end of it. They’ll just tease me ‘till my ears bleed off.”

“But they were kinda nice about it with me though? Suguru even - “

“They were just being nice, y/n.” She deadpans. “You’re new to the group so they’re still testing the waters with how you respond to their, how should I put this, harassment?”

“Why? Did they say something…er, about me?” There’s a small uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach to think that your friends would make fun of you behind your back.

She catches your nervousness and shakes her head, “Satoru just likes to annoy people. Suguru’s no help either.”

You sigh in relief. When her reply was met with silence, she looked at you over her shoulder and saw you smiling at her. 

“Sorry, it’s just that this is the longest conversation we’ve ever had.”

The red streak on her cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed and you can’t help but chuckle at how you can still see it even though it was dark. 

“We chat almost every day so I don’t think the statement is true.”

“No, I mean, in real life. You’re always so quiet like you’re purposely doing it because you probably don’t like me.”

She whips her head back at you with a startled look. “That’s not true! I do like you!”

It was your turn to blush. Ieiri realizes the weight of her words and buries her face into her hands. “It’s - It’s - “

“Um, hahaha…It sure doesn’t feel like it.”

“Like I said, I’m too shy.” She says with her voice muffled by her hand covering her face. “Or I just kinda like you too much.”

“Like with me being a friend right? You probably had a feeling I was the one chatting with you. Then why are you so cold to me in real life?”

Ieiri looks back at you one more time, her lips in a tight line, the blush on her cheeks still evident. 

And you think you understood what she meant - what she meant when she said she liked you.

You can’t help but be the first one to break eye contact and move your gaze over to the now full venue. The brunette beauty flits her own eyes to the crowd. 

Not knowing what to say, you try to buy time by pretending to check on your GC’s updates:

[aLiEnSaREreA]: car broke down!!

[aLiEnSaREreA]: adjfhdjf hajdhfan vjkg!!

- aLiEnSaREreA is offline - 

[FeelinCuteMightTripToTheBackrooms]: idk if we gonna make it :((

[FeelinCuteMightTripToTheBackrooms]: if u go through the portal

[FeelinCuteMightTripToTheBackrooms]: tell them i said hi

-FeelinCuteMightTripToTheBackrooms is offline - 

[IeireadyOrNot]: this may be like once in a lifetime event

[IeireadyOrNot]: you guys suck

- IeireadyOrNot is offline - 

[You]: :(( 

“Nice screen name by the way. I don’t know why I didn’t think it was you.” You say as you lift your head up from staring at your phone. The short girl stays quiet.

“Ieiri? I- “

“Shh! It’s almost starting.” She says softly without looking at you. 

Your heart pounds in anticipation as you remember what you were here in this ugly parking lot for. The crowd cheers and starts a countdown. You join in at number 4. 

3…

2…

1…

It all went quiet.

No one moves for a couple of minutes before some start to swivel their heads around, checking for any anomaly nearby. 

Nothing. 

Ieiri lights a cigarette.

You bring your knees up to your chest wrapping your arms around your legs in your disappointment. Your friend eventually sits up on the hood of the car with you and wordlessly offers the lit cancer stick to you. You accept.

After you take a drag, you pass it to her. “Ieiri?”

“Hmm?”

“I think…I think I like you too.”

You hear her hold her breath before her face breaks into a small smile at you with a shaky giggle.

“You like me, or do you like ‘Ieireadyornot’?” 

“Aren’t they the same person?” 

She hums, looking at you with soft eyes as content washes over her expression. Suddenly, both of you freeze in your spots once a commotion in the crowd begins.

The both of you spot Suguru and Satoru amongst the crowd, sporting their matching green alien fur coats. The two of you girls look at each other before laughing, clearly seeing that Satoru is upset about the event being a hoax, and with Suguru only looking at him with his own dissatisfaction. 

“I guess you don’t have to worry about their teasing then!” You tell her, finally settling down from laughing, then intertwining your fingers through hers. “Guess we’re all geeks.”

She squeezes her hand in yours.

“You think they’re the other two people in our GC?” Ieiri puffs out.

You can’t help but laugh again at all the coincidences.

Your internet friends are just the same as your in-real-life-friends.

And your internet crush is also your in-real-life crush. 

Maybe you were the alien. Maybe you were the one who had a secret time-traveling portal because right now, everything feels like you’re in another dimension, one that you can only dream of. 

With Ieiri staring softly at you, her eyes holding galaxies. 

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

(❀❛ ֊ ❛„)♡ reblogs and comments are appreciated//do not repost my work anywhere // I have no idea how I ended up writing for Shoko when I'm supposed to keep writing for Daddy Suguru AHAHAH

#shoko ieiri fluff #conspiracy theories #jjk ieiri #jjk satoru #jjk geto #shoko ieiri x reader #shoko ieiri x you #jujustu kaisen #fanfic #lgbtq+ #gayyyy #aliens

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hi! So uh i wanted to request mangle x gn or male!reader who works at the location and is the only worker who actually puts in effort to try and keep mangle in as good condition as possible even though they can’t fully fix her, so the reader ‘n mangle start becomin friends or somethin like that. Sorry if that’s hard to work with, just an random idea i had.

Don’t worry! It’s not hard to work with at all ^^

NOTE: Mangle will be referred to as she/her in this fic!

..........

The first time you had to fix Toy Foxy, it was quite the chore.

Apparently one hyper kid discovered her tail could be easily popped off, and soon others followed suit and suddenly couldn’t keep their grubby hands off of the poor fox. They tugged on her hands and ears, yanking on her bowtie and...even her eyes.

It was quite disturbing to see on the security camera footage.

When you saw her in such a messy state--her suit shells torn apart and endoskeleton all out of whack--you felt awful and put her back together yourself. She said it didn’t hurt, but you promised this wouldn’t happen again.

You took these concerns to your boss, worried that something similar will happen to Toy Bonnie or Balloon Boy. Though all he said was that you can just guard Kid’s Cove and stop the brats if they got too close to her.

The next day you stood watch, mopping the floors while keeping an eye on Toy Foxy. But then your coworker needed you to put a wet floor sign somewhere in the next room. You figured she would be alright for a moment.

Yet upon returning to Kid’s Cove..the same damn thing happened.

In the blink of an eye, she was torn apart, with one kid wearing her head as a mask. You wondered how they could’ve undone all your hardwork that fast, but you had them clear the room and put her back together once more.

Unfortunately as the week went on, this became a common occurrence: the toddlers tearing Toy Foxy apart and you picking up the pieces. And during one afternoon shift, you walked in to see a coworker reassembling her instead, but this time there was a major problem: 

She was missing an eye and wasn’t able to walk anymore without her leg giving out, as her attempts to ended with her chipping a tooth.

Everyday her condition was deteriorating, reminding you of that old Foxy animatronic you saw in the backroom once.

After taking this complaint to your boss, he called you and your coworkers for a brief meeting. He proposed a solution, not one that involved a “Don’t Touch Foxy” sign like you suggested, but rather something that encouraged kids to do the exact opposite of that:

Making her a “take-apart-and-put-back-together” attraction that can be freely played around with. That way, nobody had to waste their time trying to reassemble her and the establishment didn’t have to order spare parts to fix her. The only rule instated was that none of their pieces are to be taken out of Kid’s Cove.

Other than that, children were free to tear her apart as they wished with no consequences.

In hindsight, it was the stupidest idea you’ve ever heard. This was just asking for trouble, especially with how dangerous all of her exposed wiring and metal endoskeleton framing could be.

But since then, there hasn’t been a single complaint, and Toy Foxy got a lot more visitors than usual now that she’s been advertised as an “all new attraction”. Your coworkers have given her the nickname “Mangle”--fitting as she was a mangled mess of parts, but it was still sad because they now saw her as something creepy. Someone even stuck a spare endo head on her shoulder for the kids to mess around with, finding her lost eye and putting it on there.

Nobody seemed to care about fixing her anymore..but you still did.

So after every shift, you’d do the same thing even though she couldn’t be absolutely perfect. It was like a ritual at this point; you simply couldn’t leave her parts scattered all over the floor overnight.

Mangle is aware of your efforts, but she became pessimistic about her situation once she realized what she became. After you try to reattach her tail, she turns around and asks you, “why bother? They will just ruin me the next day”, speaking in such a sad tone that breaks your heart. She’s convinced it’s pointless considering you don’t get paid to reassemble her anymore, so she thinks you’re just wasting your time.

Though you just pet her ears and reassure her that she’s still beautiful and you’d feel guilty if you left her that way. Your conscience wouldn’t let you go anywhere until she was somewhat whole. Plus, she’s your favorite out of all the animatronics so you wanted to do something nice for her--as one friend helping another.

She sees you’re genuine in your words and actions, thanking you with a smile as her tail finally clicks back into its rightful place.

Indeed, you were a true friend. A best friend, even.

#clanask #anonymous #fnaf x reader #five nights at freddy's x reader #fnaf 2 #fnaf mangle #platonic #fluff

[pouringmyheartoutforpaper]

All along there was some invisible string, tying you to me.

Prologue to pouringmyheartoutforpaper’s five part series.

I want this series to be a love that not only can I write into existence for myself, but for you all as well. I hope you all enjoy

cw: reader is referred to as "dove" just because I don't like using y/n, friends to lovers, eventual smut, reader was cheated on before because ✨spice✨, mostly fluffy if im being honest. shy reader, sweet reader, sweet stevie,let me know if I missed anything !!

Crimson roses engulfed her being. Body and soul blooming once more, the soft petals coming to life again. The vines that were once adorned with pale pink roses and a dangerous lack of thorns thread through her psyche. The thorns were what grew back first, after the fire. The delicacy of the petals was what caused her downfall in the first place. The raw sensitivity and emotion that came with her being, mingled with the desire to be loved; is what distracted her so much that she simply never grew thorns. So naturally, the corrupt are drawn to the vulnerable, which led her here. Rebuilding. Reblooming,

Do not be fooled, for the crimson-red roses remain beautiful, sensitive, and delicate. But the thorns have grown. A heart as beautiful and delicate as this needs the highest protection. Especially as they blossom and grow once more. Luckily, Steve Harrington's roses have also grown once more, and he is more than ready to find the love of his life.

They say souls are tied. Tied by a string, delicate but unbreakable. This string is what finally brought you into Steve Harrington's life on this fateful day.

“Steveee! I need you to act normal for around… two minutes maybe?” Robin warned him. Telling him your name, and that you were coming to pick her up and get lunch before dropping her off. 

“Why haven’t I heard about this girl?” He retorted, “You’re out here getting dates and not even tellin-”

“What? No! She’s not like that. We’re just friends, dingus. Not my type.” And truth be told, she didn’t have a type. She was only having you come to her work to meet Steve. Something inside of her told her she needed you to meet. It’s not like shes playing matchmaker. No, you’re just one of her best friends…along with Steve.

He found himself getting nervous at the thought of that. “Whatever, but It’s not like i’m gonna scare her off!”

Her eyes rolled before the sound of your car entering the parking lot rang in their ears. Steve made his way into the backroom to put the last of the tapes that customers had scattered across the counter into their respective places before re-entering the cluttered shop.

Your eyes met immediately.

 A golden light surrounds you both. The most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Your lips parted with a sheen of gloss on them. Eyes focused on him. Your dress, endowed with florals, hung around your thighs. The sunlight through the window illuminates your features in a way he could only describe as ethereal. An angel. Sent down just for him. Like you walked straight out of a dream.

His eyes widened and softened, mouth agape. Your expression mirrored his own. A soft smile, faces alight.

“dove, this is steve.”

And just like that, he was back in the room, with the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, and as far as he is concerned, the most beautiful woman in the universe.

Not that either of you knew, but your thoughts were completely mirrored. 

Your lips find the strength to move, voice soft and pretty.

“Hello Steve.”

And before you knew it, you were visiting the family video every day. You were friends with Steve Harrington, and all of the children that came along with him. You had regular movie nights with Steve and Robin, occasionally Eddie and Dustin would join you, maybe even the rest of the kids. The best friends you’ve ever had.

And against your will, falling in the safest, most comfortable, genuine love. 

#steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve stranger things #steve harrington x y/n #steve fluff #stevie #steve harrington fic #dove and steve

[dogshit-gambler]

 Duality of Man: Konig x Medic!F!Reader 

Summery: You’ve been captured by AQ and the battering ram guides you to safety. 

SFW - Friends to Lovers (kinda) - Canon Typical Violence - Konig Being Unhinged - Also Konig Swearing his Devotion to Reader on This Fine Tuesday - Brief Mention of Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley - Too Lazy To Beta Read, We Die Like Men!!

☁ This isn’t exactly how you’d imagine spending a Friday night, you’d much prefer huddling up at home with a fresh cup of tea; but reality was never that kind. Instead, you were hiding behind a demolished bookshelf. Managing to escape your binds, hiding was the next best thing for a woman in capture. You knew help would arrive but you did not know if they’d survive. AQ was powerful, trafficking humans and weapons, their tyranny was wicked. You heard gunfire, wondering, praying if that was your aid dropping like flies. 

☁ Konig was considered your friend, but he never had the guts to tell you how he really felt. To suffer from such anxiety, fighting was his medicine apart from your company. You wondered why someone like him would be so afraid of others and their cruel judgment when he was a mountain of a man. He was quiet and kind, his voice never loud or aggressive. Especially with you, he was considerate and gentle. You’d tended to his wounds before, easing him into peace with butchered German words he’d taught you with each stitch or dab or iodine. You never knew what he was like on the field, nor did you really want to know. He was described as a battering ram by others, standing at a noble 6′10. He was always the first to be seen but his desire to remain small always remained. 

☁ The door was locked with a bolt chain and had an ammo create flush against it. You peeked around the broken shelf, noticing an AQ fighter by the door, a Russian made rifle in his hands. You stood no chance and were no fighter. Running was the only option. “You! Stay there or I’ll shoot!” He shouted at another hostage. You heard heavy steps sprinting in the hallway behind the door. Guns fired off like popcorn. Behind the locked door was Konig, the person you were hoping to see. Behind him stood Ghost who covered his back, shooting into anyone who dared showed even a sliver of their forehead behind the corner. “Go in, and I’ll cover you.” Ghost’s thick English accent rolled off his tongue in a surprisingly calm way. “Locked,” Konig grunted. “Is there anyone inside?” He called out in a cracked voice. His heart raced in his chest as he prepared to body-slam into the door. He was foolishly strong and a chain did nothing to protect the fighters from his wrath. He slammed the meaty side of his bicep into the door and heart the wood crack. Again, he slammed himself into the door. Your hands shook, sweat blinding your eyes from the blistering heat formed by the chaos. You knew his voice anywhere. His thick German accent was another part of him you admired. Konig growled as he pushed the door open, he felt a distinct heaviness against the bottom of it. 

☁Fearing the worst, you slipped into the backroom and locked the door. The fighter, knowing he was outnumbered still stood his ground. “You idiot! You believe this will stop me?” Konig laughed as he made the final push through the door. In his act of bravery, he slammed into the fighter and knocked him to the ground. You watched from a bullet hole in the wall what Konig had done. He jabbed his combat knife into the side of the man’s neck and ripped it out with ease. Konig was a hulking figure, now covered in blood he was not the kind, gentle man you remembered. His eyes were wide, his muscle now hulking as blood rushed through him. Ghost stood behind him, the pair looking more like a team of demon hounds than your allies. He rose to his feet, blood dripping from his hood. 

☁You banged on the door, tears in your eyes. “It’s me! I’m inside!” Konig snapped his head to your voice. “I’m coming! Stand back!” He rolled his shoulders before battering the door. “All’s clear,” Ghost said into his walkie talkie. “All hostages are found.” “Copy that, LT.” 

☁ Konig barreled through the door and part of you wanted to run from him too. He looked... different. Like another version of himself was fronting. You could only see his eyes, but his pupils were so large they looked more like black pits. “Keine Sorge, ich bin hier, Y\N.” (Don’t worry, I’m here.) He dropped to his knees to meet you. “I’m right here. I’m here to take you somewhere safe.” He enjoyed killing but he’d never tell you. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten you, but he had surely done that now. “I...” His mask was stained in blood and he smelled like it. It was grueling to look at someone you  cared about like that. “I didn’t scare you, did I, schatz?” (darling.) His eyes softened, his pupils back to their normal size again. “Come, let’s get you back to safety. Follow me, bitte.” (Please)

 ☁  For once, it was Konig tending to your wounds. Still, the image of him was seared into your mind. You rested on your side, your shirt pulled up to your ribs. He was quiet and hadn’t spoken to you since your rescue. “Did I scare you, Y\N?” He asked bluntly. He was so different now. He never removed his sniper hood but at least he didn’t wear the smell of death anymore. “I... didn’t mean for you to see that. I never... intended for you to see me like that, schatz.” He looked at you, his eyes relaxed on your skin. You winced in pain as he cleaned the wound on your side. “I’m sorry.” He said, gently patting your skin. You weren’t upset at him for just doing his job, you were just... surprised by that side of him. By seeing him kill ruthlessly and swiftly, without a trace of humanity left in his eyes. Now, he was tender. Now, he was different. “You’d never... be angry at me, right, Konig? Now of course if I did something to deserve your anger, but I mean... You’d never...” 

 ☁  I’d never hurt you. I swear it. I promise. Du hast mein wort.” (you have my word)You trusted him with your life after tonight, as he proved he’d go through great lengths to protect it. His large hands worked tenderly to bandage the wound. “I need you to sit up, please. Move slowly.” His voice was quiet, but still had an air of strength to it. He helped you sit up so he could wrap a bandage around your lower half. He was crouched before you as he wrapped the bandage around your stomach. “Ich weiß, es tut weh...” (I know it hurts.) You placed your hand on the top of his head, your fingers treating his mask like a tender head of hair. You ran them down to his ear and where you thought his jaw would be. He looked in your eyes, the contact making his heart race. He finished the bandage, pulling your shirt down in place. He remained before you, kneeling. Two eye holes were cut in his hood, the tender blue eyes gazing at you. “Thank you, Konig.” He relished in your gentle touch, the urge to lean into your hand was very tempting. “You’re most welcome. It’s the least I could do.” 

#Konig #Konig COD #COD Konig #cod fanfic #cod fandom