#oh no the slash potential... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tomsparkyr · 3 months ago

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𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐒 𝐅𝐋𝐘!

following episode one of 'inside' — george clarke x fem!reader

by any means i do not own 'inside' and all credit is theirs (!!)

wc: 6.4K

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You sat yourself down on the chair placed in the middle of the room, a soft blue and purple light flooding the area. You smiled at the camera in front of you, feeling a little bit nervous at the entire concept of the show; but nonetheless, you still agreed to contribute to it.

It was difficult not to tell your friends about the whole thing, sworn (and to a contract) that you weren’t allowed to tell them you were entering a home with no outside contact for 7 days; only allowed to tell them you were taking a social media break.

Your family knew, obviously. But unable to tell your fellow youtuber friends was tough, because it was so painfully obvious where you were going.

Having to lie to George, Chris and everyone else was awkward. They had arranged plans for the next week and you had to reluctantly say no, because of course, you would much rather be stuck in a home with people you don’t know and then spending money that could potentially be yours.

Clearing your throat, you introduced yourself.

”Hello, my name is Y/N, I’m 24 and I’m a youtuber slash content creator!” You grinned expectantly at the camera.

Continuing, “Most of my content is just… me and my friends getting drunk and filming it because we think we’re funny!” You answered honestly, thinking back on the many times you got too drunk filming pub golf videos that George had to give you a piggy-back on the walk home.

The camera crew asked you how well you think you’re going to do in the challenge,

“I’d like to think I’ll do well, honestly!” You laughed.

”I spend money but I don’t spend so much at a time; like I could go weeks without buying something, then suddenly I’m a couple hundred quid down within a week?”

You continued, “I think I can go without my phone for a week; I’d like to think I’m not that addicted.” You laughed and cringed slightly.

”If anything I think I’ll miss my friends more than anything. I’m sure I’ll love the people there but it’s meeting new faces, I’d just love to walk in there now and see someone I know— My dog! That’s it, I’ll miss my dog this most!” You interrupted yourself, losing your train of thought.

The camera crew laughed at you and pushed the interest about your dog back home, “I just hope she’s being looked after. I’ve left her with George for the week so I think she’ll live?” You laughed nervously.

Upon this, the camera crew behind the device smirked and tilted their heads downwards so you couldn’t see their face. A couple of them turned around and subtly nudged each other.

It was at this point that the crew said that your interview was over and that it was time to enter the place you’ll be living in for the next week.

You nervously picked up your suitcase, clinging onto your comfort pillow in your right arm and hugging it tight to your chest. You couldn’t remember if you could take this into the house but taking no risks, you took it anyway.

You entered a white room with zero life in it; a metal detector gate stood in the centre of the room and a hole to put your luggage in.

”Oh, God.” You muttered under your breath as you realised there was no turning back now.

You paused for a second and scanned the area before realising it was just you in here, “Oh, I’m by myself… that’s embarrassing.” You laughed at yourself, knowing your friends at home were going to be making fun of you when this aired.

Walking through the metal detector, you lugged your suitcase behind you and only just recognised that you might have overpacked for a place that would not utilise your items in absolutely any way.

After putting your suitcase on the conveyor, you walked through to the main area in which you could hear some voices, none of which you could distinguish.

Walking through the empty hallway, you called out “Hello?”

Upon saying this, two heads poked out and their eyes widened at the sight of you.

The girl ran over to you and embraced you into a hug and introduced herself, “Hey, I’m Mya!” She smiled at you as you responded; she was happy there was another girl in the house with her already.

Meanwhile, the man who had seen you first turned his attention to the other male in the house as you and Mya embraced; “Yo, George, isn’t that your girlfriend?”

George furrowed his brows, a bit taken aback “My what?” He laughed a bit as his feet took him towards the hallway to peek at the new arrival; who was supposedly his girlfriend?

Pulling back from Mya’s hug, you made direct eye-contact with George, your best friend, standing a couple feet away from you. “What the fuck?” You shouted and broke out into a sprint towards him, him already on route to you.

”No way!” He shouted back and caught your figure into a tight hug, his arms wrapped comfortably around your waist and lifted you off the ground slightly as he buried his face into your neck amidst the hug.

You slung your arms around his broad shoulders and fell into the all too familiar embrace, catching his scent and subtly running your hands through the hair on the back of his head.

”Why didn’t you tell me you were coming in here?” He chuckled, his voice muffled as his head was tucked into your neck; he had settled you down onto the floor now but didn’t falter his grip by any means.

You laughed back at him, pulling your head away so you could maintain eye-contact with him, “Why didn’t you tell me?” You retorted jokingly.

PK looked confused, “So they are boyfriend and girlfriend then?” Mya laughed at him, knowing the extent that you and George got shipped on Tiktok, the occasional edit finding itself on everyone’s for you page.

You and George turned back to look at PK,“No, no! George is my best friend!” You smiled at him, still in disbelief that George was actually here; “Half my videos are just with her.” George finished for you.

PK tilted his head, pointing between you two in which at the time you realised George’s hands were still resting on your waist while yours were cradling the back of his neck.

Confused (still), PK shook his head and waved his hand in dismissal, completely convinced that he was looking at a couple in front of him.

As more people entered one by one, you and George dispersed from the group, his arm slung around your shoulders and keeping you against him the entire time.

You shook your head and looked up at him with a smile, “What are you even doing here?”

George smiled down at you as you settled themselves down on the sofa in the living room.

“Dunno, the Sidemen like me so I thought, why not?” He laughed at himself, you scooted closer to him as he picked up a cushion to set it down on yours and his lap.

He nudged you, “What about you, you little minx, how did you keep that a secret from me?”

You smirked and fiddled with the loose threads on the cushion.

”I didn’t tell anyone!” You admitted, “Not you, not Chris, not Arthur; I told no one! Not even— Wait…” You trailed off, eyes widening.

”George, who’s looking after my dog?” You said, fear flooding your features.

George laughed and threw his head back, a hand rubbing up and down your shoulder as you persisted on the whereabouts of your dog.

”She’s living with Chris and Arthur for the week.” He reassured you, an obvious relief washing over you as your shoulders fell from a hunched position.

In your own little world, you and George nattered away to each other, updating him on everything he’s missed and completely ignorant to the new members joining the house; because you were all too consumed with each other.

George just knew at that moment that when this aired, Chris was going to rip into the way he was staring at his ‘best friend’.

A shouting voice tore you out of your George-infused daze as it was directed at you two, “Wait, you’re that couple that’s always edited on my for you page?”

The blonde girl next to her snapped her head around to the pair of you sitting with George’s arm still around you, her eyes widening, “Holy shit! I love you two!”

George’s cheeks suddenly were painted a pink colour and you sported a flushed face. An awkward laugh bubbled from your chest, “What?”

Upon seeing your awkward faces and red creeping up your necks, the blonde girl covered her mouth and apologised, “Oh fuck! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—“

You stood up and left George’s touch, walking over to the girl with a comforting smile on your face.

“Don’t worry! Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N.” You said as you raised your arms out for a hug.

She met you halfway as she responded,“Ugh, you’re gorgeous. I’m Milli.” She smiled sweetly at you, peering over her shoulder to see the other girl still gawking at you.

The louder one strutted over and immediately pulled you into a hug, “I’m Farah, who is sorry about—“ “Oh, God. Don’t even worry about it!” You reassured the girl, finding it quite amusing that you and George had crept your ways onto other people’s for you page.

time skip!

The bedroom situation was the next challenge.

After introducing yourself to everyone (they acted as if they didn’t know who you were, but they had all seen the George x Y/N edits) you all made your way over to the bedrooms, some even breaking out into a sprint.

A couple people jumped onto their beds, claiming it as their own. There were two double beds and the rest were singles, but because there were only 10 people at the time, sharing a double bed wouldn’t be an issue at the moment.

George leaped onto one bed and said sarcastically, “Oh my God, guys, stop fighting over my bed!” You laughed at him and slowly sat down on the one remaining bed next to his.

You crawled onto your bed after readjusting the pillows against the headboard so you could sit up comfortably, leaning back and allowing your eyes to close momentarily.

It wasn’t until you felt a nudge on your shin that you opened your eyes and saw a George Clarke resting on his stomach, a pillow squished between his chest and the bed, his beaming smile staring at you.

You tilted your head at him and smiled softly, lightly kicking your foot back at him as his hand lingered on your leg; the rest of the room became a blur as he kept looking at you.

Sending a quick wink your way, he hoisted himself up off the bed and gestured a hand out to you. You took it as he helped you onto your feet, so the group could walk back into the living room per producers request.

The group all positioned themselves on the couch, George settling down on the end as you squeezed between him and Mandi. With little spare room on the couch, George carefully lifted your leg so it was led over his thigh and his hand rested comfortably on your knee. Opposite you, Whitney grinned at the action.

George was fiddling with his bottle as the group conversed, “So, Y/N what do you do?” Cinna asked you.

Hearing your name, you perked up. “I mainly do YouTube videos with this weirdo here.” You pointed a thumb George’s way.

The group laughed at you and took careful notice at your closeness with George. “And George, what do you do?” She continued.

George tilted his head, “I started on TikTok.” He trailed off as Whitney butted in. “Do you talk on TikTok?”

“Yeah.” George responded. Whitney persisted, “Why not in real life?” You furrowed your brows at this. George, oblivious to her, said “Should I stop?” as he pointed at himself jokingly.

“But you don’t talk in real life! I’m like “George…” Whitney said. She was then interrupted by the Sidemen walking in, smug smirks tugging on their face.

You and George smiled at the familiar faces, previously being in Sidemen videos in the past. You took notice that George’s mood had picked up more now he knew more than one person, becoming more comfortable in the odd place he was confined in.

JJ began for the group, “Welcome to the new series of Inside!”

The group whooped and cheered at this. Everyone was excited at the prospect of winning a million pounds.

The Sidemen began listing off the rules and concept of Inside, everyone nodding along and the occasional verbal reaction.

Harry pointed at you and the group, “You’ll be glad to know, the shop is now open!” You and Farah made eye-contact and started jumping up to run to the shop as a joke, the group laughing at the pair of you.

JJ said one last thing before everyone bid their goodbyes to the Sidemen, “Good luck, motherfuckers!”

You all clapped and half heartedly cheered, more nervous than excited at this rate because the money you could win was in the hands of everyone else.

Farah quickly asked as they were leaving, “Wait, can I ask? When is the first challenge?”

“Shut up.”

time skip!

The group all discussed that you wanted to keep the prize money at least 800K, agreeing with a ‘hands in the middle’ before you all jogged down to the shop.

As you entered, half the group were already in there and complaining about the lack of choices they could purchase, Milli however wasn’t upset about the prices at this point.

You and George lurked at the back, shoulder to shoulder and laughed at Mandi as she stood up to the camera asking about the whereabouts of her vodka.

As a quarter of the group decided on food and drinks as the first purchase before you butted in with a suggestion, “Wait, surely we should get some entertainment first, just so we don’t all want to die on the first day?”

George, Dylan and Milli pointed at you, nodding and verbalising their agreement. Milli grabbed your upper arm and took you both to the camera to confirm your order.

“I’ll say table tennis bat and you’ll say table tennis ball, right?” You asked her, she smiled as you both poked your head up to the camera and held your microphone to your mouth.

“Can I confirm the table tennis bat,” “And the table tennis ball, please?” You and Milli spoke, giggling at each other after as you made eye-contact.

You distanced yourself from the group and they began talking louder and speaking over each other, finding yourself settled next to George who had barely spoken outside of you since being in here.

Looking at the list of items, you nudged George, “What the fuck is a ‘golden straw’?” You laughed and furrowed your brows.

You saw his eyes scan the list and chuckle at the item considering its price, “That’s actually a stupid price.” He thought out loud.

“I swear if anyone buys that shit…” You closed your eyes and shook your head, sneaking your arms around him so you could link arms.

The door suddenly opened to reveal the items you and Milli had bought. She turned around and called your name to come over to her. You walked over and tugged George close along behind you.

You saw Milli’s shoulder drop and she leaned down to pick the item up, “What?” You questioned. She turned around and lifted up the one tennis bat.

“No!” You gasped and tightened your grip on George’s arm. “Is it one?” He asked, dreading the worst after your reaction.

“It’s one!” Milli confirmed your suspicions. You groaned, cursing out the Sidemen as everyone around out kept bickering. You watched as Dylan walked back to the camera.

“I’m confirming that you did scam us with that one, I’m not going to lie. So we are ordering one more bat.” He purchased the other bat.

You turned around to face George, smiling up at him as his figure towered over you. “I’m gonna kick your ass at table tennis.” You promised to him and yourself. Laughing at you, he drifted his hands down to rest on your hips, “Best out of three; guaranteed I’m gonna win all three.” He replied smuggly, looking down at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Not bothering to listen to everyone talk about eating arrangements, you yanked George’s arm and the pair of you ran back to the living room, table tennis bats in hands and laughing in joy. Even in a confined house with 10 other people, you found George attached to you as if it was only the pair of you; no one else mattered except for him.

George walked around the table, shoving you lightly before the game started in an attempt to throw you off. You cleared your throat, “This is a practice round, no cheating and no foul play!”

“You’re only saying it’s a practice round so you’re not embarrassed when I kick your ass.” George winked at you and threw the table tennis ball down onto the table.

You heard a playful gag next to you, “Ew, guys stop flirting!” Cinna stated sarcastically. You and George only laughed and began playing against each other.

George played against you for a couple rounds, the game going back and forth a handful of times. Eventually, after a good 15 minutes, you beat George in a tight game. George only shrugged and walked backwards to sit on the couch, leaning his body back and relaxing for the first time since walking in here.

You tilted your head and called Dylan up to play against you, still high on adrenaline. “Dylan, come play the reigning champion!”

Hearing this, George’s head popped up with furrowed brows. “What? I thought you said it was a practice round?” He asked in mock offence.

You shrugged, “Yeah it was… until I beat you.” George suppressed a laugh into a groan and rolled his head back as you shot him a sickeningly sweet smile; knowing he had been caught out by you once again (not that he did anything to stop it).

interview room!

“I mean, I think I’ve started off decently. Barely spent money so far, but I haven’t been down there since I got the table tennis stuff.”

“I mean, I don’t really care about winning now that I’ve beaten George in table tennis! I’ve known him for years, played against him thousands of times and now suddenly hours into my new home for the week and straight off the bat I’ve already taken the win”

“My main concern right now is that I’m so hungry. And I know the meals are gonna be shit, but honestly, I could take anything right now!”

After gossiping about the whole pot noodle fiasco, an alert came up on the screen: ‘Lunch is now ready to collect from the shop’.

“Oh, thank God.” You groaned, feeling the effects of a constant rumbling stomach taking a toll on you. George, who was sitting opposite you looked puzzled and partially offended, “You’re taking the piss. Lunch?”

Leading the pack down to the shop, you skipped down to the final step and came face to face with an open trap door and met some… unpleasant food. Picking up two of the pots, you inspected the food.

George creeped in behind you and peered over your shoulder. Upon seeing his presence, you passed him his meal and stiffled a laugh at his scrunched up nose and face of disgust.

Grabbing a spoon, you opened the pot and attempted not to be put off it immediately. You watched Mandi verbally express her utter hatred towards the food; placing a hand on her shoulder, you urged her to try a bit before she opted out. “Hey, Mandi. Just try a little before--”

“Can I confirm an upgrade, please?” You sighed as she ignored you. Feeling awkward now, George wrapped his arm around its usual spot on your shoulder and tugged you against him, whispering in your ear not to worry about it; unbeknownst that the cameras can see and hear everything.

The pair of you walked away from the chaos of buying upgrades, chatting to each other and sitting back down onto the couch.

Cinna watched you and walked up to you, “Come with me to get the rest?” She urged, knowing many people had left scraps of food down in the shop and was aware of your hunger earlier on.

You smiled at her and left George’s touch, him frowning slightly. You followed side by side with Cinna, strutting into the shop and splitting the weight of the spare food between the two of you.

As you began walking away, you spotted something shiny left in the shop.

“No fucking way.” You murmered, now having personal issues with this goddamned straw. Cinna turned around at your words, eyes widening and walking over to pick up the straw.

“Is there a golden straw in there? Did they leave it?” She questioned no one in particular.

You threw the straw a rude face, “That shit cost fucking £2,500?” You shook your head, already having some suspects on who bought it.

Snatching the straw off her, you stormed ahead to the living room to ask some very needed questions; Cinna laughing at you as she trailed behind, finding your beef with the straw hilarious.

“Who bought this?” You spoke loudly as you entered the room, watching George on the beanbag throw his head back in mock frustration, murmuring some swear words in the wake.

Cinna walked in and made a bee-line for Mandi, “It was you, wasn’t it?” Mandi’s lack of an answer told you the whole story.

Passing the straw to Mandi, you felt a hand brush yourself and looked down to George playing with your fingers as he remained seated, his eyes watching the conversations rather than you. You suppressed a smile at this and tried to fight back a blush from creeping onto your face.

You were snapped out of your thoughts as the voice of Tobi rang around the house, “It’s time for your first challenge.”

time skip!

Finally, it was you and George remaining; neither of you had been selected to compete in Insider Dating (a part of you felt like they set you two up on purpose, but by no means were you complaining).

“And lastly… George? Y/N?” Simon smirked, holding his card close to his chest.

The group whooped and cheered as the pair of you stood up, even JJ was jeering you on. Tobi leaned in to whisper something in his ear, and JJ let out his gawking laugh in response. You groaned, fully aware it was something revolving between you and George.

George sat down opposite you, a worried grin painted on his face as you sucked in a deep breath, picking up the menu in front of you.

“For not the first restaurant date for these two,” Simon started, smirking as he watched both of your faces grow a shade darker and keeping your heads down low. Some of the other contestants let out a wolf-whistle and slammed the table as they laughed at Simon’s joke. “On the menu for you two is Shocking Questions.”

As you inspected the menu more, confused on what was happening, George had already figured it out. He looked at the Sidemen for confirmation and said, “Oh.” You looked up at him, hoping he wouldn’t see your blush. “What’s that?”

“We’ll be getting shocked.” He said with a lack of enthusiasm. You closed your eyes and sighed, nervous about both the questions and being shocked; but remaining determined that you wouldn’t press the red buzzer.

Simon started, “Okay, George. You’ll be answering the questions first, so, Y/N, please ask the first question.”

You took a deep breath, inspecting the question before looking up at George and asking him, “What is your worst online dating experience?”

Unsure when to start, George looked around him and then at the camera, “Okay, um…”

He placed his hands on the table in front of him, “I matched with somebody on--” He cut himself off as an electric jolt sent his body forwards as he groaned in pain. You covered your mouth in shock and offered a hand out on the table for him to grip onto for comfort.

Taking your hand very quickly he continued, “That’s a lot of power. Um. I matched with somebody on Hinge, and I was speaking to them for about two days. Voice notes back and forth, it was fun. And then--”

Another jolt came through and he squeezed your hand hard, cursing out in the meantime, “Oh, God! I’m sorry, Y/N!” You shook your head and reassured him, “No, no! Keep going, you’re doing great!” The contestants laughed at you as you attempted to comfort George as more jolts came through.

“Fucking hell. Um, then I tried to meet up with them, but it turns out they weren’t real. I was there for an hour and a half.” You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at his story, focusing on him and keeping eye-contact with him to try and urge him through this. Also thinking at the same time, if his questions were bad, think of the masacre for you.

“I came back home, reverse Google Image searched them--” George’s body locking up in pain from the electric, “And they weren’t real. Fucking hell, that’s a lot!” He groaned, still squeezing your hand across the table.

Simon urged you to ask the next question, “Could we please have the second question?”

Your eyes widened at the question and George felt more jolts come through, “Oh, my God, please, can we make it a quick one?” He begged, playing with your fingers and cracking your knuckles as a way to distract himself from the pain. “Oh, my God. That was actually quite bad.”

You began starting the next question, interrupted by George burying his head into his bicep and groaning out, “Fuck!”

“If you had to snog, marry and avoid three Insiders, who and why?” You stared into his eyes as a faint pink sprinkled his cheeks; you couldn’t decipher whether that was out of pain or embarrassment of the question.

George pulled a shocked yet puzzled face, “I don’t fucking know!”

PK from the side shouted out, “Yes, you fucking do!” while pointing your way; you were unable to see this as your eyes were trained on George in front of you.

“Both genders?” George joked to try and diffuse the situation, making the Sidemen laugh as jolts of electricity came through more frequently and painfully.

George shook his head and gestured towards you, “Snog you, avoid Farah,” He turned around to face her and sent an apologetic look her way, “Sorry, you’re quite loud!” The rest of the group laughed as he turned back to you, “And marry Y/N!”

The group, including the Sidemen all screamed and pointed accusing fingers at George, while you sat with a mouth open and a surely bright red face by now. “You said Y/N twice!” Simon raised his brows and shouted at the man. “You can’t pick the same person twice!” JJ laughed.

George’s eyes widened as he realised what he did, “Shit! I meant marry Y/N, snog Y/N-- Shit!” He cursed as another jolt came through and stumbled over his words, “Fuck! No! Snog Mya!”

Everyone, including you laughed at him as Simon now approved the answer, and George’s grip on your hand faltered and he hid his face on the table, embarrassed beyond belief.

Some of the girls awed at his answer as the chaos had only just settled down, the focus turning on to you (as if it wasn’t already).

You rolled your head back in an attempt to release some nerves but failed to do so. You swallowed hard and looked in front of you to see George, now sat upright, staring at you with something in his eyes that you couldn’t decipher.

Looking down at the table, you saw George’s extended hand open for you, “Tit for tat?” He tilted his head, smiling at you as you accepted it, your palm brushing his. He took a deep breath as his heart jumped a little bit at the intimate moment shared in front of everyone and dozens of cameras.

Simon perked up again, “George, could you please ask the first question?”

George looked down at the question sheet, eyes widening at the second question in particular, but chose to tackle that situation when he got there.

“Y/N,” You were waiting for the first shock but it hasn't come yet, “Why did you break up with your last boyfriend?” George asked.

Your mouth dropped open in shock, “Oh, God. Alright, so basically--” You screamed as the first shock came through and your body jolted forward in a much similar fashion as George’s previously had. You gripped his hand hard, feeling bad that you could potentially be hurting him in the process.

“You’ve got it, you’ve got it.” George encouraged you, a soft smile etched across his face.

“Shit! Okay--” Another shock going up your spine, painful but quick, “He said I was in-- Fuck!” More and more shocks came through. You understood you would have to rush this answer because there was no way you could get through it at this rate.

“He said I was in love with someone else apparently, so he-- Shitting Hell!” You gripped George’s hand. “So he cheated on me and I snitched on him to his mother!” You blurted out, hearing the loud laughter from the contestants and the Sidemen around you, even George was trying and failing to suppress a laugh.

JJ’s laugh stood out from everyone elses, “Damn Y/N! We’ll take that. George, next question?”

George’s smile fell slightly, “Right, Y/N…” Your body jolted forward in pain, “Shit! George, I love you but please hurry up!” The group laughed at your reaction.

“Okay! Okay! Y/N explain the story of your first kiss.” His voice faltered towards the end, heart thumping in his chest as your face paled.

Your eyes widened and you shook your head rapidly, “No! No! I can’t say that!” Tobi butted in, “Answer or lose 10K!”

A horrendous jolt of electricity went through your body and your hand held George’s while the other bunched up the cloth of the table as you squeezed it.

“Tell us, Y/N!” You heard other contestants shout at you. Milli shouted, “Come on, Y/N! You can do it!”

You tossed your head back, “Fuck! Okay! So basically, we were younger and neither of us-- Shit!”

“Neither of us had had our first kiss yet, so we--” You groaned, head now falling forwards as your hair covered your face slightly. George leaned over and brushed it away, tucking it behind your ears.

“Push the button, Y/N!” JJ urged. “Fuck off!” You screamed back, some of the group crying with laughter and standing up in doing so.

“We played odds on that we had to kiss right then and there! That’s it! Please turn this fucking thing off!” You begged, feeling sweat drip from your forehead now.

However, Simon decided to alter the rules of the game.

“Y/N, we’re not accepting that until you tell us who it was with.”

Your eyes bulged out of their head as the screaming around you ensured, George falling unusually quiet compared to everyone else as his gaze remained locked on you.

“What the fuck? That’s not-- Oh, God!” You groaned, “That’s not fair!”

JJ and Tobi just laughed, “Just tell us!”

You shook your head rapidly, “No fucking way!”

“Say it!” They screamed.

“No!” You responded with the same energy.

“You’re not leaving until you tell--”

“George!”

Everyone around you jumped up in shock and amusement, smacking the table laughing and pointing fingers at you and George.

George’s mouth also dropped open in shock as he didn’t think you would actually admit to it, blush coating his neck and cheeks as everyone was looking at you two and that you had exposed your deepest secret.

Your body relaxed as the shocks stopped but you didn’t necessarily win; sure, not losing 10K is great, but now on day one of your new home, everyone would talk about you and George, definitely not helping your case that you’re not dating.

Simon removed his hand from covering his mouth in shock, “Well… I guess you passed.” He didn’t know what to say, no one did really; everyone was just screaming incoherent words in disbelief of this entire situation.

You had never wanted to hear the words of Tobi more in your entire life, “Insiders, you have completed your first challenge of the series.”

time skip!

After a long first day, you had settled yourself down onto the couch in the living room. Led down, you sported George’s hoodie as he found himself back at the table tennis court; this time battling against PK. Blocking everyone out, you drift off for your much needed nap.

As George played against PK, the new contestant DDG had some questions.

“I didn’t know the Sidemen let couples on here.” He thought out loud, catching everyone in the room's attention. They looked at him with tilted heads. “Who’s the couple?” Cinna asked.

DDG pointed a thumb in your direction as you laid unconscious on the couch, “That’s your girl, right?” He nodded towards George.

George chuckled and looked down, “Yeah, George. How’s your girl?” PK teased.

Shaking his head, George served the tennis ball nonchalantly, “She’s just my friend.” He didn’t know who he was trying to prove, himself or those around him.

Dylan butted in, “Oh yeah, I just kiss my best friends every now and then.”

Without looking at them, George continued, “Ah! I was her first kiss, that doesn’t mean we just kiss every now and then.”

“Bet you’d like that, huh?” PK laughed. In mock retaliation, George served a harsh ball his way, the mini group laughing at him.

DDG looked between you on the couch and George standing to his right, “Hold up… you’re not dating her?” George shook his head.

He raised his brows, “For real, man?”

George slowly nodded, “For real.” He sounded partially disappointed but masked it as he continued playing table tennis.

time skip!

You found yourself standing in the shop alone, inspecting the items as you were yet to purchase anything for yourself, excluding the singular tennis bat earlier. You heard someone creeping up behind you.

“What are you thinking about, beautiful?” George whispered from beind you, crouching down slightly so he could reach your height. You leaned back into him and his hands wrapped around your waist.

“Why the fuck do I want that jiggly ball so bad?” You thought out loud. George responded with a loud gawking laugh, stumbling back a bit and bringing you with him.

You turned around and slapped his chest, “No, George! It’s not funny! Why does every part of me need that jiggly ball?”

He looked down at you with a suggestive eyebrow raise, your face fell as you understood what he was insinuating. “Oh, shut up!”

Laughing, you held his hand and walked out of the shop together. You settled on the couch again after your nap, reintroducing yourself Patrice as the last time you saw him was when you were half-asleep.

A couple of minutes later, you heard your name being whispered at the door. Standing up, you followed the noise and was met with George suppressing a wild grin and something stuffed up his shirt. “Oh, God. What did you do?” You smiled.

George leaned down and dragged the pair of you into the corner of the room, “I might have suggested that Farah get something for you.” Your eyes sparkled in excitement.

“No, you didn’t…” You mumbled.

It was then that George whipped out the bright purple and blue jiggly ball from underneath his shirt, handing it to you and bouncing it between his hands in the process, giggling in excitement. “Oh, my God!” You squealed.

You took the ball from him and played with it for a moment before looking up to see George already staring at you. You shook your head, smiling at him, “Thank you!”

You pulled him into a crushing hug, his strong arms wrapping around your waist and lifting you off the ground, swaying the pair of you back and forth slightly. He placed you back down as you seperated from the hug, hands remaining on your waist as you stared at each other, not breaking eye-contact.

Neither of you said anything to each other, but your eyes said so much more. The hand that wasn’t holding the ball reached up to his face and urged him to tilt his head to the side, before you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Pulling away from your peck, you smiled at him and backed away slightly. You tossed the ball so it hit his forehead lightly and bounced back into your hands, “I’ll see you later.” You bit your lip to keep your smile from growing.

Walking away, you didn’t notice that George watched you as you went; a hand pressed up against his cheek where you had kissed him, only hoping it was closer to his lips.

As bedtime rolled around, you situated yourself in your bed next to George’s. You rested on the side facing him, finding him doing the same and could recognise his beaming smile even in the darkness.

You rolled onto your back, staring up at the ceiling as the tiredness took a toll on you. You let your hand flop off the side of your bed, not thinking too much of it.

Then, you felt a soft brush against your hand and looked down at it, seeing George’s hand lacing his fingers with yours as his hand was stretched off his own bed. Leaning off the side of his bed, George pressed a soft kiss onto the back of your hand, signaling a sweet ‘goodnight’ to you before the pair of you dozed off.

Maybe this weird, confined lifestyle where everything was overpriced and challenges determined your mood for that day wasn’t too bad. But maybe, it was rather the person holding your hand that could help you tolerate this.

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reidsism · 2 months ago

Text

➳ DON’T WORRY — S.R

to nav 𓇙 to s.r mlist

spencer reid x fem!reader

in which spencer is having a tough time, and penelope garcia decides to take matters into her own hands, by sending him on a blind date

wc: 3.3k

warnings: none, just wine! all fluff and awkwardness and a shy blind date that’s not really a date but definitely feels like one (also my overabundance of italics)

a/n: my first spencer fic omg hi!!! pls go easy on me, i haven’t written in like three years and im still only on s9 of cm :,) also not beta’d lol

Spencer’s in a slump. He can’t deny it, even with the forced smiles and the constant “I’m fine”s to the team, day after day.

He knows the lack of sleep has manifested itself in his appearance—his undereyes are so dark he looks like he’s been punched, his hair is more unruly than usual, his clothes are rumpled. He’s even been having trouble focusing. Stumbling over his words. Mixing up numbers when he rambles, which isn’t even all that often anymore.

He knows the team’s been concerned, too.

Hotch has been glancing at him more during briefings and keeping an eye on him when on cases.

Frankly, Spencer’s getting a bit annoyed by it all.

And then, when he’s staring through the report on his desk, Penelope strolls into the bullpen like a woman on a mission, planting herself next to him, her hands on her hips with a wide grin.

Spencer sighs. “Garcia—”

She interrupts him. “I have a proposal for you.” She’s not hiding her excitement well; her legs are jumpy, her heels stuttering in place on the linoleum where she stands, and she’s even slightly shaking, positively vibrating with eagerness. Spencer holds in a groan. “I feel like the Good Doctor needs a bit of a pick-me-up. So, I’ve done what I do, and made some calls, and oh,” she grins impossibly wider. “Long story short, you have a date!”

Spencer blanches. “What…?”

Garcia just nods. “I set up a reservation for you two at Gianni’s—it’s this totally adorable little Italian place, you’ll love it.”

He can’t quite make out the rest of her rambling. He feels like his hearing is going again, like his headaches have come back full-force. He coughs, successfully ending Garcia’s rant. She just looks at him, a flicker of worry crossing her bright features before she sighs, taking a seat on the corner of his desk. She sets a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Spencer, you can’t lie to me, like, at all. I know you,” she wiggles his shoulder with a cheeky grin. “You’re, well… you’re struggling. We can see it, and, hey,” she leans down to smile softly, more reassuring. “You don’t need to treat it like a date if you don’t want to. I just know someone who I think you’ll click with, and I think it’ll be fun. Y’know, to let loose for a bit? Eat some good food, drink some good wine, have a fun, not death-slash-kidnapping-slash-totally-terrible-things-based conversation? I mean, honestly, Reid, when’s the last time you had a normal conversation with someone outside of us?”

And, well… that makes Spencer pause. He thinks—really, genuinely thinks. About two weeks and four days ago, he made a call to a semi-local bookstore to see if they had a first-edition copy of The Outsider by HP Lovecraft in stock. (They didn’t.)

Since then, cases have taken up most of his time. He mostly spends his days working on cases at the BAU or reviewing the files at home.

Garcia knows she has him beat when Spencer hangs his head. She grins and claps her hands like she’s won a prize. “Yay! So, head home before it’s dark out, yeah? I’ll text you the details! It’ll be fun, don’t even worry about it!” She grins before heading back to her office down the hall, and Spencer sighs, putting his head onto his desk.

***

Spencer stands outside of the restaurant for, probably, longer than socially acceptable. He really would’ve rather not come, but then he started feeling guilty. He didn’t want to hurt Garcia’s feelings by refusing her, and he didn’t want to potentially hurt whoever she had set up to meet him by standing them up, even if he had no idea who they were.

The sign over the door says Gianni’s in blinking red neon, and he thinks the establishment seems… painfully fine, from his view into the windows. It’s not overly fancy, not exactly the vibe of a romantic first date. He mentally thanks Garcia for that.

He wrings his hands one final time before pulling open the glass door and stepping inside.

The hostess smiles brightly at him. “Hi! Welcome to Gianni’s,” she glances around him for a moment. “Party of one?” The smile turns to pity.

Spencer purses his lips in a tiny smile. “Uh, no. I have a reservation actually, under, uh…” he blinks. “Under Garcia?”

God, this is awkward. Spencer nibbles on his lower lip, glancing around the room as the hostess takes a look at the book beside the register. She nods. “Of course, sir. Right this way,” she grins, leading him to the back of the dining room, to a small table nestled in the corner right beside a huge window, the lights of the city nightlife shining through the glass.

He takes a seat with a small smile. The hostess says she’ll have someone over to take care of him shortly, and Spencer just nods before looking outside. It’s started to rain slowly tonight, small round droplets pattering the concrete sidewalk. He follows the lines they leave on the glass like a lure.

When the waitress comes over, she simply introduces herself—Sasha. She says she’ll come back once he’s settled, before leaving two laminated menus on the table and, strangely, taking the wine menu with her.

Spencer starts skimming over the menu, lower lip locked between his teeth. He worries the corner of the laminate between his fingers. Why is he so nervous? It’s not like this is a real date, after all, Garcia even told him it would just be something casual for him to get his mind off of work for a while. But he can’t help the strange stuttering in his chest when he thinks about it, meeting someone he doesn’t know for dinner. It’s not that he’s worried, no, he trusts Garcia. Even if her methods are, well, blunt, he knows that she knows him well enough not to drop a bomb on his lap in the form of a conversation partner.

He’s lost staring through the laminated cover of the menu when he hears footsteps nearing his little alcove in the corner. He glances up, and, well. Is it dramatic to say his breath catches? He’ll deny it if—or rather, when—Garcia asks.

You’re standing with a slightly nervous smile, the remnants of small raindrops clinging to your hair, with wet streaks shining on your skin. You wave shyly at him. “Hi, uh, are you Spencer?”

Spencer’s standing before you can even finish speaking, the chair scraping against the hardwood. He cringes. “Yeah- yes. Hi,” he smiles.

You extend your hand to shake before pulling it away quickly. He frowns. “Penelope mentioned you don’t really do handshakes,” you chuckle. “Can I sit?” You point at the chair across from him. Spencer nods, sitting back down in his seat, watching as you shed your coat and hang it on the back of the chair, before taking a seat across from him. You smile at him, introducing yourself. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long? I didn’t expect the rain to hit when it did, and I didn’t bring an umbrella.”

Spencer shakes his head with a small laugh; just the barest exhale from his nose. “Uh, no, don’t worry. I just got here. And I didn’t bring an umbrella either, so,” he grins back at you. “Don’t worry.”

“You said that twice,” you grin, all teeth. Spencer can feel the warmth flush his neck. “Don’t worry,” you echo. “Maybe the rain’ll let up by the time we leave.” You pick up the other menu, so casual, and Spencer watches you like a creature he’s never seen before.

His phone buzzes from its place on the table. You don’t look up from your menu, but Spencer can see a faint smirk on your face with a hint of mischief or mirth in your eyes. He scrambles to look at the screen, only to be met with a text from Garcia.

PG: Is she there yet? Call her pretty! And don’t forget to smile! You’ll be fine, Einstein <3

Spencer sighs, turning his phone off and tucking it into his messenger bag, hanging off the back of his seat. He murmurs a small apology, and you simply shake your head before lowering the menu. “Was it Pen?” At his guilty look, you grin and shake your head. “She was badgering me, too. Don’t worry.”

Spencer can't hold back his tiny smile. “We’re saying that a lot.” You just laugh. Any tension that might’ve lingered over the evening seems to dissipate into thin air.

It doesn’t take long for the waitress, Sasha, to return to the table, this time carrying a bucket filled with ice and a bottle of wine sticking out of the top. Spencer’s eyes widen comically, and you can only laugh as Sasha sets the bucket down. “A 2003 Pinot Gris,” she explains as she takes the bottle out and begins to fill both your glasses.

“I- I didn’t order any wine,” Spencer says, a strange, pathetic tinge to his voice as he helplessly watches his glass get filled. He hopes it’s not too expensive.

Sasha shakes her head. “It was requested when the reservation was made. Miss Garcia said she had your bill covered tonight.” She places the open bottle back into the bucket, the ice shifting around it. “So don’t worry. I’ll be back in a moment to take your orders,” she winks before stalking off.

You both stare at each other for a breath. The silence is broken with your contagious laughter, picking up your glass and raising it for a toast. “Well then. To Pen!”

Spencer grins, slowly raising his glass to gently clink it against yours. “To Garcia.”

Conversation flows naturally, more easily than Spencer had expected. Even when he went on an unintentional ramble about how fettuccine alfredo isn't really Italian, and how the word “pesto” literally means “to crush”, and how Pinot Gris is a French wine, not Italian like Pinot Grigio, even though they’re basically the same thing, and how a wine like this tends to pair well with pasta because of its dry, acidic profile that can cut through thick, creamy sauces.

When Spencer cut himself off to take a full, proper breath, he freezes. You have the sweetest smile on your face, your head resting on your hand like you’re really listening, like you’re actually interested in his long, unnecessary rambling. He takes a gulp of his wine and cringes. God, he hates wine.

When the food gets to the table, you grin at him. “I thought fettuccine alfredo wasn’t really Italian?” It’s a tease, yes, but Spencer doesn’t hear a trace of malice in your voice.

He shrugs, twirling some onto his fork. “I mean, it was technically invented in Rome, but it’s not the same. This version of fettuccine alfredo is an Americanized recreation from 1920s Hollywood,” he says, taking a bite. “Still, that doesn’t mean it’s not good.”

You chuckle, taking a bite of your own food. You grin at each other across the table like teenagers with a secret. It’s nice. Comfortable.

“So,” you start, pouring the last bit of wine, splitting the amount between your glass and his. “Aside from your impressive knowledge of the wine menu, what do you do when you’re not reading about Italian cuisine?”

Spencer shrugs, setting his fork down. “I, uh, I read. A lot.”

You smile. “Yeah, you seem like a reader. Anything that’s not like, work or Italian food-related, though? I’m sure you have hobbies outside of… well, the obvious.”

He nods. “I guess. I’m kind of a nerd about a lot of things, honestly. Not that that’s a hobby,” Spencer clarifies, his shoulders relaxing at your chuckle. “I’m really into old, out-of-print books. You know, the ones that—”

“The ones that cost a small fortune and have that weird, dusty smell?” You cut in, simpering. Your eyes crinkle. Spencer finds it painfully sweet.

He smiles. “Exactly,” he exhales a laugh before taking a sip of his wine. “I like to collect them. It’s kind of… calming, I guess.”

“That’s really cool,” you grin. “Y’know, I used to be super into photography when I was younger. Like, just… taking random pictures of random things.”

Spencer tilts his head. “Really? Like a hobby, or—?”

“No, no,” you laugh. “Just random moments. Sometimes the best things happen when you’re not looking, y’know?” And if there’s a part of Spencer’s heart that flutters in understanding, that whispers “you, you, you,” like an echo in his chest? Well, that’s between him and his internal organs. “Anyway, I haven’t even touched a camera in years.”

“Why not?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. Life got busy, and now it just feels kind of silly to start again. I do kind of miss it, though, I guess. The idea of capturing something, like… pure. Unfiltered? That’s still pretty appealing.”

Spencer smiles softly. “Don’t worry,” and oh, there’s a warmth in his gut that has nothing to do with the wine. “You still have time.”

“You think so?” There’s a far-off, wistful look of something not unlike hope that swims in your eyes.

He nods, and Spencer wonders if it’s too early to consider buying you a gift.

By the time you’re done, you’ve shared a small plate of tiramisu between you both. The rain outside the window hasn’t let up; if anything, it looks like it’s only coming down harder now. You and Spencer are still mindlessly chatting as you stand, and he helps you put your coat on. You look back at him and smile like a fool.

You walk outside the restaurant, and Spencer stops at the hostess’ station at the front, slipping a fifty to Sasha, and smiling softly as she balks.

The rain is pouring. You groan, “I took the metro here,” you say, raising your voice over the sounds of fat droplets hitting the sidewalk.

Spencer nods, tugging his coat tighter around himself. “Me too,” he glances towards the street. “We can get a cab?”

You nod, watching as he rushes into the rain, out from the cover of the awning, to wave down one of the yellow cars driving past. He beckons you over as one slows to a stop at the side of the road.

You follow Spencer, sliding into the backseat behind him and sitting beside him as the driver turns. “Where to?”

Spencer clears his throat. “Uh, two stops, if that’s alright?” The driver simply nods, and you tell him your address, a faint nervous tremble in your voice.

The ride to your apartment is almost silent, save for quiet murmuring from the backseat. Like you two can’t help the conversation, like you can’t bear not talking to each other for even five minutes.

When the cab pulls up to your apartment complex, you grin at Spencer, about to speak, when he climbs out of the car behind you. He mutters to the driver that he’ll only take a minute. “What’re you doing?” you ask, looking up at him in confusion.

Spencer shrugs, leading you to the doorway to the building. “I wouldn’t be a very good date if I left you to walk to your door alone.” He says it so simply, so easily, it almost shakes him. He can’t believe how nervous he was, not that long ago, refusing to even think of this dinner as anything more than a way to get his mind off work.

You grin widely up at him, letting yourself inside and holding the door open for him. “I suppose you’re right,” you lead him to the elevator. “You wouldn’t be a very good date. But I wouldn’t hold it against you,” you tease, pressing the button for your floor—eight. Spencer tucks that information away. “Don’t worry.”

You wink, and Spencer can’t hold back his soft laughter. He’s quiet on the elevator ride, too busy just looking at you. You’ve managed to shatter every one of his expectations and preconceived notions in no more than a couple of hours. It’s strange, but welcome. You’re welcome, now. Always.

When the elevator opens, and you lead the way to your apartment door, you turn around to face him fully. “Thank you,” you smile softly, looking up at him. “I had a really good evening, Spencer. Thanks for not running off.”

He purses his lips, smiling back at you. “I had a really good evening, too.” His hands start to wring again. “And, I wouldn’t have run off. Don’t worry.”

You chuckle, a glint in your eyes. “Well, still. Thanks. For the company, tonight. And the conversation. And all of the new facts I’ve just learned about Italian cuisine.”

Spencer blushes. He shrugs, his hands moving to clutch at the strap of his messenger bag. “Glad to provide newfound knowledge, then,” he chuckles.

And before he can overthink it or second-guess himself, Spencer bends slightly, pressing a soft, feather-light kiss to your cheek. Your eyes go wide for just a moment before warmth floods your cheeks, and a grin that surpasses even sunshine itself takes over your face. You inhale shakily and unlock your door. You keep your eyes on Spencer as you step inside. “Thanks again,” you breathe. “I’ll um, I’ll text you?”

Spencer nods before beginning to walk backwards toward the elevator. He wishes you a good night and watches you slowly close your door.

He doesn’t step onto the elevator until he hears your door lock, and then he’s rushing back outside, into the pouring monsoon, before throwing himself into the backseat of the taxi.

The driver just laughs at him, at his cheeks all blotchy and red. Spencer clears his throat and awkwardly gives him his address.

He’s inside his apartment and toeing off his shoes when he realizes he never got your number.

Spencer freezes. He yanks his phone out of his bag with all the decorum of a deer in the road, and notices the abundance of missed texts from Garcia.

PG: How’s dinner going?? Is it awkward??? Did you say anything weird yet????

PG: Guess things are going well!! Don’t worry about the bill, it’s on me!!

PG: And DON'T COMPLAIN ABOUT THE WINE!!!!!!!

PG: Oh I’m SO excited to see your face tomorrow, Reid! I told you this was a good idea!

PG: Here’s her number, in case you were too stunned and totally in love with her to ask for it ;)

Spencer sighs, grateful for the inclusion of your number that saves him the awkward embarrassment of asking for it. He can’t keep the smile off his face as he adds it to his contacts, and types out a quick message. He sends it before he can talk himself out of it, and leaves his phone on the couch as he heads into his room to change.

Spencer: Hi, this is Spencer. Have a good night, and thanks again for dinner! It was really enjoyable. Hope you don’t mind me getting your number from Garcia, I only just noticed we hadn’t exchanged contact info :)

If Garcia ever asked, Spencer would deny it, but he runs out of his bedroom with his shirt still in his hand when he hears his phone buzz on the couch.

You: hey spencer! you have a good night too, dinner was super fun. you’re a fun conversationalist. and if you hadn’t gotten my number from pen, i would’ve asked her for yours, so don’t worry :)

He grins down at his phone before turning it off and pulling his shirt on. He brushes his teeth with a smile on his lips, crawls into bed with his face sore and his cheeks cramping, and begins to fall asleep to the sound of heavy rain pattering on his window.

It’s not until he’s curled up between the sheets, half asleep, that he realizes he hasn’t thought about work or cases all night.

Well then. Thank you, Penelope Garcia.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds fic #reid ✧˖*°࿐#mine ✧˖*°࿐

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smutmind · 8 days ago

Text

No Leashes Here ft. Taeyeon

Taeyeon x You

The elevator blinked open with its usual chime, and Zero immediately darted out like his leash was a suggestion, not law.

“Zero!” Taeyeon’s voice chased after him, soft but firm, already halfway into a sigh.

You stood still, coffee in hand, watching the scene that had quietly become your favorite part of every morning. The dog zigzagged across the hallway, her slipper tapping impatiently behind him. She looked as she always did—low ponytail, oversized sunglasses, and something effortless in the way her sweatshirt slid off one shoulder.

“Morning,” you offered, stepping aside as Zero paused to sniff your ankle like it was routine.

She gave you a small smile. “Morning. Don’t encourage him.”

“I think he’s got leadership potential,” you teased.

“He’s got drama potential,” she muttered, scooping him up like a misbehaving toddler. “Sorry about him.”

You shrugged. “Best part of my day.”

She gave you a curious look. The elevator door closed between you.

The next morning, the hallway was quiet. No tapping slippers. No Zero.

You waited a moment longer than necessary before heading out. That night, you asked the guard downstairs if she’d gone on a trip.

“Miss Taeyeon?” he said. “Nah. Flu, I think. Been in since Tuesday.”

Your stomach did something weird. You lived across the hall. You could knock. You wouldn’t stay long. Just check in. Maybe bring soup.

The door cracked open after a soft knock. You didn’t expect her to answer so fast—or to look like that.

Tank top. Short shorts. Cheeks flushed pink with fever. And two small, unmistakable peaks pressing against the thin cotton.

“Oh—uh—hi,” you said, eyes immediately jumping to her face and then to the ceiling, like maybe there was something very interesting up there.

She leaned against the doorframe, one arm cradling her middle. “Hey.” Her voice was raspy, not unpleasant. “You okay?”

You held up the Tupperware in both hands like an offering. “Chicken soup. I made too much. And... I heard you weren’t feeling great. I can walk Zero if you want. Just... you know, neighbor stuff.”

Her mouth curved. “You’re sweet.” She opened the door wider. “Come in before you drop it.”

Her apartment smelled like lemon balm and eucalyptus. A humid warmth hung in the air. Zero yawned dramatically from his pillow on the couch.

“You really made soup?” she asked, settling onto the couch with a blanket across her lap.

“Mm-hmm.” You handed her a bowl, heart doing acrobatics at how casually her top slipped down her shoulder. You sat on the floor, cross-legged. “Zero’s got that look. Like he thinks I can’t handle him.”

“He’s probably right,” she said with a smirk, spooning soup to her lips.

You nodded at him. “Watch me prove him wrong.”

Zero let you leash him without incident, but he paused at the door, glanced back at Taeyeon like, really?

She chuckled, sniffling. “Be gentle with him.”

“I’ll try,” you said. “But if he stages a rebellion, I’m switching sides.”

Her laughter followed you into the hallway.

"Easy, champ," you muttered, stumbling a half-step as he zigzagged past a bush, tail high like a flag.

Your hoodie stuck to your back in the June humidity. The city was just waking up, streets wet from overnight cleaning trucks, air thick with coffee and exhaust. But none of it could distract you from the memory of Taeyeon’s bare legs curled under that blanket, soup bowl in her lap, hair messy and eyes soft.

Zero paused to pee on a lamppost and looked up at you like, You’re slow.

"You're lucky you’re cute," you told him.

The next morning, her knock came just as you pulled your hoodie over your head.

She stood there in black running shorts and a zip-up, ponytail high, Zero already leashed and vibrating with anticipation.

“You ready?” she asked. Her cheeks had some color again, and the flu haze was gone—replaced by something lighter, easier.

You blinked. “Ready for…?”

“Run-slash-walk. Mostly run.”

Your mouth opened. Then closed. “I’m… not really a cardio guy.”

She grinned. “Then just keep up. Or don’t. Zero and I will circle back.”

You lasted three blocks.

Taeyeon ran like she didn’t touch the ground—light, fast, impossible to catch. Zero was all teeth and joy, pulling her forward like a tow rope.

By block four, your lungs staged a rebellion. By block five, you gave up and walked in wide, shamed loops while they doubled back with breezy ease.

“You alive?” she asked, slowing beside you. Her skin glowed, ponytail damp, tank top clinging in places your brain struggled to ignore.

“Barely,” you said. “I think I saw the light. It called me a wimp.”

She laughed and patted your back. “You did better than I expected. We usually go twice that.”

“Of course you do.” You panted. “Sadists.”

Back in the hallway, Zero flopped dramatically on her welcome mat.

Taeyeon pulled her keys out, breathing normal again. “Want ramen?”

You looked up. She was smiling, casual, wiping sweat from her brow. The kind of smile that didn’t know what it did to people.

“I’m disgusting,” you said.

“So am I,” she replied. “Shower, then come over. I’ll boil water.”

You nodded slowly. “Okay. Five minutes. Maybe ten. Depending on if my legs stop working.”

“Bring an appetite,” she said, unlocking her door. “And maybe ice cream.”

Her door clicked shut.

The steam rose from the ramen bowls like mist over a quiet lake, curling into the soft amber light of her living room.

She handed you chopsticks and plopped down beside you on the floor, her legs crossed, Zero already asleep under the coffee table with one paw twitching in a dream.

“This is criminally good,” you said after the first bite, slurping too loudly and not caring. “What did you put in here? Magic?”

Taeyeon leaned her head back against the couch, grinning. “MSG and heartbreak.”

You laughed. “Solid combo.”

She took a slow bite, then glanced sideways at you. “So… you really had no idea?”

You blinked. “About what?”

She gave you a look—eyebrows up, a single amused scoff. “Me.”

You frowned. “You being… what? A good cook?”

She dropped her chopsticks dramatically into the bowl. “I’m offended.”

You chuckled, not quite following. “I’m sorry?”

Taeyeon leaned forward and grabbed the remote, tossing it toward you. “Most people either freeze or start name-dropping album tracks the second they recognize me. You’ve been weirdly normal.”

You stared at her for a beat. “Wait. Are you saying you’re famous?”

She squinted at you like it was a trap. “Dead serious?”

“Dead serious,” you echoed. “You’re just... the girl with the chaos dog and great soup skills.”

She burst out laughing, then curled her knees to her chest. “Wow. That’s almost refreshing. Almost.”

You nudged her knee gently. “Wanna show me who I’ve been ignoring all this time?”

She groaned, dragging her blanket over her head like a curtain. “Nope. Embarrassing.”

“Come on. I sat through your cardio cult initiation this morning. You owe me.”

After a moment, a soft sigh from beneath the blanket. “Fine.”

The TV blinked to life. She scrolled through YouTube with mechanical shame and found it—an old concert clip. The stage lights were wild, her voice even younger, hair longer, crowd roaring.

You watched in stunned silence as the woman sitting beside you—who just thirty minutes ago had laughed at your inability to open ramen packets—commanded a stadium like gravity bent around her.

Taeyeon peeked through the blanket. “This is the part where you stop talking to me.”

You turned to her, slowly. “This is the part where I ask how the hell I didn’t know you were a pop star.”

She cracked a smile. “Because you’re either extremely oblivious or the last person in Seoul without Instagram.”

“Or maybe,” you said, scooping more broth, “I’m just into you for the soup and sarcasm.”

She looked at you then—really looked. Something subtle shifted behind her eyes. Not flirtation. Not performance. Just a quiet check-in, a flicker of interest that said: maybe this isn’t normal for me either.

The clock blinked 11:47 PM as you set your empty bowl in her sink, fingers warm from the dishwater, heart still pacing from laughter that had stretched far past the ramen.

“I should head out,” you said, eyes flicking toward her hallway. “Didn’t mean to eat half your pantry.”

Taeyeon stood near the counter, half-leaning, one hand curled around a glass of water she hadn’t touched in the last twenty minutes.

“Yeah,” she said with a smile, but her eyes said don’t. Her fingers gripped the glass tighter before she let go. “Thanks for coming.”

“Thanks for not poisoning me,” you shot back, opening the door.

She walked you there. Her feet were bare, the hem of her sweatshirt grazing the top of her thighs. Zero barely lifted his head.

“Good night,” you said.

“Good night,” she echoed, one hand on the edge of the door.

You almost waited a beat too long. But you stepped into the hallway, let the door close behind you, and stood alone in the quiet.

Your own apartment felt foreign, lit only by the city glow filtering through the window. You dropped onto your bed, heart loud in your ears, mind racing through the past three hours like a scene-by-scene replay.

She was funny. Sharp. Gorgeous. And apparently world-famous. And she lived ten feet away.

You stared at the ceiling.

What the hell is my life?

Your phone buzzed once. Then stopped. No message. Just a phantom.

You turned on your side. Then onto your back again.

Sleep didn’t come. But someone else did.

The doorbell rang. One soft chime.

You blinked toward the entrance, half-expecting you’d imagined it. But then it came again.

You opened it to find her standing barefoot in a nightgown, hair loose, skin dewy from her evening routine. She looked nothing like the woman on that concert stage. And somehow, even more impossible.

She held her arms at her sides, unsure. “I’m not… used to this,” she said. “To people who don’t want anything from me.”

You swallowed. “I didn’t even know what there was to want.”

“Exactly,” she said softly. Then, “You made me feel like just… me.”

Her eyes were shiny. Not from tears—just something fragile behind them. Then she rose on her toes, leaned in, and kissed you.

No rush. No fire. Just a soft, honest press of lips.

You reached for her waist instinctively, pulled her closer, exhaled into her kiss like you’d been holding your breath for a week.

Then you stepped back just enough to take her hand.

“This way,” you whispered, guiding her inside.

She followed, the door clicking shut behind her.

Her mouth met yours again before you reached the bedroom.

The kiss had weight now—less cautious, more desperate. Her hands slid under your shirt, fingers brushing bare skin, and you felt her pulse leap as yours did.

You kissed her deeper. Let your hands trace her sides, thumb sweeping just under the swell of her breast through the thin satin of her gown.

She gasped, barely audible, and you pulled back just an inch. Your eyes searched hers. “Okay?”

Taeyeon bit her bottom lip, cheeks flushed in candlelight. Then she nodded—one small, shaky nod. The kind that made your chest tighten.

You bent to her again, slower this time. Let your mouth trail kisses down her throat. Over her collarbone. Across the delicate dip between her breasts.

She arched as your lips closed around one nipple, satin pressing against your cheek, then falling away as her fingers tugged her gown lower.

“God…” she whispered, hand resting on your shoulder. “Feels—god—”

You pulled back to see her bare. Breasts soft, flushed, trembling faintly with every breath.

“I’m still trying to believe this is happening,” you said, cupping her with both hands, thumbs teasing her stiff peaks.

She smiled hazily. “Believe it.”

You kissed lower. Let her gown drop to her ankles.

She stood in front of you now—naked but for her confidence flickering in and out.

When your hands touched the waistband of your sweats, she stepped forward and pushed them down herself. Then stilled.

“…Shit.”

You raised a brow, amused. “Problem?”

Her eyes were wide. She wrapped her hand around your shaft carefully, like testing heat. “Are all European guys like this?”

You snorted. “Only the ones blessed by Norse gods.”

She gave a breathless laugh. “I can see why they need cold weather.”

You let her stare. Then tilted your head. “You’re not bad yourself. Asian women are like… eternal. You’re seriously thirty-seven?”

Her smile dropped. “Wow.”

“…Wow what?”

She stepped closer, mouth grazing your ear. “You just dropped the age bomb. Rookie move.”

You opened your mouth to apologize, but she shoved you backward onto the bed.

“I’m about to show you thirty-seven years of knowing exactly what I want.”

She climbed on top, straddling your thighs, dragging herself slowly along your length without letting you in. Teasing. Controlling the pace. Making you work.

But when you flipped her and took her in your hands—when her body curled on instinct and her breath hitched—she whispered it:

“Behind. Please.”

You froze, palm against the arch of her back. “Doggy?”

She nodded, flushed. Her hair slipped over her shoulder like silk.

You leaned forward. “You want me to fuck you like that…”

She glanced over her shoulder. “…Yes.”

“Then,” you whispered against her ear, “you better bark like Zero.”

Taeyeon laughed—half-mortified, half-turned on—until your fingers dug into her hips and your mouth pressed between her shoulder blades.

Then, quietly… she barked.

Once.

High-pitched. Almost shy.

You groaned. “Oh, you shouldn’t have done that.”

You moved inside her in one smooth, aching thrust, and she gasped, gripping the sheets.

Each stroke deepened, your grip tightening as her moans grew louder, hips meeting yours with practiced rhythm and wild heat.

Her voice broke with every thrust. Your name, half-sobbed. Her legs shook. Your palm found her lower back and pushed, angling deeper.

You were losing yourself—completely—wrapped in the soft thunder of her body and that one unforgettable moment when the pop star barked for you.

Her hands braced against the headboard, thighs spread wide, your name slipping past her lips with every thrust.

She was wild in doggy—back arched, skin slick with sweat, moaning into the pillows like she didn’t care if the whole building heard.

But when she gasped, pulled forward, and swung one leg over to straddle you—face away, your length still buried deep—something shifted.

She dropped her hips slowly, teasing, her ass pressed snug against your thighs.

Then she rolled her spine, and the world narrowed.

“Touch me,” she said, breathless. “My chest—hold me there.”

You reached up, both hands wrapping around her breasts. Full, warm, bouncing in rhythm with each bounce of her hips. She rode you with growing urgency, gasping louder every time your palm grazed her nipples.

You gripped her tightly, fingertips digging just a little harder.

Taeyeon threw her head back. “Shit… fuck… your size—”

“You okay?” you asked, chest heaving.

“I love it,” she choked. “I fucking love how full I feel… You fit—god—you fit.”

She didn’t slow down.

Your hands kept her steady, squeezed with each rise and fall. You pressed your thumbs into the peaks of her breasts, teasing her harder.

She clamped down suddenly—her body going tight, her voice climbing in pitch like a rising note.

And then—like a goddamn chorus—she came.

The sound wasn’t a moan. It was melody—half-gasp, half-harmony, a rising, falling, breathless pitch that could’ve lived on a stage.

You held her tighter, barely able to breathe.

“Fuck—Taeyeon—can I…”

She looked over her shoulder, eyes hazy, lips parted.

“Please,” she whispered. Then louder, “Please, come inside. I want to feel you.”

That was it.

You groaned deep, teeth clenched, and spilled inside her, every pulse met with her body tightening around you, milking you like she never wanted to let go.

When you finally slipped free, she collapsed on your chest, still catching her breath.

“I’m ruined,” she mumbled, hair damp and wild. “You’re walking Zero tomorrow.”

You chuckled, fingers tracing her spine. “Only if you let me take you doggy again.”

She snorted, then playfully punched your chest. “Asshole.”

You kissed her temple. “Yours.”

She hummed and nestled in, breath slowing, bare legs tangled in yours.

Sleep came quiet, shared.

#taeyeon smut #taeyeon #girls generation #girl group smut #smut #kpop smut #female idol smut #male reader smut #kpop idol smut

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flibbertygigget · 3 months ago

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McCoy-Centric Fic Rec List

Long as hell and split into slightly nonsensical sections because I have too many bookmarks :/

Episode/Movie-Centric Codas/AUs

Lots of "Mirror, Mirror"/"The Empath"/Post-TSFS stuff in here for Obvious Reasons.

Fal-Tor-Pan or: How to Accidentally Get Married on Vulcan by mymetalphantom - 5.7k, Spones. Lighter than the usual Post-Fal-tor-pan fic, very silly premise and excellent execution.

Oh, sinners, let's go down by raven (singlecrow) - 4.7k, Gen. The best Post-Fal-tor-pan angst I've ever read, bar none. Angst with a bittersweet, ambiguously hopeful ending.

Seven Times by SwissArmyKnife - 2k, Gen. Seven times McCoy got telepathically violated and it's all canon 😭

For This Space Would Be Hollow If You Were Gone by releni - 4k, Pre-Slash Spones. FTWIH has SUCH great angst potential, and this fic takes full advantage of that.

The Cause is Sufficient by Cirth - 2.5k, Spones. They're talking about the whole katra deal! They're talking about the whole martyr complex! They're kissing!

bad luck and broken soul by Rev (apathetic_revenant) - 12k, Gen. There are SO MANY Post-"Mirror, Mirror" fics, but this one is hands down one of my favorites.

Memories Are Made of This by GenuineSnoof - 6.5k, Gen. Another post-"Mirror, Mirror" fic, I really like how creative the reveal part is in this one.

Evasive Action by kcscribbler - 2k, Gen. "Space Seed" episode coda with some wonderful hurt-and-kinda-grumpy-about-it McCoy.

Incubation by SwissArmyKnife - 9k, Gen. Post-"The City on the Edge of Forever", featuring McCoy working through illness and really going through it and Spock being worried and protective.

something bright, traveling fast by inkatesbush - 7.5k, Spones. Mostly a Spock character study post-Fal-tor-pan, but when McCoy gets there his parts are really, really good.

Plotty/Case Fic (mostly McCoy Getting Hurt And Being Awesome)

I won't say these genuinely resemble actual ST episode plots but they're plot-centric ig.

40 Miles From The Sun by slash4femme - 10k, Spones. Didn't know whether to put this here or in the shipfic section, but it's mostly the BEST rape recovery fic in the fandom and only very slowly Spones. Excellent fic.

The Dogs Days Are Most Certainly NOT Over by ThatSassyCaptain - 35k, Gen. Pure episode-style casefic and a great one. Get adopted, idiot 😆

Rate of Exchange by scioscribe - 9k, Gen. Bulletproof premise of "get captured by Mysterious Bad Guys, get forced to hurt each other, get out and have Feelings about it". Perfect.

all in by milostollbooth - 13.5k, Spones. Spock gets to be in charge of the Enterprise and things Get Complicated. Like 50% casefic and 50% developing Spones.

A Hippocratic Proof by stillwaters01 - 5k, Gen. Less plotty, more of a friendship fic. McCoy doubts his abilities and Spock goes about reassuring him in the most logical way possible 🥰

it ends or it doesn't by Muir_Wolf - 28.5k, McSpirk. Bones being a martyr! Time loop shenanigans! The complicated process of getting together when you're also under an insane amount of pressure! I love them your honor.

Mudd in Your Eye by Avirra - 61k, Gen. Ok, it's an alternate take on "Space Seed", but it does its own thing so effectively that i'm putting it under plotty fic. Really big fan of how competent Bones is and his relationships with the various OCs in this one.

Shipping-Centric (mostly Spones)

Some McSpirk as well ig. There's some overlap with the previous two categories, but these are more shipping than plot.

Surgeon's Mate by belmanoir - 4.5k, Spones. It's the most-kudos'd Spones fic for a reason, and that reason is an EXCELLENT Spock POV with impeccable characterization.

Holocene by greenbloodedcomputer - 4.5k, Spones. Old Married Spones on Vulcan dealing with the in-laws :)

Traditions of Intimacy by swimmingwolf59 - 8.5k, Spones. Spock and McCoy sharing meals and slowly getting closer to each other. Just fantastic.

First Impressions by swimmingwolf59 - 16.5k, Spones. Y'all KNOW I love Sarek and McCoy being awkward buddies, and this fic has an emphasis on the AWKWARD. Love it!

Two Thirds of a Whole by sleepymccoy - 18.5k, Spones. Alternate universe Spock is such a sweetie and Prime Universe Spock is UNHINGED near the end, this whole premise is excellent and the Spones is immaculate.

Courtship Rituals by fangirlandiknowit - 30k, McSpirk. I love love love fake relationship shenanigans that become way too real partway through.

wish i was a better liar by Muir_Wolf - 17.5k, McSpirk with an emphasis on the McKirk. Uhhh, "The Enemy Within" dubcon threesome. Also Spock's there and being protective. Also it's HOT.

Symbiosis by weekend_conspiracy_theorist - 6.5k, Spones. Diplomatic function fake relationship! That very, very quickly becomes less fake lol, Spock's kind of a mess emotionally in this one.

i've seen time tell tales by Rusoe - 1.5k, Spones. Old Married Spones my beloved. Domestic fluff with a hint of angst.

Off-Beat/Stuff I Can't Fit Anywhere Else

For all your confused-by-how-the-author-got-there fanfic needs.

Bones - A Biography by Spock Grayson by AlyssiaInWonderland - 4k, McKirk and Spones. Early First Contact AU where Vulcan first interacts with Earth during WWI. The premise is excellent and the whole vibe of it is heartbreaking, I honestly wish this were longer because I want to live in this universe for like 100k words.

Nothing Unreal Exists by eigenvectrix - 16k, Gen. EXCELLENT fic. Transfem Spock, lots of examination of Vulcan culture, McCoy being both competent as a doctor and generally trying his best during difficult conversations as a friend. 10/10, it made me give up on the trans Spock fic I was kicking around in my head because tbh I could never live up to this.

AOS

I don't even like the characterization in the AOS movies, but these fics are great :)

Lessons by madwriter223 - 1.5k, Spones. Honestly, I always forget this is an AOS fic. Love Spock being so methodical in his romantic intentions/techniques.

Honorable Enemies by Zauzat - 24k, Spones. McCoy being sad, war being hell, Spock being surprisingly emotionally astute in his own way. Gets plotty in the last third. What more do you need from a fic?

Now the Sons Look For Their Fathers/ But Their Fathers Are All Gone by Straight_Outta_Hobbiton - 30.5k, Gen. McCoy taking care of Vulcan kids post-Star Trek (2009). Has great versions of Sybok and T'Pring for the Kelvinverse.

Fortunate Son by mardia - 50.7k, McKirk. I'm usually not a fan of putting anyone except Kirk on Tarsus, but it sometimes works with AOS since we don't get anything on that whatsoever. This is easily the best "McCoy on Tarsus" fic out there!

The Tribunal of Lieutenant Commander Leonard H. McCoy, MD PhD by stealthestars - 3.5k, slight McSpirk. I love fics where everyone's being all official while internally freaking out ♥️

This Must Be The Place by therev - 38k, Spones. A really sweet, existential look at the absolute mindfuck of finding out just what alternate universe you was getting up to and slowly realizing you want something somewhat like that as well.

Shameless Self-Recs

Just a couple of my fics that I'm personally very fond of. Because I'm shameless lmao.

some people crash to earth three times (and then learn from their mistakes) - 8k, Gen. Dropping TOS characters into a shortly post-First Contact scenario for shits and giggles. I loved writing street medic McCoy and his teenage bullshit.

the wind counts lost goodbyes - 2.8k, Gen. Look, give me an opportunity to write some Vulcan culture and angst and I'm bound to go all in. MCD warning.

sing for the damage we've done (and the worse things that we'll do) (2k, Gen) and i speak in smoke signals (and you answer in code) (6k, Gen) - Uhhh, the inherent limitations of the Prime Directive, Federation politics, McCoy being ride or die for his patients, Spock being ride or die for his friends.

strike another match (let's start anew) (3k, Spones) and hearing a voice i'd known (a couple of lightyears ago) (4.7k, Gen) - These are both post-Fal-tor-pan AUs where it, like, Goes Wrong in different ways. I love doing a little fal-tor-pan AU, mostly because I don't think it was given nearly enough focus in canon.

#st: tos #st aos #star trek aos #star trek tos #sci fi #fic rec #leonard mccoy #bones mccoy #spones #mckirk #mcspirk

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ulteri0rm0tives · 3 months ago

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WORST part of replaying this game. Is that i actually *have* to progress through (most of) it to see Kerry again... Like having to wade through little chocolate gold colds to get to the real shit that ACTUALLY matters.

It actually sucks you meet him so late in the game and only get so much time with him :( especially because I (personally) find his romance and plotline to be one of the more developed slash more enjoyable ones and I just :( wish they gave us more time with him ugh I jUST MISS HIM OKAY GUYS I MISS THIS OLD MAN!!!

#if i *HAD* to rank the romances the fate of my first born on the line here #I'd have to say Judy then Kerry then Panam and... unsurprisingly... River (they did him the dirtiest yall 😭)#judy because hers is not only so well developed #but also actually extremely extremely vital to the main storyline unlike the others and ties into the plot really well #kerrys is also kinda important to the storyline in the way its legit just kinda a johnny side mission #especially if you want that extra percentage towards yalls relationship to unlock some of the endings slash dialogue #and panams does feel like it kinda strays from the main storyline but you do meet her because of it (going 2 find rogue for the first time)#so it still ties in well enough #but river.... oh my boy how they didn't even give you a chance to run before walking.....#he just feels so disconnected from the rest of the story... which couldve worked!#it wouldve been fun to let V have relationships and interactions that didnt just revolve around the fact they were dying #river couldve been that respite for them that break away from reality that safeplace for V to just.. take a breather from hit after hit #after disastrous blow as gods own personal chew toy that game made them out to be #it couldve worked! so well! but its the fact you can FEEL how underdeveloped he and his plotline (as a character even)#how rushed it is. how they didnt put the same care and love into him as they did for judys and kerrys story #how they gutted HIS ROMANCE FROM THE POTENTIAL ONE THAT WAS PLANNED HAD WITH TAKEMURA #lik he isnt even his own character but this character stitched 2gether frm scraps of others they didnt have time or energy to fully develop #i feel so bad everytime people talk about how much they hate him and his plotline bc its not his fault guys #hes a victim of cdprs poor planning and writing 😭#like im sorry man but it was kinda a stark slap in the fucking face to going from rescuing his nephew from a fucking trafficking ring...#and the next literal mission we're macking up on the tower overlooking the trailer park #like that shit felt so forced 😭😭😭 where was the natural progression????#the chemistry besides a few offhand comments frm fanily shoved in 2 seconds before the tower 2 force it 2 make sense???#WHERE WAS THE FLIRTY DIALOGUE WITH THE OTHERS???#girl if he told me if i wanted to join him in bed like KERRY had the 1st time we met #bitch u know i would've been crawling on my knees like a DOG jumping str8 up onto that bed #LMAO anyway lost the plot this was a post about Kerry and i guess it kinda still is i just 💚 rambling in the safety of tags #cyberpunk 2077 #kerry eurodyne #ult speaking

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wheneverfeasible · 1 month ago

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Girlie, I'm gonna need some abo recs. Steddie and otherwise. You've got me intrigued

(lowkey browsing your blog for more writing)

Oh! Yes! Hello!

First off, I do want to point out that when using the initials, it’s best to use slashes in-between (a/b/o) as the term without those is actually a slur against the Australian indigenous community. Just something to think about, no hate or anything! ♥️

As for recs, I’ll just stick with Steddie for now as that’s my brainrot ship…

Honestly, anything by @lexirosewrites is fantastic. My personal favorites tho are:

Bad Bet wherein Steve is a secret omega and bet by Tommy to take alpha and freak Eddie Munson to prom as a prank, only to fall for the strange alpha.

Online, Offline (Out of My Mind) where famous actor and secret omega Steve finds his scentmate through an online dating service thanks to Robin.

Bandaids for the Heart where Steve is a pediatric nurse and Eddie is a single dad whose kiddo might be trying to play matchmaker.

And the Sun Will Rise which has Steve as a packless omega suffering through isolation sickness during the zombie apocalypse, until a certain alpha and his pack take him in.

Baby Mine wherein Eddie discovers he’s pregnant and because of past trauma assumes Steve will expect him to get rid of it, so it’s definitely angsty but with sweet comfort and a happy ending.

But really all of their stuff is fantastic.

As for other fics, I heartily recommend Look For the Boy With the Broken Smile, Ask Him if He Wants to Stay Awhile by Eenselwig_98 ( @sunlight-and-moonshine) and honestly it might be time for another reread of this fic for myself too. But Steve is an omega who’s been hurt so many times that he thinks he’s only good enough to fuck and not mate, except Eddie is head over heels for him.

And can’t forget Whatever you want it to be by @just-my-latest-hyperfixation where omega Eddie is slipped a heat triggering drug by Jason who plans to assault him but he’s saved by Steve who offers his assistance with the after effects of the drug.

Build a Life With You by StarsHideYourFires ( @starshideurfics ) which is a historical omegaverse where omega Steve has a secret that leads him to abandoning the socialite life to become a mail order bride to an alpha he never met in a small rural town. (The author has a lot of fics I enjoy, actually, but I’m only sharing finished fics here, but do please check out the other stuff too!)

the potential of us by emchant3d has both enemies-to-lovers and former hookups fake dating as omega Steve and alpha Eddie try to get their besties off their backs about dating each other. Side ship Buckingham.

feel forever its soft fall and swell by hejustlikemefr which is another historical omegaverse that is an Organ Trail kind of au, young omega Steve and older alpha Eddie have a marriage of convenience to help protect Steve.

The Unbearable Horniness of Steve by @fkinkindagauche has that delicious angst of the classic friends-to-lovers and some classic misunderstanding. (The author also has a Harringrove fic called Goldilocks for all you Billy lovers out there.)

It’ll be fine. Probably. by @stevieschrodinger which is a modern au with an omega Eddie who finds out he’s pregnant and returns to Hawkins where he runs into high school crush and current librarian, alpha Steve Harrington. I love this version of Eddie so much.

Good Omega by Batty4Steddie and @spicycinnabun is another excellent omega Eddie fic where alpha Steve is in the band with him and flirt on stage and Steve is ready to finally claim Eddie as his while Eddie…assumes Steve is straight.

And then we have my lovely @katyawriteswhump with so many wonderful offerings that I can’t even attempt to list them, each one full of angst, fluff, humor, and feels.

Honestly there’s so many I loved and enjoyed but I would say these fics and authors are a great place to start. Many of them inspired my own writing so every single one of them is worth checking out. Each have their own style and it makes for such a lovely exploration of a beloved trope.

And I know that there’s more out there, but this is getting a bit long already, so maybe I’ll do another rec list one of these days lol.

Now off to work I must go! I hope you find joy in these favorites of mine just like I did, my dear anon!

Love to all these fantastic and marvelously talented creators! I’m definitely rereading some these rn 🤭

#steddie #steddie omegaverse #omegaverse #steddie recs #steddie omegaverse recs

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bitchlessdino · 10 months ago

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put it in writing (m)

In collaboration with @camandemstudios Pairing: college student!seungkwan x Fem!TA!reader Genre: humor, smut Word count: 7.8k tags: college au, TA x student dynamic, push-and-pull, mentions of TXT's soobin, mentions of Ryan Gosling, a lot of fucking lying, explicit content, unprotected sex, hair pulling, cream pies, oral, cum-consumption, pet names (baby, good boy), praise kink Summary: You keep things professional--as you should--even if one of your students is someone you hooked up with one night before the college semester started. Meanwhile, Boo Seungkwan is anything but honest--he's a writer after all--but if he is honest about one thing, it's about wanting to write a new story with you. a/n: thank you @highvern @sluttyminghao and @strxwberry-skiess for beta reading <3 (late note: I wanna thank @gyuswhore @highvern and @haologram for the brainstorming if I forgot to mention anyone I’m sorry. They’ve been a really big help and we’re super motivating and supportive the entire process I love yall 💕)

You don’t go out. Period. As simple as that.

Until tonight.

Summer is almost over, and once it ends, you’ll be Professor Yoo’s newest TA. You've worked hard to get to this point and despite the inevitable late-night grading sessions, you expect the experience to be rewarding and maybe even inspirational. You’re sure this achievement would make your academic-forward parents proud. Their daughter, at the top of her class, brimming with excitement and potential, jobs coming in from left and right, all while on her way to...a Writing degree.

The one downside: they didn’t believe a writing degree would lead to anything substantial. Not like Biomedical engineering or Accounting. The one degree worse than Art. You almost forgot that writing was useless in their eyes because who couldn’t just pick up a pen and paper to scribble some words down?

You down another cheap shot of tequila, muttering your grievances under your breath as your friends revel in the club's pulsating atmosphere. They are only mildly concerned with your drinking habits, accustomed to your tightly wound, studious nature. Typically, you are the one buried in textbooks, rarely venturing into the party scene. Yet tonight, you surprise them all with your ironclad liver, effortlessly downing shots without a hint of a stumble.

“You, okay?”

You scoff, taking yet another shot, “Really depends what that means. ‘Okay’ as in life or ‘okay’ as in financially, mentally, emotionally, sexually, and-slash-or physically fulfilled with proud parents that love me unconditionally?”

“Oh, boy.” Hyeri tries to tear you away from any more alcohol and lays you flat against the back of the leather booth, twisting the top of a water bottle before putting it on your lips. “Let's get you hydrated, hmm? Can’t have you hungover the next day. I’ll be the one you’re complaining to.”

“Suffer my consequences!”

“Of course, darling.”

Hyeri, your steadfast friend since high school and now a new TA from another university, is like a sister to you. She knows your every habit and inclination, no matter how shit-faced you decide to get. “Don’t look, but there’s supple skin, high cheekbones, and a pretty smile looking directly at you.”

You subtly fix your gaze and accidentally meet the young man’s eyes as he nurses a highball glass between his lips. His eyes narrow back at you with interest. You muse back at him, mimicking his action with the water bottle in your grasp. As you drink with your eyes glued on his expression, the water passes over your lips, with the excess trickling suggestively down your chin and neck, your skin glistening in its sheen.

His lips part, dropping in a smug smile–and my, was it prettier than anticipated–and tilt his head as if quietly beckoning you closer.

“I’m going over there.”

Before you could get up from your booth, Hyeri is there to immediately tug you back down, eyes full of concern. “Are you sure, hon? You had quite a bit to drink.”

Your eyes crease as you smile back at her reassuringly. “I’ll be fine.”

“He looks young, he probably doesn't even know what a 401k is.”

“Do any of us?” You leave off before striding in the direction of the pretty boy, who still can’t keep his eyes off you.

You weave through the sea of sweaty bodies, sidestepping spilled drinks and the pulsating lights of the dance floor, your eyes locked on him. His gaze trails you with every step, a flicker of anticipation in his eyes, speaking to you like an incantation. When you finally reach his feet, the distance closing with each heartbeat, his smile grows wider, more inviting. The moment your legs brush against the softness of his leather couch, he leans to maintain your locked gaze, a now more playful glint in his eyes. Your smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Is this seat taken?”

“Only by you if anyone else asks,” he smoothly responds.

You gently lower yourself beside him, lifting one leg to cross it over the other, feeling the cool leather beneath you. His eyes follow your every movement, lingering on the curve of your thigh as it presses against the other. You lean in slightly, your curiosity evident in the arch of your brow. “Why all alone? With a face as pretty as yours, I’d expect someone to be all over you by now.”

He shifts his body toward you, his eyes drinking in your appearance, savoring every detail from the whip of your hair and to glitter on your legs. Meanwhile, the subtle spicy sweet scent of his cologne mingles with the ambient aromas of the club, and you can’t even breathe the air without the desire to jump his bones. Especially one in particular.

He regains his smile, a slow, confident curve of his lips, and extends a hand toward you. “I could say the same for you. I’m Seungkwan.”

You take his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch and the gentle caress of his thumb against your knuckles. With a graceful nod, you gave him a firm handshake. You return the gesture by introducing yourself, your voice smooth and inviting, matching the rhythm of the music that pulses around you, and that seems to only grow his interest. “What a pretty name. You’ve been here long?”

“Just long enough,” you say, your voice carrying a playful challenge.

“What is it that someone like you does to want to let loose in a place like this?”

“Mmh, I don’t know. It really depends on how much you’re willing to share,” you reply, narrowing your eyes and taking in that body begging to be undressed.

“Well, if you must know, I work somewhere…uncommon,” he says, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

You lean in too, resting your elbow on the back of the couch and propping your chin on your hand, your fingers lightly brushing your lips. “Do tell, Seungkwan.”

“Don’t be surprised, but I’m a bit of a big deal, especially around here,” he brags.

You raise an eyebrow, ready to bite. “That’s very vague. Mind elaborating?”

He briefly shifts his eyes to glance around the room, the smile never leaving his lips. He leans in closer, his breath warm and tickling against your ear, making it burn. “Just know I know the ins and outs of this club,” he whispers, his voice a tantalizing murmur. “Some information you might find even surprising that no one else knows.”

You pull back slightly, your eyes locking onto his, a spark of intrigue dancing between you. “Sounds like you’ve got some secrets,” you murmur, your voice low and rich. You reach for his drink from the table in front of you, your fingers brushing against his thigh for balance as you lift the glass to your lips. You take a slow, deliberate sip, not minding that its rim has touched a stranger's lips. “How sketchy,” you dare insult with a playful glint in your eye as you set the glass back down.

“Care to find out?”

“What part of ‘ sketchy’ did you not understand?” You softly laugh.

“I promise it’s harmless,” his voice brimming with mischief, poking the inside of his cheek playfully. “Or at least, you’d have a little fun.”

You hum amused. “Define fun.”

He takes you by the hand, his touch firm yet gentle, leading you away from the pulsating dance floor to a secluded corner of the club. The music echoes softly in the background, its bass reverberating through the walls. You follow him through a maze of dimly lit corridors and alcoves, catching glimpses of other partygoers lost in their own worlds.

The air changes as you enter an empty private space, cooler and quieter than the crowded main room. Your eyes fall on a single secluded corner with windows going ceiling to floor, flooding the room with skylight. The faint scent of his cologne lingers in the air, mixing with the faint aroma of alcohol and the crisp air of a cracked open window too high to reach.

As you settle into a seat in front of the windows, you observe the city through the crystal clear glass, drinking in the scene of small tables adorned with flickering candles, and erotic artwork adorning the walls. The music from the main floor is muted here like the world behind closed doors fell silent for this moment, and only you two are left in the room to bask in it. If temptation was room, this had to be it.

There’s a subtle shift in his eyes, a flicker of something unreadable—resembling pride—before they revert back to his calm suavity. He assumes the seat next to you on the plush velvet couch tucked into a private nook that touches the light of the stars. The soft glow of ambient lights casts a warm, intimate ambiance around you, contrasting with the pulsating beats of the club music that drifts in from the main floor.

“It’s a V.V.I.P area,” Seungkwan explains in a low voice, “Some of the employees don’t even know it exists.”

“But someone like you does?” you inquire, your voice tinged with intrigue.

He shrugs nonchalantly, a hint of pride evident in his demeanor as his body dipped into the leather. “I have my way around here.”

“Really?” you tease, growing slowly more convinced.

Seungkwan meets your gaze with a playful grin. “I obviously can’t tell you everything,” he says, his tone brimming with mischief. “Just know that I’m involved in ways that keep this place running smoothly. The club would die without me.”

You chuckle softly, savoring his playful confidence, and leaning against the cushions, head turned to him. “What can you tell me?” you ask, your voice growing softer. Your finger traces a teasing path down the collar of his shirt, undoing a button with deliberate slowness. “Humor me,” you exhale, your breath brushing against his ear and your gaze locked with his.

You can hear his breath hitch, and finally, you have him right where you want him. He fixes on the way your legs cross, tracing the curve of your calf up to where they disappear under the hem of your skirt. He seems momentarily captivated by the subtle movement of your flesh as they collide against each other, giving hardly any brain capacity to cumulate words.

You notice the furrow of his brow, a slight tilt of his head—as if he were mentally dissecting his thoughts. The dim lighting cast shadows across his face, highlighting the intensity in his eyes tried to regain clarity. You can almost visualize the gears turning in his mind, each cog clicking into place as he forms a coherent story, if any.

Each word comes out in complete shambles and he is saying more nothing than anything. Whatever the truth is at this point, you don’t care. Seungkwan is just too cute to pass up.

The clearing of his throat tells you he’s finished, the tilt of his smile growing less confident and more anxious as your weight pushes against his chest. He tries to come back from his stumble, picking off strands of hair in front of your face and playing with their ends before changing the subject. “Now tell me your work. What is so amazing that you do?”

“I’m—“ a teacher’s aid in massive debt on their way to graduating with potentially a useless degree neither of their parents is proud of because, although you love it, you’re too proud to say otherwise, “—a indie movie producer with one of the films up for a reward. Super lowkey right now, but…we got Gosling.” You shrug, impressed with your own lies. “So, things are looking up.”

“That’s quite impressive.” he hums, intrigued and interested in hearing about more. “Is he as nice in real life as he is in interviews?”

“Ryan’s got a screw or two loose, but pretty okay guy. At least not into Scientology or anything.”

“Interesting,” He gaze dips towards you, being drawn to you immensely, if not locking eyes with you, scanning over your features, particularly your lips that wished to be claimed. “You call all big-name celebrities by their first name?”

You shrug, the lying coming more and more naturally than anticipated. “Only the ones I’m close with.”

His palm hugs the curve of your cheek, thumb softly brushing against your bottom lip. “I wonder what getting close to you entails.”

“Are you planning on finding out?”

You give each other a long look, one that keeps waiting and ushering the other until your lips decidedly crash into his. His lips part, making way for your presence, the heat of the kiss flushing your skin and pleased shivers running throughout your entire body. Your breath hitches when you feel his teeth pulling your flesh and a soft sigh escapes his lips before his hand creeps behind your head and muffles a moan that neither were sure from who.

You lift your body from the couch, chasing his pace, and pull him closer, kissing him deeper with all your might. You crawl over his lap, straddling his hips, hands in his hair, breath on his skin. Your chest tightens as he presses you closer by the small of your back, to which you gasp as you part from his lips.

He finds your gaze, his round and glistening eyes meeting yours in soft urgency. “You okay? Something wrong?”

You shake your head, palm clasped against your burning face. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

He lets out an amused scoff. “Keep up, Miss producer.”

Your lips reconnect, and fireworks play in your like it’s the fourth of July. Popping and popping. Your lip lock only intensifies as your tongues brush against one another, entangling deeper and soon you realize Seungkwan wasn’t one just to kiss with his lips.

You ball his clothes in fists when his hands use your hips, running them over his lap, the friction so tantalizing you could hear temptation like a devil on your shoulder. You let him take you, moving towards him replicating crashing waves against sand. Loud. Harsh. Seamless.

Clothes come off soon after, starting with the delicate unbuttoning of Seungkwan’s silk top–donning the torso of one fond of sports and sprayed in excitable perspiration–before then he levers you up and slides slacks down his thighs hurriedly. His bare legs crushed underneath yours, you readily pull up your dress, bunching at your waist as feel him unzip the back, the metal chill against your spine.

“Fuck,” he softly mutters, eagerly digging his fingers in your exposed flesh and whimpering against your kiss. “Don’t hold back with me.”

“Hold back?” you repeat with a chuckle, your fingers that threaded through his hair pulling his head back, angling his head so that he was forced to look up at you in what currently looks to be in awe. “You don’t have to worry about that with me.”

“Shit stirrer, huh? I guess that’s why you’re the one handling production.”

Your lips begin to trail down his jaw, front teeth nipping his skin. “Real question is, would you let me handle yours?”

“I’d let you do anything to me,” he mumbles, earnest in every word, every inch of his body vibrating off yours, including the hardening presence between his legs pressing against your stomach. “Just don’t stop.”

Your dress abandoned on the floor, Seungkwan claiming your tits in either hand, kneading them between his fingers as he’s rolling his hips against your plush flesh and feeling your radiating core slide against his shaft. He involuntarily moans through a bitten bottom lip, imagining you ride him just like this until the end of time, thinking he could cum from this alone until he feels you move the tip of his size towards your entrance. “Oh god,” he gives out, the head of his cock readily grazing over your slit, quickly pleased. “So fucking wet. Fuck…”

“I want you inside me,” you admit, not bothering to subdue your desires. “I want to put you inside me and make me feel every inch of you.”

“Fuck…me…” he presses into your skin flushed against one another, lips curled downward in impatience, gripping your full thighs to either of his sides. “I wanna fuck you so bad. Please give yourself to me.”

“You promise you’ll handle it like a good boy?” You tease, pushing his tip only a centimeter deeper.

“Please, please, anything. I just wanna feel that pussy choke me please.” He begs.

Your hand clamps against the couch enthusiastically, “Fuck you’re so needy. That’s so hot.” Gingerly, you reward his pleas, feeling his raw length make contact with your contracting walls, squeezing around his girth and making Seungkwan flip his eyes before he starts guiding your hips.

“Fuck that’s so good, baby.”

You lightly scoff. “Baby? A little soon don’t you think?”

“Thought we found some common ground when you decided for me to fuck you. My mistake,” he chides.

You catch a tendril of his hair between your fingers, “Maybe it’s how you fuck me that grants you such a term of endearment.”

“Better up my game then.” He lifts you up, tangling your legs around his waist before he pushes you on your back, swiftly slamming his hips against you.

Your head crashes deep into the leather, the musky scent of sex now invading your nose as you drown in heat. “Shit.”

“Making sure I get the advantage.” He folds forward to press against you, your breasts back in his hands before his lips wrap around a nipple, his tongue attacking your sensitivity before he inevitably sucks. He leaves you in an ache, your hips thrusting back into him conveniently in time for him to regain his rhythm.

“S-Seungkwan…”

His moan vibrates against your skin, teeth pulling your nipple as he thrusts deeper, grazing your deep end just perfectly not enough. Fucking tease.

You whine beneath him, squirming. Your legs tighten around him, attempting to make friction, and finding a growl in your throat as a hand of Seungkwan’s squeezes your behind. A whole ass cheek in the clutches of his well-groomed hands, squeezing and memorizing its swell, while he’s splitting you in half to deduce you to a bumbling horny mess.

“Where have you been all my life?” He mumbles with glee.

You clench your fists behind him as he heightens his pace, melting into the tender assault of his lips that burn your skin and silence your voice. He ruts into you deeper, pounding away his frustrations and when he makes it known he’s found your spot, you make it clear as day.

“Oh god,” you groan, gripping him tighter. Your jaw drops slack, silent screams coming out of you, and you cling to him like in desperation to maintain that high as you claw against his broad back.

“That’s so good. Is it right there, am I hitting your spot, baby?” he asks with an exhausted grin.

You nod, softly pleading for more, and he generously grants. In an attempt to intensify your core’s pleasure, his hand cups just above your slit, fingers finding your blossoming bud. Your breath is shot, feeling the caress of his thumb press down before rubbing your arousal around your clit. Your hips thrust into his touch, gripping him by the shoulders, feeling your combined sweat drip from your sides and squeaking against the couch fabric.

“Oh my god, oh my god…” You can’t control it anymore. Seungkwan isn’t just pushing you past the edge, he's shoving you off.

“Like that, baby. Yes, what good girl cumming all over my cock,” he sweetly praises.

You reach him by the back of his head and propel him forward, colliding lips in a fervent liplock. Your moans drowned between one another, your climax coming in tenfold as he didn’t for a second stop, even well after you came.

Yet, it isn’t enough. Seungkwan shifts and tugs your legs to border his torso. He lifts himself from the ground, his feet flat, shutting your legs tight, having the sweat of your thighs chafe against another unsettlingly. It then becomes completely overlooked with his hips, his cock starts pushing in and out of you, and folding himself into you with your closed legs as your pussy choked around his cock. Your walls pulsating around him, hot and lush, he death grips your body and watches your flesh recoil back against him deliciously.

“Fucking shit,” he groans, plunging deeper as your cries moisten your cheeks and he brings you to a foreign level of ecstasy.

His release from what you can tell is thick, warm, and inviting. Your legs find a mind of their own when they decide to lock the stranger in place, feel every ounce of pure pleasure shooting down inside you, coating you in your collaborative efforts, and residing peacefully deep, deep in your sore heat.

Your lover collapses against you, eyes barely managing to open as he guides your bodies in a more comfortable position, his cum and cock still inside you.

He’s softly pant, red on every inch of his face, residual from his raging orgasm and…fluster? “I…I don’t usually—“

“I don’t mind,” you gently reassure, brushing away the sweat-soaked hair from his forehead. “I wanted that to happen.”

“But what if—“

“It’s nothing you have to worry about,” you hint and fortunately he gets the clue, cuddling up to you closer.

“Good.” He nods, sounding off in relief.

You play with his ear, thumbing over the flaming red tip. “That was really good.”

The boy can’t help but grin, “I make good on my promises…and if you want, we can do it again.”

Your movement stops. “Oh.” Now you’re panicking. “I don’t think we should.”

His cock slips out of you with ease at your confession, both flaccid and disappointed as cum drips down the leather. “Why not? I thought you liked it.”

You begin sitting up, taking Seungkwan with you. “Of course I do! It’s just…my schedule doesn’t allow me to date—let alone see people outside of work—so, this wouldn’t work.” You offer him an apologetic pat on the back, feeling the muscles pulse against you before you regretfully pull away. “This is actually my last night in town, I was gonna leave soon for another shoot…but this was wonderful.”

You cup his cheek, flushed red and soft as can be, and kiss its fullness, letting your lips linger. “I’m so sorry.” For absolutely lying about everything about me when you gave me the most incredible orgasm I’ve had in centuries and to myself for cutting lose the hottest fucking man fiction and nonfiction you’ve ever fucking met.

“No, I get it,” he answers, a hint of sorrow in his gaze. “You got things going for you. That’s ok. Just let me know when you’re in town, hmm? We can get together again, maybe?”

His sense of hope is admirable, something you saw in yourself a few years ago before the toppling towers of crippling debt fell on you. “I don’t think so, handsome.”

He sighs. “Alright. I get it.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head with a knowing smile. “Don’t be.”

“You ended my vacation the best way you could’ve,” you egg on, “Couldn’t have ended my last night in town any better.”

“Yeah?” He chuckles, finally a light flickering back in his eyes. “Then maybe I can give you a parting gift.”

You raise an eyebrow, following his figure leaving your body and find his knees back in the ground and between your legs, “Seungkwan?”

“Can’t have you leave a mess.” His hand glides over your thighs, gaze flickering from you and your cunt oozing in cum, and his full lips kissing your inner thigh, tingling legs and garnering goosebumps down your shins.

“Are you actually—“

His tongue scraps on the skin just next to your lips, a mixture of your climax settling on his tongue, and you mewl at the sight. He kneads your flesh, his moans tickling your skin and admiring it how he knew how: worship.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” His fingers play against your sensitive folds, tension pressed on your clit. “You’re everything I could want…tasting you and pleasing you is the least I could do.”

His mouth wrapped around your lips before sucking, tongue parting what’s between, and sighing at the harmonious flavor dancing inside his mouth. Your worn walls contract around him, it feeds his desire as he pushes his face deeper inside you, and melts at your hands finding hair in soft strokes.

Your voice aches for another release. The sensation of his jaw locking and nodding in your heat as his tongue fucks his cum back inside you drives you to up a wall. You squirm the faster he flicks his tongue, legs pulling back and forward, overwhelmed by Seungkwan’s mouth until he holds either one at either side, locking it around his neck.

His eyes ooze with determination and his face falls from color. The compromising position he put himself in is not one free consequence, but for the last single of the most greatest fuck of his life, losing a bit of oxygen was worth it, and his efforts are soon proven.

When you cum this time on his tongue, Seungkwan has never tasted anything sweeter, or rather bittersweet knowing this would be the last he’d get the chance to. He’s tasting you, savoring you, worshiping you. From the scent of your body, to the face you make, from what you feed him. If he knew how impossibly decadent you just were–only for you to leave–maybe he wouldn’t have done this. Or maybe he would.

Reluctantly, Seungkwan breaks apart from your lips to reconnect with another. One last shared, heated breath of this spontaneous exchange. One that he’d remember for a long time, and think about over long nights. Tenderly, your foreheads are the ones to kiss in a silent farewell, sad smiles on both your faces.

“Thank you…for reminding me what it feels like to live my own life.”

The pretty boy softly scoffs, kissing you once more, the tingle his lips lingering on yours. “Make your stories magical as you’ve made my night. Take care, Miss Producer.”

You quickly get dressed before the sexy stranger pulls you right back in his trace and you drag your friend and club attendee all the way back home, giving you the pleasure of finally resting in bed, body still aching from the sweltering sex hours ago. Sadly, without the warm body you enjoyed so much tonight. He made a lasting impression on you and you hope maybe one day on better circumstances you’ll meet again and the lie may someday be true. If you’re so lucky.

Eventually, summer takes its final laps and you’re entering the college semester and start working closely with the professor you’re aiding. The matter that your life is slowly being sucked away becomes more real the longer you look at his lesson plan and although you love writing, you know you’re about to dread the long evenings of paperwork to come.

The first day of being a TA: get in the building by the car you have barely hanging on, meet with the professor, get in lectures and “TA”, skim through your new work for graduate classes, and sadly eat your late lunch/dinner alone because you know the ziplock of trail mix marinating in your backpack would not be enough. That’s the plan. Easy to follow.

Students start trickling into the classroom about twenty minutes before actual lecture time, some with nervous faces and excited expressions. Then a few minutes before the lecture starts, hoards of students are coming through, the classroom getting louder and louder as there is not enough space for white noise. You feel your heart beating increasingly–admittedly more nervous than anticipated–finding yourself focused on papers to avoid eyes with the other students until you can’t anymore.

With over 100 students, you start to feel like an imposter, a kid playing dress-up in her mom’s closet. Normally, you're not one to get nervous on the first day, but being a teacher’s assistant makes this situation different. You’re terrified of screwing up, whether it’s a big mistake or a small one. You tell yourself you need to get out of your head.

When roll call becomes necessary, the professor hands you the clipboard, forcing you to introduce yourself and make your presence known. Your hands tremble from natural nerves as you call out the names on the list, doing your best to pronounce each one clearly and coherently. Then your gaze lands on a name all too familiar, one that’s been on the tip of your tongue before. You can’t help but look up, eager to hear the voice that responds.

He stares at you, a look of pleasant surprise on his face, his lips curling up at the corners as his eyes gleam with intrigue—just like that night before.

You clear your throat, quickly averting your gaze, and resume roll call. You decide right then to ignore him for the rest of the day, the semester, and possibly the rest of your college career, if you can help it.

When you finish, you don’t dare look up again, telling yourself it’s because it’s the first day. You’ve done everything you needed to do for now.

As the lecture wraps up, it’s time to leave. The professor dismisses the class and exits the room, leaving you to pick up the pieces and answer any lingering questions from students. You just hope this particular student isn’t one of them.

“I had a question, Miss LN.”

You’re reminded that hope is just another word for wishful thinking. You don’t need to look up to know who it is. His voice is already etched into your memory, feeding the part of you that wants to respond, and you clench your thighs at the memory.

“Sure, what… um, what is it?” you respond, still not looking up.

“It’s about the syllabus. I was hoping we could discuss it in private?” His tone carries a hint of something familiar, something that doesn’t belong between a student and a teacher’s assistant.

“The syllabus is pretty self-explanatory,” you reply, trying to keep your voice neutral, though your pulse quickens.

“But I wanted to ask, just in case I misinterpreted anything.”

You make a show of straightening the papers on your desk, the crisp shuffle loud enough to make it clear you’re not amused. “You're a writing major. I’m sure you understand everything just fine.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to check,” he says, a casual shrug masking the intent behind his words.

You sigh, knowing you won’t easily shake him off. Finally, you meet his gaze, catching the anticipation simmering in his eyes. With a resigned breath, you gather your belongings and stand. “Fine, follow me.”

As you lead him to a tucked-away corner, your footsteps echo in the quiet hallway. You glance around to ensure there are no prying eyes before stopping. He waits until you’re both out of sight before speaking, his voice lowering in that familiar way that sends a shiver down your spine. “So, how’s the indie film coming along, Miss Producer?”

Your arms cross instinctively, a barrier against the playful look on his face. His eyes sparkle with amusement, as if this is all a game to him. As if your college career and your career career didn’t hang on the very balance of this conversation and your history. “Very funny,” you reply, glaring at him. “Just two big liars caught in their own webs of lies. How serendipitous.”

He chuckles softly, the sound unnervingly familiar and instinctively arousing. “I know why I lied, but why did you?”

You plant a hand to your chest defensively. “Excuse me, I never anticipated seeing you ever again. It’s natural I’d lie—wait, why did you lie?”

“To get laid. Duh.” He answers as if it was the obvious thing in the world.

You roll your eyes, back knocking against the wall behind you. “Of course, fucking dumbass college boys.”

“You fell for it, so who’s the dumbass now?”

“Still you? Were you even drinking age?”

“Uh, yes that’s how I got in, otherwise they never would’ve let me in.”

Your palm runs over your face in embarrassment, cringing for long nights of thinking of your student of all fucking people. “I fucking knew you didn’t own the Gemstone.”

“Yet, you fucked me anyway.”

You rush towards him, your breath catching as you pin your fingers in front of your lips and hiss, “Will you shut your mouth?”

He crosses his arms, leaning back against the wall, a smug smile playing on his lips. “Why? You’re a TA, not a professor.It’s perfectly kosher.”

“It’s still highly frowned upon to fraternize in that manner, regardless of whether I’m a TA or a professor. I grade your fucking papers,” you shoot back, your eyes narrowing as the frustration rises in your chest.

He just shrugs, that infuriating grin never leaving his face. “Hey, if it gets me a good grade…”

“Or watch me fucking fail you,” you snap, stepping even closer, your voice low and dangerous. “Don’t you ever speak a word about that night again, got it?”

His smile falters slightly, but he quickly recovers, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, geez.”

“Good.”

But he can’t resist one last jab, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “My lips—and pants—are sealed.”

“Seungkwan!” You hiss his name, barely keeping your voice down, your cheeks flushing with a mix of anger and something else you refuse to acknowledge.

He chuckles, clearly enjoying himself. “Oh, it’s been a while since you screamed my name.”

You grit your teeth and speak through harsh whispers, your patience wearing thin.

“I will drop-kick you if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

He grins wider, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he leans in just a fraction. “Like I said, I keep my promises. See you on Wednesday, Miss TA.”

With that, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there, seething, the echo of his footsteps fading down the hallway. The air still buzzes with the tension between you, and you take a moment to collect yourself before heading back, wondering how you’re going to survive the rest of the semester with him in your class. If all your encounters are like this, you might as well quit now.

As expected, that initial confrontation isn’t the last you see of Seungkwan. While being your student, your forced interactions have become a bit of a spectacle among other students, especially considering Seungkwan stares back at you every lecture like you’re the only two people in the room. His routine of pestering during and after lectures has become something his peers have look forward to and you wonder if this kind of thing is normal for a teacher’s assistant.

It seems to have stirred up varying opinions, even among students from other classes—ones far removed from your department, who typically wouldn’t give a second thought to your work. The rumors have even reached the ears of other TAs, the ones you’ve built strong camaraderie with, turning casual conversations into whispered speculations. Some of those speculations have been harmless, fueled by curiosity and mild intrigue. But others? They’ve taken on more confrontational, and their tense gazes have you questioning just how far these rumors have gone.

But is it really a rumor if its all true?

"So, you and that Seungkwan kid, what's that about?"

You give a grand sigh, the weight of your colleague's curiosity pressing down on you as he peers at you, eyes alight with nosy mischief. His intent is clear—he's fishing for details about your relationship with one of your many students. But Seungkwan is different. Far different, even if you’d never admit that aloud knowing how your reputation would stand.

"Really not your business, bud," you reply, trying to keep your tone light, though it’s hard to miss the edge beneath your words.

Your colleague, Soobin, raises an eyebrow, completely unfazed by your attempt to shut him down. "Funny enough, I’m in the business of making things my business."

You scoff, fingers curling tightly around the handle of your freshly brewed coffee, the warmth of the cup your only source of comfort in this conversation. The rich aroma wafts up, offering a brief distraction. "He's my student, obviously, and he’s going to stay that way."

The words come out sharper than intended, the finality of your tone surprising even you. You take a long sip of the coffee, letting the bitterness anchor you. This conversation is tiptoeing too close to a line you’re not ready to cross.

Soobin raises his hands in mock surrender, though there’s a knowing glint in his eyes. "Okay, okay. No need to be so defensive. Good thing you’re keeping it professional."

"I know that. Why are you mansplaining, Soobin? Don’t you have work to do?"

"Of course. Just wanted to point out—it’d be a real problem if you did."

"Uh, yeah. Obviously."

"Good."

"I just wouldn’t want to lose anything over it."

You narrow your eyes at him. "What now?"

He hesitates before continuing, grinning sheepishly. "Okay, okay. There might be a bet going around about whether or not you and that kid sleep together again."

"What the—again? Again? What are you talking about?" You gape at him, incredulity painting your features as you struggle to process his words.

"Oh, come on, don’t play dumb," Soobin says with an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes. "Everyone knows."

You blink, your mind racing to catch up. "…Everyone?"

"Everyone." He nods emphatically, the corners of his mouth twitching as he takes in your stunned reaction.

Your face falls, and you run a hand through your hair in frustration, your shoulders slumping. "Well, fuck." The words escape you like a dismayed exhale, your voice tinged with disbelief.

"And I bet that you wouldn’t. At least, not until the end of the semester."

"You bet money on me?" You’re seething, anger now directed at him.

"Not money," Soobin says quickly, raising his hands in a defensive gesture, as if to ward off any further criticism. He leans in slightly, his tone taking on a pleading edge. "But seriously, just don’t do it, okay? Be a good TA and a good friend. Don’t sleep with the boy. Just... don't."

You glare at him, incredulous. "I oughta do it just to make you lose."

"Please don’t! It wasn’t money I bet!"

You narrow your eyes further. "What did you bet, then?"

Soobin shifts uncomfortably. "Just... test answers."

"Soobin."

"Please! Just help me win this. I’m begging you!" Soobin’s voice is desperate, his eyes wide and pleading.

“You could jeopardize your scholarships with this kind of bet.”

“So don’t let me lose this one!” His frustration is palpable, his hands clasped together as if in prayer.

“I could just hit you,” you threaten, though the words come out more resigned than menacing.

“But I’m so lovely. Don’t you think?” Soobin’s attempt at levity falls flat, his forced grin barely concealing his anxiety.

“Soobin, this is seriously messed up.”

He continues, undeterred, “The money I could win could buy me a new apartment to rent out. I’d finally be able to move off-campus.”

“This is so fucked up,” you mutter, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I know, I’m literally on my knees here, dude,” Soobin says, lowering himself as if pleading for mercy.

You run a hand through your hair, trying to stave off the growing irritation. “Fine, damn it. Okay. I hope you’ve fucking learned your lesson and won’t pull this kind of stunt again.”

You meet his gaze head-on, your patience visibly thinning. "Are we done here?"

He nods vigorously, a small, almost imperceptible smile of relief tugging at the corners of his lips. "Of course."

As Soobin walks away, you watch him go, the remnants of the conversation hanging in the air like the fading scent of coffee. You take another sip of your drink, this time more deliberately, letting the warmth seep into you. You try to channel your remaining energy into something productive, determined to salvage what’s left of your day. The knowledge of the bet and the weight of your friend’s reputation hanging in the balance makes every decision weigh heavy on your shoulders.

Despite the sprawling campus and the vast number of students, gossip is as vibrant and pervasive as ever. Seungkwan doesn’t help matters, especially with the frequent discussions you’re having about his late assignments. No matter how stern and resolute your tone becomes, he meets you with a gaze that’s both wistful and enigmatic. His eyes, filled with a mix of wonder and intrigue, follow your every movement. They start by meeting yours directly, then drift downward, lingering on your face, then lower, then lower, and finally–

"Are you paying attention, Seungkwan? Or am I going to have to talk to Professor Yoon about you finally dropping the class?"

Seungkwan leans against the auditorium chairs, averting his attention to the sharp expression on your face, a smug smile tugging at his lips. "No, nothing of the sort, Miss TA. Please, continue to lecture me about what an awful student I am."

Your eyes narrow as you cross your arms, forward on your desk, tapping your foot with growing impatience as you shuffle through to gather your belongings. "I will—and starting where your assignments have been showing up several days late. I can’t keep making exceptions for you."

"Why not? You’re so good at making me feel special," he teases, head tilted, his voice dripping with a sultry sarcasm.

Your patience snaps as you sharply tap the stack of aligned papers on the desk, the sound echoing through the room. "Stop it, will you? Your grade is sinking fast, and at this rate, you’ll be repeating the class."

He shrugs, that maddening grin still in place. "Would that really be so bad? You’d get a whole new semester with me."

You scoff, standing upright, pacing a few steps as frustration simmers just beneath the surface. "Are you seriously going to waste your tuition money just to fail? At least pretend to make an effort. Chatgpt exists for students like you I’m assuming."

He tilts his head slightly, eyes gleaming with mischief. "If only someone wasn’t so distracting, maybe I could. You’d understand, Miss TA."

You stop mid-step, spinning to face him, your voice sharp. "Enough. And stop calling me that—it’s like you get off on it."

"Oh, I do." The playful tone in his voice is laced with something else now, something heavier.

Your jaw clenches, heat rising to your face, thighs sealed against one another.. "Your assignments. On time. By the end of this week, or I’ll recommend to Professor Yoon that you drop the class."

"Fine," he mutters, his tone nonchalant, the smirk still lingering lazily on his lips as he halfheartedly stuffs his books into his bag. His movements are careless, and a few sheets of notebook paper slip out, drifting lazily to the floor without him even noticing.

You sigh, bending down to pick them up. As you straighten, your eyes unintentionally flick over the handwritten lines—only for something to catch your attention. You freeze, blinking at the words on the page. "What the...?"

Seungkwan’s demeanor changes in an instant. His eyes widen, and he lunges forward, panic flashing across his face. "Don’t read that!" His voice is more urgent, almost desperate.

But you dodge his grasp, holding the paper just out of reach, your brow furrowing. "What is this? And why is it actually... interesting?"

"Give it back," he says, his tone softer, pleading now.

"Why don’t you put this much effort into your assignments?" you ask, glancing up at him, your curiosity overtaking your frustration.

Before you can react, Seungkwan steps closer, his movements more deliberate this time. He snatches the paper from your hands, but his proximity catches you off guard. He’s standing close—too close—backing you into the edge of your desk. His face is flushed, his breath coming in shallow bursts, and you can see the embarrassment in his narrowed eyes, the tips of his ears burning red.

Your heart stutters in your chest, your breath hitching as the space between you seems to shrink. The air feels thick, charged with something you know too fucking well. For a moment, neither of you moves, your eyes locked like you’re frozen. You’re acutely aware of every small detail—the way his fingers clutch the paper tightly, how his chest rises and falls with each breath, the warmth radiating from him as he towers just slightly over you.

Suddenly, he stumbles, his foot catching on the leg of the desk, and you gasp as his weight nearly knocks you backward. Your hands shoot out, gripping the edge of the desk to steady yourself. Your glasses slip down your nose as you blink up at him, your pulse quickening, his face inches from yours.

"Sorry," Seungkwan mutters, quickly pulling away, flustered as he hurriedly gathers the fallen papers, stuffing them into his bag. "I’ll do the assignments. Just... don’t fail me. And don’t repeat whatever you think you read."

Without waiting for your reply, he storms out of the room, leaving you standing there, your chest heaving, the ghost of his presence lingering in the suddenly too-quiet space.

You try to steady your breath, ignoring how ragged it had become, and the unsettling way your blood pulsed—not just through your heart, but in places you'd rather not acknowledge. You forcefully push those thoughts aside, desperate for any distraction. Tonight, that distraction would be class assignments.

With an iced coffee marinating at the corner of your office desk, the papers in front of you blur as his face flashes through your head. You can’t help but recall the way his lips looked—full and slightly parted, the way his eyes gleamed with a mix of defiance and something else entirely. And the warmth of him—how heavy and undeniably right he felt as he leaned over you, his presence lingering even after he was gone.

You shake your head, determined to refocus on grading, gripping the red pen a little tighter. But your mind drifts again, this time to the words you’d glimpsed on that crumpled page. The writing had a familiarity to it, something deeply personal that tugged at the corners of your mind. Reminding you of how much you remembered that night. Specifically how good that night felt.

‘Her whispers, haunting, breath heavy. She gazes at me with eyes full of want, strands of hair falling over her forehead, tantalizing and wild. Her cheek is warm beneath my hand as I pull her closer, our lips meeting, tasting the sweetness of something long desired but never claimed. For this night, she is mine—even if it's only for this night alone.’

Your cheeks flush as the memory hits, the realization settling in with a mix of shock and something you can't quite name. The words were unmistakable—vivid, intimate, dripping with a desire that mirrored the tension between you two. You recognized the inspiration behind them immediately.

He’s writing his own fanfiction. And it’s about you.

Suddenly, you’re not so much thinking about the bet Soonbin warned you about.

#svthub #thediamondlifenetwork #seungkwan smut #boo seungkwan smut #seventeen smut #boo seungkwan #seungkwan #seventeen #seungkwan fanfic #boo seungkwan x you #boo seungkwan x reader #boo seungkwan x y/n #seventeen fanfic #seungkwan x y/n #seungkwan x you #seungkwan x reader #seventeen x reader

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outplacedwriter · 2 months ago

Text

It's "being controversial" hours!

The moment Worm went from being Brockton Bay focused to "there's a WORLD WIDE threat because of Jack Slash" it kinda lost a bit of its strength to me.

I mean, why does it always have to be The Whole World?

Brokton Bay alone is already such a mess, and the potential is already so great. We've been following a story about superheroes that changes so much about the usual hero narrative and then... oh no, the whole world is in danger.

It didn't need to go there. It had enough depth as it was.

#worm #wormblr #worm web serial #wildbow #parahumans

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writteninlunarlight-years · 1 year ago

Note

Sorry this request might be a little weird; Im gonna try and word it best I can. Can you do something with Alastor and the reader, who very slowly and maybe unintentionally became friends; where Alastor confesses his feelings and how much he cares for the reader... But the reader doesnt take him seriously? The reader basically doesnt think he is actually interested in dating them. The reader thinks its a joke, he is just trying to use them, or otherwise just trying to get something out of them. Not in like a distrustful way either. The reader has the attitude of 'oh yeah. The great radio demon who has girls falling at his feet and can get ANYONE he wants is interested in me? Right, good one.' Like its a self-esteem/self-worth thing stopping them from believing him. Oh and this is for Hazbin Hotel obviously, but just in case I had to say it.

Please Please Please~

(This honestly was me projecting because this is me anytime someone shows interest in me. I have horrible self-esteem issues lol)

When you woke in hell, you thought nothing of it, really. You did some good, and you sure did some bad, so maybe this was exactly where you were always supposed to be. You had no anger or frustration about your placement because you simply couldn’t care enough. Heaven or hell, you probably would still be fighting for something. If anything, you hoped you would just fall asleep in death, but where would the fun in that be?

Upon your arrival, a few things became quite clear: 1. It was a dog-eat-dog world here in hell, so be prepared for anything. 2. The more souls you own, the more powerful you are, so start making some friends to make just as many enemies. 3. You will always be less powerful and popular than the TV head and the Radio Demon.

The only downside is you never got to meet this Radio Demon. He had been missing for seven years, according to the streets, and long gone, but still, he was the talk of countless women and men, especially Vox. This wasn’t a surprise, though; how people explained his rise to power was even more impressive and unique to you. He would one day be a formidable foe if you crossed him, or would he? The last extermination was killer. Half your souls had been killed off, and you were left a lot weaker from an injury caused by angelic steel. A slash was going straight across your back from a poorly-timed dodge. You weren’t bad at fighting; you weren't good at it either. Usually, during exterminations, you would hide at the Vee’s tower or another notable place. However, unsurprisingly, you were kicked out after your loud denial of working with the Vees.

Seeking refuge at the next best place, you stumbled upon the Hazbin Hotel. Delirious and in pain, it was indeed just a stumble into the lobby. Upon entering, you saw an excited and concerned blonde chick, someone with a spear, and then all that was left was just red—beautiful crimson red.

Some days had to have passed; you only know this because your wounds were wrapped up, and the calendar in the room you were placed in had days since the extermination marked off. Five days you spent asleep resting and recouping. Though your body was mainly healed, the scar you saw on your back when you stood was anything but attractive. Sighing, you sat on the cold bathroom floor.

You were never much of a beauty in your mind. You were just simply good enough. Sometimes, you could seduce a soul into your clutches, win a soul gambling, and sometimes gain one from fighting—a jack of all trades, master of none. Yet now, your value has significantly decreased with a giant scare running across the expanse of your back. Sighing, you stood once more and decided you would figure out where the hell you were and who was stupidly kind enough to help you.

With your top half fully bandaged, you didn’t think about putting on a shirt. The idea of anything rubbing on your wound annoyed you greatly. So, being mindful of potential others, you walked around carefully, ensuring your bandages were tight. Looking around, it was a reasonably average hotel. Nothing was too crazy about it; it just had some eerie decor at the most.

Rounding the last corner, you found stairs that opened up to the lobby, and dear lord, above did you wish you stayed in your room. A loud, cheerful presence came bombarding you, shouting a hundred questions about your health, your name, and what happened. You almost wanted to retreat into the shadows at how brightly she shone when you agreed to stay at her hotel and take a shot at redemption.

You met the residents quickly after that. It's not like you had much of a choice anyway. Surprisingly, the one you clicked with the most was the famed Alastor, the Radio Demon. How you two clicked was beyond everyone, besides the fact you were cunning and a silver tongue speaker like the man himself. Maybe that is why he found you amusing and watched you work your magic on lulling Husk even into a secure enough place to talk to you.

His lack of asking for your soul surprised you more than anything. Though you knew Charlie had her rules in the hotel, that didn’t dissuade the Deer from making his own choices. You commended him for his poise and regality; you understood why he was the talk of the town even when Vox was trying so hard to be the new it boy. Alastor was handsome in a nonconventional way; he was refined, elegant, and poised. He treated women like a gentlemen and men like they were just one step below him.

You wouldn’t lie to yourself and say you weren't enamored; you liked him a lot from just the first handful of conversations. However, one late night really sealed the nail in your coffin of love for the affamed Overlord. You two were sitting on the lobby chair, the long-forgotten bar, and a nursed bottle of Whiskey between you two. Each new glass only brought you two closer, having a lot of similarities.

You also killed upon your time on earth as a means to protect the ones you cared about and end those who acted foolishly like them. You also died an untimely death at the hands of something out of your control. You were both quick-witted and capable of compelling those around you with your voice and words. The only significant difference was he was an Overlord, a beautiful, attractive overlord. At the same time, you were just a sinner with a few damned souls that saw potential in you.

After that night, you and Alastor grew a lot closer. You would even dare to call him your best friend, knowing that nothing more would ever come of your two relationship past that. Not only was Alastor continuously turning women and men down left and right, but Angel was convinced the man didn’t know what romance or sex was. You couldn’t help but agree with him as every beautiful person who crossed his path was quickly shooed away or disposed of.

As the Adam-led extermination approached, you noticed Alastor took a particular interest in your training. You were opting for him to train you and approve your placement on the battlefield. Your heart soared at his kindness, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up. He didn’t want to lose a like-minded friend, which was all this was. As you all prepared for the event, his sudden and lingering hug was just him being worried about a friend.

You would do and say anything to convince yourself he just saw you as a friend, even as he scolded you for your injuries after the battle. He just cared a lot about his best friend. You were nothing comparative in power and prestige as Alastor was, so he would never see you as more. This was all just a fond kindness he used with Niffty, Roise, and Mimzy. You wouldn’t allow yourself to be a fool and believe anything more would happen.

As your affection grew for the Radio Demon, so did your self-doubt and negative self-esteem. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself like Mimzy, pining after a demon that would never love you. Your nights at the bar became more and more apparent enough that Husk took to talking to you and trying to help you out. This didn’t go unnoticed by the boss of said man. No, instead, jealousy was brewing inside of him, watching you grow closer to the cat demon. Jealousy that was soon to reach a head.

Alastor was utterly infatuated with you. You were a perfect mix of normalcy and insanity, something he admired dearly. You were not overbearing or clingy like Mimzy, not psychotic and wild like Niffty, and not motherly and borderline insane like Rosie. No, you were a perfect combination of what he loved in all his dear friends. That’s all you were right, a dear friend. It didn’t help that you stopped spending time with him and hanging around Husk; he grew irate.

He needed help and fast; who better to turn to than his motherly companion, Rosie? Wanting to get you out of Husk's grasp, though he invited you along on the trip. It was pleasant. You wrapped around his arm as he led you through the streets, up until cannibal town people cowering at your feet. Once in cannibal town, though, the women came flocking. He was used to this, declining, pushing people away, and even allowing his shadows a meal or two. However, the frown on your face was the least of his expectations. He hadn’t long to question it before you two arrived at Rosie’s Emporium.

As you two entered, you were immediately enamored with all of the goods Rosie had sold. Once quick introductions were out of the way, Alastor approached the side table to speak with his friend while you looked around more. His worries and fears were confirmed, though; he was, in fact, in love with you. Alastor wasn’t one to skimp on charm; he was a gentleman who would court you properly.

After your visit to Rosies, you noticed a new change in Alastor. He was quite literally everywhere you were. You couldn’t get far without him complimenting you, giving you a gift, or asking you to accompany him on errands. You figured that your time secluding and hanging out with Husk might have made him think you didn’t want to be friends anymore. So, with a smile, you welcomed this change and stuck through it. Why not accept his doting behavior before he finally broke your heart and said he didn’t like dating or got a partner?

This went on for months. The lingering touches, longer hugs, late-night talks, gifts galore, and, most importantly, him letting his guard down around you made you feel special. According to Husk, he hasn't done this with any of his other close friends. This made you almost hope that there was something more. Alastor had countless options, though, so of course, he would never choose you. Why would you allow him to embarrass you like that?

After six months of pursuing you, Alastor believed he had amply courted you. He had enlisted the help of Charlie and Vaggie to set up the lobby so he could ask you to be his officially. The room was perfect: low lighting, candles, your favorite flowers, and food placed out. All that was missing was you there on his arm. He knew it was perfect for you, everything to your heart's desire.

You were in shock as you entered the lobby after an impromptu errand Charlie needed to be done. You couldn’t even begin to understand what was going on. As you walked in, you saw Alastor sitting at the table before you, a large smile on his face. You looked at him quizically. “Uh, Al, what is all this?” He looked around awkwardly—that was the first time you saw that expression. “Well, Y/N, what does it look like? Of course, it's a date for us, in the hotel's safety.” You scrunched up your eyebrows, trying to process his words. “A date?” He seemed to be growing more tense by the moment; he expected you to be happy and excited, and you seemed to like his courting so much. “Yes, dear, we have been courting for some time now, which leads me to believe you were ready for a date. Was I mistaken?” You were taken aback. Are you courting? When did that happen? You looked at Alastor, trying to piece together the puzzles. Could he have liked you all this time? No, there is no way; he had so many options, so many better, less disfigured options. “Al, are you waiting for a different girl? Is this some like practice run for a person you want to date? You shouldn’t play with me like this. It’s not nice.” Alastor looked genuinely upset, only momentarily before his signature smile returned. “No, Y/N. This is for you. I have been courting you. Did you not realize my advances towards you? I have been avidly seeking you and you alone out.” You started to tear up. You wanted to believe him; you did, but it was hard. You weren’t the best; you weren’t the strongest. You had nothing going for you than surviving hell each day. “What, no? What do you mean? You can’t mean me. I am nothing, Alastor. I am nothing; I would just be embarrassing you. You are a powerful Overlord—a handsome, sought-after man. I am nothing. I am just here a sinner designed to fight through hell, that is all.” Alastor began to realize what you were getting at. You didn’t see yourself as being good enough for him. He never learned the toll you put yourself through watching person after person fall to his feet. You were watching him turn them all away and go about his day. You thought he was going to do the same to you. You thought you would never be good enough for him when you have always been what he wanted all along.

“Oh, Y/N, no.” He rushed over to you, holding you close. Even as you fought to push him away, he stayed holding you close until you calmed. “Y/N, it has always been you. Yes, I am rough around the edges and have high expectations, but you meet them, Y/N. Can you not see how close and compatible we are since the day you moved in?” You stilled and listened. Could it be true that he liked you too this whole time? What if this was some sick prank to torture you? You looked up at Alastor, a genuine smile replacing his normal, calculated one. “Alastor, if I agree with this, you won't hurt me, right?” He sighed and held you close. “I can’t promise not to hurt you; I am an overlord and a selfish creature. However, I promise never to lie, cheat, or steal from you. I choose to love you and you alone, Y/N.” You smiled brightly and reached up, kissing his lips softly. His arms snaked around your waist as he deepened the kiss, and both of you closed your eyes. You could easily get used to being the top overlord's girl.

Just please, please, please let him prove you wrong…

#x reader #lunarwritings #moons #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x reader fluff #alastor x you fluff #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor imagine #alastor fluff #alastor #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon

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fhrlclln · 8 months ago

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y'know what, qimir deserves to be a babygirl sometimes. what about a fic where he's on the early stages of training softie!y/n so they're still not well versed in using the force, but once vernestra tried to attack qimir, he was surprised that y/n could wreak havoc like that 😁

p.s. i LOVE u fics sm <333

you give me strength | qimir

SUMMARY -> in a weak moment, he thought his life would end right there in the hands of his former master's final blow, but he thought otherwise when you showed up.

qimir x acolyte!fem! reader

masterlist

GENRE -> angst & fluff

WARNINGS -> sweet moments before disaster, slight tension, qimir's a softie, violence, mentions of blood, fight scene

WC -> 2.14k

a/n: I'M BACKKKKKKK. midterms are finally over! but some requirements are still pending to be passed but overall, my schedule has finally gotten a bit looser. hope u liked this anonz, sorry for the wait!

likes, comments and reposts are greatly appreciated !! <3

enjoy !!

"good. lift your elbows up a little more."

you obey, clutching your lightsaber tight as you fix your stance. hoping you did it right this time. there's a tug of a smile gracing his lips as qimir observes you from where you stand. determined as ever to learn.

"relax your grip. not too tight on the hilt, you may never know when to switch hands in a fight." he fishes out his own saber, showing you the relaxed grip he has. you listen, doing the same. he admires these times, now that his need to hide his identity from you wasn't of need anymore, training you became more... comforting.

"yes, master." you nod, and he lightens at your strong will.

"good. now, don't think of your weapon as a weapon. treat it as an extension of you. we'll practice now." he softly says, the waves crashing in the background making this lesson more relaxing. "you have already mastered the forms i have taught you. next step, we will be sparring. and i will be your opponent."

"oh..." there's a flash of uncertainty on your face. you didn't expect your first spar to be with him.

"are you worried for me?" he jokes, and you roll your eyes.

"i think i'm more worried for myself, master." you say back with a sarcastic tone. he chuckles as he lights his saber, the crimson glow catching your eyes. you always admired how he fights, and now that you'll experience it first-hand, you are a bit worried.

"you don't need to." he grins, readying his stance as he lifts his arm up, the crimson light illuminating his face as he looks at you with a shine in his eyes. "i'll be gentle."

your heart skips a beat at his tone. you merely nod, still uncertain if you should go full-on with an attack you had in mind. you don't want to hurt him.

"you take the offensive. i will defend myself." he motions you to start. you steadied yourself, feeling your saber in your hand, the force flowing through you. qimir stands still, waiting for your move. and you start, swiftly doing a normal slash and it clashes with his saber. the familiar sound of two beaming lights hitting. he watches you, even though he's now fastly defending himself, how quick you are to change forms. just like him, his attacks were rough and hard, with no mercy to place upon a real enemy. he's proud, even though he knows you still are holding back from him to unleash your potential.

"defend yourself now!" he shouts between clashes of your sabers. both crimson lights illuminating your faces. he takes the initiative to procure his own offense, teaching you to quickly defend yourself. and just like that, you two are moving in a tandem. you dodge his attack to your neck, and he dodges your uppercut. he admires your passive face, loving the way you are exceeding his expectations as his acolyte.

the situation escalates quickly. he sees that you are determined to strike him down, and this fuels him to unleash half of his real strength in a fight. but you retaliate, watching his every move, but not focusing entirely too much. he's surprised now as you dodge his slash quickly, and you pop up from behind him. he turns around, and then he sees it, you holding up your saber, putting all your strength in it. his eyes widened for a moment, a flash of a memory peering into his mind. one he had forgotten but resurfaced out of all times.

"master-" you faltered, and he quickly fixed himself as he took in your distracted face. his saber was about to slice your chest, but you quickly deflected his attack, stumbling back. he's at a distance from you now. your chest heaves, and so does his. he shakes his head as he turns off his saber, tucking it to his belt.

"do not falter even for a moment." he firmly said. "in a real fight, there is no time to think. do not always rely on your saber, use your connection with the force. i almost plunge my saber into your chest."

"but... i-i almost-" you stuttered, turning off your saber. you almost injured him.

"i would have defended myself with your attack." he sighs. "you need to stop holding back. you were excellent, but i need to see more of what you are hiding in there." he points to you. you only nod silently. he then softens his face, seeing you disappointed with yourself again. he walks towards you, and you nervously look up at him.

"don't doubt yourself. you were great." he takes your hand holding your saber to his.

"i don't think i can kill someone." you confessed, the comfort of his warmth making you vulnerable. "is that bad?"

"no." he shakes his head, putting his other hand on top of yours. "mercy is a kindness. but it is not a necessity. remember, the enemy will think of killing you, as you are as well."

"i understand." you nod, looking away from him, still ashamed. qimir still observes you, wondering how you still have more humanity left in you than him. and how soft he has become than before to you.

"have you been practicing with the rocks?" he asks. another thing he had to verse you in is your connection with the force. you had trouble using your emotions to put more power in yourself. you were still hesitant to put your rage in, and he knows you choose not to use it.

"yes." you say, he then touches the side of your face, ushering you to look at him. "i'm not...- it still didn't work."

"that's alright." he sighs, admiring your pretty face. "we'll work on it."

・゜゜・．

"but master-"

"you will listen to me." qimir shuts you up as your face contorts into a series of emotions ranging from confusion to nervousness. his robotic voice sends shivers down your spine as he opens the starship's door. you gulped, how things escalated so quickly. days after your sparring session, qimir had planned a quick trip and a lesson for you on some planet in the outer rim. things were going smoothly, yet the moment he felt his former master's presence lurking, everything fell into shambles. and now here you are, begging him that you should come with him as he will confront his own painful past.

"you take a step outside this ship. i will knock you out." he threatens, his own emotions going into disarray. despite the fear coursing through him at the thought of vernestra, he knew he had to do this. he had to face his last obstacle towards true freedom. you stand there, silent, your eyes watering at the thought that he might not even come back. you stuttered, wanting to tell him something, but he swiftly exited, holding his saber tight in his fist. he wanted to look back at you, knowing it might be his last, but he willed himself not to as he ignored your pleading stare.

the starship's door slowly closes, and the last thing you see is his figure getting smaller and smaller from where you stand.

he walks, each step he takes is a step closer towards his imminent death- or his absolution. he closes his eyes momentarily behind his mask, imagining your face. a surge of determination floods through him.

he will not die.

but…

“surrender now!” his former master’s voice roared through the dense forest. he shuddered, clutching his wounded side as he shakily held himself up. vernestra glares at him, her purple sabe-whip taunting him. he shakily lets out a breath, his own resolve crumbling as blood seeps into his black robes.

he can’t do it.

he can’t.

it repeats in his mind, this very scenario haunting him as he remembers how he got his scar. his hand shakes, and the saber in his other hand is still tightly held. but his own body is telling him to stop. he shakes his head, choosing to use the force to push her back to gain some leverage. he can't give up now. not when you are still on the planet, and if he fails, she'll take you next. he refuses to surrender now, vernestra countered his move, swiftly dodging his last resort, raising her saber up as a look of sadness crossed her face for a moment.

“you leave me no choice.” she says as he is thrown back as she jumps towards him, ready to land her final blow.

his eyes widened for a moment; flashes of your face and the recent memory of you two sparring calm him. he doesn’t want to feel fear before vernestra finishes him. his heart stops for a moment as he watches his former master near him, her purple saber flashing through his eyes just like before. him begging for her to stop, he was so young-

but it doesn’t happen.

he sees his former master get thrown to the side roughly before she can whip her saber. he stumbles back, sitting on the cold ground as he clutches his bleeding side. vernestra makes a strained noise as her back hits the tree behind her hard. his chest heaves as he looks at the offender who managed to catch his former master off-guard.

and there you were.

your hand is still stretched out as you ignite your saber in your other hand. he is stunned for a moment, feeling the raw power of the force emanating within you. your aura crawls through his body and he shivers at that. but what shocks him more is that visceral look of fury plastered on your face. he wants to say something as he tries to reach out to you, but it's cut off as he hears vernestra shout something at you. he can't focus, the shock in his body is slowly fading, and he's close to passing out from the lack of blood. he hastily removes his helmet as a last resort to see you fully. and his eyes are presented with a gruesome scene of you dueling his former master.

you, his timid acolyte, wreaking havoc for him.

before the darkness takes him, the last thing he sees, and he doesn't know if it's a figment of his muddled mind, he sees you appear swiftly from his master's behind- as quick and brutal as you shove your crimson saber down, and he hears his former's master gurgled voice. his eyes blink, his vision getting blurry, he breathes out your name as the darkness sweetly takes him.

・゜゜・．

he groans awake... the soft embrace of a warm blanket is the first sensation he feels. the second is a dull but painful sensation on the lower side of his abdomen. he groans at that, his eyes blinking as his vision adjusts to the dim light in the room. he's back in the starship from what he can blindly make out. his mouth is dry as he mumbles something out as his vision sets. his heart thumps as he finally sees you, sitting by the edge of the bed, looking at him softly. the contrast of how your expression was moments ago as he remembered, a swell of pride engulfs him.

"hey... try not to sit up." you say softly in greeting. "we don't have a bacta patch in the ship... so i bandaged your wound." you explained as you stood up, fetching him some water.

"wait." he weakly stops you, reaching his arm out at you. you obeyed, walking near him.

"yes, master?" you asked gently.

"you did well." he offers a weak smile. "i'm proud of you. even though you disobeyed my orders."

you blink, a little shocked, but you smile as well. "i learned from the best."

he chuckles at that, the irony of how "the best" almost surrendered to his former master in a weak moment. you sense the distress from him as you sit down next to him. he watches you, observing your next move.

"i mean it." you say, qimir stays silent as he shakes his head. "you taught me not to fear... and i finally did learn. and i wasn't going to leave you at the hands of her... you gave me the strength."

the shine in your eyes of genuineness has him melting. he takes a moment to look at you of how close you are as his hand comes up to grasp your hand on your lap. there's a moment of silence wherein you two just stare at each other in comfort. the danger was finally at rest. the thought of his former master was now gone... though, he did grieve what was before. he smiles, rubbing circles on your skin as he softly whispers back.

"and i you."

#qimir #qimir x reader #the stranger #the stranger x reader #manny jacinto #the acolyte #fnhrlcllnwrites #eri’s request box 📦 ｡･:*˚:✧｡

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