#I don’t know where to look so I burn my eyeballs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

turcott3 · 1 month

Note

Can you write birthday smut with mark? I know his birth was a few days ago but

SO SORRY IM ANSWERING THIS SO LATE

mark estapa x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, alcohol, protected sex, fluff ofc

masterlist

“you know you want to y/n, you have been talking about fucking him for at least a month now. besides, he told luca about this place he fucked a girl at a few days ago that’s close by, no way he wouldve told me that for no reason he knows we’re best friends.” your best friend says to you as you eyeball him across the room. you and mark had been snapping for a while now and you’ve grown this massive crush on him, and not in the wholesome ways. like the way his hair was wet after practice made you squeeze your legs together subconsciously.

“i don’t know, what if he doesn’t want to? and i am not fucking in the woods that is a line i will not cross.” you reply sipping on your red solo cup.

“girl have you seen the way he looks you up and down? and besides, it’s his birthday, he wants to fuck i know he does.” she scoffs.

“no.” you lie, your face burning red.

“come on just do it.”

“what am i supposed to do? walk up to him and say ‘hey we should fuck’ like girl come on.”

“or you could down another drink and sing it.”

“MY SONG?” you reply.

“you already know.”

“fine, hand me the fucking tequila.” you sigh, giggling. latto was your go to drink karaoke and with enough tequila in your system to keep you conscious yet relaxed, you could care less who you sang in front of. you took a big swig from the bottle, setting it down and b-lining for the living room where mark was always found with some of his friends around.

“what you guys know about latto.” he laughs, slurring your words. the song started smoothly, you knew the words from all your shower world tours so this surely was a breeze. you felt two hands against your shoulders shove you in mark’s direction. you turn your see your best friend smirking at you. you turn back around to see mark staring at you with eyes you couldn’t quite read. you dragged a finger down his chest while the chorus rang through the speakers. maybe he found your lack of care for others opinions hot.

“let’s fuck.” mark leans over whispering in your ear. you giggled at his words finishing your song, attached to marks chest. his hand held you firmly in place by the ass. you flung the mic across the room. he guided you through a crowd up the stairs, the noise beginning to quiet as you got further from the group downstairs. you enter a bedroom, shutting the door and locking it behind you.

“a lot quieter up here.” you say lowly, cocking your head sideways and smirking at the brunette.

“not for long, but yeah.” he giggles approaching you as you sat on the bed. he leans down attaching his lip to yours hastily, his tongue gliding across your bottom lip. you rip apart, both of you discarding your clothes as quickly as you could, reconnecting your lips as he lays you down on the bed.

“you have no idea how long ive wanted to get you like this.” he says breathlessly.

“i’m all yours birthday boy.” you smirk as he pushes his hard cock into you effortlessly. the two of you were so horny for each other that no prior help was needed.

“fuck.” you groan, gripping the sheets with your fists.

“so good.” he coos, nipping the skin of your neck, praying that it would be littered with hickeys once the two of you were done. his strokes were deep and hard, stretching you in ways you couldn’t explain. he adjusts his angle, the pitch in your moans snapping up an octave as he hit the spongey spot buried deep inside you.

“oh my god mark.” he moan, your hand gripping onto his hair as you lock eyes with the boy inches above your face.

“such a good girl, so tight for me.” he grunts, smirking at you. he could tell you were close. he reconnects your lips sloppily, rubbing your clit in circles with his fingertips, your moans becoming closer and closer together.

“i’m gonna cum.” you whine as you pull away from his swollen lips.

“cum for me baby,” he replies, fucking you through your high. the octave of your moan falling once you cooled off of your intense orgasm. he pulled out of you, still jerking himself off.

“let me.” you say, sitting up shakily. you take his cock into your hand and stroke him firmly.

“fuck.” he groans, tosses his head back. you run your tongue along his sensitive tip, begging for a climax. you felt his cock twitch in you hand. you shut your mouth, allowing his milky seed to make a mess of your face. you giggled as he finished, scraping his climax off your face with your fingers before sucking them clean.

“happy birthday mark.” you say sweetly, still on your knees in front of him.

“happy birthday to me indeed.” he giggles, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. he helps you off the bed and gathers your clothes, handing them to your as you put them on one by one.

“hey so um,” he starts as he begins putting his clothes back on, “do you wanna get out of here?”

“what? like go home with you?”

“i mean yeah, i like you y/n. i wanna spend time with you alone.”

“i like you too.” you smile.

“and plus, this doesn’t really give me a chance to take care of you, aftercare is so fucking important to me. we’re in a frat house. let’s go back to mine so i can take care of you, okay?” he says adjusting his shirt on his body.

“okay.” you blush. he takes your hand, intertwining your fingers, guiding you back downstairs. on your way out the door you bump into luca and none other than your best friend.

“oh hey guys.” luca laughs nervously.

“did you just-“

“yeah did you-“ they pause before dapping each other up. mark wraps a gentle arm around your waist, pulling you into him.

“we’re heading back to my place, too hectic in there for this.”

“you two have fun.” your best friend says slapping your ass as you walk past her.

“what a coincidence.” mark laughs pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he leads you down the street to his home.

the two of you spent the rest of the night laying in his bed, wrapped up in each other, sharing stupid stories of your childhood and learning small details about each other. both of you hoping it could spark into more than a hookup.

#mark estapa #mark estapa x reader #mark estapa smut #umich hockey #umich boys #umich imagine #luca fantilli #hockey smut #turcs’ talk

130 notes · View notes

bettyfrommars · 1 year

Text

I'm on Fire

biker!Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Part 3

🚨18+Only, biker!Eddie, tow truck driver!Eddie, adult themes, mentions of smut, angst, mutual pining, slow burn, cheating (not on reader), alcohol consumption, flirting, mention of biker!Steve Harrington, 90's music & nostalgia, mention of a loved one with cancer, self-deprecation, eventual smut. Reader and Eddie are late 20's-early 30's

Word count: 5k

Series Masterlist

🔸Reader and Eddie are pining for each other in secret, and reader takes bold initiative to bring Eddie a gift. The two of you keep crossing paths as this crush intensifies and complications arise.

A/N: Always look forward to hearing from you all, what you thought, or what you'd like to see happen 👀

-----------

Steve called a day or two after the initial meetup, but Katie was headed to a conference out of the state, so they didn’t make any immediate plans. The conversation started in the living room where she first picked up the phone; she made a wild hand gesture, arm pivoting from side to side at the elbow, mouthing his name to you so that you would know who it was, and then she switched to the phone in her bedroom. They talked for over an hour, and he told her he’d check back in when she was back from her trip.

“Okay, so Steve thinks that Eddie has a little crush on you,” Katie told you when she came back out to give you the recap. “He said you might have to make the first move, though.”

Your heart fluttered, but you tried to play it cool. You looked up from your magazine. “Please tell me you didn’t spend the entire time talking about me?”

“Oh, of course not,” Katie shrugged. “Only a half hour or so.”

“If I were Eddie, I’d be pissed if my friend spilled the beans like that,” you said with a tilt of your head.

“I told Steve I wouldn’t tell you he said that,” she countered.

“Well, that makes it better.”

“Steve is a really…” Katie hesitated, trying to find the right descriptive as she plopped back down on the couch. “...intelligent, charming guy. I don’t know, maybe I’ll go out with him when I get back. If he asks like a gentleman.”

“Maybe?”

“Probably.”

----------

The next week came and went. You were busy, so you didn’t have much of a chance to think about the possibility that Eddie might have a crush on you.

No, that was a lie: you thought about it a lot. The bad part was, this whole feeling a chemical pull towards him was a distraction that you didn’t need in your life, and it made you do creepy, irrational things, like driving by Munson’s Garage one day after work just to see if you could get a glimpse of him.

The good part was, it had you feverishly painting until after midnight a few days in a row. You were feeling inspired for the first time in months, and even if you still had to be at work at 9am looking like death warmed over, it was worth it.

On Thursday afternoon, you were at the gallery preparing a huge piece of art to be shipped out of the country when you heard it: the unmistakable purring growl of a chopper gunning down your street. You let the corner of the box fall to the ground with a heavy thud, eliciting a horrific yowl from your assistant who had been helping you wrap it up meticulously for the past hour, and sprang to the window like a little girl at the distant tinkle of Santa’s bells.

There were three of them atop their menacing leather and chrome beasts, but they were already disappearing around a corner at the other end of the street by the time you got there. The next thing you knew, you were out on the sidewalk with your hand up to block the sun, squinting, trying to see if one of them had long, dark hair. The high pitched whine of a car alarm shrilled in the distance, and a woman pushing a baby stroller had to go around, eyeballing you with disdain as she went.

---------

Meanwhile, Eddie was seeing you in the face of every woman he met, and simultaneously looking forward to the day when that was not the case. He didn’t have the energy to pine over someone, let alone have issues performing in bed because the woman wasn’t you. Having sex with other women was starting to feel like cheating, and that was an icky, embarrassing truth that he would never confess to one of his buddies.

“Oh? You can’t stop thinking about her when you fuck other women? Damn, that pussy must be tight.”

You were basically a figment of his imagination, and he was having these really gross daydreams about just….holding your hand and shit like that. Not cool, not bad ass. Jerking off to a porn or the idea of some nameless, faceless mouth on his cock was fine, but doing it to the idea of tasting your cum while his mouth was between your legs made him want to lobotomize himself with Jack Daniels.

This was dangerous, bitch-boy territory, and he honestly couldn’t say he’d navigated it in almost a decade. Maybe he’d been hanging out with Steve “Loverboy” Harrington for too long, listening to him get all goo-goo ga-ga over some new chick every other week. But also, he envied him; Steve didn’t just sip the juice when it was good, he let himself drown in it, over and over again.

Eddie shrugged it off and acted like he didn’t care the day Steve told him that he talked to your roommate, but then he came back around a few hours later and asked him if he was planning to meet up with her again. “You should call her friend,” Steve told you. “She digs you, Katie told me.” Katie told him no such thing, as she had a very strict girl code, but Steve couldn’t help himself.

So yeah, Eddie drove by your work on Thursday. Innocent enough, but the part of town where you worked was very high-end, and nowhere near the place him and the boys were headed, but nevertheless, he gave the signal and they followed. One of his buddies ran with the Coffin Kings---a bearded monster they called Tank----and he got a kick out of rumbling his hog close to the expensive cars parked along the street to shake the foundation and make their alarms go off.

He didn’t even turn his head to see through the glass storefront and check if you were inside, that wasn’t the point: he just wanted to be in your orbit, to drive down a street that you parked on every day.

Holy shit, Munson, why don’t you just put your tap shoes on and break into song about it?

--------

On Friday, you left work early, announcing that you had a very important appointment, and then you went and sat in your car around the corner from Munson’s Garage for a half hour. It took you way too long to work up the courage, listening to an album by the band Hole, specifically the song Violet. A gang of bikers rolled up to the stop sign across from you, and you did a comical job of sliding down in your seat so they wouldn’t see you.

Once they were gone, you looked down at what you had in your lap; a gift wrapped up in brown butcher paper and tied with jute string. “This is so stupid,” you told yourself, putting your car in gear to drive away, but then you flipped it into park again with a pensive groan.

After a dramatic pause, cursing as you went, you circled the block one more time and then entered via the open gate at the side entrance. The main garage and supposed clubhouse for the Coffin Kings---the spot where you had dropped the boys off the week before---was to your left, but ahead of you was another garage, and the wide expanse of a junkyard full of wrecked cars behind a fence. Your eyes landed on the black tow truck that Eddie drove, giving you hope that you hadn’t missed him. A row of motorcycles were lined up in the middle of the pavement, and then to the right there were angled parking spots under an awning, and that is where you went.

Your stomach bleated its discontent when you saw that there were at least 10 or 12 guys in biker cuts hanging outside near the grill, flipping burgers in front of the main garage, blocking the entrance to where you would most likely find Eddie. They all had the Coffin Kings insignia placard on the back of their leather vests, and they were tossing back beers and taking shots. After you parked, you craned your neck to see if Eddie was one of them, but there were a few obscured by one of the pillars holding the roof up. Surely, he would’ve spotted your car as you inched along at an elderly crawl.

You took a minute to fix your hair and makeup in the visor mirror, practiced stretching your lips in a grimace smile a few times to make sure there was no lipstick on your teeth, and then made the leap.

-------

Eddie should’ve been down with the guys getting hammered, or having a game of pool in the club house after a long week, but no. He was on the second floor in his apartment, getting in some bench presses before he showered and continued on with his evening of laundry and trying to get to bed at a decent hour for once. He was listening to Slayer, but the widow was open and he could hear them all giving each other shit down below.

In between songs, at the end of a set, he heard a different type of ruckus going on outside and it made him sit up, sweat dripping into his eyes and down his neck. The guys were giving wolf whistles and saying something about “look at that fine piece of ass” and Eddie didn’t know why, but he felt like he needed to go down and investigate.

That was when he opened the door and saw you making your way across the parking lot. You were carrying something flat and square in your hands and you looked like you were cautiously assessing the scene, like maybe you should return to the safety of your car, and he didn’t blame you.

“Cool it, fuckers,” Eddie told the guys as he pushed by some of them to go out and head over to meet you. But he could still hear them saying things to each other under their breath, whispering about you, and how good you looked.

He didn’t want you to be there, in that moment. Not because he didn’t want to see you, but because he didn’t want the other guys to think you were just some whore he was fucking, or worse yet---he didn’t want any of them to think that they could fuck you. He tried to walk toward you at the right angle so that you would be blocked from their view, inadvertently squaring his shoulders and asserting his dominance as he went.

-------

You had a feeling this was a bad idea, but you had no idea how bad until a dozen pairs of eyes were turning to stare at you, narrowing on you, and unabashedly so. You were too far away to hear what they were saying, and there was heavy metal music blaring from inside the building somewhere. You planted your feet, looking around, wondering what you would do if Eddie wasn’t there: hand over the cutsie little gift to one of his biker buddies? You didn’t want to embarrass him.

But then, the door opened and there he was, frowning at you like you were the last person on earth he wanted to see. It was more of a scowl, actually, eyebrows knitted together and upper lip rising in an abominable snarl. He said something to the rest of the guys, and a few of them seemed to snap back to reality, but he couldn’t wipe the pissed look off from his face as he made his way over to you with an air of reluctance.

He had on a white wife beater and jeans with his boots unlaced. The front of the tank was damp and his arm muscles were especially defined and swollen. You could see that he had some kind of huge, tattooed chest piece that came up to his clavicle and stretched over his shoulders. Various other ink decorated his arms; the one on his forearm being the most faded of them all. Your pussy fluttered at the sight of him, even though he looked like he was ready to put his hand around your throat. Or maybe because of it?

“What are you doing here?” He barked in a voice low enough so that only the two of you could hear it.

His attitude was not your favorite. “Well, hello to you too, grumpy.”

Now you wished you didn’t have the stupid gift in your hand. Couldn’t you have left it in the car and waited to see if he was here first? No, you had to bring it with you, and now it was too late, dummy.

Eddie glanced over his shoulder at the guys, jaw muscles flexing, and then he gestured for you to walk with him over to where your car was parked, under the awning, out of the overcast but bright sky.

He put a hand at your elbow and maneuvered you so that you were facing away from the riff raff, the view of your backside blocked by your car. There was a matte black Chevelle parked in the slot next to you, and he leaned back against it, crossing his arms at his chest.

“Sorry about that,” he told you. “We usually keep them locked up during the daytime.”

At his joke, your shoulders softened and you exhaled, flexing your fingers on the package. The movement caught his attention and his cocoa brown eyes shifted to the gift.

“You said to come by whenever, but I should’ve called,” you hadn’t planned out what you would say, but now you wished you had.

“No, no,” he assured you, crossing his feet at the ankles. “I promised you a spare tire. I haven’t forgotten.”

Truth, you had totally spaced that he said he’d give you a free tire, which was no small expense, but it was a much better reason than, “I made you something because I can’t stop thinking about you,” or “here’s a gift, now let’s kiss.”

“What’s that?” He asked the dreaded question, tilting his chin at the package and meeting your eyes down the end of his nose.

“Oh this?” You asked cheerily, feigning mock surprise, as if it slipped your mind that it was in your hand. “This is nothing. Just a thank you for...the tow and the tire. I made it, it’s no big deal.”

“You made it?” His voice flew to a higher octave than he was comfortable with at that revelation, and an invisible warm hand wrapped around his heart.

Scratching your eyebrow, you passed it to him. “You don’t have to open it here,” you added, hoping he wouldn’t.

He held it in both hands, strong fingers curling around the backside as his thumbs stroked the front of it to feel the texture of the paper. It had been a while since he’d received a thoughtful gift that wasn’t booze or scratch tickets or a Hickory Farms sausage and cheese platter.

Overall, he was speechless, but one thing that did come second nature to him was offering acts of service as a way of showing his appreciation. “Let me take this up to my place, and then I’ll get you that tire. Can you wait here? I’ll just be a second.”

He was already on the move, but you stopped him. “I can’t sorry, I have to go. Rain check?”

You put your hand on the crook of his elbow without thinking, to stop him, and then all you could think about was the heat of his skin, the way the hair on his forearm tickled your finger. His eyes went to your hold on him and his Adam’s apple jerked in a quick swallow.

You lowered your hand. “Maybe I’ll surprise you again one day,” you were blushing now and you moved your chin to your chest to try and hide it. This was feeling less and less like an interaction between two grown adults, and more like some high school crush that you giggled about to your friends and wrote little hearts around each others name in class.

Over your shoulder, Eddie could see that Wayne was coming that way with an invoice in his hand, probably to ask him a question about one of the pickups that day. He looked a bit pale and peaked, and even though Eddie begged him to take the day off work whenever he had chemo treatments, the old man refused to listen.

“Okay, so, I’ll see you around then,” Eddie heard it come out of his mouth and he wished he could take it back. The tone was off; he sounded like he didn’t care if he saw you again, but that was the furthest thing from the truth.

“Okay, bye,” and you were back behind the wheel of your car, panting, wishing you had a paper bag to hyperventilate into. In the rear view mirror, you watched an older man with gray hair meet up with Eddie. His clothes were baggy, as if he’d suddenly dropped a significant amount of weight. Eddie clapped his free hand on the older man’s shoulder and they walked back to the garage together at a slow pace, your gift in his hand swinging level with his wallet chain.

--------

After finishing up for Wayne and demanding that he go home to get some rest, Eddie was finally alone again in his apartment. The string you used to secure the package might as well have been steel bars with how tight it was tied, and so he reached over for the butterfly knife on his nightstand and popped it open with a few flicks of his wrist. He sawed the string with caution, careful not to puncture whatever was in it.

His heart was racing and his palms were a little sweaty, and for some reason, the rising of sweet emotions made him angry. Just settle down there, bucko, the voice in his head told him, she probably gives gifts to anyone who does anything remotely nice for her; this doesn’t make you special.

He touched the black painted edges first, realizing it was a canvas, and then the back side fell open to him first: To: Eddie, my hero, and then it was dated and had your name signed on the wood cradling.

Turning it over, he had no idea what to expect, but as his eyes took it in, a quivering sigh escaped his lips.

It was a piece of art depicting the sunset exploding from beyond the low hills in Hawkins; the view you see from the freeway from the exact spot where you had blown your tire, the spot where the two of you had met for the first time. It wasn’t just a standard scenery painting either; it was abstract and full of texture, with tiny bits of paper collage added in. Bright, bold colors, with tiny hand drawn details.

He took down his framed Dio poster so that he could hang your 12x12 painting across from his bed where he could see it from all angles of the room. He puffed his cheeks out and blew air from his lips to make a low whistling sound as he stood there admiring it, wishing he would’ve opened it in front of you, so that you would know how much he cherished it. You might never know how much a gift like this meant to him; it was immediately one of his prized possessions.

Absently, he crumpled the wrapping paper and string up in his hands, pounding it into a compact ball, so that he could make a jump shot for the trash can, and then made it in with a swoosh.

What he didn’t see crushed inside the ball was the square, pink piece of paper with a little note on it that said: “I know Steve has this number, but I also wanted you to have it. Call me sometime.” and then your phone number in cute, block digits.

-----------

Another week went by, and you had officially resigned yourself to the fact that you would, indeed, die alone. Putting yourself out there, even as infinitesimally as you had with Eddie, almost killed you. Getting excited every time the phone rang, hoping it was him, had you regretting the choice to ever make a move in the first place. Besides Katie, you were the only single person in your friend group, and that’s just how it would stay until Keifer Sutherland proposed.

Steve called Katie though, and even though she had the feeling he was a bit of a player, the idea of jumping on his cock had her chomping at the bit.

“Are you sure?” Katie asked as she dowsed herself with hairspray in the bathroom mirror, an L7 cassette in the tape player. You were just behind her in the hallway, and you leaned back to avoid the fumes. “I can hang out with Steve a different night, I don’t want you do go to Marysville alone.”

Marysville was a town down the road, not fifteen miles away, and there was a huge gallery opening in an old airplane hangar, and as the manager of Moon River Gallery, you were forced to attend.

“That’s sweet of you, but Jeff will be there.” You held your breath and waved your hand in front of your face. “But I’m counting on you to get laid for the both of us.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m going to let Steve know what a deadbeat his buddy Eddie is for not calling you to even thank you for that gorgeous painting.” Katie was using her protective mom voice.

“Please don’t,” you begged her. “He just didn’t want to see me again, and that’s fine. I don’t need someone to call me out of obligation. Really, don’t mention anything to Steve or I will turn to stone and crumble to pieces.”

Katie went into your bedroom instead of hers, and held up a certain shirt, asking if she could borrow it. “That’s actually yours,” you told her, waiting on the bed as she changed.

You were putting your arms into your jacket, just about to head out the door, when Katie came around the corner holding up flavored condoms and Magnums in each hand. “Do you want to take any of these with you? Plenty of cute guys in Marysville.”

“No, thank you,” you assured her politely, fixing your collar. “Besides, I’m sure Jeff will have a stockpile with him.”

But Katie threw one at you anyway, and you caught it with a slap to your chest. “Here, just take one of these Magnums, for prayer’s sake.”

----------

The airplane hanger gallery was situated near the lake, and it was an unarguably stunning venue full of massive artworks and expertly blown glass. You and Jeff arrived together, but went your separate ways initially, both stumbling upon friends from other galleries you knew, and you sipped some expensive champagne while you mingled. You were bent over, reading the details about one of the paintings, when two of the new people arriving caught your eye.

Fantastic, it was Eddie and Charlene.

Charlene looked like she was a movie star about to walk the red carpet and Eddie looked as good as ever. From the waist down was dressed like normal: jeans, boots, and wallet chain--but he always put a nice dark red or black shirt on for the events. Three buttons undone down the front to give a peak of that chest tattoo, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, a little earring dangling from one ear, and those chunky, silver rings on his hand. Obviously the two of them were a couple, regardless of the fact that she was married, and regardless of the fact that Eddie referred to himself as being single.

He escorted her in with his arm linked in hers, and you could tell he was about to fall back and head outside to wait, but then his eyes locked on you. You turned your back on him, guzzled your champagne, and then headed over to where you could get a big glass of wine, thirstier than you’ve ever been in your life. Jeff had volunteered to drive you both back, and you had just decided in that moment that you were going to let him.

You were a couple of swallows in when you felt the front of his warm body press up at your side, against your arm, hands in his pockets, and then he leaned his head down closer, wavy dark hair skimming your shoulder, to whisper in your ear. “Your art should be in a place like this.”

“Oh hiiiiii,” you turned, pretending to be shocked to see him. “What a nice surprise. How are you?”

He backed up a step to give you some room, not checking even once to see where Charlene was or if she cared where he was; his eyes were intent on you.

Jeff, was off to the side, flirting with one of the guys on the catering staff, when he glanced over to see who you were standing with, and his eyes bulged wide.

“You clean up good,” you told Eddie, getting intoxicated on how delicious he smelled. Almost two glasses of alcohol in, you were already getting ballsy, and you reached up to brush his hair back from his shoulder and straighten his collar. “You look like you could run for mayor.”

He glanced down at himself, and then met your gaze from under his lashes, full pink lips curving up on one side. “I was going for Colombian drug lord, but I guess I missed the mark.”

Okay, so he made you laugh and he was sexy. So what.

Someone you knew came up to hug you and say hello, and you expected Eddie to take advantage of the moment and make a getaway, but he stayed.

“Can I get you another one?” He asked, gesturing to your almost empty glass. Never mind that everyone was glancing over at him, asking themselves with shifting eyes who the hell let the scary biker dude in to mingle with the rich people. The irony of a bunch of art snobs recoiling at someone who brought something new and different to the table was not lost on you. Sure, he made them uncomfortable, but who would be the one to ask bad boy biker Eddie Munson to leave? Eddie could flick his lighter open and set one of the paintings on fire, and still no one would question him.

“Aren’t you here with someone?” You asked, glancing around for that big gold explosion of wealth that was Charlene.

“No,” Eddie said initially, but then. “Well, I drive for Charlene from time to time but we’re not...together, if that’s what you mean.”

Eddie could feel Charlene giving him the evil eye from across the room, but he didn’t care. He stopped having sex with her two weeks ago, but he wasn’t ready to give up the extra cash working as her personal escort service and hired muscle.

Staying sober for the night, he brought another glass of wine over to you, and then he started asking you questions about the artwork and the artists as the two of you walked.

“Isn’t that Charlene Gregson’s boy toy?” Manny, one of the caterers, asked Jeff as they watched the two of you flirt with each other.

Jeff nodded, a smile creeping across his face. “Oh, this is going to be juicy.”

There was a snap high on the back of your shirt, and you could feel that it had come loose, so you beckoned for Eddie to follow you to the walkway just beyond the paintings, into the shadows, so you could put your glass down on the cement base of one of the pillars.

“Could you...help me with this?” You turned your back to him and pulled your hair to the side. “Fasten this for me, please? I can’t reach it.”

Eddie licked his lips as he closed in behind you, enjoying the proximity of it, and moved his fingers to your neck, callouses from his fingers grazing your smooth skin, taking an audible, deep intake of breath as he caught a whiff of your shampoo. When he was done, his hand slid down your back, indulging himself, letting it land at the curve of your hip in a slow circle. “All good,” he said in a low whisper.

You spun around to face him with a crooked smile, the alcohol in full affect, and your eyes fell on a loose thread that had escaped and was resting on his crisp, dark red shirt, your eyes lingering on the black ink of the tattoo underneath.

You brought your hand up to pick the thread off, but then he caught your wrist, your palm sinking flat to his body, melting, right at the epicenter of his life blood; his heart racing. You shifted your gaze from his grip to meet his eyes, pupils dilated, and your breath caught in your chest; your fingers started stretching out and back against him in an alien form of physical communication.

His lips parted, gaze flicking to your mouth, holding your wrist with a grip that was firm but tender while his other hand rose to cup your face. Rough fingertips grazing your throat until they curled around the base of your head, metal rings clicking together, and then his thumb brushed across your jawline.

You bit your bottom lip softly, delirious need pulsing in your core.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Your voice was tiny, and his eyebrows knitted together, confused. You could see he was just about to say something, but then:

“Eddie,” the unmistakable voice of Charlene Gregson called to him from the other side of the gigantic painting you were both doing a poor job of hiding behind. “It’s time to go. Please pull the car around?"

She was looking directly at the two of you from only a few yards away, with her hands on her hips, but still he held your palm to his chest and searched your eyes, trying to understand. After a beat, he cleared his throat and said, “I’m sorry,” under his breath before turning on his heel to go and play chauffeur again, shoving one hand in his pocket to get the keys as he went.

Charlene stood there and stared at you for a bit longer, her eyes taking you in from head to foot, probably trying to understand what you had that she didn’t. But it must’ve occurred to her that she was the one he was going home with and not you, because then she flipped you a little sly smile and puffed a laugh out of her nose as she turned, shaking her head.

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

Part 4

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

my lovelies who asked to be tagged: @hellv1ra, @tlclick73, @corrodedcoffincumslut, @ms1oftheboys

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #older eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #stranger things eddie #fem reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson series

385 notes · View notes

irisintheafterglow · 10 months

Text

More Than It Seams (Chapter 1)

summary: you're a hero costume tech working for one of the biggest fashion companies in quirk society, and the days until the most important fashion event of the year are dwindling fast. if you weren't stressed enough, a certain half-and-half hero keeps appearing with rips in his suit. (pro!todoroki x reader)

word count: 3k

cw/tags: swearing, mentions of needles, probably inaccurate fashion design vocabulary, strangers to lovers, no specified pronouns for reader

note: aaaaa ok first chapter of my first series. hope you enjoy!! i'm planning on this to be five chapters, and the second chapter I'm planning to release this friday. i <3 shoto todoroki

likes/reblogs/feedback are always appreciated!!!

She couldn’t be serious. You shake your head as if to reset your eyeballs and read over the two scribbled cursive sentences over and over until the reality of your situation set in.

Hey, not gonna be in starting today for maternity leave. Don’t disappoint me. Xo, M

You counted the days on your fingers and groaned, dragging a palm down the front of your face. 7:00 A.M was too early to find out you had to run a multi-million dollar business that wouldn’t hesitate to fire you if you disappointed at the most important fashion event of the year. The coffee maker beeped its readiness right on cue, and you debated making two cups instead of just one. You settled for one but left out a cup with your name on it for a possible second, and plopped down at your station. The sun was just starting to shine through the glass walls of the building you called your office, an odd combination of exposed brick walls and floor-to-ceiling windows. Crooked rows of work tables lined up on one side of the expansive area, with several dozen mannequins and rolls of fabric occupying the other side. A long counter separated the work area from the sitting area, where clients waited for their fittings on plush couches and sipped on complimentary sparkling drinks that M paid for instead of giving her workers a raise.

“G’morning!” The other designer for the company swung open the gate allowing access between the work area and the sitting area, deflating when he saw you throw your head down on your desk in frustration and slam it a few times for good measure. “Or not…” A loud gasp of shock indicated to you that he had read the note, and a long string of expletives left his mouth as you lifted your head and nodded. “She has to be joking.”

You clicked your tongue in agreement. “She is not.”

“HB’s in two weeks, and she decides now is a good time to have her baby?”

“If it were up to me, she wouldn’t even be the head of this place, or having another baby. God knows we don’t need any more of her.” Your coworker scoffs in disbelief, throwing his bag down on his desk and wheeling over a mannequin. “Hey, did you finish working up that fabric design for Cellophane’s suit? He’s supposed to come in on Friday and I think it’d be smart to have a sample of the fabric ready so he can tell us if he doesn’t like it.”

“Yep, I’ll have that over to you ASAP. You don’t need to remind me what happened last year with Dynamight two days before the Ball.”

You cringed at the memory of the Number Two Hero burning your work to ashes right in front of you and telling you to get a color that matched his eyes better. To be fair, the color that his stylist had chosen clashed with his skin tone and you respected Bakugo for recognizing that, but he could have given you back the suit to use as scrap fabric. “It’s the price of working with the best.”

“You mean for the best,” he corrects, giving you a grouchy look before switching on his machine and beginning to hem the miles of fabric for Creati’s dress. You’d asked him if he wanted you to hem the fabric since your quirk would have it done by lunch, but he declined and said that you should focus on designing the remaining heroes’ pieces. The rest of your seamstresses trickled in as the morning progressed, filing into their stations with a polite “good morning” and picking up their scissors. Soon, the office milled with the familiar sounds of cutting fabric, sewing machines, and rolling mannequins, and you spaced out as you sketched your idea for Pinky’s updated costume.

At 11:30, your receptionist sitting at the counter slammed down the phone in alarm, startling the entire room into silence. Her face was nothing short of panic, and you rose quickly from your station to pull her into a corner and figure out why she looked like she had received a bomb threat.

“What’s going on?”

“Shoto is here.”

“Who?”

“Shoto. The pro hero. Is here,” she hisses at you through her teeth, her hands shaking with uncontrollable anxiety.

You blinked at her. “Okay… and?” Pros showing up to the office themselves rather than sending assistants was uncommon but had been done numerous times before. Deku and Creati tended to visit a few times a month, and Pinky liked to stop by on Fridays to treat her favorite staff to ice cream. It was Shoto’s first time appearing in person, as he usually sent an assistant to drop off what was essentially his laundry; you’d always assumed that being a top-ranked hero controlling large sums of inheritance was just too busy to worry about his costume. Still, a customer visiting the office in person, no matter how attractive they were, was the least of your laundry list of problems.

Your receptionist stares at you like you’ve sprouted three heads, and addresses you with an attitude that would have had her fired if M was in office. “What the hell do you mean ‘and’? It’s Shoto… the Number Three Hero. ProMagazine’s #1 ranked hottie.”

“I’m aware,” you state a little impatiently, annoyed by her insistence that this was much more significant than it actually was. “I’m struggling to understand the fuss over just another client–”

A chorus of shocked excitement washed over your staff as the elevator doors dinged and a lean, well-dressed silhouette entered the office. Several of your seamstresses had stood from their chairs and huddled together for moral support, whispering to each other about the stranger who had exited the elevator. Your receptionist’s eyes widen to the size of dollar coins, her hands coming up to your shoulders to push you toward the counter as she disappeared behind rolls of fabric. You rolled your eyes and took a breath, adjusting the measuring tape around your neck and meeting Shoto as he approached the vacant receptionist’s computer. His voice was polite and soft when he spoke, and you swear you hear your workers swooning behind you.

“Hello, I’m here to drop these items off for repair,” he states, gently placing a small stack of folded fabric on the counter in front of you. You couldn’t help but notice how pretty his hands were, and how one ran through his two-toned hair, combing it with elegant fingers. His eyes were each an enchanting shade of blue and grey, and you found it hard to break eye contact with him. ProMagazine was definitely correct.

“Great, I’ll, uh, have this ready in just a bit,” you reply, gesturing towards the waiting area and encouraging Shoto to have a seat. Taking a deep breath in and out and shooting your staff a stern look to get back to work, you unfold the tattered costume on a nearby station behind the counter. His suit wasn’t in the worst condition, but the tears on the arms and chest area posed a significant safety hazard, especially if they continued to open. As hot as it would be to have muscle windows in Shoto’s suit, it’d reflect badly on you if you’d refused to repair the costume for the sake of professionally shot ab photos.

After another steadying breath, you visualize a sewing machine dial in your mind, picking up a spool of strong nylon thread and running your thumb over the torn pieces of fabric; like clockwork, it repaired itself with a neat straight stitch wherever you touched. Your quirk is why M hired you in the first place since you could assemble three pieces in the time it took a machine to do one. You couldn’t send sheets of fabric flying like Best Jeanist, but your ability to telekinetically manipulate thread into stitches proved useful for a career in fashion design. With a few more reinforcement stitches to some worn edges and a quick polish of the suit’s buckles, Shoto’s costume was good as new.

“Here you go; you’re all set.” He turns to look at you, surprised and preoccupied with examining the large posters of costumes M’s company had designed. Frames of initial sketches for his first professional costume were flanked by life-size prints of Pinky, Deku, and Red Riot’s attire. A plaque engraved with Creati’s endorsement message for the company hung in the center, surrounded by fabric swatches and Post-It notes scribbled with measurements. It looked like he had just finished reading through Creati’s statement when you informed him that his suit was ready. “I went ahead and cleaned off some of the grime from the suit’s hardware and sprayed it with anti-rust so it shouldn’t be tarnishing any time soon.”

Shoto looks at you with an expression that you can’t read, gazes down at the repaired suit in front of him, and then back up at you. “Oh. That’s it?”

You release a slightly nervous chuckle to try to ease some of the awkwardness that had settled between you two. “Uh, yep. That’s it.” After another painfully quiet beat, your customer service persona finally kicks back into gear. “Is there anything else I can assist you with today?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, it was a pleasure working with you today–”

“How does your quirk work?” His question arrives completely out of left field, and your brain short-circuits at his genuine expression of interest in your abilities.

“Well, um, I can manipulate thread to follow certain stitch patterns, like the stitch selection on a sewing machine. See, like, here.” You point at one of the newly repaired tears in his costume, running a finger over the fresh seam. You’re keenly aware of how his eyes follow your finger and you attempt to keep your voice even. “I mended this panel of fabric torn down the middle with a straight stitch, which is the sturdiest stitch I can create.”

“So you wave your hands and the threads start moving?” The boyish cluelessness on his face makes your heart flutter. A smile breaks its way into your expression.

“I wish, but I actually have to be touching the fabric.”

“I suppose it’s very useful for a fashion designer, then.” His face is carefully put together, but the tiniest hint of sarcasm bleeds its way into his voice. Was he… joking with you?

“Definitely. I’m essentially a human sewing machine but without needles sprouting from my thumbs.” Your thumb pops up on its own accord for added effect, but then you realize what you just said and shove your hand back in an apron pocket. It was meant as a joke, but the macabre nature of your last quip slips your mind and a part of you dies inside when Shoto physically cringes at the grotesque image. Before you have the chance to apologize for such a distressing remark, he politely nods his head in farewell and gives you a soft “thank you” before returning to the elevator.

Releasing a frustrated noise from your throat at the fact that you just scared off Todoroki Shoto, you lay your forehead on the counter between your elbows. The elevator button dings, and to your horror, you realize that he hadn’t left the office yet. Instead, he was looking at you amusedly over his toned shoulder. The corner of his mouth quirks up the tiniest bit as he watches your burning face attempt to regain its composure, and then he’s gone.

“That was a shit show,” your other designer mutters under his breath, handing you another cup of coffee.

Tuesday morning at 11:30 on the dot, Shoto visits again and catches your receptionist off guard, reducing her to a puddle of “How can I help you?” and “Can I get you a sparkling drink?” With your back turned to the doors, you don’t notice him immediately as you concentrate on draping expensive maroon fabric around Creati’s mannequin. Eyebrows drawn in concentration and holding a pin between your teeth, your hands work meticulously to create perfect pleats under the waistline of the bodice. It isn’t until your receptionist nervously calls out your name that you abruptly drop the fabric, Shoto’s mouth twitching as he watches you hurriedly place your box of pins on a nearby station and approach the counter. You lightly tap your receptionist’s shoulder, snapping her out of her daze to find Shoto a drink that you knew was out of stock and leaving you two alone again.

“Shoto, it’s a pleasure to see you.” You try to mask the unease in your voice with a forced smile. “What can I help you with today?”

His face is blank, but his eyes shine like he’s analyzing you. “I ripped the suit again.”

Your face falls in comical disbelief. “Again?”

He shrugs. “I guess I need stronger stitches.” His heterochromatic eyes stare into yours, and you meet his challenge with a slight squint.

“Guess you do.” You take the folded suit from his hands and drop the volume of your voice. “Or maybe you need to stop tearing my work.”

He huffs out a breath that sounds like a choked laugh and you smile innocently at him, hoping this interaction replaced the awkwardness of yesterday. Your hand gestures to the seating area again, but he shakes his head, instead crossing his muscular arms and watching you intently as you work. The damage to his suit could barely be considered a tear, and you don’t even bother using your quirk to repair it. You feel him staring at you as you easily patch up the suit with a backstitch, and you swear you could hear him hum thoughtfully behind you. Minutes after he entered the office, you slide the garment back to him with a satisfied smile.

He does that thing again, looking at you, down at his suit, then back at you. “You didn’t use your quirk.”

It was your turn to shrug. “Didn’t need to.” As entertaining as his presence was, it would have taken longer to repair it with your quirk, and you had three mannequins of patterns demanding your immediate attention. “Is there anything else I can assist you with today?”

Shoto dodges your question, instead scanning the seamstresses at their work areas trying not to stare at him. “You’re awfully good at getting people in and out.” One eyebrow quirks in question. He’s testing you, silently asking whether you were trying to get rid of him quickly.

“With all due respect, a rip on a Pro’s suit is the least of my worries right now.”

“What are the most of your worries?” You direct his attention to the three mannequins behind you, covered in multi-colored pins and beige pattern panels. “Red Riot, Pinky, and Cellophane’s Ball outfits. Need to have them done by next Friday, and I was just in the middle of pleating the skirt of Momo’s dress. It’s taking a lot longer than expected because I tragically only have two hands.”

Shoto’s mouth opens in an ah of realization, taking in the elaborate construction plan of the layered asymmetrical gown. You couldn’t have predicted his reply to save your life.

“May I help you?”

Your mind halts the production of coherent thoughts. “Oh, no, really. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not your job.”

“But there is something I can help with.”

“I mean, yes, but–”

“Then please, show me what to do.” You decide that it would be pointless to fight his stubborn determination, so you try not to notice the gasps from your staff as Shoto pushes open the gate into the work area and stands beside Creati’s mannequin. You knelt into the same position as before, sitting back on your heels as you searched for the last pleat you made.

“So I just need you to hold the fabric in place so that it doesn’t unfold, like this,” you direct, scrunching the edge into a carefully measured fold. He watches you diligently, allowing you to reposition his hands so that you could effectively create a seam. His hands were soft beneath your fingers as you brushed veins and lean muscle. You push away the thought of what else he could do with his hands, refocusing on your work and delicately rotating the mannequin as you made your way around its waist. To your surprise, Shoto made soft conversation with you, asking about other Pros’ looks and the design inspiration behind them. Small talk flowed easily as you worked, and he proved to be much more witty than interviews captured.

When you finished, Shoto ran his finger over the pleats you had just made in admiration. A glance at the rest of the mannequins leads to his expression becoming puzzled. “Where is mine?” He offers an open hand to you as you rise from the floor, and you revel in the cool touch of his palm against your tired thumb.

You open your mouth to reply, but no words come out. The truth was, his stylist had ordered a simple black suit for him, barely different than the suit he wore the previous year and all of the years prior. Shoto’s media reputation had him notorious for attending as few public events as possible, and donning safe solid-colored suits when he did appear. His eyebrows rise in anticipation of your answer, still holding your hand, and you finally conjure up an explanation. “Well, technically, your look is already finished. It was one of the first looks we finished because of its simplicity.”

“Simplicity?” He releases your hand, flexing his fingers like he was squeezing a stress ball. Shit, were your hands sweaty?

“Yeah, your stylist tends to request subdued designs for public appearances.”

A low hum is all you receive in acknowledgment, and a look of deep thought washes over his handsome expression.

“Maybe I will aim for a different design this year, then.”

And just the same as Monday, he nods farewell before heading back to the elevator, leaving you frozen by the mannequin. A split second before the doors slide open, he gives you a mischievous look and a single thumbs-up, a reminder of the embarrassing interaction from the day before. You roll your eyes at him and are delighted to see the corner of his mouth turn up again.

The elevator doors shut, and you can’t help hoping he creates another tear in his suit for tomorrow.

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha x y/n #bnha x you #todoroki x you #todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki shoto x you #bnha #mha #shoto x you #shoto todoroki #shoto x reader #todoroki shoto #my hero academia

215 notes · View notes

wroteclassicaly · 3 months

Text

A/N: There’s no point to this. I’m just feeling angsty and it came to mind…

Your fingers are cold, skin beginning to prickle with the burn of frost. You watch the digits grip the metal gate until your knuckles crack under pressure. You can’t see any of their stables, not with your blurred sclera. Your throat is confined to suffocation, body suffering trembles that aren’t a result of this brutal Midwestern winter. There’s a guilt burrowed deep within your chest cavity, twisting, knocking at your bones with an iron fist that demolishes your bones — dusts them to ash.

Would explain why you’re about to collapse.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay…” You’re using your spare hand to angrily wipe at your wind-kissed cheek, nose slick with snot.

But it’s not alright. You’re not alright.

Any normal human being could appreciate the happiness, the change in him that comes from finding what most of the world searches for. But you, the person who actually cared for him, watched out for, held all his secrets despite dangers to your own life — you’re the single soul that can’t find any joy in what he’d laid on you merely moments ago… You never anticipated seeing the day where your best-friend would give up his disconnected ways and find someone to share things with that isn’t you, that’s more than a quick fuck and forget. Sure he had girls, he had them a lot — various ones, never you. And that was okay, as long as it wasn’t serious.

Until he told you in his bedroom when you were dressing the healing dissolvables below his lower lids.

“Thinkin’ I might’ve found somethin’ good for my future with this one. Who would’ve thought, right? Especially after all this?” He didn’t mean for his fingers to graze your wrist when he motioned to his healing, slightly marred skin. It wasn’t unusual, but it stung this time, literally winding you.

In record time, you applied the cooling antiseptic and went to retrieve your purse. He’d frowned at this, looking at you with a tilted head full of messy, freshly grown out tresses. “I thought we were watching that stupid ass lifetime movie you wanted? Ya know… now that I can actually see it.” He’d winked your way, something your knees would’ve started shaking upon receiving. You were completely dead weighted in your legs and feather light in your guts.

In hindsight, it was a pathetic answer, but it left your lips before you could prevent it. “No thanks.”

You didn’t let him respond, just pulled on your coat, said you had to go, and made it halfway down the drive of Nadine’s new property, before you booked it to the stables and fell against the gate. And the fucking guilt is devouring you piece by piece.

How do you make peace with a future with someone that will never be what your soul has been primed for it to be? He’ll be in your life, sure, but you’ll have to be a dutiful friend and stuff everything down, knowing that you can’t involve yourself with another person, because they won’t be him. Your brain is a goddamned hamster wheel and you can’t get off, dizzy and nauseous. Your coat weighs too much, your clothing itches. Everything that you found right in this world is now wrong. A piling of packed snow crunches beneath leather combats.

Gator go away, go away, Gator.

You don’t look in his direction, his cedarwood cologne brimming your nostrils, the sound of his lips as they wrap around that dumb ass vape, causing a stirring hiss from the hit, and then he’s pocketing it, approaching you like every doe he used to (regretfully) hunt during season. On relaxed elbows, he plants his arms beside yours, his leather jacket flexing over defined muscles. You still pretend to be lost to the view, but by now, he knows you’re bullshitting him. A deep sigh escapes his mouth and he’s nudging you.

“You looked at me when my eyeballs looked like melted butter, so you’re not gonna give me common courtesy now? What’s wrong with you?” He tries to make light, but you know he’s worried about your rejection — his one solid person, his safe space. Or you were before her.

“I said I had to go.” You’re shocked that it comes out without the wavering that threatens to cave in on your throat muscles.

Gator is displeased by this answer. “Talk to me, please. You always talk to me. We tell each other everything, don’t we? I trust you, you trust me. Sort of our dynamic, ya know?”

“Not about this.” A quick glance to the left and you’re pretending to wipe your nose, but Gator knows better. You’ve been crying.

He tries to approach you carefully, in a way that regards your feelings before his own. You beat him to the invisible punch line, the smell of your shampoo and body wash invading his upped senses as you raise to press a chaste kiss with chapped lips to his pink dusted cheek. You don’t say anything more, simply leaving him behind like so many before…

He’ll be okay though. She’ll be around for their date tonight.

And you? You’ll be in the dark of your room, nursing a glass bottle that’s half full of amber liquid, staring at the bus ticket in your palm…

It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay…

// Eat me paragraph //

53 notes · View notes

aerodaltonimperial · 5 months

Note

Hiiiiiii ummmm, you know how I bought that Hook Goods backpack from ~T Y L E R~ ON MAY 4TH AND IT NEVER SHIPPED AND IT IS NOW NOVEMBER 21???

Prompt: y/n confronts Hook for her backpack. Man's fucked around. He deserves to find out.

Apparently these fics are super popular, so I decided to try my hand at one. I think I really nailed it!!!!!!

Title: CONFRONTING HOOK FOR YOUR BACKPACK

L.A. is warm, and that’s good, because you are fueled with a thousand suns burning with righteous anger, so the lingering vestiges of sunlight against your skin only add more determination to that fire. Standing behind three gentlemen sporting beards of varying length, you wait, quietly, for the door to the meet & greet to be opened. The girl behind you is so excited she’s almost crying, clutching her purse to her chest; what a fool. What a n00b. She knows nothing.

As the doors open, she kicks up against the heel of your shoes. The space inside is small: small enough that you’re all pressed up against each other, and soon, you know the scent of too many people packed into a poorly-ventilated room will become overpowering. That’s fine, as you don’t intend to stay long enough to be overwhelmed by it.

The staff instructs everyone to make a line for the autographs. The attendees around you are all pulling out the varying items they brought to get autographed, so you do the same. You’ve kept the paper nice and bright and unblemished in the folder you tucked it into. The goth dude standing to your left recoils—apparently, the myriad of vision-defying rainbow hues in the Lisa Frank design are too much for his weak eyeballs.

It takes awhile. People want to chat, and that’s fine, since you do, too. Eventually, shuffling behind the others, you get to the front. Hook is to your right, Darby and Brody to the left. You hold out the paper balanced on the prancing unicorn for Hook to sign.

“Hi,” Brody says, and you ignore him. You are here for one purpose, and one purpose only.

Hook is obviously already tired by the interactions, because it takes him an almost embarrassingly long time to realize what he’s Sharpie-ing his name onto. He pauses as he gets to the “k” and ends up with a weird, jagged finish to the letter. Then he looks up. There’s fear on his face.

Excellent.

“What is this?” he asks.

“My email confirmation for my HookGoods purchase,” you tell him. The terror on his features grows more pronounced, but you refuse to break eye contact. You stare at those brown doe eyes widening like a deer in the headlights of a Ford F-150 without blinking. “Do you know how many days it has been since I printed that out at Kinkos because I haven’t owned a printer since 2015?”

“Uh,” he begins, as Brody gasps in what might be sympathy, or might be delight, to your left.

“Maybe you can’t do the math that quickly,” you continue, “which is understandable, since it’s been so long. Don’t worry; I’ve done it for you. 209 days.”

“Jesus,” Darby huffs.

“No comments from the peanut gallery,” you snap, extending your index finger in Darby’s direction. “Do you know how many emails I had to send to your distribution team to get my swag out of the warehouse? Zip it.”

A bead of sweat has popped up on Hook’s temple when you turn your attention back to him. His hand holding the noxious Lisa Frank folder trembles. Someone in the line behind you mumbles something beneath their breath about this taking too long. “Um, but Assp—”

“Don’t you dare talk to me about Asspizza,” you interrupt, “or else I will shove that pizza you’re holding up your ass, knock you out with your emotional support backpack, and shove you in the back of the assmobile as I drive it over the bridge. Where the fuck is my shit, Hook?”

He looks like cornered prey, ready to bolt at the soonest opportunity. Brody is clapping; you always knew he would be on your side.

When Hook fails to answer, you lean forward, just to watch him twitch. He’s so jumpy. “Well?”

“Um,” he says, eloquently.

There’s an upper level to this fine establishment, and a staircase just to the left behind where Brody’s face has lit up in mirth. It overlooks the area they have set up to be the autograph station. Perfect: you couldn’t have planned this better if you tried. “Get on the table,” you command.

“What?” Hook chokes.

“I am going to coffin drop you from the balcony,” you tell him.

Darby looks slightly alarmed, but maybe it’s just because of the potential copyright infringement. “I don’t think you know how t—”

“Can it, or I use you as the fucking pommel,” you say. “Good luck climbing Everest in a full-body cast.”

Brody is nodding and reaching over for Hook with one beefy hand. “You should probably get on the table like she said.”

“What!” Hook tries, but Darby is on board now, too, and he can’t fight both of them. As you take the stairs up to the higher level, they pin him down on the signing table. You peek over the edge once just to make sure they’ve got him in position.

“Wait,” Hook attempts. Ignore. He should have thought about the consequences when he failed to fulfill your shipment in the amount of time necessary to determine trends in the stock market. You hope he didn’t purchase stock in Asspizza’s production studio.

“I want my backpack, Hook!” you call from the balcony. And then you fling yourself off the ground with enough force to cause the table legs to explode beneath the weight of your free-fall.

The entire place erupts in cheers. Hook groans, curled up on the remains of the tabletop. Your signed email confirmation has fluttered onto the floor, so you lean over after dusting your clothes off to pick it up.

“Amazing,” Brody says.

“Thanks!” You beam at him. “Can I get your autograph, too?” It dawns on you that the only thing you brought was the print-out, but actually, that’s better. A good memory to frame in your office while you still don’t receive any shipments of HookGoods in the mail. “Can you both just sign this?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Darby says, but you’re pretty sure the cheer in his tone is only because he doesn’t want you to steal Lemons in return for the months it took for him to fulfill your order, too.

#hook aew #tag so you don't lose this shit

51 notes · View notes

hisunshiine · 1 year

Text

— burning love | jhs

♨ pairing: firefighter!hobi X firefighter!reader ♨ au/genre: fire department AU, workplace au, anti-valentine’s, coworkers2lovers, fwb2l, fluff, smut, angst ♨ rating: M ♨ wc: 5,266 🜂 warnings: longtime pining, reader gets a minor injury in the line of duty, catching fire, explicit smut, fingering, handjob, shower sex, vaginal penetration, oral (m receiving), multiple orgasms, cuddling ♨ an: thank you to @downbad4yoongi and @ressjeon for beta reading, and to @colormepurplex2 for storyboarding last night! this fic has a small bit of self-indulgence in celebration of @peachiilovesot7‘s birthday, which she shares with our birthday man, Hobi! i wanted to post this yesterday, but unfortunately, due to circumstances outside of my control, it’s only a day late. i hope you enjoy!

Rolling out of the bed, you glance at your phone to see it’s just past 5:30am. Silencing the alarm that had been blaring for the past few minutes, you stretch before tiptoeing your way through Hoseok’s room. Once in his bathroom, you eyeball the marks he left.

You know that Hoseok likes you, hell, you know that he wants more out of this ‘friends with benefits’ deal the two of you have worked out, but you just can’t bring yourself to be in a relationship. As coworkers in a dangerous field, you think it best to keep the distance you have, seeking out one another for sex.

The only issue is that you tend to seek him out daily. The two of you work the same shift, and spend time together off the clock as well. You practically live at each other’s apartments, and according to your friends, you act like an old married couple. Except you refuse to acknowledge the feelings you’ve grown for him, and he for you.

Climbing into his shower, you reach for your bathing items that he’s set aside in their own designated spot and while the action warms your heart, it also makes you nervous that you’re becoming too comfortable carving out a space in his life that’s meant for a girlfriend. After showering, you grab your toothbrush placed next to his at the sink, and notice after the fact when you go to hang up your wet towel back where you procured it from that Hoseok recently added a hook to the wall next to his towel for yours.

It’s all a little too much, especially today. February 13th. The day before the day you hate. All of these things are just a reminder that maybe you’re too involved with Hoseok, and that despite not having discussed it, he may start to expect something you aren’t ready to give to him tomorrow. You finish getting ready in a silent panic, noting that Hoseok is still sleeping peacefully as you leave early for work.

Arriving at the two story building, you smile as the rising sun glances off the upper glass windows of your workplace. The bright red number seven showcases that you work at the best station in the district. Station 7 is your pride and joy, and as you open the door to enter, it’s a day like any other. Of course, today is a Monday, which means the station will be filming their weekly segment for the news, and with it being National Heart Month, the focus for the day is on ‘How to Keep a Heart Beating (with CPR)’.

As an anti-Valentine’s Day person, you find it a little cheesy that your coworkers want to decorate the station for Valentine’s Day tomorrow, as you’d much rather have a nice taco spread for Taco Tuesday, but your idea was vetoed at the monthly station meeting last month. So imagine your surprise when you walk in and see a lack of red and pink hearts decorating the front reception area.

Park Jimin, one of your closest friends, yawns from where he sits at the desk, covering his mouth before offering you a lazy wave.

“Morning, Sunshine.”

You look around the room, trying to find who Jimin is calling ‘Sunshine’.

“I don’t see Hoseok anywhere,” you announce after concluding it’s just the two of you in the intake area.

“Ha-ha, you are so funny this early,” Jimin says with a glare of his eyes. “But why am I not surprised that Hoseok is the first thing on your mind?”

Dropping your backpack onto the counter, it’s now your turn to glare at him.

“Shut up. We’re just fuck buddies.” You hide your face by unzipping your bag and pretending to look for something.

“Does he know that?” Jimin questions, and you break your defense to look up at him puzzled.

“Um, pretty sure he does, seeing as he literally was just pounding into me a couple of hours ago.”

“Sweetheart, while I typically love the details of your sex life, you know that the emphasis was on the ‘just’ part of the sentence. ‘Does Hoseok know that you two are just fuck buddies?’”

“He hasn’t ever said he wants more from me, so…just leave it, Jimin.”

“Hmm…touchy. Are you maybe…upset that he hasn’t expressed wanting more?”

Once again you dig in your bag, wishing you had just said good morning back and not engaged in this conversation.

“What? No, pshh, I told him when it started that we wouldn’t be more.”

Jimin sighs, leaning back and running a hand through his hair.

“Idiot.”

You throw the first thing you grab in your backpack—your deodorant— at him. “I meant that in the most loving way!”

“I’m going upstairs to put away my belongings. You’re off at 9am, right?”

“Yup, and then the next two days I’m off. Just in time for Valentine’s Day.”

“Oooh, hot plans with Theresa?” you ask over your shoulder as you begin climbing the stairs.

“She planned a surprise for me, you know Valentine’s is about the woman doing something for the man.” Jimin says with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Yeah, yeah, and next month for White Day, it’ll be your turn.” The stairs turn once you reach the first platform, so now you can look down into the desk area and the top of Jimin’s head. He looks up at you with a smirk as he tosses your deodorant up to you.

“And if you don’t make a move tomorrow, you’ll be eating black jjajangmyeon in your black sweatpants the month after like the single loser you are!”

Stomping the rest of the way into the firefighter’s dormitory, you notice that two beds are occupied. Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook are two regulars who work the same 6-day shift as you. Today just so happens to be your first day back from your rest period, so the three of you and Hoseok, will be doing the day shift from 9am to 6pm today and tomorrow.

“You guys slept here last night?” you ask, sitting on the bed across from Taehyung. You’re already dressed in your uniform, but still have a little under an hour until your shift starts so you put away the small deodorant canister and get comfortable.

“Yeah, we covered for Sammi and Vanessa. They were supposed to be on call for the One-Stop Support Center for residential fire fighting devices, but apparently they needed to prepare for tomorrow.”

“Why couldn’t they prepare today?”

“Oh, trust me, our doting, pregnant fiances have spent the past few days whispering and plotting away.”

You laugh at the image Taehyung paints of their significant others. Sammi, his fiance, is four months pregnant and works in the Control Center of the station with Jungkook’s fiance, Vanessa, who is also five months along. The two are often seen together giggling and chatting, and much like Hoseok, are rays of sunshine in the office.

“I bet it was boring being on call for the Support Center.” You make conversation as the two get up and begin shrugging on their field uniforms over their tank tops and athletic shorts.

“We had maybe three calls the entire time, and we were home until the last call came and it was this elderly man, he needed installation support at his shop. He runs a bakery and was about to start the ovens when he noticed that his gas detector wasn’t lit up. So at 4am, I’m in a deep sleep cuddling my babe, when the phone wakes us up and we have to stop here and get a new HKA-800 to install.” Jungkook sighs as if the elderly baker ruined his night.

“I hate installing gas leakage alarms,” Taehyung sighs. “They’re always in hard to reach spots, and I would’ve rather stayed in bed to be honest.”

“I feel like they knew a call was going to come in at that time…they’ve never swapped on call shifts with us before.” Jungkook muses.

“So, which of you pretty boys is filming today?”

“I am!”

You turn to the doorway of the dormitory and see Jung Hoseok enter with his duffel bag on his shoulder. He looks stunning as usual, black hair styled effortlessly to frame his face. He’s fully dressed in his field uniform, reflective vest situated over his lithe frame and you kind of hate how all of his clothing hides the marks you left last night, unable to show that he belongs to you, even if you tell yourself he’s only yours when the two of you are alone.

“I’m surprised Hobi, the whole place isn’t covered in candy hearts or red and pink decorations,” you tease. “I thought you would have wanted it to be all pretty for airing.”

Hoseok’s face makes a surprising change to irritation.

“When would I have had time last night to decorate?” He says with a raised eyebrow at you, alluding to your activities that kept him busy. “Besides, the Fire Chief didn’t give the approval until this morning! I saw the email when I woke up. I’ve got all of the supplies right here in my bag.”

“Oh no, you better watch out, Hobi, you know Sunshine over here hates Valentine’s Day.”

You roll your eyes, laying back onto the pillow and feigning disinterest.

“I just don’t understand why women have to declare their feelings first and then wait a whole month to have them reciprocated. What if you break up during the month between?”

Jimin trudges into the room, flopping onto a free mattress. Glancing at the clock, you see it’s ten till nine, and figure his replacement must’ve just arrived.

“Sammi is too pregnant to leave me, she wouldn’t make it five minutes down the road before calling me crying from the car to say she misses me. She would turn around and be back in my arms. Plus, Jaykay and I have already planned our White Day surprise for them. They have no need to worry.”

“If only we all could be so lucky to date best friends, get engaged, and pregnant all within a couple months of each other.”

“I mean, if you would—”

“Park Jimin, you shut your mouth right now!” You effectively cut him off as his eyes land on you, full of mirth. You wish looks can kill—Jimin would be frying under your burning gaze.

“Well, I’m going to start putting up the hearts now!”

Hobi begins to unzip his bag but jumps when the siren begins to sound.

Jumping out of the bed, you grab your vest from your bag, and the four of you hustle down to the trucks. 120 cases of fire are called into dispatch every 12 minutes across the country, and the life of a firefighter is always a race against time.

Valentine’s day is just another day to you, in fact, it’s your second day shift in a row, leaving you with ample time to celebrate, if you were the type. Yesterday was busy, which is unsurprising—the day before Valentine’s day many women are baking sweets and chocolates for the person who has caught their affection, and the stress of making the perfect treat often leads to a level of carelessness not usually seen. Eleven small kitchen fires took up the whole shift, and Hoseok was unable to film his CPR news clip or decorate the station.

The next morning, Hoseok is ready to turn your workplace into a Valentine’s Day extravaganza. As you approach the main door, you see window clings in the shape of hearts and cute phrases plastered against the glass.

Walking in, you see candy hearts attached to red yarn strung along the edge of the reception counter. Behind the desk, Hoseok stands on a ladder, hanging up red balloon letters that spell out L-O-V-E.

Unable to hold back a groan, you cause Hoseok to teeter dangerously as he realizes he’s not alone.

“Morning, babe!” Kim Seokjin greets cheerily from where he’s supposed to be holding said ladder, but you look around dejectedly.

“Damn it, Chief Kim really vetoed my Taco Tuesday idea?”

“Tacos?” Jungkook appears from the back room behind the reception desk, eating a bowl of cereal.

“Yeah, I thought maybe he would decide to order us tacos for Taco Tuesday.”

“It’s only 8:30, sunshine. Maybe it’ll be here at lunch time.”

“Good thinking, Kookie! So, let’s hope today is less busy than yesterday, so we can leave on time and you and Taehyung can enjoy your surprise.”

“I am begging. Tomorrow we work the night shift, so I’ll have plenty of time to sleep in. Do you have any plans?”

“Nothing planned, no. You know I don’t do Valentine’s Day.”

You miss the way Hoseok’s face falls as he turns back to the task at hand.

“Ah, yes, one day you will find someone, and maybe you won’t hate Valentine’s Day so much.”

“Maybe when pigs fly.”

You can’t lie though, Hoseok has the reception area looking festive in a non-cheesy way; you actually don’t want to vomit at the sight of it. Luckily, he isn’t able to make it far into the building with his bag of ornaments and tinsel, and the sound of the alarm going off halts his efforts once again.

“This is bullshit,” he huffs under his breath, but you hear him anyway as you walk side by side to the truck.

Valentine’s Day is really not your day. The first call of the morning sent you out to a residential area where a wild boar wandered into. Being chased by a wild boar before you even have a chance to stretch is not your idea of fun, but the guys were able to herd it back to where it came thanks to your sprint.

Back at the station, Fire Chief Kim Namjoon greets you in the hallway, and when you ask about tacos for lunch, he apologizes.

“I’m sorry, it slipped my mind. In order to feed everyone on staff, we would need to put in the order ahead of time, there’s too many departments. How about next Tuesday?” he offers, buff arm rubbing the back of his neck in guilt. You can’t stay mad at his dimples, so you let him off the hook, saying next week will be fine.

It’s not, not really, but you aren’t the type to say no to free food. You had just hoped to have something else to take your mind off of Valentine's Day. Especially with your crush/fuck buddy walking around the station in his perfectly fit uniform decorating the windows with hearts and talking about how much he loves today.

The only reprieve is that today is just as busy, and the window clings are as far as Hoseok gets before the alarm rings loudly, sending your group running once again. This time, it’s a fire, but not as small as the baking incidents yesterday. This one requires full gear and an extra truck from a neighboring station. And when Hoseok disappears back inside the building with Jungkook to locate a tearful child’s missing pet cat, you find yourself antsy to reach him.

Five minutes later, Jungkook comes stumbling out, saying that the smoke was too thick on the path he took to the left, but the right hallway Hoseok took should be easier to navigate since the fire started on his side.

Pacing as you wait for Hoseok to show, you can’t help the fear growing if he weren’t to return. You knew it was your own self-sabotage that kept this thing with Hoseok from turning into something more. You have had your heart broken in the past; you put in more effort to a man who did not deserve it and it backfired on you. Growing up you were raised to feel that it was safe for you to share your love with others, but now it just felt safer to keep Hoseok at arms length.

Still not seeing Hoseok return, you now know that you would have rather explored the feelings he brings out of you and let it turn into a burning flame than to lose him in one. There’s a reason why Sammi and Vanessa no longer fight fires with their significant others. Long before either was with child, the two switched to dispatch services, because of the warnings of the dangers of loving your firefighting partner.

Breaking all types of protocol, you run into the building and find Hoseok appearing through the heavy smoke with the cat in his arms, and a sigh of relief spreads through your body. This pause to take him in, inspect him for damages while still being inside a burning building is exactly why you shouldn’t have run inside.

A wooden beam, brittle from the flames eating away at its hold, crumbles to the ground around you. Hoseok, arms full with the fluffy pet and voice covered by the roar of the flames, is unable to do anything but watch as you fall to the ground, semi-pinned under the remnants of the beam.

Sprinting, he has a clear enough mind to leave you behind to get the cat to safety before returning with help from Taehyung less than a minute later. The two are able to lift the wood off of your leg, and Hoseok carries you from the building, now empty of residents and their pets. The other station takes over dousing the flames as a second station arrives to help, and with orders from the Fire Chief, your unit brings you back to the station.

You’re not that hurt, no broken bones, just a minor sprain and first degree burns where the beam lay on your leg. Luckily your protective gear prevented worse damage from occurring had you been in civilian clothing and in the infirmary at Station 7, you sit under the watchful eyes of your Fire Captain and Lead Aid Car Specialist, Min Yoongi.

“Please explain to me why I have to do a write up for Chief Kim explaining that you broke protocol and ended up injured.”

“I’m sorry Yoongi-Op—Captain Min.”

Your older brother glares at you.

“I promised Eomma that you would not get hurt under my watch. Luckily, I wasn’t there or I would’ve dragged you back myself.”

“I know. I wasn’t thinking, Yoongi. Hobi had just been in there for so long and Jungkook had already returned, and the flames were getting worse, so I just—”

“You just forgot your duty as a firefighter, and I think it’s time you tell him how you feel, Sunshine. In the meantime, you’re grounded.”

“What? But—”

“You had a beam fall on you in a burning building, leaving you with first degree burns—lowkey second degree—on your leg! You aren’t going out on any more calls until you’re cleared.”

Of course, before your brother can finish treating your wounds, the alarm is already calling away Hoseok, Jungkook, and Taehyung. This time, it’s a small incident with bees swarming a preschool’s playground area. You know Hoseok hates bugs, but with only three members of the team available, he has to go.

Seokjin strolls into the infirmary just as Yoongi bandages the last piece of gauze around your burn, and you prepare yourself for a stern talking to.

“It’s Valentine’s Day, sunshine. And you almost died trying to search for the man you deny having feelings for. I think it’s time to do something about this crush, don’t you think?”

Well, that was unexpected. When did everyone learn your true feelings?

“You’re not subtle in the slightest.” Seokjin shares, reading the look on your face. “Neither is he. You both like each other, so stop being stubborn.”

“Valentine’s Day is almost over, Seokjin. Even if I wanted to do something, I’m injured and there’s no time.”

Seokjin’s face morphs into determination.

“Hobi is the easiest man to please. You should know, he likes you, doesn’t he?”

“Rude!”

“I’m just pointing out the obvious. So let’s think, what has he wanted to do this whole time?”

“Decorate the office to celebrate Valentine’s Day.”

“So what do you think would be a good way of showing him you care, and making yourself ineligible to participate in Black Day in a couple of months?”

“I…” you pause as if thinking about what you could do, but you already know the answer, “I can use his decorations and finish what he started. Maybe cave, and celebrate Valentine’s Day for once.”

“I knew you were smart and Hobi had to like you for a reason.”

“I’m also really good with my—”

“Really don’t want to know what you’re good at doing to my best friend!” Yoongi cuts you off, placing a cold compress to the wound.

“Alrighty!” Seokjin claps, “Moving on, so what are you going to have prepared when he asks to stay with you tonight, which we know he’s going to do, because he wants to take care of you.”

“Surprise him with tacos for Taco Tuesday and some bomb ass sex,” you say with a smile, happy to fulfill your own wish as well

“Sounds like a great plan. Though you may want to just accept the sex will be mid until your injury heals.”

“Alright, so this is all a great plan, but, small problem. I’m stuck here under medical watch until I get off! Who can help decorate my apartment?”

“Don’t be dense, Sunshine. I already texted the pregnant ones. They’re off today and done setting up for Tae and Jaykay, and they’re on their way to your place now. Text them your keycode so they can get in.”

“Why would they help me? They’re pregnant! And have their own things to prepare for!”

“Because, sweetie, we love you and we love Hoseok and we’ve had a bet going for ages that we’d love to have settled.”

You frown at his words, but understand. You love all of your coworkers too, trust them with your life—literally—and the fact that everyone has been rooting for you and Hoseok to work out thaws your frozen Valentine’s Day heart.

When your crew arrives back from the playground relocating the bees, you watch as Hoseok’s face breaks out into a blinding smile.

“Wow! You guys really did all of this?”

Seokjin is sitting at the reception desk with you and he nods his head in your direction.

“It was Sunshine’s idea.”

Hoseok turns wide eyes to you, and you think you see a little hope in them. Part of you knew that Hoseok always wanted more, but the other part of you doubted he could actually see you as his girlfriend. In the past, the guy who broke your heart couldn’t see you as his girlfriend despite you doting on him as if you were his wife, which is what led to your walls being so high. But thanks to your friends and the incident today, you realize that Hoseok is someone you can trust with your heart. You already trust him with your life.

“I thought it was the least I could do, I know you really wanted to celebrate Valentine’s Day.”

Coming around the desk, he kneels in front of you being mindful of your propped up leg.

“Thank you, Sunshine. I really appreciate you doing this for me.”

You can’t hold back your smile, and he pulls you into a hug. He’s warm, and you melt in his embrace as Seokjin pretends to wipe back happy tears as he watches the two of you.

“Sunshine, I’m sure you want to go home, but I still have to record the heart health clip, and then we’ll head to your place, okay?”

“No worries, Hobi, Seokjin and I took care of that for you too. And we made sure to showcase all of your decorations.”

If he could physically do it, Hoseok would be staring heart eyes at you. Even without transforming the shape of his eyes, you see more than the hope from earlier in them; there’s gratitude for making his very long day easier, and something else you aren’t sure if you can put into words.

“I’ll be right back.” Hoseok sprints from the reception area and up the stairs, returning only a few moments later with his duffel bag hanging to his side. Grasping your backpack from the counter, he threads his arms through the straps before bending his knees and reaching for you. Lifting you up bridal style, you laugh as he walks you out the glass doors, enjoying the smile adorned on his face.

Hoseok refuses to let you walk once at your place, carrying you from the car to your second floor apartment with ease. You were already showered from being on medical leave for the day, but as Hoseok types in the code to your door, he promises to shower fast so as not to leave you alone for long.

The words fade from his lips as he crosses the threshold with you in his arms, the sight of your apartment decorated romantically for the holiday shocking him silent. You thank your coworkers silently for their efforts, before tucking your face into Hoseok’s neck.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Hobi.” Your voice is low, but he hears you, and his spine shivers when you press a kiss to his neck.

He’s still silent, but you can feel his heart racing as he looks down at you in his arms.

“Shower with me.”

You nod, and he rushes to your bathroom, setting you down on the closed toilet lid so he can strip down, and you do the same, standing up gently once naked with your hand balancing you on the sink. Opening the glass shower door, he turns the tap on to a medium level due to your injury. Your brother said you were okay to shower, you just had to make sure to redress the wound and he would bring your antibiotics by tomorrow after he picked them up from the pharmacy.

Hoseok tugs you towards him lightly as you follow him gingerly into the warm water. The two of you silently wash each other, being gentle around sensitive areas. Once clean, he pulls you to his chest and into a hug you didn’t realize you needed. Being in his arms like this after today’s events, it finally hits you. You love this man. You feel your eyes start to water, sniffling, and he looks at you closely.

“What’s wrong, does your leg hurt, baby?” the pet name slips out.

“No, it’s fine. I just—” you take a deep breath before looking into his pretty brown eyes. “I think I have some really big feelings for you, and I was so worried about you earlier, if something had happened to you…”

“Nothing happened, Sunshine. I’ll always make my way back to you, you know that.”

“You better.”

He leans down and kisses you, soft, heart-shaped lips calming the storm in your mind.

“I will, baby.”

You pull him by his neck back to you, this time deepening the kiss as his hands begin to explore you. You feel his fingers slip between your thighs, spreading you open and entering you without wasting any time. Gasping into the kiss, you reach for him, feeling his semi-firm cock harden as you begin to stroke him. The water helps with your speed, and the two of you twirl your tongues together as you match pace.

“I need more, baby,” you pant, and Hoseok removes his fingers from where your walls have gripped him, reaching for the backs of your thighs to lift you up. Putting your back to the wall opposite the faucet, you squeal from the cold tile along your spine. Hoseok just chuckles while angling his now fully erect member at your opening, pushing himself inside slowly so he can savor every ridge of your pulsing walls.

Thrusting into you, his mouth decorates your skin with blooming maroon marks until you cry out in satisfaction as he makes you cum. The angle he holds you in is perfect for kissing your g-spot with the tip of his cock, and your skin tingles as your nerves react to the climax. Sliding out of his hold, he grunts when you push him where you had just been pinned, using his body to help you glide to your knees, careful of your shin injury.

Taking Hoseok into your mouth, you rival the loud sounds of the shower as you lewdly suck and slurp your essence off of his cock as his hands firmly hold the sides of your head. You look up at him as you press your nose to his taut abs, eyes wet with unshed tears as you breathe through your nose to gather enough to pause and swallow around him as you grip his thighs. You can tell when he’s at his breaking point, the pads of his fingers dragging along your scalp as his muscles tense and you bob with sucked in cheeks and flicks to his frenulum until he’s spilling his warm cum down your throat.

Hoseok grasps you under your arms and pulls you to him, kissing you hard.

“Fuck, Sunshine,” his nose drags softly along yours in an eskimo kiss. “I think I—”

The sound of your doorbell chiming through the apartment reaches your ears, having installed a small speaker in the bathroom and bedroom so that you never miss a delivery.

The two of you giggle as you decide who will get the door, but Hoseok, ever the gentleman, grabs a towel and your robe. You spend a few extra moments cleaning between your thighs before turning off the water and following Hoseok out of the bathroom.

Catching sight of him in the hallway, he’s walking a delivery bag from your favorite taco restaurant in Seoul to your kitchen counter. Stepping over the rose petals littered along the hallway, you join him.

“You even got us tacos?” he asks in awe, adoration lacing his tone.

“Of course, I did, it’s taco Tuesday and Valentine’s Day, and I just wanted to show you how I feel about you.” It feels good to admit it.

Turning away from the unopened bag, Hoseok picks you up again, carrying you to your bedroom.

This time, he makes love to you slowly, his hips rolling in that magical way he does, fingers laced with yours by your head as your bodies fit together deliciously. Your eyes never leave his, both of you staring deeply at each other as you rock in tandem. Feeling him all over you, reaching the deepest parts of you, you cry out as tears roll down your cheeks in pleasure.

“F-fuck Hobi, I’m so close,” you whimper, hands squeezing his tightly as the pressure builds.

“Give your all to me, Sunshine,” he begs, and you know he isn’t just asking for your orgasm.

“It’s yours, Hobi,” you admit, “I’m yours.”

Your words encourage him as he picks up speed and depth until you release together.

Cuddling into his arms, you turn your lips to his chin, placing tender kisses to his smooth skin.

“I love you, Hoseok.”

In the quiet of your room, it’s as if a roaring fire fills your ears as you wait to see if he’ll extinguish the worry that begins to spread—

“I love you too, Sunshine, have for a while.”

He tilts his head so he can return kisses to your lips before your bodies align once again to create a friction of burning love that blooms bright enough to consume you.

thank you for reading! reblogs and comments are much appreciated!

221 notes · View notes

purpleajisai · 4 months

Text

Madara Week day 4 - Mental asylum

The mental facility was often dealing with patients who had seen too much war in their lives, shinobi whose psyche had been tattered to the point of no return. The newest resident had started his first shift at the hospital and per tradition, he’d have to help his mentor with one difficult case to prepare him for the future as an intern.

Dr. Minamoto had been working in the facility for 15 years already and his face hardly ever showed emotion. Perhaps he learned to hide them so his patients didn’t have a chance to mess with him. His new mentee, a recent graduate from Konoha’s medical institute, was waiting for him at the door of the “Top Security” wing of the building.

“Good morning, Dr. Minamoto! Let me introduce mys-”

“I already know who you are. You better start moving soon, Dr. Mori. This patient of mine is far too delicate for us to waste time in formalities.”

“Yes, Dr. Minamoto…”

The building was rather depressing, to say the least. If anything, it was a reflection of the patients inside. Dr. Minamoto’s patient was in the basement, a place reserved for the biggest dangers of the facility. The duo approached a cell with a transparent panel that allowed them to see the patient inside. A man with long hair that had once looked a lot better, his mouth shut with a muzzle and his straightjacket with double the usual amount of straps. Dr. Minamoto sighed and handed the young Dr. Mori a heavy stack of papers.

“Alright, Dr. Mori. Since it’s your first day here, I’ll present the chart to you. Madara Uchiha, male, age unknown but estimated to be about a century old. No other comorbilities.”

“And what is the diagnosis, Dr. Minamoto? I can’t find it in his file.”

“All of those papers are our attempts at diagnosing him. I haven’t lucked out yet, he is quite stubborn. Maybe you could provide some fresh input, eh?”

“Dr. Minamoto, this file is as thick as my anatomy atlas. Not even you could diagnose him?”

“No, I haven’t been able to do it thus far. And it’s quite an embarrasment. I’ll give you some time to check the file while I go upstairs to fetch my other patient’s files.”

“Alright, I will try to give some insight…”

“Whatever you do, don’t look straight into his eyes. Don’t remove the muzzle because he bites. Hell, not even think about going inside that cell.”

“Uh? Okay, I will do as you say, Dr. Minamoto.”

Dr. Mori spend several minutes reading the chart and all the tests that had been done. The sound of fire crackling had been in the background for quite some time, so he thought it was some nearby chimney or kitchen. But there was nothing like that nearby, in the badement there were only 3 patient cells. Where was this sound coming from? Dr. Mori began to walk around trying to find the source of the sound, worrying that some patient might have set something on fire.

After he finished making a little tour of all the cells, he came back and found the paper stack that belonged to Madara burning in black flames. In a moment of panic, he committed the mistake of turning to face Madara Uchiha.

“Hey! What do you think you’re do-”

He was met with two purple eyes that resembled an optical illusion. Such unusual eyes began to bleed, letting out drops of scarlet red blood. And as the eyes bled, the eyeballs began to melt and only left behind a pair of empty sockets. Dr. Mori began to feel dizzy and he fell to his knees. A deep voice called him.

“Stand up. Open this door.”

“H-huh? How are you talking?! You have a muzzle like fucking Hannibal Lecter!”

“You are a stupid child, aren’t you? I am not using my mouth but my ocular prowess to invade your fragile mind. Open the door.”

“No! You’re a danger to the entire shinobi world!”

“Hmm…”

After that little sound from the patient, Dr. Mori was transported to an eerie dimension. He felt his body being torn apart and stitched back together again and again, and the only thing he could hear aside from his pained screams was “Open the door”.

Dr. Minamoto came back ten minutes later and had to refrain himself from screaming by clamping his hand over his mouth. Dr. Mori laid lifeless inside Madara’s cell, his body showing signs of a quick strangling. But the most worrying aspect of the whole room was that somehow, the man in the straightjacket was free from all his restraints and was calmly stretching out his arms. He turned around and his purple irises met Dr. Minamoto’s gaze.

“Hello, doctor. I have decided to discharge myself. There are better things to do in this accursed world than just standing here with my arms forcefully crossed.”

Purple’s notes:

Hello! This is my submission for Day 4 of the Madara Week, hosted by @uchiha-event . Hope you all enjoyed this creepy-ish short fic. Comments are open!

#madara #madara uchiha #uchiha madara #naruto fanfiction #madara week 2023 #madaraweek2023 #i had a lot of fun writing this #maybe this could become a whole fanfic

22 notes · View notes

obsidiancreates · 1 year

Text

The Algae Is Always Greener On The Other Side (Part 5)

Raph tears another dummy apart with his sai and kicks it away. There's dozens on the ground around him, torn apart and gutted. Another appears, and he goes at it with the same fire.

He's not sure how long he's been doing this. He's not even sure what he's mad about anymore. It's just this burning, swollen, choking anger, pressing against his ribcage and clogging up his throat-

"Hey, uh-"

"What?!" Raph whirls around, gripping his weapons so tightly that his fingers are numb.

Raphie holds his one visible hand up. The door of the dojo room is just barely cracked open, and Raphie takes up the whole thing. "I thought you might wanna talk? And if not that… maybe a spar? But your eyeballs are literally flames right now so maybe I was wrong."

Raph just growls at him.

"Oh boy." Raphie lets himself in entirely and shuts the door behind him. "Listen, I'm sorry you had to reli-"

"You don't get to judge Sensei, you understand me?!" So this is how he’s directing it this time. At least it’s in defense of his family, not against them. He hates when it spills out like he’s against them.

Raphie’s concerned expression falls into a confused frown. “Uh… what?”

“I would’ve been just fine to move on!” Raph tears the new dummy in half and makes sure the pieces go flying towards Raphie. “It happened, I hated it, I’m still mad about it, whatever! But you don’t know him, and you don’t know me, and you don’t know our family!”

“Hey little man-”

“YOU! Don’t get to look down on us! You guys were getting all preachy and protective, but guess what? The only butt I wanted to kick back there was yours and your stupid family’s!”

“Hey, we were trying to help! Our Pops would never-”

Raph stalks over and gets as into Raphie’s face as possible. “He’s not your Pops! He’s my Sensei! My father! After what we’ve gone through I’m just happy he’s even here! So if this is going to keep going, you better keep your mouth shut the next time you see something like that!”

“Well, how often are we gonna see it?! Because I can’t make that promise if it’s a pattern!”

“Fine! Then I can’t promise I won’t knock you out of your shell!”

“Where is this coming from, man?! I thought you were upset by the arrows insults thing!”

“I AM!” Raph goes for a sweep kick, and Raphie flips out of the way. Raph goes in for a punch, and Raphie blocks. “I’M ANGRY I HAD TO SEE THAT AGAIN, I’M ANGRY IT MADE MY FAMILY UPSET TO SEE, I’M ANGRY THEY APOLOGIZED, I’M ANGRY THEY DID IT BACK THEN, AND I’M ANGRY AT YOU PEOPLE FOR JUDGING US!”

“We’re not! We’re- whoa!” Raphie blocks a sai tip from going into his eye. “Whoa, calm down! We’re just concerned!”

“WELL CUT IT OUT!” Raph goes for another maiming blow, eyes completely white and movements frantic. Raphie grabs him by the arm and flips him, grabbing his sai while he’s in the air and ripping them away.

“You cut it out! You almost stabbed my eye out!” Raphie points at his eye.

Raph lays on the ground, puffing and scowling. He grits his teeth, and then puts his arm over his eyes. “Look,” he grunts, “We’re all we’ve got. Sometimes we do dumb stuff and tick each other off. Sometimes we don’t say sorry for it. But at the end of the day, the only thing that matters is all of us are there to tick each other off at all!”

“Alright! You coulda said it without tryin’ to blind me-”

“I wasn’t actually trying to blind you.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Raph pushes himself up and huffs again. “Well, I wasn’t. ... Thanks, for the fight.”

Raphie sighs. He has a feeling he won’t get any apology… at least not anytime soon. Raph’s still simmering. “Sure. … You’re pretty tough for a little guy, you know.”

“You wanna go again?!”

“That was a compliment!”

“In what world?!”

“Raph!”

They both turn to the door. Mikey pushes it open all the way. “Hey, man, uh… Sensei has something he wants to say to us. Wanna do it in here, or-”

“No. No, I’m done in here.” Raph glares up at Raphie. “Let the rest of your family know what I said, okay? Because I mean it. One more weird look, and you’ll all be-”

“Okay, okay.” Raphie holds his hands up and motions for Raph to calm down. Don’t know why he’s fightin’ me when obviously that whole deal didn’t work, he thinks.

Raph and Mikey leave, and Raphie waits for a moment. A blue portal opens soon after the dojo door closes, and his own family steps in.

“So…” Leon drawls as he looks around the dummy-strewn floor. “Didn’t go well?”

“He did this before I came in.” Raphie sighs and slumps down to sit. “Those guys are weird.”

“No kiddin’,” April O’Neil says, shaking her head. “I tried talkin’ to other Donnie, but he was not feelin’ it.”

“Other me literally almost killed me,” Leon huffs, sitting down as well. “Okay, not literally, but he tried to with his cold silent glares. I have no idea how that guy could be me.”

“Other Mikey wasn’t happy either,” Donald sighs. “And we… may have found out why.”

Everyone looks to Donald and Angelo.

“They thought their Pops died a while back,” Angelo says in a soft voice, tearing up. “He didn’t say a lot, but he said they thought he died and it’s not cool of us to act like they don’t need him.”

“But we didn’t!”

“No, we did not,” Donald scoffs. “But clearly they thought we did.”

“They were almost orphans?” Splints peeks out the dojo doors. “... They are so young…”

The rest of the family move to peek out of the door.

Splinter is speaking to Raph, hand on his son’s shoulder. Raph has his fists clenched by his sides, while his brothers and April all sit with their legs tucked under them and hands in their laps. Splinter lowers himself a bit, and says something more in too soft a voice for the colorful clan to hear.

Whatever he says makes Raph raise his head, eyes watering and jaw dropped. He’s silent for a moment as his siblings look up at Splinter in equal shock, and April breathes out a sigh of relief.

Raph shuts his mouth and gives one solid nod.

Splinter nods as well, and opens his arms. For a moment, no-one moves.

And then Mikey jumps up and pulls Raph and Splinter close, and April pulls Donnie and Leo up to join.

The colorful clan close the door as quietly as possible.

“We can’t just not say anything when messed-up stuff happens though,” Leon whispers.

“We’ll just have to pick and choose our battles, guys,” Raphie whispers back.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Raphael,” Splinter says as soon as the door to the dojo is closed and Mikey is reseated. “I have thought about what happened, the method I chose, the reason I chose it, and-”

“It’s fine, Sensei,” Raph says, clenching his fists. “Those guys don’t know anything.”

“My son.” Splinter’s expression softens. “While I agree they were too quick to judge… I also think I was too quick then, in deciding how to handle the situation.”

Raph’s eyes widen.

“I saw myself in you for your anger, and I chose to demonstrate it to you in a way that punished. I allowed my fear of your anger causing a disaster as mine did, to influence how I chose to respond. But I… no longer think my method… was correct. I think I allowed my fears of losing you to make me too harsh. And in the future, I will be more mindful of that happening. I do not want you four to go through the same upbringing I did. I know I may have failed in that already… but I do not want that failure to continue.”

Everyone’s jaws drop, and April looks near tears with relief.

Raph can’t figure out how to respond. He could never, ever have imagined a moment like this, never prepared for it. All he manages is a nod.

Splinter smiles softly, and opens his arms.

For a second, time freezes. Lasting anger is still tight in Raph’s chest, but a soft, squishy, sad center is there too.

Mikey gets time going again by yanking Raph and Splinter together, and a moment later three more join the hug.

They all hear the slight tap of the dojo doors sliding closed. They ignore it.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s hours before things resume.

The extra rooms turn into bedrooms, one side marked with bright colors and the other with more muted tones. Each family takes the offer of sleep up right away, and after a long rest, the slates are wiped… somewhat, clean, in all of their minds.

But the distance between the families on the couch is notably larger than it was before.

The episode picks up right where it left off, which does nothing for the lingering tension in the room. When Screen Mikey sighs happily and says he wishes the moment could last forever, Mikey reaches over and pats Raph’s shell. Raph pushes his arm away with a slight smirk, and Mikey smiles back.

Screen Raph is not so fortunate, Splinter lecturing Raph a moment longer. “Ninniku Seshin is the ability to endure insults with patience and humility. You cannot be a true ninja, until you master it.”

“No no, if someone insults you, you use your skills to kick their butt,” Splints tsks. Raphie elbows his dad, giving him A Look, and Splints winces. “I mean, ah… how interesting, how different being a ninja is there?”

His sons and April all give him bright smiles and thumbs-up.

“Wow, it’s like I didn’t even hear the first part,” Donnie mutters.

On screen, the scene fades to a wideshot of a street as Spiderbytes is seen leaving his apartment and talking on the phone to someone about the video trying to sell it, still calling the boys ‘frogs’ and their martial art ‘kung-fu’. He goes into an alley where the turtles all drop down and surround him, making him yelp and then tell the buyer he’ll call them back. Without missing a beat he goes into threats.

“Lay one finger on me frog, and I’m callin’ the cops!”

“I don’t think reasoning is about to work here,” Leon says with a shake of his head.

Screen Raph stands at the front of the group in the next shot, his brother behind him. Leo is wincing in an attempt at a smile, Donnie is eyeing the human like he’s trying to decide where best to give him a good kick, and Mikey just looks unimpressed. Raph, however… is tense.

“We’re not gonna hurt you.”

“Then whadaya want, freak?”

“Oh, heck no! He can’t talk to you like that!” April O’Neil looks over at the dull clan. “This is not the time for bein’ reasonable!”

“We had to try,” Leo shoots back. “We weren’t used to this kind of thing yet!”

“We got off on the wrong foot last night,” Screen Raph says, visibly and audibly one second away from snapping. His brothers seem aware, with Screen Leo side-eying Raph warily and Donnie frowning from behind him. Mikey continues to look unimpressed with the whole situation. Raph continues, “Some things were said, and well, we would just like that video back.” They all try for smiles.

Spiderbytes just frowns silently.

Screen Leo elbows Raph and then smiles at Spiderbytes while Donnie looks very upset in the background and Mikey looks at the human like he’s some kind of weird thing Mikey can’t figure out. Raph, in response to Leo’s elbowing, grits out one more word. “Please?”

“What are you gonna give me for it?”

Splinter’s tail lashes by his feet. Maybe I should have let Raphael approach this with force. As much as he wishes he was above that kind of petty rage…

No, no. As deplorable as this human is, it’s best to try and solve things with reason first. He pushes aside memories of Saki, of trying to reason with his brother and failing, of harsher and harsher words and more and more bitterness building up-

He looks at Raph. “I am proud of you, my son,” he says. “For trying to reason with someone who’s clearly too stupid to accept it.” Not that he thinks Saki was stupid, but- well. Sometimes he thinks about how his brother threw away their bond in favor of power, and… perhaps that petty part of him rears it’s head, for a moment, before the grief and the anger set it instead.

But in this moment, Raph barks out a laugh at the unexpected insult and practically glows at the praise. “Wait until you see how I took him down, Sensei. I beat him at his own game!”

The sheer joy Raph emanates from the praise both warms and shatters the hearts of the colorful clan as they watch. He seems so, so happy to receive that praise…

Which the boys know from personal experience means it’s probably not something he hears often. Donald especially feels a tight pinch of recognition, hears the roars of monster truck engines and the cut-off praise of his own Pops, the way it felt like being allowed just one sip of cold water after a decade and a half in a desert.

The scene on the screen is far more intense, however, as Spiderbytes incessant idiocy breaks Raph, cartoon flames appearing behind him as his head blows up while he tries to deliver a threat. It gets a laugh out of Leon, Angelo, and Splints.

Screen Leo interrupts, however, pulling Raph back to the street view as Donnie stares at Raph in bewilderment and Mikey still could not give less of a crap beyond being vaguely aware based on his small frown. Clearly, he pretty much expected this to go about as well as it’s going. Leo takes over the negotiations, leaving Raph literally steaming.

“A cool mil outta cover it.”

“A MILLION?!?!” Leon jumps up and shakes his head. “Oh-ho-no! This guy is completely out of his mind! He’s worse than Stockboy!”

“Yeah, at least the kid was ripping off other people and not us! Oh, I cannot wait to see him get what’s comin’!” Angelo yanks Leon back to the couch so the episode can continue and Spiderbytes can be beaten down quicker.

Screen Leo isn’t even able to comprehend the request, “Mm-hmm, mm-hmm. A cool mil of what?” “A million dollars.” “... We don’t… have, a million dollars.”

“No-one does, it’s New York,” April says. “If he wants to extort people he should’ve gone somewhere the rent is reasonable.”

“Rent?” Mikey blinks at her.

“We have to pay someone to be allowed to stay in our apartment,” April explains. “If it wasn’t for Dad already having money from my grandparents, we’d never be able to afford our place on hsi salary alone.”

“You guys gotta PAY just to LIVE PLACES?! You should just move down to the sewers with us!”

“Thanks Mikey, but Dad and I prefer above ground.”

“Even when you gotta pay?! Bro, I don’t get you.”

Screen Mikey is just as clueless about money, offering some Canadian Quarters in place of the ‘cool mil’. Spiderbytes rejects the offer, saying he could make serious money off of the video. It pushes Raph’s last button, and he grabs Spiderbytes and slams him harshly to the ground! He raises his fist and begins spewing threats of kicking the man’s butt all the way to New Jersey-

And the shot changes to show a group of Kraang nearby who hear the shouts.

“An angered whisper if often much more intimidating, and makes the enemy fear you are in more control than you may actually be,” Splinter advises. “This should not happen again! But if it does, it is important to try and keep things quiet.”

Raph thinks about it. “Huh. Yeah, that would be scary. I might try that when I’m not even mad.”

Mikey grins, tapping his feet happily. Maybe this is the start of something totally new! Maybe things will be just fine as more stuff he remembers comes up!

Maybe there won’t be a big fight again!

Well, for them. For the screen turtles, there certainly is. Leo jumps at Raph and Spiderbytes to keep them from being run over by the Kraang van.

“Uh, is Donnie smiling?” Mikey notes.

Donnie looks at his screen self in complete confusion. “Why… does my face! Keep DOING WEIRD THINGS?!”

“Feelin’ real loved, Don.”

“I WASN’T SMILING! OR, I-I thought I wasn’t! Wh- does my face just make the wrong expression all the time and no-one TOLD ME?!”

“Relax, Dee! Not all the time.”

“That means sometimes!”

Seemingly uninjured, Screen Raph gets up right away, though the older probably-not-too-healthy Spiderbytes does not.

Leon’s mouth droops. “Uh… is he dead?”

“I wish,” Raph mutters. “No, that guy’s still running around somewhere as far as we know.”

“Let’s not let this one get away,” Screen Leo says. Raph turns and spots a random metal barrel next to them. He picks it up and chucks it right at the van windshield, causing it to swerve and crash into a nearby wall, yet somehow there is no visible damage despite the sound of glass breaking! Because apparently Kraang Glass is like titanium!

“Well, that was easy.”

“Oh, no bro! You never say that out loud!” Leon moans.

Sure enough, a group of Kraang armed with laser guns step out and start shooting.

“So you all win fights against these highly-armed aliens with no tech, no mystic skills, and no support, regularly?” Donald checks. “How bad is their aim?”

“Pretty bad, honestly,” Donnie says, still not willing to look at his counterpart. “But we’re also just smarter, stronger, and a better team. Usually.”

The Screen Turtles leap into action, the camera focusing mainly on Raph! He runs across the wall and leaps off into a spinning kick to take out two of the Kraangdroids, then uses the butt of his sai to disarm and kick down the next! He again uses the butt of his sai to slam into the chin of the next droid, then flipping him onto the ground while he’s distracted!

“WHOA! TALK ABOUT FIGHTING LIKE A BOSS!” Raphie whoops. “YOU AIN’T EVEN TALL ENOUGH TO REACH THEIR FACES AND YOU’RE STILL MOPPING THE FLOOR WITH ‘EM!”

The next shot shows Spiderbytes crawling on the road, cowering in the midst of the fight. Lasers fire all around him, just barely missing him, yet he still doesn’t have the sense to get his brut out of there yet. The next show shows a Kraangdroid firing as Donnie slides up next to it. Donnie swings his bo upwards to disarm the Kraang, spins his staff, and collides it into the droid’s artificial ribcage from the side! The Kraang flies offscreen, and the blob in it’s midsection is surely Very Concussed, if not likely dying from an internal hemorrhage after the sheer force of that blow.

Screen Mikey is grinning as he moves, dodging the lasers of another gun and jumping closer, going once again for a Face Shot! The Kraangdroid stands no chance, the blow “knocking it out” somehow despite the actual creature being in the stomach of the body.

“You guys really don’t hold back!” April O’Neil cheers.

“Obviously, because they know it’s androids,” Donald says, looking at the duller clan.

Who all refuse to make eye contact, and Mikey begins to whistle with feigned innocence.

Donald gasps. “You mean… you all embrace lethality?!”

“We may or may not go into every fight knowing there’s a chance it’s come down to us or them,” Leo says.

“We crashed a sentient car off of a cliff and then cheered when it blew up while screaming about revenge,” Mikey adds. The statement makes Splinter’s ears flatten and eyes widen in shock.

“During the invasion, at the farmhouse,” Donnie says to his father. He looks sick remembering the incident. “That was… one of the worst things out there.”

“How many enemies have you killed?” Splinter asks.

They all shrug.

“What counts as killed?” Mikey asks. “Because we all kinda wiped out some spirits pretending to be Rahzar and those guys one time- oh! And Donnie melted Creepweed! And I ate a pizza mutant alive once, but that also might’ve been a dream, but maybe not. And we flushed those Squirrelanoids down that pipe, so they probably drowned-”

“OHMIGOSHHHHH LET ME COME TO YOUR WORLD AND TEST OUT SOME OF MY WEAPONS!” Donald slides to their feet, hands clasped and eyes comically large and shining, all bad blood with Splinter forgotten as he thinks of getting to test out his lethal devices on real subjects for the first time. “My own family never let me shine!”

“Because it’s not a game!” both Splinters shout at once. Splints is startled, but Splinter is glaring down his nose at Donald, who suddenly feels very small.

“Taking a life is not a shine,” Splinter says, looking around at his boys. “It is a burden. One I am ashamed to admit I did not realize you were all already carrying.”

“Hey, it’s us or them most times,” Raph says with an all-too-casual shrug. “It’s why you trained us, Sensi. To protect ourselves.”

“Yes, it is. … I just regret you had to use it so young.”

Donald slinks back over to his own family. They’re all quiet.

On screen, Spiderbytes tries to make his escape by very slowly walking right by the open back of the van and looking behind him instead of around him. He’s of course hit by a flying Kraandroid body, and knocked into the van. He just stays inside, looking at his phone, because he’s an idiot. Raph, fighting alongside Leo, turns and notices.

“Oh no you don’t!” He stalks towards the van while Leo crosses his katanas to block the chainsaw-like attachment on the gun of an attacking Kraangdroid.

“Raph, what are you doing?! Get back here!” Leo knocks the droids away, but another zooms up behind him and kicks him to the ground! It keeps kicking him while he lays curled up in a defensive ball. He reaches one hand out. “Raph!”

“Not cool, hoss.” Raphie cross his arms. “You don’t leave your brothers hanging like that.”

Raph sinks into the couch. “I didn’t notice it was happening,” he says through gritted teeth.

Because Screen Raph is laser-focused in on Spiderbytes, scowling as he stomps closer. “We’ve got unfinished business!”

Spiderbytes slinks deeper into the van trying to avoid Raph, but Raph just comes right in with him. “You give me that phone right now!” he demands, fist raised and ready to strike!

But the music swells, and Spiderbytes looks over Raph’s shoulder in alarm! Raph looks back too to find three Kraang entering the van. The next shot is from the outside, of the van taking off with Raph and Spiderbytes still inside! The other brothers give chase as Raph single-handedly takes down the three Kraang in the back of the van, even stabbing his sai into one of their guns to that when it tries to fire it’s overloaded and explodes, taking half of the Kraangdroid’s human guise with it! He keeps beating the other two, but one manages to get ahold of him and drags him to the back of the van, dangling him over the road it speeds down the street!

He bites it’s arm, and for some reason it lets go even though it’s a robot suit and not a real flesh-and-pain-receptor-nerves being. He finishes it off and then turns to Spiderbytes and-

Holds out his hand to help the man up.

“Let’s get out of here!”

Splinter smiles with pride.

“Forget it!”

His smile drops into a scowl.

“You lizards don't want to buy my video, maybe these guys will!”

The entire colorful clan explodes into insults, boos, and jeers. The duller clan all groan and slap their faces into their hands, unsurprised but still somehow disappointed. Except for Splinter, who just stares at the screen while his tail lashes.

“Who does he think he is?!” April O’Neil boos, throwing popcorn at the screen. “You coulda just left him there to die, and he’s still whining!”

“Throw him out of the van, jeez!” Leo throws some popcorn as well.

“Kick him in the no-sunshine zone!” Splints calls out. “Show him how generous you being versus what he deserved!”

But Screen Raph does none of these things, as his brothers have caught up to the van running on foot, because they’re amazing and spectacular. Donnie calls his name, holding out his bo for Raph to grab onto to escape the van. None of them even glance at Spiderbytes.

Raph scowls and grabs the human by the arm. “Listen, you idiot! Frogs, are not lizards! And we’re not frogs!” He clearly has more to say, but the exploded Kraang from before grabs him before he has the chance and yanks him back! As Raph is thrown out of the van, Spiderbytes watches with a smile.

“Oh, when I see that guy again,” Raph growls, punching his palm. He glances at Splinter, who says nothing. But the look in his eye agrees with Raph. In fact, the entire family looks ready for another tick on the murder board, including April, who’s so angry the end of her ponytail begins defying gravity.

“Oh, that man is dead,” Leon whispers, watching them all and feeling very glad they hadn’t decided to start a real fight earlier (yesterday? How does time even work in this place?). “He is very very dead.”

“Should we talk about their April havin’ superpowers?” Raphie whispers back.

“Probably not until they ask us about ours.”

“Good plan.” They fistbump. Co-leaders!

Screen Raph hits the road hard and tumbles away from the van, slamming into his brothers at high speeds and knocking all of them to the ground in a heap. Spiderbytes gleefully leans out of the van and says, too quietly for them to actually hear but certainly loud enough he feels triumphant, “So long, Froggy.” Then he laughs like the villain he is.

And turns around.

To the Kraang.

“Uh, thanks for the help, guys.”

“HELP?!” the entire room shouts in unison. Even Splinter, though his is more of a roar of disgusted disbelief.

“Have I got a deal for you.”

“Pause it, pause it,” Leon demands. The screen pauses, and Leon grips his head. “I can’t even- how does he- who does he-”

“Even our villains know better than that, and most of them are morons,” Donald says. “This is one man who deserves to be dissected for alien science!”

“Please tell me y’all don’t get in trouble for how that went down!” Angelo says, eyeing the duller clan.

Leo clears his throat and looks away.

The colorful clan gape at him.

“YOU?!”

“I didn’t see what happened in the van!” Leo defends. “And I said it then, and I stand by it now, Raph shouldn’t have left us in the middle of the fight!”

“You were trying to get back the video! He was the only one actually doing the thing you were trying to do!” Angelo shouts. “Get your mind right, son! HE WAS TRYING TO FIX THINGS!”

“He was focused on a vendetta!”

“Hey, it wasn’t just that!” Raph stands up now, facing Leo. “I mean, yeah, it was most of it, but if he didn’t have that video I would’ve totally kicked the rest of those Kraang butts before I went after him!”

“YAME!”

Both boys go still, but they still glare as their father stands up.

“Rapheal, you should have let Leonardo know before leaving battle to go after your target,” Splinter says calmly. “Leonardo! You are lucky to have a member of your team who was able to keep your goal in mind even under such heavy attack. This was not the fault of an individual, but a failure of communication on the battlefield.”

Leo looks down, shoulders tense. “Hai, Sensei.”

Splinter puts a hand on his shoulder. “One failure of communication does not mean failure as a leader as a whole,” he says gently. “You were young, my son. You still are. You will learn to do better with time.”

He turns to Raph. “And you, my son, must keep in mind that you are a part of a team. That even when you are sure you can handle something alone, you always ensure your brothers understand your next move when possible.”

Raph huffs and looks away, arms crossed, but his posture is less tense than Leo’s. “Hai, Sensei.”

Behind them, Donnie and Mikey share a quiet high-five over avoiding a lesson. April fondly rolls her eyes at them.

“It seems this episode is lesson for us,” Splinter says, now putting his free hand on Raph’s shoulder so that he’s holding both of his eldest sons. “And I’m sure there are many more to come. For all of us,” he says sternly as he glances over his shoulder at Mikey and Donnie.

They both freeze, and then chuckle sheepishly.

“Look at that,” Raphie whispers. “They solved it!”

“Maybe we did judge too fast?” April O’Neil whispers back.

“We’ll see if they can keep it up,” Angelo whispers. “Dr. Delicate Touch is ready to go if not.”

“Is this super invasive?” Leon asks in a low voice. “Like… should we be inserting ourselves into their business like this?”

“I don’t find it invasive at all,” Donald whispers back as he uses a robotic arm from his shell to try and get a blood sample from Donnie again. Donnie whacks it away with his bo without even looking. “Darn it.”

“Yeah Don-Don my dear twin, I’m not sure I trust your judgment on this.”

“Seems to me like we won’t know if it’s invasive until we know, so, let’s keep at it until we’re sure,” Raphie decides.

“I don’t know if-”

“Nope. We’re keepin’ at it. Picking and choosing our fights still though.”

“Like this one?” April O’Neil whispers as she points at the screen.

It’s unpaused, and after a moment of Spiderbytes asking the obviously-alien-android Kraang fi they’re triplets, it cuts to the turtles getting up… and Raph getting scolded.

By Leo.

“Nice going, Raph!”

“Oh, he did not,” Angelo mutters.

“So what’re we picking here, bro?” Leon whispers to Raphie.

#tmnt crossover #tmnt 2012 #rottmnt #tmnt 2k12 #tmnt 2018 #tmnt fic #tmnt fanfiction #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic

54 notes · View notes

katasstrophy · 1 year

Note

isagi brain juice ! enjoy this lil sneak peek of what i’m working on (isagi’s lowk a dick here but we humble him, but then we get humbled back ) —

isagi knew you were moody. it was something he disciplined himself to be patient for and he prided himself in being able to handle your mood swings. but right now he’s just trying to think of a way to not let his veins pop out of frustration.

“you’re being dramatic, i told you it was my fault already!” isagi frowned, his index and thumb rubbing the temples of his forehead to soothe the little headache forming.

“if you know it’s your fault then why aren’t you apologizing?” scoffing at his eye roll you pause your cleaning on the countertop and cross your arms at him, foot tapping in annoyance.

“because YN you should know that practice is irregular— if you’d told me that your parents were coming over earlier i’d have asked for a day off!”

gritting your teeth in anger you walked up to the man and rivaled his glare with your own, temper flaring at his ignorance. “yoichi i don’t want to have to hear that bullshit excuse from you ever again because like you, i’m also an athlete and i have better time management than blue lock’s so called hero.”

letting out a huff of anger isagi throws his head back and feels his patience thrown out the window. any self control he had before was now gone.

“just because you have better time management doesn’t mean shit to me YN. you don’t need an ego for your sport, i do. my career literally depends on me and my confidence to kick the ball. so sorry if i don’t have time to play house with you.”

before isagi could walk away you made sure to grab the silver necklace he wore- the one with your initials on it and drag him down to you height— eyes flaring in anger, and with a low voice you whisper in his ear as your words trembled in anger. “ don’t take it out on me that you don’t have the balls to kick a fucking football isagi yoichi. just because you’re too pussy to consistently keep an ego doesn’t mean you can disrespect our relationship.” grabbing his jaw firmly you make the blue eyed boy look into your eyes, making sure his line of vision was focused on you. “unlike you yoichi i’m not a dog to ego. following his orders to a T. why don’t you just wear a collar with his name on it? that way when he wants to go on a walk he can just strap a leash on you whenever he pleases.”

laughing to yourself you release his necklace and began to walk away— but not before isagi grabs the back of your shirt and drags you back to him, his arms harshly man-handling you to lay on the table, pinning yours against smooth surface as he let out a growl of frustration.

“you’ve gotten mouthy ever since you landed a spot on the national team YN. i recommend to think before you speak because i’ll make sure you never say that shit to me again.” he seethed.

pressing your arms harder onto the surface he felt himself smirk at your whimper.

“if i’m a dog then you’re my bitch. remember that pretty.”

the way i’ve been hogging this all too myself like a professional hoarder literally WHAT THE FUCK KAYLA i can’t keep going on like this. like WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT WHOOOOO ALLOWED YOU TO ASSULT MY EYEBALLS WITH THIS TOE CURLING DRABBLE???? the audacity. no consideration for my wellbeing and sanity ABSOLUTELY NONE ZERO hope ur ready to cover my medical bills bc i have permanent asthma from wheezing so hard while reading this i am NOOTTTT OKAAYYY SCREECHING TEARING MY HAIR OUT

where do i even START you’ve been feeding me ur angry isagi agenda for a while now BUT THIS IS NEXT LEVEL CAUTION HOT MIGHT BURN SCALDING …. i will quite literally never get tired of readers being just as much IF NOT MORE of an asshole especially when it comes to bllk boys like ,,,, YES BBIE BE NASTY AND DEPRAVED AND A MASSIVE JERK WITH ANGER ISSUES i want every blue lock guy ever to go “is my type insane women??? hot” i’m foaming at the mouf coochie weeping

AND BOY DID YOU DELIVVEERRRRRR. like the argument here is so insane(ly sexy). they went off so hard the clap backs??? i gasped out loud it was vicious instant hit call the firemen for that type of first degree burn kinda insults. reader grabbing ISAGI’S CHAIN WITH HER INITIALS TO BRING HIM TO EYE LEVEL what if i came what then. there’s just so much audacity and tension bc they’re both pro athletes.

“if i’m your dog then you’re my bitch. remember that pretty.” THIS TOOK ME OUUTTTT LOORRDDD. the contrast of bitch and pretty like yeah he’s gonna hate fuck the shit out of you on the kitchen counter but ur still his pretty baby he’s obsessed with you.

#the image of isagi with a collar….. will never leave my mind now fuckfuck IM GONNA NUT PLSSSS #get big pro player isagi all subby for you while yanking on his collar with ur name bc he missed another visit with ur parents :(((( </3333 #first time he took his anger out on you and you were left screaming his name but now it’s your turn #THIS IS FOUL THIS IS CRIMINAL KAYLA WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TODAY AM I SUPPOSED TO GO ABOUT MY DAY NOW LIKE EVERYTHINGS NORMAL NAAUUURRR STOP #THIS MADNESS IMMEDIATELY I WILL COMBUST #someday…… i will get you back #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi yoichi smut #lame bf isagi <3 #—my dearest<3 (kayla)#—riv.favs!

87 notes · View notes

fandomgremlinlover · 2 months

Text

My opinions on the ATLA Live action series (just from the first episode):

….I fucking hate it.

No, the visuals are not the problem. And no, the cast is not the problem. It’s the fucking dialogue and delivery. As well at the changes they’ve made.

I can tell you right now, as a hard core atla fan, LA katara is not the katara I know. Why the FUCK is this girl not RAGEFUL AND SASSY!!! There is literally nothing to work with, her personality is dry, and her dialogue and delivery is so fucking blaaaannnd. It literally makes me want gouge my eyeballs out. My girl has been RUINED!!! THIS IS MUTINY!?!? Not only that, but aang’s lines and dialogue make me want to cringe and cry and throw up. His delivery is NOT done well (I blame the fuckin directors for this) and his lines make absolutely NOOOO sense for his character. Wheres the goofy little boy I know!?! Wheres the kid who RAN AWAY bc he was scared to be the Avatar!?! WHERES AANG!?!?

His reactions to his people being dead and gone are NOT it👁️👄👁️ also that reaction for Gyasto came out of fucking nowhere. He ALREADY knew about his peoples death, and how the fire nation had something to do with it!? He literally went from, “IM GONNA FUCKING KILL EVERYONE WITH MY AVATAR POWERS!!” to literally, “sorry guys,😢😢 I don’t know what got into me, I guess I overreacted a bit😰😔”…..NO YOU DIDNT AND WHY ARE YOU SO MATURE FOR 12 YEARS OLD!?!? ALSO WHY DID THEY CHANGE HIM FROM RUNNING AWAY!?! TO “I think I need some time to think guys😕😕😔😔” LIKE—NOOOOOOOO YOUR SUPPOSED FO FEEL AFRIAD OF BEING THE AVATAR AND BEING SENT AWAY AND YOU DONT WANT FO BE DIFFERENT AND SO YOU RUN AWAY FROM YOUR RESPONSIBILITIES BC YOUR IN DENIALLLLLLL😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Not only that, but media literacy is dead. Bc wtf do you mean you have to explain ALLLL the lore and info dump in the first episode😀 What happened to show not tell, hmm??? What happened to people having to use their fucking BRAINS to figure out themselves!?!? WHY THE HELL DID YOU PUT THE ORIGINAL INTRO INTO GRANNY’S DIALOGUE!?!?

AND WHY, do pray tell, DID YOU TELL AANG ABOUT THE GENOCIDE TO HIS PEOPLE IN THE FIRST FUCKING EPISODE!?!??! AND LITERALLY HAVE HIM REACT “man we lose people, but we gotta move forward😔” NOOOOOO WHYYY, AGAIN, DO YOU HAVE TO PUT IN BLOCKBUSTER MOVIE DIALOGUE💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

Iroh is a whole other can of worms that I will open later, but right now what you need to know is, I’m fucking pissed.

Now onto another issue, Zuko’s scar…Why the hell is it pretty-fied!?! Like, that is NOT Zuko’s fucking scar and anyone who wants to argue me about that can suck a lemon. Bc I’ve seen WAYYYY better makeup done by cheap ass makeup for cosplays. Let me say that again, COSPLAYS. Zuko’s scar is supposed to cover at LEAST half his face, and reach his ear. It’s supposed to be ugly and unsatisfying to look at. Because it’s a fucking fire burn. Also he can barely lift his fucking eyelid in the canon show, so what the fuck is that about!?! Like I don’t WANT a nice, aesthetically pleasing scar, I want an ACTUAL FUCKING BURN THAT DOESNT LOOK LIKE IT WAS DRAWN ON BY EYELINER!!!!!🤬🤬🤬

Sokka, my poor sweet funny Sokka…what have they done to you!!😭😭 They removed his most IMPORTANT character arc bc it was “iffy” and “was not relevant to the plot”…..it was fucking relevant you sick sacks of shit, he’s supposed to be iffy and then later grow threw Suki. He’s SUPPOSED TO BE SEXIST AND GROW AS A CHARACTER BC EVERYONE HAS FLAWS!?! IT WAS MEANT TO PROGRESS HIM BECOMING A BETTER LEADER AND MAKE HIM LEARN THAT UNDERESTIMATING HIS ENEMIES IS A NO GO!?!? LIKE, EVEN 9 YEAR OLD FUCKING ME SAW THAT SHIT!?!? BUT YOU CANT????? 💀

The only thing I enjoyed about this episode was the visuals, and admittedly, the air temple battle scene. It got to me, and it goes to show that the fire benders were brutal when they committed a genocide against the Air nomads. That was it….i…I don’t know how I sat through the rest of the episode….bc it makes me SOO angry. Like, as soon as the ending credits came, I started sobbing. They had the ability and the tools to make a great live action of ATLA, but they blew it. Because this show isn’t for the fans or for anyone who likes to sit down and discuss the meanings and implications of each scene and its significance for the show. No, this show is for people who only want noise in the background. I don’t care for it, and I’m not happy with what they’ve done. When I heard the original creators stepped away from it bc they were promised this show would be exactly like the original series, but instead they chose what they wanted to do and change. I knew we were doomed. I understand there are people who live the live action, and I understand. But I simply cannot tolerate the show when I know they could do better. I hate to compare shows and medias, but One Piece set my expectations really high. Bc the creator had full control or say over any and every decision that was made in the LA. The Live action ATLA disappointed me and I’m very sorry to say that I didn’t enjoy it. But I had a hunch, and for me, I was right.

#atla #atla live action #atla netflix #atla rant #live action atla #opinion #rant/vent

11 notes · View notes

iavenjqasdf · 4 months

Text

⬆lifehack🔌

I sigh, slipping off my coveralls from another 10 hour shift at the lifehack video factory. They have a thousand of us in a thousand tiny pastel colored sets in a big warehouse just outside of town where they give us a hot glue gun and a big bucket of random shit every morning and tell us we need to get 15 minutes of content out of it, or else we don’t get to come back tomorrow.

It’s soul crushing work, but I’d like to imagine some of the stuff I come up with makes a difference to someone, somewhere. One day I might even be in charge of this place, in the office looking down at everyone hot gluing bullshit together for MY profit, and it’ll be all worth it and everything.

The parking lot is pretty much empty; the pillow and doughnut holes in my mystery surprise loot office supplies box were giving me a lot of trouble so I left way later than everyone else. They keep the power on all night to save money or something, so I got to walkby all those identical powder pink and baby blue and mustard yellow boxes lined up in a perfect grid all along the warehouse floor and imagine what my coworkers had been up to all day.

I’m almost at my car, parked beside an unfamiliar one, when the redditor who’s been rustling in the bushes jumps out and surprises me, fumbling the hot glue gun he was holding for a second, but before I have a chance to ask if he’s lost or something the cord wraps tight around my trachea.

I see it snaking back into the bushes and realize he must have it plugged in in on one of the outdoor plugs with like, an extension cord or something, and I notice a little phone on a tripod balanced on the hood of his Mazda MPV (both held together with a lot of duct tape and hot glue) and realize he’s set this whole thing up, probably trying to make some kind of retarded point or something? I don’t have a lot of time to put into thinking about all of this as I’m a bit busy being choked with the cord of a hot glue gun.

He dangles the nozzle right above my soft exposed eyeball and a pearly drop of liquid hot death beads at the tip. I beg and plead for him to just let me go, man, i just work there, I’m just trying to get by, and then the searing tip sizzles against my sclera and I scream and shake my head back and forth, little molten strands of hot glue connecting to the quivering teary eye goop like molten pizza cheese. He laughs in my ear, something about karma, and pulls the cord tighter.

I think the extension cord got kicked out at some point because even though he’s still pulling the trigger it’s no longer burning up quite as hot, but there’s still a bunch of cord tight around my neck as I struggle and the tip (just the tip) is still hot when he shoves it between my lips and I can smell them sizzling like sausages as I try to push against the molten intrusion with my tongue and feel the layers of that burning to edible internal temperatures too, and the stuff around my lips is starts to harden together like a shell of hard solid cum crystal sealed all around my mouth and hot glue trickles down my throat.

I manage to channel another burst of adrenaline and we stumble into the car. I hear the tripod and phone clatter somewhere and I take the distraction to shove myself free from his grip, the tangled extension cord whips around his ankle and he loses his balance and tips over and ive got one hand on the handle of the glue gun trying to pull it off my well-done lips without depressing the trigger any more but my legs are free to kick the bastard and-

I should also at this point mention that the parking lot is still totally empty. I guess it would be even weirder if all this happened while people were watching live, but I know that objectively it’d make for great content, so I’d like to think I wouldn’t take it too personally if they were, either.

Anyway I’m kicking the bastard while still trying to wrench my lips off the hot glue spigot when he like, grabs hold of the loose end dangling off the part that’s in my mouth and gives it a good tug, and I go tripping over him and slam against the grill of his Mazda MPV and his camera getting crushed somewhere as we roll around (get fucked asshole) and his hands are climbing their way up the energy rope to the glue gun so I kick his arm but he kepes a strong enough grip that it actually tears away the huge bloody half-solid iceberg of hot glue and lipmeat from my face, but I can breathe a lot better now and the adrenalin’s still kinda giving me temporary invincibility, so I just start stomping like the guy from Drive (forgot his name), and I stomp and stomp and stomp and stomp and stomp and stomp and stomp and stomp and stomp and stomp and stomp and stomp and stomp and stomp and stomp and stomp and stomp and stomp and stomp until there’s basically just a slippery red puddle all around my feet, little clear rivulets from the hot glue gun sizzling away where they make contact, and the pain suddenly all hits me at once and I scream bloody agonized murder as loud as my partly-glued lungs can manage.

They fire me from the lifehack factory the next day, because I wasn’t handy enough about making useful content for them and also because of the mess I made in the parking lot.

ao3

#📝#guro #hot glue gun #we did it reddit!#standalone

7 notes · View notes

stormblessed95 · 1 year

Note

https://mobile.twitter.com/lovemazejikook/status/1617506559621496832

Doesn't than mean he sleeps alone everytime? If he is in a relationship won't they even sleep together? Or couple doesn't need to sleep together atleast few days to be a couple ?

JK: "I used to have a cuddle pillow when I was little. Now I don't and I toss and turn alot in my sleep"

You: "so this means he is single and sleeps alone right?"

Please explain to me how you twisted his words so throughly? Lmfao

Is it me? Am I the problem? Is it the fact that I read so much that I am expecting too much of people to be able to comprehend a sentence as it is said without difficulty? I suggest practice anon! You didnt give me a lot trope wise to work with here, but I recommend Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo if you haven't read it yet. The romance isn't the main focus, the heist is. But wow, you can read about how much intimacy can come in various forms and still be insanely beautiful expressions of love. And that found family trope is perfection

Description: Ketterdam: a bustling hub of international trade where anything can be had for the right price—and no one knows that better than criminal prodigy Kaz Brekker. Kaz is offered a chance at a deadly heist that could make him rich beyond his wildest dreams. But he can’t pull it off alone. . . .

A convict with a thirst for revenge

A sharpshooter who can’t walk away from a wager

A runaway with a privileged past

A spy known as the Wraith

A Heartrender using her magic to survive the slums

A thief with a gift for unlikely escapes

Kaz’s crew is the only thing that might stand between the world and destruction—if they don’t kill each other first.

Kaz and Inej are everything to me, that slow burn. Ugh 😍

“I would come for you. And if I couldn’t walk, I’d crawl to you, and no matter how broken we were, we’d fight our way out together—knives drawn, pistol blazing. Because that’s what we do. We never stop fighting.”

And guess what anon? They never sleep in the same bed and they even only touch sometimes and with careful consent because of their traumas, their boundaries look different than what you'd typically see in a couple, fictional or not. And yet, that intimacy, that love 😍

Content warnings: Ableism and ableist language, persecution for witchcraft (central theme), indentured servitude and slavery, Forced underaged sex work recounted, Child abuse recounted, abandonment and disownment, Substance and gambling addiction, panic attack (implied) and nightmares, Coerced suicide (implied), Alcohol consumption, recreational drug use, drugging without consent, forced and coerced drug dependency, Blood and gore depiction, graphic physical injuries, eyeball trauma, emesis, medical experimentation, dead bodies, plague, body modifications (with consent), Grief depiction and death of a father, brother, family and friend, Murder, attempted murder, physical assault, knife and gun violence, torture, strangulation, explosions, Kidnapping, captivity, incarceration, loss of autonomy, drowning, Animal death, animal attack, death by an animal attack and animal fighting rings, Bullying

Representation: Some POC main characters, 2 Bisexual and a gay main character, an mlm relationship, disability own voices, ptsd and other mental health rep too.

This IS a TV show on Netflix too which is great. But does differ from the book in ways and the book is spectacular, so I highly recommend reading it! And watching the show if you want!

The other relationships? Also total perfection. They are right up there as favorites for me too.

#it would be funny #if yall didnt try to keep making it my problem #lmfao the reading comprehension skills #nonexistent #storm book recommendations

40 notes · View notes

floralcyanide · 2 years

Text

The Extra || Austin Butler x OC

Chapter Twelve

Pairing: Austin Butler x OC

Warnings: mentions of purposeful emotional harm, crying, sad Austin ):, descriptions of anxiety, mentions of innuendo but if you blink you'll miss it, nothing too crazy.

Word Count: 2142

>> it's been a long time, baby! it's been a long time. but chapter twelve is now here, my beloveds. I'm sorry I've been so busy. every occurrence that I have free time, I'm either doing classwork, trying not to scream, having to do super fun adult stuff like grocery shop, or I'm resting. please enjoy this chapter even though it's fairly drab imo!!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Add yourself to the taglist HERE

September 2020

I’m clutching a coffee in my hand and trying to ignore my incessant trembling. The caffeine and lack of food this morning are stoking the nerve-wracking anxiety I feel. Today is the first day back on set for everyone and my first day playing Priscilla. Every time I try to recall my lines, my mind goes blank. Being an actress instead of an extra is new to me and has me so worked up that I’m worried about lines I don’t have to recite yet. Hopefully, I’ll settle into my role enough to remember my lines when I do need them later. One awkward thing, though, is that I’ll be sitting next to Luke for the duration of the scene, and knowing that he kind of likes me makes me feel even more nervous. I shouldn’t care because I’m with Austin, obviously. Still, the nagging feeling of someone always thinking about me in a non-platonic way makes me self-critical. So that just adds to the pile of nerves today.

My stylist pauses every now and then to let me wiggle in my seat. She's in the process of preparing my hair for the wig I have to wear, and I cannot sit still for the life of me. The coffee, anxiety, and restless energy are all teaming up to make me an annoyance to my stylist. Styling me takes the longest for this scene, even after Austin, who has to wear prosthetics and extra hair. My eyeliner in this particular scene in the movie is very intricate. I’m busy burning my eyes into my coffee cup when someone walks up to me, and it’s no other than Austin.

“What do you think?” Austin says, turning in a circle to let me have a 360 view of his leather jumpsuit.

Seeing him with the full get-up- the hair, the sideburns, and the tan- is much more surreal than seeing him in just the outfit at rehearsals. He has become Elvis. Even more so than when filming initially began.

“You look uncanny,” I giggle as the stylist gently places the wig on my head.

“And you look beautiful,” Austin smiles, and a wave of calm suddenly comes over me.

The nerves are still there, but they aren’t as erratic. Having Austin around is enough to make me feel better. Maybe I can do this after all. With him here, everything is a little easier. He eventually wanders over to someone else to strike up a conversation with. All that has to be done for my outfit now is the makeup, and I’ll be ready to film. The ‘68 Comeback Special is being shot today, so I’ll be hanging with everyone but Olivia from our group. I still feel like I’ve betrayed Olivia somehow, but I don’t let it bother me too much. I have big shoes to fill, and I have to keep my head straight on my shoulders. Olivia has often reassured me that it’s okay that I have her role, and that it was meant for me to play Priscilla instead. I hope she’s right. I guess we’re about to see.

After wiggling around in my seat a few more times and precise eyeliner being applied to my eyelids, I’m finally done with makeup and ready to head to the set. My stylist gives me one last look over, picking at my outfit and wig and eyeballing my makeup like a hawk. She gives me the go-ahead, and I take a deep breath before heading to where I need to be on the Comeback Special’s set. I spotted Dacre getting his makeup touched up after finishing some of his filming this morning. After the beginning of the Comeback Special is filmed, Dacre has more scenes to run. I make a beeline to him because I won’t see him for a day or so if I don’t talk to him now. I hadn’t seen Dacre in person since before we stopped filming.

“Hey, stranger,” I say as I approach him, and he has to do a double-take when he looks at me.

“I almost didn’t recognize you, Roman. You look just like Priscilla,” Dacre says, a comforting smile upon his face. He knows how nervous I am about all of this.

“I’d sure hope so,” I chuckle, “My stylist spent a while on this look.”

“You look great. You’ll do great. Don’t sweat it,” Dacre says, probably noticing that I’m shaking like a leaf.

Baz arrives on set before I can respond, beckoning everyone to get ready for positions to be called. Austin walks up to me and kisses my cheek in front of everyone, and a blush crawls up my neck from people staring. Only a few people know we’re dating, but I’m guessing a lot more people get the memo now with the PDA. Everyone begins to take their positions, and I follow along, going to where I’m supposed to stand and wait for Austin to walk out of the corridor. All of the extras have claimed their assigned spots in the audience, and it’s still appalling to me that if I weren’t playing Priscilla now, I’d likely be the girl in the blonde wig at the edge of the stage. I glance around the large number of extras and notice Tyler chatting with the guy next to him. He just so happens to catch my gaze, and I wave excitedly. A large grin breaks out on his face as he waves back before giving me a thumbs up. I’ve missed having him as a neighbor and a fellow extra. The last time I saw him was when he brought the last of my belongings to Austin’s condo months ago.

“Action!” Baz calls suddenly, and I collect myself.

Luke is a few feet away from me in his position, and I try not to look over at him. I still feel a little awkward in his presence, but I’m sure I’ll get over it. He’s fun to be around, and I’d hate to let my weird emotions ruin our friendship.

Austin begins to walk towards the tiny stage, and when he reaches me, we both lean in for a kiss. Luke then guides me over to where we’re supposed to sit behind the prop cameras. Austin saunters onto the stage, and it isn’t precisely how Baz wants it, so we start the scene over. I’m definitely not complaining that Austin and I have to share a little kiss a few more times. After two more takes, Austin gets the saunter down perfectly and starts his performance without a hitch. It goes smoothly, and we wrap up the first part of the scene. The next part is when I have to smile and look proud of Elvis, which won’t be difficult to look that way since I’m insanely proud of Austin right now. He’s doing so well, and this is only the first scene. The cameras focus on me, and I smile at Austin while shaking my head at him, clapping along to the music. Luke is next to me doing the same thing, his character acting proud of his best friend.

Filming goes pretty well for the rest of the day, so I head back to the condo alone since Austin has some stuff to work on until later. I’m rarely alone without Austin- we’ve been together for months almost at all times. The condo feels too still and quiet without him here. If we aren’t talking, there’s either an Elvis movie on the screen, an Elvis documentary playing, or a recorded Elvis concert is being studied. I walk to the bathroom immediately to take my makeup off. The eyeliner is beginning to make my eyes sting. When I’m finished, I curl up on the couch with Priscilla’s book. I’ve already read it twice, but I notice something I didn’t before every time I read it. Studying the book is helping me get into character more. It’s still so crazy to me that I was able to video chat with Priscilla herself. Not meeting in person was a bummer, but being able to talk to her at all was an amazing thing.

Around 10 at night, Austin finally comes home. When he walks into the dimly lit bedroom, his eyes are red, and the eyeliner he’s wearing from the set is smeared. His face is a tad swollen, and his gaze never leaves the floor as he prepares for bed.

“Are you okay, Aus?” I ask, looking up from my phone after pondering whether something was wrong.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, pulling PJs from the dresser before removing his shirt.

“You don’t look fine,” I press further with concern.

“Baz is just,” Austin trails off, hesitant to elaborate further, but he does anyway, “Trying something new with the method acting.”

“What did he do to make you so upset?” I furrow my eyebrows, putting my phone on the bed next to me to give him my full attention.

Austin undresses without responding, and I wait patiently for him to say something as he redresses into something more comfortable. He climbs into bed next to me, sighing as he runs his fingers through his black hair.

“The crew and Baz are just really hard on me so I can get into character better. I’m just upset over nothing,” Austin says.

“It can’t be nothing if it genuinely upset you,” I lean over and put a hand on his chest comfortingly, “Whatever they said or did, don’t overwork, overthink, or stress yourself for this role. You’ve already done enough. You’re doing enough.”

“According to them, I’m not. Baz told them to say belittling things to me and put me down so I know how Elvis was feeling to truly channel that emotion,” Austin frowns, stroking my hair absentmindedly.

“I love Baz, but sometimes he doesn’t know his limits. I’m sorry you have to do that,” I say, looking up at Austin, “Just remember you’re a great person and a talented actor. You don’t need to be bullied to be good at being Elvis.”

Without a word, Austin kisses my head before moving down into the bed to get ready to sleep. I roll over and turn off the light before wrapping my arms around Austin. I tuck my head into his neck and hold him tightly. This already challenging role has just gotten more difficult for him. But I know he can get through it.

In the weeks following, Austin would come home utterly exhausted. Thankfully he had a break in filming the earlier parts of Elvis’ life, so the belittling stopped for a while. Today he will be doing the funeral scene, which is painful in all aspects. Austin lost his mother just like Elvis and was also the same age as Elvis when his mother died. It is hard to channel those mutual emotions when in character, but Austin knows how to handle it. I don’t have any scenes to do today, and neither does Dacre. So, both of us are standing to the side and watching as they prepare the set. Tom has powder applied to his face while Austin is stewing and making himself emotional. One thing about being an actor is that you have to know how to cry on demand. However, for this scene, it wouldn’t be hard to. It’s probably borderline torturous for Austin. Baz calls for positions, and everyone takes their place. Austin is sitting on the floor, clutching onto one of the dresses as he stares blankly at the floor as tears stream down his face, waiting for Baz’s word.

“Action!”

Immediately, Austin begins to sob, and it’s a little unnerving to watch. His tears and raw emotion are so obviously genuine. But it’s not genuine enough. There are several takes, and as each one is attempted and failed, I can tell it’s taking a toll on him. Dacre shifts uncomfortably next to me as Austin’s face becomes redder or puffier.

“I hope he’s okay,” Dacre whispers.

I sigh, “The things he does for this role worry me sometimes.”

Finally, Baz is content with the footage he’s gotten, and Austin is able to get up off the floor and gather himself. He quickly makes his way to the dressing room, and I follow him, leaving Dacre behind. When I enter the room, Austin is sitting in the vanity chair with his face in his hands, taking deep breaths. I shut the door and hurry over to him.

“You did so good, baby. I know you’re probably tired after that, and I’m sorry,” I say, pulling his head into my chest.

“I’m okay. It’s over for now,” Austin says weakly, wiping tears off his face.

“Yeah,” I sigh, knowing more struggle and pain was to come for being Elvis, “It’s over for now.”

taglist: @cozacorner @onxlymnsn @anangelwhodidntfall @butlersluvbot @jolovesfandoms @austinbutler17 @slutforblueeyes @misspygmypie @mamaspresley @mirandastuckinthe80s @bobbykennedyfan @sodonebruh @lizzymizzy-blogg @defnotreadingfanfics12 @izzvoid @homebodybirkin2003 @thatonemoviefan @sarachacha @kittenlittle24 @tubble-wubble @kaycinema @annamarie16 @adoreyouusugar @csmt-m @apparently-sunshine-deactivated @amiets2 @emchickynuggies @mrs-butler @mesbouquins @ari-nicole @xmusse @austin-butlers-gf @feral4austinbutler @inlovewithchrisevans @shynovelist @mommy-maia @jessieeisenburg @karamelcoveredolicity @thtguyovrthere @starry-night-20 @coldonexx @hangmanswhorey @shelbysbitchh @mavericksicybabe @bobthefishiesworld @myguiltypleasures21 @HeraY @rainydayz101 @finelineskies @thella @popeheywardssecretgf @Venxfinn3 @westwoodcoast @tpwk-hailee @urmom787878 @inthegardensofourminds

77 notes · View notes